Every Teacher a Spiritual Director
While the world and contemporary literature on Christian education supply us with many ways of conceiving what it means to be a teacher, I would like to suggest one frequently overlooked paradigm for thinking about the role of the teacher in a classical Christian school: the teacher as spiritual director.
The idea of spiritual direction has a long, storied place in the Christian tradition. One of the most early and influential articulations of this idea is found in the Book of Pastoral Rule of Gregory the Great (ca. 540-604). Gregory envisioned the Christian leader as a spiritual father who helped guide the spiritual growth of his subordinates or disciples—that is, what we might in the present day call spiritual direction. Just as Gregory’s description of the art of spiritual direction helped priests and bishops of his day see themselves as more than just administrators or supervisors, I believe it can likewise fire our imagination for a more transcendent understanding of our vocation as Christian educators.
The concept of spiritual direction, it is important to note, only makes sense in light of a proper understanding of the nature of the Christian life. For Gregory, and indeed early Christianity in general, the process of sanctification—of becoming more like Christ—is one that is long, arduous, and gradual; true disciples are generally moving forward on the path of progress in the spiritual life, and yet the reality of persistent sin and even spiritual regression is such that the attention of a wise spiritual mentor is needed to keep the disciple on a trajectory of growth. As teachers, we are in a unique position to provide such a discerning eye for at least some students; after all, it is entirely possible that we have more contact hours with them than they do with their parents, coaches, or pastors. Over the course of an academic year (or, sometimes, multiple academic years), we can observe so much about our students: the trivial things, of course, like their favorite snacks, fashion sensibilities, and romantic interests, but also the deeper things, such as their learning styles, insecurities, and heartbreaks. Moreover, as teachers we have frequent opportunities to share spiritual truth with our classes or even engage in significant conversations with our students that lend themselves to more intentional spiritual direction. Given, then, that we have the responsibility and the opportunity to help form our students’ souls, Gregory’s insights regarding spiritual direction prove surprisingly applicable, both at the general level of how we approach our classes in general as well as at the specific level of relationships with individual students.
Starting with how we can pastorally approach a class of students as a whole, Gregory helps us take into account the diversity of spiritual needs in our classrooms. At the outset of book 3 of his Pastoral Rule, Gregory summarizes his approach to spiritual direction with a compelling analogy (PR 3.prol.): “For example, what often helps some people will cause harm in others, just as herbs that are nutritious to some animals will kill others or the way that gentle hissing will calm a horse but excite a puppy. Likewise, the medicine that cures one disease will spur another, and the bread that fortifies a grown man can kill a young child. Therefore, the discourse of the teacher should be adapted to the character of his audience so that it can address the specific needs of each individual and yet never shrink from the art of communal edification. […] And so every teacher, in order to edify all by the single virtue of charity, ought to touch the hearts of his audience with the same common doctrine but by distinct exhortations.”
Just as the preacher Gregory describes in this passage has to consider how to teach a “common doctrine” with “distinct exhortations” in light of the mixed audience before him, our job as Christian teachers is to reach all of our students with “communal edification” and yet to do so in a way that recognizes the real differences among our students. To appropriate the jargon of the education world, we need to rightly differentiate our spiritual leadership in the classroom in light of the diverse body of learners under our care.
This starts, at the most basic level, with learning to truly see the students God has entrusted to us. We need to become, in other words, students of our students, at least at a general level—their hopes and dreams, their fears and anxieties, their virtues and vices. We can safely assume that our students are all on unique spiritual journeys, having been shaped by different familial, cultural, socio-economic, racial, and religious contexts, and indeed having been further formed by distinct life experiences, giftings, traumas, and relationships. How, though, can we teach in such a way that edifies all of our students in light of such diversity? Without knowing the intimate details of every student’s life, how can we be sure that we are reaching all of the learners in our room?
Part of Gregory’s genius was his articulation of thirty-six pairs of qualities that spiritual leaders should be sure to differentiate between. These include such obvious pairings as men and women, young and old, and poor and rich (cf. PR 3.2), as well as more nuanced, sophisticated opposites such as “those who bewail their sins but do not cease in committing them, and those who cease but do not bewail past sins” (PR 3.30) or “those who do not begin good works, and those who begin but complete few of them” (PR 3.34). What is particularly helpful about the list of binaries that Gregory provides, even if they can feel reductive at times, is that it suggests some broad categories of differences in people that can inform our understanding of our students even without knowing the specific circumstances of every student seated in our classroom. Males and females, auditory and visual learners, extroverts and introverts, our students are a diverse bunch. Even siblings can be very different from one another. Recognizing the many levels of differences among our students will help us keep this insight in mind if we are to design the kinds of spiritually formative learning experiences that will reach all of our students.
Diagnosis
While differentiation helps us to consider how to engage large groups of people as a spiritual leader, the heart of spiritual direction has always been in one-on-one relationships between the director and his or her disciple. Thankfully, as teachers we are not called to be spiritual directors to all of our students; after all, even Jesus focused on only twelve disciples (and within that group gave additional attention to only three). But while we have the opportunity to reach all of our students with spiritually formative teaching, it is nevertheless the case that we will very likely be called to engage more intentionally with at least a few students each year. Whether a student shares a struggle or family concern with us during office hours or a student is brought before us regarding a discipline issue, opportunities for spiritual direction are inevitably there for the taking. How, though, can we best utilize these opportunities to point our students to Christ and his kingdom?
