Chicago-centric? Lessons from Baylor and Notre Dame

This is an excellent article written a decade ago by W. David Solomon for the Baylor U Alumni Magazine, (Winter, 1997).

I was reminded of it as I read Donn Johnson's October 6 blog entry, "Chicago-centric." Solomon is concerned with how religious universities respond to forces of secularization, and discusses how the differences between Protestant Baylor and Catholic Notre Dame might hasten or impede that process . As I read Donn's blog, I wondered if it might be profitable to replace "Baylor" with "Fuller" or "Bethel" and "Notre Dame" with "The Covenant."

The alternative to being "Chicago-centric" is de-centralization. In a postmodern age, decentralization is an attractive option. But could it be that being Chicago-centric actually has an upside? After discussing the similarities between Notre Dame and Baylor, Solomon writes,

"These similarities should not, however, blind us to important differences between Notre Dame and Baylor. Even in these ecumenical days, there are theologically related cultural and institutional differences that run quite deep. One difference with some relevance to the question of religious identity is the culture of governance at each institution. Baylor faculty, like all faculty members I have ever known, frequently complain about too much centralized and top-down management at the university. They push for more faculty oversight and involvement in administrative decisions. They may be right to make these demands, but to an outsider Baylor seems, if anything, to be too burdened with bottom-up committees. The same faculty members at Baylor who complain about centralized administration also complain about the burdens of committee work. However this may be, governance at Baylor is much more distributed and much less centralized than that at Notre Dame, where decision-making is more hierarchical and paternalistic.

Governance at both schools tends to mimic clerical structure. For Catholics power has traditionally radiated from Rome, bishops, and clergy. Baptist organization is a kind of constrained anarchy. Baptist preachers have to earn the authority they possess in their congregations; priests have authority conferred upon them. Both Nashville and Rome attempt to exert power over their scattered congregations, but Rome starts with a decided theological advantage in this regard over Nashville.

These differences in administrative style are relevant to questions of religious identity in a number of ways, but the most important is the relation they have to techniques of institutional control. Given the more centralized control characteristic of Catholic universities, it is easier to maintain religious identity in secularizing times in such universities. This may partially explain why Catholic universities as a group have been so much more successful at resisting secularizing influences than Protestant universities have.

A second difference between Notre Dame and Baylor – and it would be especially striking to a Catholic visitor to Baylor – is the lack of religious objects and images on the Baylor campus. A visitor who walked around the campus and looked it over would have no clue that it is a Christian – or Baptist – university. Things are quite different at Notre Dame. At the entrance to the Notre Dame campus is a statue of the founder, Father Sorin, in complete clerical regalia; at the entrance to Baylor’s campus is a statue of its namesake, a judge, in full judicial regalia.
Bells are played at Notre Dame from the tower of a French neogothic church at the center of campus; bells at Baylor are played from the tower of the administration building.At Notre Dame, the neogothic church is the architectural focus of the campus; there is no church on the Baylor campus. When alums return to Notre Dame, they frequently stroll across campus to visit (and light a candle at) a replica of the grotto at Lourdes; at Baylor, one visits the bear pit where the university mascot is housed. At Notre Dame, there is a crucifix in every classroom, a chapel in every dormitory (where Mass is said several times a week), and religious statuary distributed around campus; at Baylor there are no religious objects of this sort to be found.

A Catholic visitor to the Baylor campus would be immediately struck by the lack of sacred space on campus. Indeed, the building which houses the space with the most sacred aspect is the unrelentingly secular Armstrong Browning Library, a replica of an Italianate villa housing research materials and memorabilia of the Brownings.
The Browning Library contains much beautiful stained glass, and its central room, the Foyer of Meditation, has as its focus the altar-like bronze cast of Robert and Elizabeth Brownings’ clasped hands. But the reach of the Browning Library toward the sacred exceeds its grasp. It remains a temple to a dead Victorian poet. The stained glass celebrates the Pied Piper of Hamelin, not the events of the gospels; the statue of the innocent young woman that graces the front of the building is of Pippa and not of the Mother of God. The sign inside the front door of Armstrong Browning Library reminds the visitor that this building contains the world’s largest collection of secular stained glass. One could go on to mention the two most recognizable symbols of Notre Dame to the wider world: the statue of the Virgin Mary atop the golden dome and the ten-story-high mosaic of Jesus on the library.

One might say, of course, that these differences in the physical presence of the religious on the two campuses is the result of deep differences in the religious beliefs and practices of Baptists and Catholics. But that is to make my point.

There are a number of ways in which these differences are relevant to the larger topic of religious identity, but one is of particular importance. Secularization would be more difficult ultimately at Notre Dame than at Baylor, and this would be true just because the religious identity of Notre Dame is embodied in the physical being of the place. The faculty and students might give up any interest in things religious, but the campus would still be laid out in the shape of a cross. And it would be difficult to remove the mosaic of Jesus from the front of the library. There is an old saying at Notre Dame that "the blood is in the bricks" – meaning that the life’s work of the founders and sustainers of the university course through the yellow mud bricks from which the campus buildings are constructed. But in a deeper sense, the religious traditions of the university have left their mark on the physical structure of the place. To render Notre Dame finally and fully secular would require tearing it down and rebuilding it – and renaming it! Baylor possesses no such barriers to secularization."

What happens to a university/denomination when there isn't even a location, muchless mosaics grottoes or statues? Could it be that "distance learning" is harder for the Covenant than for Fuller or Bethel because we still aspire to be a Covenant--in the old Swedish sense of the word--that is, "forbundet?" Can you have a "forbundet" without some physical center for locating relationships?

Jews have Jerusalem; Catholics have Rome, Moslems have Mecca, and the Orthodox once had Constantinople. As Protestants are we so spiritual that we consider ourselves "beyond" the need for place? Or perhaps is it the case that we have grown (apart) so much, physically, intellectually and emotionally that "forbundet" is itself an antiquated notion, which needs to be given up for the greater good of the kingdom?

Can there be incarnation without location? Does a denomination need a physical center? If the answer is yes, then what are the conditions for best locating that center? If the answer is no, how then do we avoid an incipient gnosticism in our relationships?