The Classical Parent

There is a special kind of joy that comes from being part of an educational community rich in beautiful material and interdisciplinary discoveries. I recently had a delightful conversation with a Trinitas teacher about connections between our Thoughtful Reader Book Club author, Mrs. Tellinghuisen’s recent Lenten reflection, and our Virtue of the Quarter. If you are curious how these fit together, read on! 

For Thoughtful Reader Book Club this year, we chose two books by George MacDonald (1824-1905)—students read The Princess and the Goblin, and parents and staff are reading Phantastes. MacDonald was a Scottish pastor, poet, and writer of fantasy fiction and a favorite author of many of our favorite authors—Tolkien, Lewis, Chesterton, Carroll, and L’Engle, to name but a few. MacDonald’s vast influence is difficult to overestimate. C.S. Lewis famously said that Phantastes “baptized” his imagination, opening the way for his conversion to Christianity. Of MacDonald’s influence on him as an author, Lewis wrote, “I have never concealed the fact that I regarded him as my master; indeed I fancy I have never written a book in which I did not quote from him.” And speaking for so many other writers, Madeleine L’Engle wrote, “Surely George MacDonald is the grand-father of us all—all of us who struggle to come to terms with truth through imagination.”  

The work of MacDonald surely made, and still makes, the world a better and more beautiful place. From our perspective so many years later, it looks like he was blessed to have found his vocation or “calling.” *  Theologian Frederick Buechner famously defined vocation as the place where “your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet,” and students around the globe are often encouraged to find their own calling, to find work that coincides with their passions and “changes the world.” We’re not sure MacDonald always experienced his own work this way though.

MacDonald’s passion was poetry, and while his work received good reviews, he struggled to support his young family. His publisher encouraged him to write fiction, and so MacDonald wrote Phantastes, “a kind of fairy tale in the hope that it will pay me better than the more evidently serious work.” * For a significant part of his career, MacDonald put aside his first love, spending time engaged in what he probably felt were less-preferred tasks. What message is there in his example for us?  

In her recent Lenten reflection, Mrs. Tellinghuisen encouraged us not to “think big and start small,” as we are so often told to do, but to think small. She encouraged us to turn our gaze during Lent to “the little things on this road that show us the kingdom, in Jesus, has truly come near.” What if we viewed our vocations in this way too? It is certainly a blessing if our work and passions coincide and a further blessing if the result has a wide impact, but we are sometimes called to ignore our “deep gladness” in order to meet not the world’s hunger but the hunger (both figurative and literal) of those near to us. This requires the virtue of self-discipline. 

“The Untrue Artist,” a poem by Reid McGrath, begins with the words of Irish playwright George Bernard Shaw (1856-1950):  

“The true artist will let his wife starve, his children go barefoot, his mother drudge for his living at seventy, sooner than work at anything but his art.” 

In contrast, McGrath paints a picture of the “untrue artist” who with self-discipline responds to the needs of love: 

I’ve put untapped potential on a shelf
much like a book one someday wants to read.
I’m less concerned with cultivating “Self;”
and now am more concerned with what we need. 

We’re married. You’re more beautiful than books.
The Muse is not my mistress anymore.
Despite how mainstream or mundane he looks,
the Pragmatist is no one to abhor. 

If I can make it to retirement,
I’ll pen the poems you deserve to hear.
But if the artist in his art is pent,
I’ll eschew those poor penthouses, my dear. 

I hope you know that when I stoke the stove,
get out the door, then labor out of sight,
I show my love—not with poems of love,
but with books of poems I won’t write.

MacDonald considered poetry the highest form of literary art. Phatastes was written by an “untrue artist,” one who was willing to show his love to his family for a time with the poems he didn’t write. This other-focused nature of the virtue of self-discipline is captured well in MacDonald’s dictum, “bethink thee of something thou oughtest to do, and go and do it, if it be but the sweeping of a room or the preparing of a meal or a visit to a friend. Heed not thy feelings. Do thy work.” Self-discipline is very often a matter of being faithful in little things, of performing small and consistent, sometimes less-preferred, acts of service and love for others. During this season of Lent and beyond, let us remember that it is often not in “changing the world” but in being faithful that we live according to our calling as followers of Christ. 

*Greville MacDonald, George MacDonald and His Wife (George Allen and Unwin, 1924), 288. 

