In the armpit of a tree
between striking chords of grass
everything chasing
nothing
everybody chasing
breaking wind to interrupt
the symphony of airconditioners

I think he left a note somewhere
Waiting on the obverse of a kite.

Francis Bacon is widely regarded as the Father of modern empirical science. A courtier in the reigns of Elizabeth I and James I, Bacon was best known in his own time as a lawyer and jurist. People have often observed that his contribution to the development of modern scientific method came through the application of forms of legal reasoning to natural philosophy. Baconian scientific method – the method of empirical experimentation – is a way to put the World on trial. The rhetorical devices that Bacon employed to sell his vision are instructive. Bacon conceived of Nature as his coy mistress: a lady who could be more or less willing to give up her secrets. The Baconian scientist would put her to The Question, peeling back the layers, and even, if necessary, putting her on the Rack (his image, not mine).
(Has anyone considered that maybe this is the reason why Scientists have never been good with the ladies?)

You know, sometimes when sleep is scant, it can feel like we are wrestling with the books, torturing the secrets out of recalcitrant ancient languages, putting obfuscating theologians to The Question, conducting our inquisition of the tradition.

But even if essaying is tortuous, should you let it make you a torturer?

(For more on Francis Bacon there is a brilliant ‘In Our Time’ podcast here)

The Essay is a test put to the student: a challenge to demonstrate mastery of concepts and communication. But within the network of relationships that make up a learning environment, an essay is very rarely ‘just a test’. It is a Trial, an Ordeal – in the old fashioned ‘dunkin’ witches’ sense – something which easily bleeds over the edge of assessing aptitude and becomes intimately bound into revealing identity. Obviously, this is not always the case, and not always the case for every student.
But look at the levels of anxiety that are associated with essays and exams, think about the structures of our ‘meritocratic’ society, our agent-oriented ethical systems, the functionalisation of human relations to each other, the commodification of the world, and tell me that it’s not true.

The Essay is the particular sphere through which a student can be justified by works. The Instituted Order is called upon to examine his or her effort and the extent to which he or she has co-operated with the means of learning (lectures, etc), but ultimately grading must be done against an objective standard and a mark must be given. There are rumours of Academic Saints, those who scored 100% (usually in the more ascetic disciplines like Language), but the taint of sin upon human toil suggests that this must be rare. Perhaps praying for their assistance will bring some relief but, honestly, most of us are just going to have to settle for time in purgatory.

By the time anyone gets to studying a second degree (like most theological students), they have survived at least 16 years of a graceless education system. Particularly if a student is academically gifted (and not particularly otherwise) then he or she has faced years of reinforcing behaviour that shapes them to live by the approval and acceptance of the gods of learning.
It is a most unevangelical form of education.

Is it any wonder that our theological colleges are full of people who are more deeply trained to seek a secure foundation for identity in results rather than relationships?