Ph.D. Candidate, Cultural Studies Program, Queen's University
Last year I redesigned a first-year religious studies course at Queen’s University in Kingston Ontario. The course is one of two full-year intro courses offered at the School of Religion, the other being a typical introduction to world religions course. In past years, the course had been split between two instructors and tended to be taught as a religion ‘and’ course where each instructor developed content in line with her own interests (religion and sex, religion and the environment, religion and science). Given the opportunity to teach the entire course myself, I developed a new syllabus with the goal of giving first year students a broad introduction not to ‘religion’ per se but rather to the academic study of religion. The theme for the course became ‘religion in modernity’ and topics included secularization, religious fundamentalism, new atheism, and new religious movements. Owing to my own interest in critical theory, I attempted to integrate a critical perspective into the course readings using Malory Nye’s excellent introductory text Religion: The Basics along with excerpts from J.Z. Smith, Talal Asad, Russell McCutcheon, and others.
Entering
the classroom last September I naively hoped that my students would become as
excited about critical theory as I am. They didn’t. And although the course
wasn’t a complete flop, it did not live up to my expectations. For the most
part, the students hated the theoretical components that I included. Or perhaps
they simply couldn’t understand why I seemed so interested in pointing out what
religion isn’t – that it isn’t just beliefs or churches – that ‘it’ isn’t
really an ‘it’ at all and is instead made up of countless acts of
classification performed by self-interested actors. What came across instead
was that different people see religion differently. Yes, the students seemed to
say. We get it. But we want to learn about religion, not what people say about
religion.
This
summer I had some time to reflect on the challenges of including critical
theory in a first-year intro course and went back to the drawing board. First,
I identified some of the major challenges I had faced and then developed some
strategies for addressing these. In what follows I briefly outline these
challenges and strategies.
Challenges:
1. Preconceptions (lack thereof): I had originally decided to focus almost
exclusively on Christianity in the first half of the course – not only because
Christian categories have so deeply influenced the academic study of religion,
but also because I assumed my students, who had been for the most part raised
in a society dominated by Christianity, would be familiar (at least in general
terms) with that religion. They weren’t. In fact, most students came to the
class with very little base knowledge of religion. Of course some students were
themselves religious and had insights into their own particular traditions and
denominations. Still, most seemed only dimly aware that there were different
kinds of Christianity in the world, let alone religions in which god(s) are
largely peripheral figures. It became difficult, therefore, to criticize
dominant conceptualizations of religion (the world religions paradigm, say)
when students had never taken a world religions course to begin with.
2. Relevance (lack thereof): Precisely because the students had very little
basic knowledge of religion, it became difficult to show why they should care
about any of the critical theory that I kept talking about. I was clearly very
excited about critical theory, and that helped. But the relevance of critical
theoretical approaches was lost when I would introduce a dominant way of
understanding religion (as sui generis, say) and then proceed to critique that
view. For one thing, I typically had hard time showing the students that one
approach was, in fact, dominant. But my explanations (that this view renders
religion apolitical, say) also failed to stick either because each view
(religion as sui generis and ‘religion’ as culturally determined) seemed just
as plausible as its opposite or perhaps because students couldn’t see why this
actually mattered outside of the classroom. The satisfaction that comes with
questioning a taken-for-granted way of understanding something was lost because
any given way of approaching religion was never taken-for-granted - it was
always a brand new idea presented by me.
3. Trust. A final challenge is that the students trusted me. When I designed
the course I included primary source readings thinking the students would not
want to trust my interpretations and would instead prefer to read the original
sources themselves. But for the most part, students preferred to have me (or
secondary sources) tell them what early twentieth century Protestant
fundamentalists thought or what contemporary new atheists are all about. The problem
was that this basic trust also made it difficult for the students to understand
that I was presenting various opposing views that were not necessarily my own
and that none of them were ‘right.’ Students seemed to have a hard time
understanding that any particular view depends upon an historical context and
is contradicted by a host of other, equally plausible and well-argued opinions.
Rather than view a given theoretical approach as being better or worse for some
particular issue or problem, students simply accepted each in turn.
Obviously
I had a lot of re-drawing to do. Here’s what I’ve come up with.
Strategies:
1. Making the Taken For Granted: My goal this year is to encourage the students
to take certain things for granted – at least at the outset. To do this, I will
depend largely on the trust issue outlined above. This year, rather than
providing a wide variety of opposing ways of understanding and approaching
religion at the start of the course, I will consistently take a single
approach. I plan to stick with the overall ‘religion’ in modernity theme and to
keep secularization, religious fundamentalism, and new atheism as topics. But
rather than question the ways fundamentalists, new atheists, and (some) scholars
describe religion in terms of belief, I will present this view uncritically.
The fate of religion in the modern world, I will argue, is really all about the
struggle between religious and secular/scientific beliefs. Rather than presume,
as I did last year, that students will come to class with a host of
preconceptions about religion, I will work to create these views in my
students.
2. Breaking the Spell: The title of the first lecture of the spring
term will be: “Everything We Learned Last Term Is Wrong.” In the first few
lectures of the second term I will give concrete examples of the preconceptions
under which I (we) operated in the first term. Religion, I will reveal, is not
only about belief; it is also about practices. In other words, I will wait
until students have developed opinions about what religion is before working to
critique and expand these views. Only in the second term will we do readings on
ritual and habitus - readings that I had originally included in the first weeks
of the course. Our exploration of ritual and habitus will not, of course, be
limited to ‘religious’ ways of being and doing in the world, which will
(hopefully) lead the students to wonder why certain kinds of ritual are deemed
religious while others are not.
3. The Other Jay-Z: Having shown students (and not merely told
them) that there are vastly different ways of studying religion, I will be
better able to introduce them to Jonathan Z. Smith, Russell McCutcheon, and
other critical theorists. At this point the students should be better equipped
to see not only that there are different ways to study religion but that these approaches
trace the contours of the very thing they seek to analyze and describe. The
students will have had the experience of operating under a set of
preconceptions (religion is about what people believe) and will have seen how
this view led us to be interested in certain kinds of phenomena
(fundamentalism, new atheism). They will also have had the experience of
criticizing this view and replacing it with a different one (religion is about
what people do) and will have seen how this new perspective caused us to turn
our gaze to other kinds of phenomena (rituals, clothing, meals). They will have
experienced, first hand, that there is no data for religion and that religion
is, instead, “created for the scholar’s analytic purposes by his imaginative
acts of comparison and generalization” (Smith, 1982). In other words, the
students will experience first hand that the kinds of things that counted as
religion in the first term depended upon the approaches we opted to take.
4. So What? I mentioned above that I found it difficult to explain why the
students should care that different ways of studying religion actually create
the object of study. I think this might seem more relevant once the students
experience this process at work, but I would also like to focus on some other
practical ‘real world’ implications as well. Last year I ended the course with
a section on new religious movements (neo-paganism, Scientology, Satanism) and
ironic and ‘hyper-real’ religions (Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster,
Jediism, Dudeism). I plan to do the same thing again this year. But rather than
focusing on how these phenomena fit into the larger underlying theme of
religion in modernity, I will focus instead on struggles concerning
classification and authenticity. The fact that Scientology is a religion in the
United States and a cult in France along with controversy over Satanists’ plans
to erect a monument to Satan in Oklahoma will become real-world examples of how
different ways of understanding religion determine what is, or isn’t, acceptable/authentic
religion.
Of course I have no idea whether this new approach will work and will likely find myself back at the drawing board again this time next year. Fortunately, it is exactly this opportunity to learn from my mistakes (or earlier attempts to put a more positive spin on things) that I love most about teaching.
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