**“Vocation” comes from Latin, vocare, “to call.” 

© ALP 

There is no shortage of books out there that are focused on, well, focusing. Indeed, it seems we live in a culture of inattention and distraction. There are reasons to be concerned. A day—or days—of endless screen scrolling can negatively impact one’s health: physical, emotional, relational, and spiritual. But if we are honest, smartphones and other devices have only amplified what has long been a reality of the human condition: our hearts do not always seek the good. But that said, is a lack of focus or attention necessarily bad?

We invite you to read this recent blog post, “Attention to our Limitation,” from Don Tellinghuisen, professor of psychology at Calvin University, and yes, Mrs. Tellinghuisen’s husband. A cognitive and experimental psychologist, his area of study is attention and distraction. He is currently working on a book that examines these topics from a faith perspective. And he offers us a little encouragement as we struggle to attend to the things we know we should (and turn from those things we know we shouldn’t). It’s actually good—and necessary! —that we have limited attention. Professor Tellinghuisen invites us to consider how we have been created and to think about focus and attention through the lens of Christian discipleship and stewardship. (Spoiler: We aren’t God. We can’t do it all. And that’s a very good thing!)

A quintessentially classical way of doing things is to begin with the end. And so, as we consider the possibility of a Trinitas Classical High School, we begin with a Portrait of a Graduate. The cultivation of those virtues we illustrate in this portrait already begins in kindergarten, and it is a joy to see them grow throughout students’ elementary and middle school years with us. It is our hope, God willing, to be able to play a role in the continued cultivation of these qualities throughout students’ high school years.  

Portrait of a Graduate: Trinitas Classical High School seeks to educate and spiritually form young adults with ordered hearts, courageous voices, and ready hands for obedient discipleship as they faithfully take the next steps in their education, work, and service. 

Young Adults 

“Don’t let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set an example for the believers in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith and in purity.” (I Timothy 4:12) 

The idea of a young adult perhaps brings to mind a person who is full of potential, someone who is a “future leader,” rather than a leader right now. Or it may make one think, a little negatively, of someone with a fair amount of freedom but with less responsibility. At Trinitas, we recognize that young people can be leaders now, and that freedom and responsibility should increase together. In a world that is reluctant to ask much of our teenagers, TCHS seeks to graduate young men and women capable and desirous of being examples for others both younger and older than they.   

Ordered Hearts 

“Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” (Philippians 4:8) 

Education in the classical Christian tradition seeks to guide our hearts to love what is true, good, and beautiful. Our hearts are formed, in large part, by what we spend time thinking about. At Trinitas, we seek to engage excellent and praiseworthy material. We also do this because we know, as St. Augustine observed, that only a heart that is ordered toward its maker is truly at rest. In a world of restless striving, TCHS seeks to create a place of rest, a place of scholé where students, teachers, and families delight in their maker and in what is good and true and beautiful. 

Courageous Voices 

“But in your hearts revere Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect.” (I Peter 3:15) 

Our desire is for TCHS graduates to seek first the Kingdom of God, to revere and proclaim Christ as their Lord. The Rhetoric stage of their education is particularly well suited to help them share their testimony in written and spoken words and by living lives of love and service in whatever places and roles they are called. In a world that tempts us to cowardice or encourages aggression, TCHS seeks to equip students with courage that speaks truth and treats others with both gentleness and respect. 

Ready Hands 

“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters.” (Colossians 3:23) 

Since the time of the ancient Greek philosophers, classical education has elevated the life of the mind. The cultivation of our intellect is indeed an important part of what it means to live a flourishing life, but it is only a part. As Scripture tells us, human beings were made from both the breath of God and the dust of the earth—we are beautifully and mysteriously both immaterial spirit and physical body. And so, the work of our hands is also an important part of what it means to live a flourishing life. The Lord of the Sermon on the Mount was also a carpenter. But neither the life of the mind nor the work of our hands is our ultimate end. In a world that identifies and classifies us by what we do, TCHS seeks to form graduates who know their identity lies not in their work, but in the One they work for—graduates who work for their Lord and serve others with all their hearts, graduates who know they are loved by the One who first loved us and who find their joy and rest in this ultimate truth. 

© ALP 

“The Most Wonder-ful Time of the Year” by Rebecca Tellinghuisen

When you think of “spiritual disciplines,” what comes to mind? Prayer? Reading the Bible? Fasting? Journaling? These are all good spiritual disciplines, or faith practices as they are also called. But what about wonder? I sometimes think — wonder! — if wonder is foundational for all spiritual practices. When the Spirit of the Lord moves in us and acts through us, any response of devotion on our part comes from, or should come from, a place of gratitude, reflection, and wonder. And isn’t Advent the very season of wonder?