Gregory sets forth two major movements in the work of spiritual direction. The first step is to diagnose what is happening in a person’s spiritual life. To do so effectively requires discernment. Discernment is necessary if we are to look past outward appearances to the interior reality of others’ spiritual conditions. Gregory contends, for example, that certain vices “lie hidden and require keen investigation so that their symptoms may be brought to light. The spiritual director must know these great vices by their small signs, and he must investigate the hidden thoughts of his subordinates and then intervene with the proper rebuke before it is too late” (PR 2.10). The necessity of careful discernment is further underscored by the fact that many vices may appear as virtues (cf. PR 2.9), potentially threatening to upend our initial impressions of some of our students. That student we describe with glowing adjectives like “driven” and “self-motivated” might, if we look more closely, be better described as a “workaholic” or “perfectionist.” The student who refuses to participate in the riotous behavior of his peers might in fact be motivated by pride and self-righteousness rather than the pursuit of virtue. In sum, if we are to be true physicians of the soul, we must be able to correctly diagnose what is going on in the souls of our students. But how do we go about this?
Like the work of self-examination, discernment is not easy. While we may simply pray that God gives us this gift, in the context of the broader Pastoral Rule it seems clear that the path to developing this gift requires our engagement with the spirituality of active contemplation that Gregory returns to time and again in this work. Moreover, simple practice can deepen our capacity for discernment. While Gregory certainly believed that discernment was a gift from God, the physician metaphor helps us see that cultivating knowledge (such as the kinds of illnesses and remedies that exist) and virtue (such as the courage to perform a risky operation), as well as gaining expertise through repeated practice (which presumably includes both successes and failures), can contribute to the growth of one’s capacity for discernment. Besides this, however, it also requires knowing our students at the heart level. Again, this may feel overwhelming, and the best place to start might be simply to focus on forging strong relationships with a few students each year. By showing up at their sporting events and dance recitals, joining them for trivia night at the local pizzeria, or inviting them to special worship services at our churches, we will be creating opportunities where real conversations will take place organically and appropriately.
When these conversations arise, as they inevitably will, we may be relieved to find that it is not so much our theological acumen as our active listening skills that will convey our care and help us find a path forward in the conversation. In these moments, it is imperative that we give our students the gift of our undivided attention (something we likely could all stand to give more of to those we love), being fully present and seeking to truly understand the other person. As the conversation continues, in the power of the Holy Spirit we can gently probe to discern what is going on below the surface of the student’s life and identify what spiritual maladies might be at work in their soul. Yes, we may have missed the chance to grade a few more essays or tweak next period’s activity, but we have laid the foundation, through our patient, active, and intentional listening, for the work of spiritual direction.
Treatment
In this second step of the process of spiritual direction, discernment not only enables us to diagnose accurately what is truly going on in a student’s life, but it also empowers us to provide an individualized treatment for spiritual growth. Thus Gregory envisions the spiritual director, having made his diagnosis as best he can, delivering the right message, at the right time, in the right way. Returning to the physician metaphor, Gregory explains that some injuries “are made worse by untimely surgery, and if a medicine is not suited to a certain situation, it would not be profitable to use it” (PR 2.10). To make matters more complicated, what might be encouraged in one student might need to be rebuked in another; what might need to be addressed with one student might need to be overlooked in another who has more pressing issues with which to deal. Even if we have an accurate diagnosis, how can we provide an appropriate treatment?
Thankfully, we are not ultimately the ones treating a student’s spiritual needs; it is God himself, of course, who is the source of all true comfort and healing. Our greatest treatment plan will always be to connect our students with the triune God who alone can bind up their wounds and mend their brokenness. Where further discernment comes in, then, is knowing which word from God to speak in light of the prior diagnosis, carefully taking into account the spiritual needs of the individual.
What if, then, we approached every student interaction with an attitude of prayerful intention (perhaps making a habit of saying a prayer leading into each such conversation), seeking to discern by the power of the Holy Spirit what is really going on in the life of that student and what word from God we could speak to assist that student on their journey? What if we were willing to take some risks, put ourselves out there a bit, and see what doors God might open? True, our attempts to forge meaningful connections with our students might be rejected or misunderstood, but such things even happened to the Lord, who promised the same for his followers (cf. John 15:20). And there certainly may be times when our students’ needs will outstrip our own abilities and qualifications, and the best thing we can do is to make a referral to a professionally-trained pastor, therapist, or counselor. But simply by asking these questions, we are well on our way to recovering a crucial aspect of our vocation as Christian teachers.
As Christian teachers, we are to do all aspects of our work with professionalism, expertise, and integrity, but perhaps our most distinctively Christian opportunity is to make the most of the everyday interactions of our school day as the means by which we shape our students into Christ’s likeness. As argued above, we cannot be content with student mastery of content standards and skills, nor even with transmitting an accurate understanding of theology or a Christian worldview; ultimately, we aim to invite our students into an understanding of the good life as centered on Christ and his kingdom. The art of spiritual direction gives us, therefore, an expanded imagination for the kind of work that will suffice for such a significant task. We can go about this task with courage, knowing that God is already at work in the lives of our students, and we are being invited to participate in this work.
How many minutes of our work days, if we are honest with ourselves, are devoted to simply “being with” our students, to engaging them in conversation and prayer? What if we measured the quality of our days not by how much we “got done,” but rather by the amount of unhurried, prayerful interactions we had with students who may not otherwise have any such adult interactions in their lives? To the extent that we may not be satisfied with our present answers to these questions, we at least have a starting point from which we can consider how we might make room for these kinds of interactions going forward.
Note: This article is adapted from chapter 1 of Dr. Hughes’ book Teaching for Spiritual Formation: A Patristic Approach to Christian Education in a Convulsed Age (Cascade, 2022).
