Vine & Fig

During a graduate course for teacher training, my professor conducted a social experiment to demonstrate the impact teachers have on our lives. He would ask a question and my colleagues and I had to divide into groups--good, average, bad--based on our perceptions of those questions. First question: How would you rate your overall high school experience? We all shuffled to our respective spots. I placed myself in the “good” category, for although high school was a dark time for me emotionally and developmentally, I could say that my overall educational experience was a positive one. The class discussed our responses with our groups. 

The professor asked his next question: Were the teachers qualified to teach their subject matter? We shuffled again, but I stayed put. Many of my teachers were qualified. They had degrees in education or had a prolific knowledge of their content. Next, were those teachers good at teaching their content area? I moved to the “average” group. Some were and some weren’t, I reasoned. It is one thing to know about a particular subject, it is another to teach it well. 

Then, the professor asked, “Did your teachers care for your physical, emotional, and mental wellbeing? Did they care about you as a person?” I moved back to the “good” group. Although many of my teachers had the qualifications and experience, I knew they cared more for me as an individual. They may not have always gone about helping me in the right way, but I looked at the intention rather than the interaction. 

He continued with a few more questions, and we then regrouped for a debrief. Some of my colleagues remained in the “bad” group for the duration of the experiment. They explained they had terrible high school experiences with underqualified teachers who did not really care for them. When asked why they chose to become teachers themselves, they said they wanted to offer their students an educational experience they missed. I reflected on their responses and concluded what many already know about the education profession: teachers do not simply teach students skills for a career or prepare them for the academic rigors of college. Teachers also lead, nurture, influence, and support their students. Therefore, while our own academic and professional credentials granted by the state gives us the authority to teach in the classroom, our students see us more than intelligent individuals with certificates of our achievements on our walls. They see us as human beings who have the authority to influence their lives. 

Our gospel reading this week (Matt. 28.16-20) develops this theme of power and empowerment. Primarily, the passage establishes not only Jesus as the authority of our faith but also our authority to share our faith. Jesus has asked his disciples to ascend an unnamed mountain to hear his final instructions. Even the physical environment of the mountain denotes authority and recalls our Lord’s earlier treatise, the Sermon on the Mount. The mountain allows the speaker to be clearly seen and heard, and Jesus begins his injunction to the disciples to continue the faith after his departure. 

Then, Jesus begins to speak about his power. First, he explains that he has been granted “all authority” (18), thus declaring his power and deity. Next, he states that this power is “in heaven and on earth[,]” a superior position over all creation, both supernatural and temporal. Finally, he uses the present perfect tense, “has been given[,]” to show that this authority has actually been granted to him by God the Father as a result of latter raising him from the grave and signaling the hierarchical relationship between the first two persons of the Godhead (cf. Eph. 1.17-23). 

After establishing his authority, Jesus then authorizes his disciples to continue his work. They are to make disciples (you and me) through two primary methods: baptism and teaching. Of course, baptism is our threshold into the life of the Church. It cleanses us and sets us apart as children of God. The teaching comes through apostolic tradition and the continual reminder to “love the Lord [our] God with” (Matt. 22.37) our entire being--body, soul, mind, will--and to love our neighbors as ourselves (Matt. 22.39). Jesus’ promise before his ascension that he will “be with [us] always” reminds us of the Eucharist, which is celebrated “in remembrance” of Jesus until his inevitable return (Lk. 22.19, Acts 1.11; I Cor. 11.24-26). Therefore, Jesus grants his apostles authority within the church to administer the sacraments and continue the work and teachings of Jesus, and the Church has done so for 2000 years. 

But as my earlier anecdote demonstrates, people in positions of authority inevitably empower those under their influence. Those in positions of power that seek personal gain or forgo devotion, justice, and compassion undermine the love of God and the love of neighbor. We have seen this all too often within the very church Jesus established to carry the good news of his love for all people. From committing and covering up clerical abuse to firing LGBT teachers and their allies to reopening Mass in defiance of civil authority, many in leadership roles within the Church have demonstrated neglect for the teachings of Christ. And as we see in this gospel reading, Jesus uses his authority not to strike fear into his followers or give them the right to berate their followers. Rather, he invites them to humbly spread his love and carry out acts of justice and mercy. I am grateful for the religious brothers and sisters who toil without power and possession to minister to the poor and needy. I admire the layperson who leads a Bible study or sings joyfully in the church choir. It is these small acts of kindness and devotion that truly demonstrate the love of Christ and lead to my own conversion.

As a teacher, I have the responsibility to use my authority to influence the next generation of politicians, ministers, scientists, doctors, nurses, mechanics, entrepreneurs, and teachers. They may not remember what I taught them, but I hope they remember that I cared.