Although Pope Benedict XVI’s papacy is well known for his rare decision to voluntarily resign in 2013, one initiative from his reign that might deserve more attention is the “Courtyard of the Gentiles” project. The vision for the initiative was to create a space in which believers and nonbelievers could discuss “the great questions about the meaning of life and its value” (The Courtyard of the Gentiles, 2013). The Vatican explains the purpose of the original courtyard of the Gentiles this way:

In addition to the areas reserved to the members of the people of Israel (men, women, priests) in this temple there was a space in which everyone could enter, Jews and non-Jews, circumcised and uncircumcised, members or not of the chosen people, people educated in the law and people who weren’t. Here gathered the rabbis and teachers of the law ready to listen to people’s questions about God, and to respond in a respectful and compassionate exchange. This was the Court of the Gentiles and pagans, in Latin the atrium gentium, a space that everyone could traverse and could remain in, regardless of culture, language or religious profession. It was a meeting place and of diversity [sic] (The Courtyard of the Gentiles, 2013).

It must have been an interesting place of openness, intrigue, confusion, and questions; it was removed from the inner courts, from the strict separation of Jewish women, men, priests, and the Holy Place itself. I wonder whether there were those Jews who preferred the comfortable disorder of the outer court of the Gentiles to the strict laws and segregation of the inner courts. The Vatican seems to also recognize our predilection to close down growth and learning by creating a culture of “efficiency”:

The limit is no longer between those who believe and those who do not believe in God, but between those who want to defend man and life, the humanity of man, and those who want to suffocate them through utilitarianism, which could be material or spiritual. . . . Is the frontier perhaps not between those who recognize the gift of culture and history, of grace and gratuity, and those who found everything on the cult of efficiency, be it science or sacral? (The Courtyard of the Gentiles, 2013).

Commenting on the Vatican’s initiative, Wolfe defines utilitarianism as “the pursuit of money and power” (4). The Vatican Web site states that a shared theme for believers and nonbelievers might be to “take up concrete and common tasks for peace, justice, respect for diversity, the protection of nature, and the fight against fundamentalism” (The Courtyard of the Gentiles, 2013). The Vatican’s desire to open up a space for both believers and nonbelievers to dialogue about a shared agenda for what life-giving culture might look like is a powerful lesson for Christian educators. Many of us in education can be guilty of shutting down openness to surprise and spirituality through an ethos of efficiency and control.

Christian schools desire to “make disciples” out of the children we serve. However, within this desire we need to keep a wary eye on the potential danger of efficient utilitarianism in the embodiment of faith from one generation to another. In his study of the developmental stages of faith, James Fowler reinforces that dynamic faith development is inherently relational, tied inextricably to our psychological development, and often reflects a movement toward a universalizing human dynamic that usually requires an expansion of the presence of tradition in the early stages. This article will first outline Fowler’ s definitions of faith and its developmental stages, and then illustrate Thomas Groome’s pedagogy focused on a compassionate ethos of faith development for children as embodied in the Gospel of Mark.

Fowler’s exploration of the psychology of faith development provides a powerful insight into the impact of family and faith traditions on an individual’s development. Fowler also recognizes the inherently relational dynamic of faith that starts immediately at birth. Our first encounter of the world and its dependability occurs in our relationship with our caregivers. Fowler calls this a “covenantal pattern of relationship” that takes on “triadic shape”:

Along the baseline of the triad, we see the two-way flow between the self and others of love, mutual trust, and loyalty that make selfhood possible. Above the line, at the point of the triad, we see a representation of the family’s shared center(s) of value and power. This includes the family’s “story,” its recognized and unrecognized collection of formative myths. Both self and others invest trust and loyalty in (“rest their hearts upon”) this center or these centers (17).

Fowler recognizes that as we age, we participate in many of these triadic relationships, and that we form an identity (or even identities) as we navigate them and seek to create coherence among them. Within these relationships, families and communities introduce children to shared centers of value and power, the relational context in which children move into the developmental stages of faith.

Stage 1: Intuitive Projective Faith

Absorbing “fragments of stories and images” (128) from the family or culture at large, children in stage one develop a rudimentary understanding of God. Fowler identifies that a tradition preoccupied with “the sinfulness of all people without Christ and the hell of fiery torments that await the unrepentant” often results “in the emergence of a very rigid, brittle and authoritarian personality” when the child is an adult (132). Fowler goes on to challenge Christian schools with the great responsibility to provide images and stories that act as “gifts and guides for our children’s fertile imaginations” (132). Fowler recognizes that “religion,” the rich “cumulative tradition” that informs our faith, is a key aspect of faith development. But, children must have the freedom to speak, to share the images that are forming in their minds. We’ll consider in the conclusion how the gospel provides beautiful and mysterious images and stories for all of our faith development. The stories are not easily summarized and simplified. All of those on a faith journey from its initial stage on have the capacity to offer a meaningful reading.

