Hauerwas: Learning to Speak Christian

1) Learning the language of any craft is to learn to tell the stories constitutive of the trade.

2) Teaching the “language of prayer” is a physical act akin to carving stone.

3) The language and the action are inseparable and are how we acquire the skills of the craft.

4) The craft of theology is handed down by the masters, and our education in the craft will reflect the tradition of said masters.

5) Our education is not stagnant; we must, in time, become masters ourselves and teach new generations.

Christianity is an education in the language of the craft. How do we learn to “speak” Christian?

We all know that Hauerwas is a big fan of stories. Stories give us an identity. The Story of Christianity, much like the story of stone carving, names “as well as constitutes the virtues” necessary to practice a craft (112). The Story of Christianity is needed to tell us not only the history of the religion, but also to teach us how to be Christian.

We learn to be Christian in many ways. Christianity, like stone carving, “gains its purpose and intelligibility from other stories and traditions” (115). Our Christian education depends on stories. However, our Christian education must form “people in the habits of speech that make possible the virtues constitutive of the Christian tradition” (114).

However, education poses a problem in its presentation. As Hauerwas notes, education is very often presented as information; we can be spoon-fed dogma and we take it on face value. This type of education “By its very nature, is not meant to do any work and is thereby open to ideological distortions” (114). Christianity, like stone carving, takes effort on the part of the practitioner.

Often, Christians run the risk of trying “to substitute something called ‘education’ for what only tradition can do.” (116). Our education in the Christian language must not subvert the traditions of the faith—that is, we cannot just create our own unique religion. As Hauerwas says, “No matter how much effort we may as Christians put into education, the education that results, if it is not shaped by the practices of the church, may reflect a quite different understanding of the world than determined by the Gospel.” (117-8)

We also learn stories from the masters of the craft. In stone carving, there is a very clear hierarchy: master teaches apprentice the skills and traditions of the craft. “Education,” says Hauerwas, “happens through imitating a master. Yet the key to learning from a master is learning when it is appropriate to depart from what one has learned from the master” (115). Each apprentice must gain a foundation and then hone his or her own particular abilities. Traditions change, and as such so must the people within those traditions.

This does not mean we should change the practices of the faith entirely. As Hauerwas states, “instead of trying to describe the faith in new concepts, we should instead try to teach the language and practices of the faith.” Our goal, as Christians, is to become masters of the craft and pass it on to other generations through our actions and stories.

Learning to speak Christian is learning to exercise the virtues of the craft. It is, in Hauerwas’ words, “to be habituated” (120). As we learn the language and form Christian habits--from the existing examples of the traditions and that of the masters—we hone our Christian skill. We learn how to live Christian lives and how to shape the traditions to our context. Essentially, learning to speak Christian is learning how each of us can best glorify God.

Why is it so important that we learn from the masters of a craft and then make the craft our own? Is this how we assure the Story’s continuity or can this self-reflection corrupt the Story?