Gentleness in Academia

As a college student, it didn’t me take long to learn how cutthroat the world of academia can be. One day I turned up for a medieval history tutorial with a very new junior lecturer. In those days, we handed in our handwritten essays before the tutorial and expected to receive it back with the odd comment and a mark. On this occasion, though, my essay was completely covered in marginal notes and comments, both in the text and at the end. A typical one said, “You clearly disagree with Jolliffe, so let him have it!!” Here I was, trying to be fair-handed to all these august historians, and I was being told to demolish them.

That lecturer turned out to be as kind as any, giving me encouragement, time, and attention that helped me improve my skills. I learned that disagreeing on the page with a point of view did not require character assassination of the person who held that view, though I would also learn that not everyone – even among theologians – practices their art accordingly.

I went on to become a teacher myself. Since then I’ve mopped up a few colleagues who received unkind book reviews that questioned their integrity as much as their academic prowess. I’ve dealt with students who were totally demoralized by the tone of a tutor’s remarks about their work. And I’ve faced critics and editors who were less than gentle with my own work. Is there a better way than this dog-eat-dog approach to advancing knowledge? What place, if any, does gentleness have in academia? Some will write, others will teach, but anyone who inhabits the world of knowledge will meet people whose views they will want to challenge. Is it possible to do this with gentleness and still make your point? I think it is.

One of the biggest challenges I face teaching in a seminary is to find ways to offer criticism that builds students up without taking them down. Some students will always struggle to accept criticism graciously, and some will never see the point. I believe that when grading work we should always have in mind the desire to encourage, and gentleness can help with this. The marking system might constrain us, but when we give feedback we must try to do it gently, and preferably in person. Truth is not compromised by speaking in a gentle voice. The apostle Paul’s letter to Timothy describes the kind of instructor we should strive to be: “kindly to everyone, an apt teacher, patient, correcting opponents with gentleness” (2 Tim. 2:25). This is by far the best way to get the truth across.

Balliol College, Oxford, England. Photograph by Michael Winters / Alamy Stock Photo.

I have to admit I haven’t always got it right. In my first term of teaching church history in a seminary, I was given a pile of essays to mark. One of the students, having written the question at the top, had proceeded to answer an entirely different question. I gave him a 0. I wasn’t there when the essays were returned, and was mortified to hear that this young man, whom I later discovered had very little prior education and had left school at sixteen with no qualifications, was devastated and had broken down in tears. Even then I had to be persuaded that he should get some credit for trying, such was my insecurity in those early days of teaching. I had yet to learn that in academia, as in every realm of life, gentleness and compassion are the most effective approach to working through the weaknesses and limitations of others.

Gentleness is one of the eight “fruits of the Spirit” Paul enumerates: “love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control” (Gal. 5:22–23). It is never a good idea to split these up, for they belong together, but I notice gentleness comes after faithfulness and before self-control. Being faithful in the pursuit of truth is important. Exercising self-control in the way we express it – assert it even – is also important. Paul advises Titus to remind Christians “to avoid quarrelling, to be gentle, to show every courtesy to everyone” (Tit. 3: 2). Gentleness, I would argue, is subversive. It is certainly countercultural in a society where the loudest, cleverest person generally prevails.

The apostle Peter urges us, “Always be ready to make your defense to anyone who demands from you an accounting for the hope that is in you, yet do it with gentleness and respect” (1 Pet. 3:15–16). Gentleness requires a certain humility, and we find them paired in Ephesians 4:2. In academia, this would be a useful pair to bear in mind when putting forward one’s “argument to end all arguments.” Theories come and go and there can be no such thing as the last word in academia. The way we give and receive criticism will speak volumes. When it is our own theory that is being ridiculed, will we be able to hold our ground yet still be gentle in tone?

It always helps to have desirable qualities modeled for us, and I have experienced examples of outstanding minds possessed by people who have also treated me gently. I wasn’t the most forthcoming student, often feeling intimidated in the presence of such giants, as they seemed then. But the ones who gave me time and patiently showed me the way are the ones I remember with gratitude and a sense of wanting to be like them. I think of one Cambridge dean whose study was huge, with every wall lined with books – not a few of them ones he had written. He was immensely learned and respected, yet he never failed to be thoughtful, questioning, and soft-spoken in spite of his accolades. 

