How do you actually “do” scholarship? It is a fair question, and an important one. At CBHD, we firmly believe that scholarship happens in community. Let me give you a few examples of what that means.
In August, I was invited to participate in a Charitable Dialogue for the graduate students at Trinity Evangelical Divinity School (known on campus as “TEDS”) and Trinity Graduate School. Dr. John Kilner (director of the MA Bioethics program), Dr. Dennis Magary (Chair, Old Testament), and I discussed Christians and healthcare. How should we think about this as Christians?
Each of us took a different slice: Dr. Kilner commented on Jesus’ ministry of healing and the Bible’s special concerns for the health-related needs of the most vulnerable. Dr. Magary brought insights from the Old Testament on justice and care for the poor. Finally, I concluded with historical reflections on definitions of “health,” insights from the early church, and contemporary obligations. Students were invited to ask questions. Dialogue. Question. Response. Scholarship in community.
In preparation, I “dialogued” with Gary Ferngren’s Medicine and Health Care in Early Christianity.[1] His research illuminated my understanding of the long Christian tradition of medical philanthropy. I also included reflections on the meaning of “health,” which were inspired in part by Dr. Monique Chireau’s plenary address from our 2012 summer conference. Along the way, I discussed my ideas with Dr. Michael Sleasman (Managing Director and Research Scholar at CBHD). The three panelists interacted before the discussion, sharing our outlines.
Why do we spend so much time on these concerns? Because ideas have consequences. Serious ideas demand serious responses. Soundbites simply won’t do the job.
In the past, I have represented an organization that engages in the public square, advocating for pro-life public policies. Advocacy does demand rapid responses, driven by the 24/7 news cycle, and reactive, short-term, time frames that drive Congress and state legislators. Many of these issues can be characterized by pithy phrases. However, when the task is making ethical judgments about issues that are emerging on the horizon, a quick response is inadequate.
That’s why we did not immediately issue a statement when Craig Venter and his team announced their creation of a “synthetic cell.”
More recently, we witnessed thoughtful scholarship in community at our consultation on “The Ethics and Theology of Synthetic Gametes.” Hosted by CBHD’s Academy of Fellows, a team of six scholars probed the implications of reproductive technologies that could create an embryo with three genetic parents. They walked us through why parents want a child “of their own,” a Roman Catholic perspective on the theology of donor insemination, the philosophical and theological meaning of gametes, issues raised by creating gametes from stem cells, and concerns related to four methods of producing synthetic gametes.
During the day-long consultation, participants observed scholarship in action. Dr. Ben Mitchell proposed one position in the morning, but suggested a revision in the afternoon, prompted by questions and discussion. Although these distinguished experts share the same respect for embryonic human life, their presentations were distinct. By the end of the day, we had greater clarity, but also a realization that more work needs to be done.
Of course, an academic’s recommendation may have been worked out in the solitude of the research library. Even then the work does not begin ex nihilo, but is steeped in mental dialogue with texts and ideas, be they ancient or contemporary. Yet, until a recommendation has been tested by others, its soundness is uncertain. Interactions with the ideas may occur, for example, in private conversations, public debate, Q&A, or by email.
Emerging, and converging, technologies are often more like “Magic Eye” puzzles to be discerned than they are like jigsaw puzzles to be assembled according to the picture. (You may remember magic puzzles with a ‘hidden picture’ you might detect by staring through the puzzle until it emerges into view.) Upon first glance, the implications of the technology are not clear.
It takes time, patience, determination, and shared expertise to understand what the technology is, how it works, and what it does for and to human beings. We consider both its purpose and its potential consequences, both good and ill. One of the most important tasks is to ask the right questions. Only after doing that hard work are we prepared to suggest, with humility, ethical conclusions.
The protracted nature of scholarship in community is one of the reasons we offer so few unequivocal ethical statements on our website. Of course, there are other considerations, but taking the time to do credible research is at the top of our list.
As you read this issue of Dignitas, think about your own role as a contributor to this serious engagement. The number of those who embrace human dignity and our common flourishing is a handful, compared to the vast army of those willing to negotiate away the lives of the vulnerable, weak, ill, disabled, and aged. But, in community, illuminated by the power of the Holy Spirit, we can progress in our ability to faithfully carry out the task we have been appointed to with both courage and conviction.
[1] Gary B. Ferngren, Medicine and Health Care in Early Christianity (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2009).
Paige Comstock Cunningham, "From the Director's Desk: Scholarship in Community,” Dignitas 19, no. 3 (2012): 2–3.