Stage 2: Mythic-Literal Faith

Primarily evident in elementary-age children, in stage two, the imaginative fantasies of stage one become more rooted in the real. The role of parents and culture at large becomes much more evident in shaping the way a child forms an understanding of God. But narrative still plays a significant role in shaping “coherence and meaning. Story becomes the major vehicle for giving unity and value to experience. . . Meaning is both carried and ‘trapped’ in the narrative” (149).

Stage 3: Synthetic-Conventional Faith

Often occurring in adolescence, stage three faith becomes characteristic of many adults, a stage where many individuals stay. Stage three often involves a first “chum relationship—a first experience of adolescent intimacy outside the family.” These non-family relationships play a significant role in forming the individual’s identity. These additions of triadic relationships demand that faith “must provide a coherent orientation in the midst of that more complex and diverse range of involvements” (172). In stage three, beliefs are important, and the individual is starting to form his own narrative within those beliefs; beliefs are “tacit,” and are shaped by the consensus of a group and its authority figures. In stage three, however, symbols still have important meaning and are understood as representative of the sacred itself. Any deconstruction or demythologization of the symbol is a direct attack on the sacred itself.

Stage 4: Individuative-Reflective Faith

Often occurring in early or even middle-age adulthood (if at all), stage four involves “the critical distancing from one’s previous assumptive value system and the emergence of an executive ego” (180). The earlier stage’s reliance on the nurturing community and its symbols, narrative, and beliefs are now being critically examined and appropriated into concepts. Tacit understanding now becomes explicit. The stage four individual is able to express her convictions. Stage four is the only stage in which the mystery and imagination of narrative and symbol gives way to a more rationally based critical stance of belief. The individual sets herself apart from the mythology of the group.

Stage 5: Conjunctive Faith

Whereas stage four is a loss of mystery in the symbols of a religious community, stage five “develops a ‘second naiveté’ (Ricoeur) in which symbolic power is reunited with conceptual meanings” (197). In stage five, the individual is open to the truths of the “other” and recognizes that one’s own boundaries are “porous and permeable” (198). The individual can simultaneously be a part of one’s own group while also recognizing it is relative to others and will in some ways distort the truth of “transcendent reality” (198). Once again, the individual “can appreciate symbols, myth and rituals (its own and others’)” (198).

Stage 6: Universalizing Faith

Stage six demands a unity of commitment and action that might only be revealed in the “martyrdom” of a select few: “the bearers of stage six faith, whether they stand in the Jewish, Christian or other traditions, embody in radical ways this leaning into the future of God for all being. . . . I believe these persons kindle our imaginations in these ways because in their generosity and authority, in their freedom and their costly love, they embody the promise and lure of our shared futurity” (211), pointing us with their lives to the eschatological possibility of the “coming kingdom of God” (210).

Ethos: Fundamentalism or Compassion?

With the stages outlined, we now turn our attention to consider the implications of the stages of faith for both the Christian school students who are encouraged to grow in their own faith journeys, and the parents and school leaders who are responsible for supporting and nurturing them.

The interplay and desire for the coherence of triadic relationships is a primary motivation for the formation of Christian day schools in Ontario and beyond. Cardus has partnered with the University of Notre Dame to create the Cardus–University of Notre Dame Research Initiative, “with a mandate to explore how parental choice of religious school influences long-term student, family, and community life” (2013). Creating schools that share a “family’s story” is a powerful means of creating coherence. However, as the Vatican recognizes in its criticism of both a secular and a sacred fundamentalism, the ethos of relationships in the family and school also shapes the child’s understanding of faith and her world. The way in which the authority figures (parent, teacher, and other adults) orient the child or student to the shared centers of value and power are essential. As Wolfe indicates, a utilitarian ethos will prioritize the importance of control and power over and above the actual human relationships. Fundamentalism creates no room for compassion. And with the homogenizing effect of a shared biblical narrative, our Christian schools run the risk of shutting down the potential for intra- and interfaith dialogue that the courtyard of the Gentiles embodies and fosters.

Perhaps the extreme forms of fundamentalism are most evident in stages three and four. In stage three, individuals can be so immersed in the conventions of the group that their own understanding of the contours of faith is tacit. They are not able to accommodate the other, who may express faith differently from the group’s conventional understanding. A parent or teacher in this context might not be able to make room for the child who is playfully imagining the symbols and stories of the shared centers of value and power, getting many things “wrong” in light of the “cumulative tradition,” but also stretching their understanding and relationship with the world and beliefs beyond themselves. Conversely, the fundamentalist in stage four might be so critically distanced from the group’s shared centers that their own “executive ego” isn’t willing to open a space for the differences that individuals will present. Under this authority, the learner might encounter an ethos of criticism and judgment that also doesn’t create space for an exploration and clarification of symbols and stories and shared beliefs.