I think, too, of an English literature specialist who had to forge a path as a woman in the male-dominated world of academia to achieve the positions she reached. It would surely have been easier to gain her position by pushing others out of the way, but she chose a path of gentleness instead. I first encountered her in a seminar on modern writers where she treated everyone with dignity and respect. She allowed something of her humanity to come through in the classroom, telling us about her beloved dog and showing interest in our lives. In this way she draw out the best in her students – which is what education is really about. Both these teachers were giants in their field but did not think more highly of themselves than they ought.

Anyone entering academia, if they are to make a difference in the world beyond advancing their own reputation, will need to discern the difference between acquiring knowledge for its own sake and growing in wisdom. The Letter of James is interested in how such wisdom is cultivated. Here again, gentleness features. “Who is wise and understanding among you? Show by your good life that your works are done with gentleness born of wisdom” (3:13). James goes on to say that envy and selfish ambition have no place in the pursuit of truth; such an approach is earthly and unspiritual. If people go into academia simply to make a name for themselves, gentleness probably won’t feature in their toolkit. In any vocation, a Christian doesn’t ask, “What’s in it for me?” but, “How will doing this bear witness to the love of God in Christ?” If we are envious of the success of others, that will eat away at any initial sense of vocation we might have started out with. James concludes, “But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits, without a trace of partiality or hypocrisy” (3:17). Such wisdom leads to a harvest of righteousness, and a harvest suggests abundance to be shared. So gentleness is firmly embedded in the world of truth, learning, and teaching, if we have hearts that are open to it.

How does gentleness reflect the character of God? We see it in creation where there is room for the gazelle, the tender green shoots of spring, and the gossamer cobweb as well as the hurricane and beasts of prey. The God who made the tiger also made the sparrow. This is the God who roars through thunder and waterfall and whips up the wind that fells everything in its path, but who speaks in the silence and the whispering breeze. This God speaks words of power in the Bible, but words full of gentleness too. I think of Hosea yearning, or Isaiah’s words: “When you turn to the right or when you turn to the left, your ears shall hear a word behind you saying ‘This is the way, walk in it’” (30:21). Isaiah is full of imagery suggesting gentleness: a mother comforting her child (66:13), wolves and lambs lying down together (65:25), a little child leading fierce animals (11:6).

Gentleness will suggest weakness to some, conjuring up soft-spoken people happy to stay in the background. Its opposite, then, is brute strength which crushes opposition with forceful actions, loudly proclaimed. Both are caricatures. Contrary to the popular consensus, gentleness and strength are not opposites. Paul urges Timothy to pursue a number of virtues including gentleness, but also in the list are righteousness, godliness, faith, love, and endurance (1 Tim. 6:11) – this is no list for wimps. And the next verse calls us to “fight the good fight.” Gentleness requires real strength of character, which is what Timothy is encouraged to focus on. Gentleness flows from those who are secure and those who are working on becoming whole people; it can only come from a place of authenticity where we practice what we preach.

We see this most beautifully exemplified in the life of Jesus himself. His clarity of purpose and his message were not compromised by being gentle with the fearful and doubting. It was Jesus who said, “Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart” (Matt. 11:29). Jesus could be stern, and he did not pull his punches against those who threatened the poor and weak, but he repeatedly gave the vulnerable his attention. He could demolished the arguments of his opponents, especially those who thought he was just a carpenter’s son who knew nothing. He mostly persevered patiently with his disciples, who kept on getting it wrong and failing to understand – though he could get exasperated: “How much longer must I be with you and put up with you?” (Luke 9:41).  He was gentle with those who grieved, especially with the disciples who met him after the resurrection, and his treatment of Peter by the seashore in John 21 is an extraordinary instance of gentle teaching demonstrating how to build up rather than take down.

Perhaps, though, Jesus’ gentleness shines through most clearly in the way he did not retaliate or return abuse on those who abused him. As Christians in academia and other competitive environments, it’s not only the way we approach our own work but also the way we respond to those who seek to take us down that will show the world his better way.