We hope your household is spending time in the Gospel of John this Advent. And we hope that you are practicing wonder as you read and discuss together. Ask questions. Share stories. Draw pictures. And most of all, give thanks, for this wonderful gift: the Word made flesh who made his dwelling among us to bring light and life to all.

Wonder is certainly a spiritual act, but here’s the “discipline” part. Sometimes it takes work. Wonder can hit us out of the blue, without any effort on our part. It’s hard not to be left amazed while standing at the rim of the Grand Canyon. But what about an ordinary Monday when you feel overworked, underprepared, or just generally out of sorts? You may wonder how you are going to make it through the day, but you might struggle to stop, reflect, and wonder how God can use you – and even bless you — in life’s busier moments.

Speaking of busy, here we are halfway between Thanksgiving and Christmas. This can be a very full season. Lots to see. Lots to do. Lots to buy. Lots of this is good, of course. But does it leave us time to wonder? We invite you in the coming week to set aside time to pause and reflect on the beauty of this world, and specifically the beauty of the Incarnation, by reading or listening to “Recovering Wonder,” a short blog post from the Reformed Journal (and then taking a walk outside!) and by contemplating the words of the carol, “I Wonder as I Wander.”

© RRT, December 2024

“I Wonder as I Wander”
A Traditional Appalachian carol adapted by John Jacob Niles

I wonder as I wander, out under the sky,
how Jesus the Savior did come for to die
for poor ordinary people like you and like I;
I wonder as I wander, out under the sky.

When Mary birthed Jesus, ’twas in a cow’s stall
with wise men and farmers and shepherd and all.
but high from God’s heaven a star’s light did fall,
and the promise of ages it did then recall.

If Jesus had wanted for any wee thing,
a star in the sky, or a bird on the wing,
or all of God’s angels in heaven for to sing,
he surely could have it, ’cause he was the King.

I wonder as I wander, out under the sky,
how Jesus the Savior did come for to die
for poor ordinary people like you and like I;
I wonder as I wander, out under the sky.

Do you recall a time when you delighted in learning something? Somewhere in the realm of elementary school, I was introduced to the Fibonacci sequence, and it fascinated me. I’ve always been drawn to patterns and puzzles, and here was a codified number pattern that warranted having its own moniker.  

On a recent episode of Basecamp Live, guest Bill Stutzman spoke of learning within the context of Proverbs 25:2, that we are doing the work of kings when we search out knowledge.

Proverbs 25:2 (NASB) 

It is the glory of God to conceal a matter, 

But the glory of kings is to search out a matter.

Searching out matters— a quest for discovery and for revelation is noble work that God has set before us! The pursuit of knowledge yields wisdom like treasures. The Fibonacci numbers were (and still are) a treasure to me. After learning how to read, this mathematical concept was a gold mine to delve (and children do yearn for the mines).

The Fibonacci sequence is often referenced when exploring the irrational number Phi, Φ, as the sequence mimics a close approximation. If you need a quick refresher, an irrational number is a number that cannot be expressed as a fraction, the most widely known being Pi, π. So, while using the Fibonacci sequence as a starting point 8/5 (1.6) all the way up to 6,765/4,181 (1.618033963166707), gets us closer to Φ. Phi is called the golden ratio and is also reflected in the golden spiral, which is found throughout history in the various visual arts from paintings to architecture. The patterns of Fibonacci and phi are also found in God’s creation, observed in the spirals of shells and horns, the spread of dahlia petals, and even the double helix of DNA.

Perhaps it was this early experience that allowed me to do something that is often missed in modern math education—become enchanted. I don’t know what came first—a delight in math or being comfortable with math—but I’m inclined to think that by first becoming enchanted with math, it became something I found comfortable (not necessarily easy but not insurmountable to work through) and even welcomely anticipated. If a student dreads a subject or is even apathetic toward it, something has gone amiss as we’ve disenchanted that area of knowledge. As Ken Myers points out in his introduction to Beauty for Truth’s Sake, “modern culture has disenchanted the world by disenchanting numbers. For us, numbers are about quantity and control, not quality and contemplation” (4).

Stratford Caldecott, the author of Beauty for Truth’s Sake, shares his delight and contemplations around phi. He writes about how subjects that we now typically refer to as STEM and often erroneously pit against the humanities, are vital to a complete liberal arts education. Caldecott writes, “If we look at the underlying principles or ideals that led the ancients to codify the seven Liberal Arts in the first place, we find there a vision in which the arts and sciences, faith and reason, are not separated, as they have been since the Reformation and the Enlightenment in our mainstream philosophies; rather they profoundly complement each other” (132).

We at Trinitas often speak of educating the whole child. If our and’s become or’s, “art or science,” “faith or reason,” we are in danger of teaching only a half or encouraging a student to choose only a half, we are in danger of stunting not only a student’s cognitive abilities, but their humanity as well. This is the beauty of a liberal arts education, that education is not merely a transmission of facts and figures, but the formation of whole persons. 

“The fragmentation of education into disciplines teaches us that the world is made of bits we can use and consume as we choose. This fragmentation is a denial of ultimate meaning… We do not need to be content with our fragmented worldview, our fractured mentality. It is not too late to seek the One who is ‘before all things’ and in whom ‘all things hold together’ (Col. 1:17),” writes Caldecott (17). 

If you have been around Trinitas for a while you’ve heard us speak of the trivium—grammar, logic, rhetoric—an ordering of how students learn. Caldecott spends most of his time focused on the other four facets of a liberal arts education, the quadrivium—arithmetic, music, astronomy, and geometry—and how they work with and expound the foundation laid by the trivium. “The ‘purpose’ of the quadrivium was to prepare us to contemplate God in an ordered fashion, to take delight in the source of all truth, beauty, and goodness, while the purpose of the trivium was to prepare us for the quadrivium. The ‘purpose’ of the Liberal Arts is therefore to purify the soul, to discipline the attention so that it becomes capable of devotion to God; that is, prayer” (90). 

Let us continue doing the work of kings, and let our curiosity lead us to pray without ceasing.

© SES 

If you read Mrs. Tellinghuisen’s recent post “There’s No Place Like Home,” then you’ll understand the delight I felt as she opened our August in-service devotion with the suggestion that all stories are about seeking and/or finding home, and that if each story had to be condensed into one word, she would choose the word hospitality. When I heard her say that, I wanted to jump up and shout, “That’s my word too!” Well, one of my words. Without any prior conversation with Mrs. Tellinghuisen, I had planned for the afternoon’s professional development session to set the stage for a year-long focus on two things: scholé (more on that in an upcoming CCEC) and… you guessed it, hospitality. 

I began the session by playing part of the theme song from the popular 80’s television show Cheers. While referencing a sitcom might not seem particularly “classical,” I’d argue that in this case it’s not so far off. First, staff members of my generation quickly recognized the song from the popular culture of our teen years. Such recognition demonstrates the power of a classical pedagogical (and advertising) principle: content set to music often sticks with us, for better or for worse. Second, the song captures something central to human nature, and human nature is a central subject of classical education.  

Here’s how it begins:  

Making your way in the world today
Takes everything you’ve got
Taking a break from all your worries
Sure would help a lot
Wouldn’t you like to get away?… 

Sometimes you wanna go
Where everybody knows your name
And they’re always glad you came
You wanna be where you can see (ah-ah)
Our troubles are all the same (ah-ah)
You wanna be where everybody knows your name 

The song expresses quite well the deep human longing to be known, to feel “at home” and to be convinced others are glad to be with us. Because it satisfies this fundamental longing, Mrs. Tellinghuisen suggests that “hospitality is the point of all virtue.” I tend to agree. 

Of course, classical Christian education should help us to go deeper than the Cheers theme song (and it should give us better content than the show provided). The lyrics reference the sitcom’s setting when the singer croons, “Be glad there’s one place in the world/ Where everybody knows your name/ And they’re always glad you came…” That “one place in the world” that feels like home for the characters of Cheers is a bar in Boston. Where is that “one place” for us? At Trinitas, we hope there are several places—that in our school, our homes, and our churches we feel a deep sense of belonging. We hope these are all places where the forms of hospitality are learned from our Lord himself and demonstrated in acts of invitation, preparation, sharing, service, listening, and welcome.  

Our upcoming Grandparent/VIP Day provides an occasion for us to practice these forms of hospitality. Invitations have been sent. We’re preparing a program and classroom activities to share our school with grandparents and VIP’s. Early next week, with help from our faithful Parent Service Fellowship volunteers, students in grades K-8 will make all of the treats to serve our guests. Some will arrange flowers. Discussion questions are planned so students can listen to loved ones’ memories of what life was like for them when they were young. In these ways and more, we hope to welcome our guests so they will know we’re very glad they came. 

Such occasions for hospitality are mere imitations of the hospitality our Lord extends to us. Scripture teaches that he is preparing a place for us and that he makes these preparations out of love for us. Out of that same love, he became incarnate, lived and died and rose and will come again in the greatest acts of sharing and service ever known, for he rejoices in finding and restoring the lost. Scripture also teaches that the Word, through whom all things were made, does not talk all the time. After declaring it “good” and “very good,” God welcomed his creation with rest and with silence, and he built these into the rhythms of the world. The wise and the hospitable have learned from this that there is a time to speak and a time to be silent, a time to listen.* Perhaps most remarkable of all is that the creator, sustainer, and ruler of the universe invites us by name. He knew each of us in our mother’s womb, even choosing us before the foundation of the world. There are no greater acts of hospitality and no greater ways of being known and welcomed home than these.**  

*Neal Plantinga, “A Rhythm as Old as the World,” LaGrave Christian Reformed Church, July 28, 2024. 

**Some of the Scripture referenced: John 14:1-3, John 3:16, Romans 5:8, Luke 15, Genesis 1, Ecclesiastes 3:7, Proverbs 18:3, Isaiah 43, Isaiah 49, John 10, Psalm 139, Ephesians 1:4. 

© ALP

Mrs. Tellinghuisen opened our August staff in-service with the following devotion. We were blessed by it and asked her if she would share it as our opening Classical Christian Education Corner piece for the school year.

Think of a good story you once heard. It can be from a book, film, play, or even sitting around a campfire. What was it about? Not just interesting characters, compelling plot, what did it say to you that really mattered? Can you condense that story—and more than the story, your experience of the story—into one word or a simple phrase? I would choose the word hospitality. 

It seems all stories are about seeking and/or finding home. Not just a home. But home, in the deepest, truest sense of the word. And though I’m not trained in philosophy or ethics, I suggest that hospitality is the point of all virtue. I’d call the source of all virtue love, the love of the divine maker who made us what we are and is making us much more than what we are. Love is the foundational what. But hospitality is the foundational why. Why love? Why grace? Because we all want to sit down, put feet up, just breathe, just be. Just be home.   

In the years I’ve taught Latin, I’ve found certain word pairings that students mix up. I see it the most with hospes and hostis. ‘Guest’ and ‘enemy’. There’s a big difference there, and while they are easy to decipher if you think of the derivatives (hospital, hospitality; hostile, hostility), they do look and sound a lot alike. And maybe it’s telling that they are so similar. The Bible says that we, even while we were yet sinners, separated from God, enemies even, even then we were invited to the banquet, guests of the master. Welcomed and loved.  

Now the tax collectors and sinners were all gathering around to hear Jesus. But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law muttered, “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.” Then Jesus told them this parable: “Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Doesn’t he leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home.” (Luke 15:1-6a) 

He gives the lost sheep a home. The Good Shepherd is hospitality itself.  

This is the honest truth. I wrote my idea for this devotion on my phone at some ridiculous overnight hour when inspiration struck. When I typed hospes, the auto-correct function changed it to gospel. I loved that.   

At the June staff in-service, our first-day devotions were from the last few pages of Professor Jennifer Holberg’s book, Nourishing Narratives. She shares four things she most wants her Calvin University students to know: You are loved. You are enough. I want you to succeed. Your voice matters.  

The teacher-to-student messaging here is essential, of course, but so is the self direction. We want our students to be able to say these things to themselves. And we want them to say them, in words and actions, to one another. In our relationships, we’re all of us, at different times, on one side of the door or the other: invited as guest or inviting to a guest. And let us not forget, in our eternal home relationship, we’re all guests, and our host is all generosity.  

Imagine what this school (or any place) would look like if, at any time, a person felt invited and welcomed here. Valued here.  

Here at Trinitas we love books! And reading books about virtue is important and beneficial. But reading about virtue does not, in fact, make us virtuous. The gospels have plenty to say about hearers of the word as opposed to doers of the word, those who study the law and those who actually see its purpose of loving God and neighbor. 

You are loved. You are enough. I want you to succeed. Your voice matters.  

To these four, I would add a fifth that naturally follows: You belong here. 

Every story is essentially about seeking home. The best stories are where home is found. So, by all means, let’s teach those stories here at Trinitas and in our homes. But more importantly, let’s embody them by opening doors, pulling out the good chairs, and offering refreshment to any and all, but especially to the hungry, the hurting, and the overlooked. 

School is starting soon. Classrooms and hallways will be full of activity. And because we’re all human, on any given day, we surely have among us those who are hungry, those who are hurting, and those who are feeling overlooked. Our hospitality will tell them they belong here.  

Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves. Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Share with the Lord’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality. (Romans 12:10–13) 

© RRT, September 2024