Perhaps it is the stage five mentor with her “second naiveté,” an openness to the mystery of the symbols and narrative while also recognizing humbly that the specific conventions of her faith community must be more porous and open to encounter of the other, who must be empowered to create the proper learning ethos that is embodied by the courtyard of the Gentiles. The stage five mentor can provide both the authoritative encounter with the shared centers of value and power, while also creating the space to allow the individual learner her own space to play with beliefs, to express things differently and to come to a deeper faith as an ongoing journey of growth and change without the limits of a fundamentalist rigidity. Within the context of the courtyard of the Gentiles, the fear of “unbelief” is not the real enemy. The real enemy is utilitarianism and a fundamentalist rigidity that stifles any possible spiritual encounter with the ultimate questions of life and meaning.

Ethos and Pedagogy

The recent study Hemorrhaging Faith: Why and When Canadian Young Adults are Staying, Leaving and Returning to Church identifies that the significant drivers of youth engaging in a faith community are “cross-generational support, authenticity, and inclusivity” (Penner et al. 57–60). In contrast, the communal ethos that drove youth away from church communities are judgmentalism, exclusivity, and a feeling of moral failure in trying to live up to the communities’ expectations (61–65).

If we think again of the triadic relationship, the imbalance of power in the horizontal line between self and other (in this case, teacher and student) subverts the balanced covenantal relationship that both have to the shared center of value and power above them. If the power relationship is dyadic, there can be no room for the Spirit to inspire and shape the mystery of faith development in both participants. If we consider both student and teacher as learners, the horizontal line of self and other (learner) becomes more apparent. The banking concept of education (Freire 75), which is a traditionally accepted and still common pedagogical choice shaping the ethos of most schools, is inherently fundamentalist and shuts down the type of learning that is encouraged by the dialogue of the courtyard of the Gentiles and that is necessary for a healthy faith journey. Thomas Groome shares Freire’s concern with a traditional banking concept of education, highlighting that religious education was “a very didactic process of a teacher telling (usually children) what to believe and how to live. . . . The dominant pedagogy was memorizing catechism questions and answers (Catholic) or Bible verses and stories (Protestant)” (266). In reflection on Fowler’s work, Groome also wonders whether those who reject the faith of their upbringing “do so because the conventional version that they encountered as children fails to meet the complexities and pressures of postmodern life” (79).

Groome roots a pedagogical intent of moving from “life to faith to life” in Christ’s ministry. Although Groome focuses on the encounter of Christ with the couple on the road to Emmaus (39–44), I have been deeply affected by Christ’s journey to Jerusalem and the crucifixion as recorded in the Gospel of Mark 10–11. We’ll conclude by considering this “life to faith to life” pedagogy that Groome outlines by applying it to Mark 10–11. (I want to thank my pastor and friend Chris Schoon for his insight on these passages.)

The Little Children and Jesus: Mark 10:13–16

Jesus often rebukes the disciples for denying others’ access to him. Christ subverts their assumptions by allowing the children positions of privilege. We who educate children and who have some sense of how they express their faith must take to heart Christ’s admonition that the kingdom is theirs, and that we must receive our invitation into the kingdom like they do.

The Rich Young Man: Mark 10:17–31

From a focus on the honor that is bestowed on children for their innocence and ability to receive Christ as a gift, the passage turns to the rich young man who wants a deep assurance that his acceptance into the kingdom is assured. Christ moves compassionately into a deep understanding of the triadic relationship, inviting the young man to leave behind everything and follow Christ, but the man cannot relinquish control over his possessions. Christ laments his leaving, but allows him to go.

The Request of James and John: Mark 10:35–45

James and John are still convinced their allegiance to Christ will bring them power. “What do you want me to do for you?” Christ asks them. They want control and prestige at his right and left. Perhaps in a spirit of despair, he laments their naiveté: not an innocent naiveté like the children they’ve been welcoming, but a fundamentalism that disregards the plight of others around them, and even the plight of Jesus’s own ministry.

Blind Bartimaeus Receives His Sight: Mark 10:46–52

With James and John looking on, Jesus calls Bartimaeus over and asks him the same question he had directed at James and John moments before: “What do you want me to do for you?” Would James and John have been cut to the heart by the contrast of the answer: “I just want to see!”? Having been healed, Bartimaeus can join the multitude going down to Jerusalem to worship in the temple for the first time in his life. His “life to faith to life” witness stands in direct contrast to both the rich young man and the disciples.

Jesus Clears the Courtyard of the Gentiles: Mark 11:12–19

We have encountered the way Christ invites all to come with him on the road to arrive at the temple to encounter and worship the true God, Yahweh. Seeing what the Jewish leaders had done with the courtyard of the Gentiles, Christ condemns them for turning the “house of prayer for all nations” into a “den of robbers” (Mark 11:17). And here is the climactic account that illustrates the power of Christ’s commitment to an ethos of compassion. Where the religious leaders both on the road to Jerusalem and here in the temple had taken a utilitarian approach to their faith practice by shutting down authentic faith encounters for prestige or economic gain, Christ enters the temple inviting the children, the blind, and all those he encounters to come into the presence of the Lord himself.

And so, those of us who are called to be “religious leaders” in the courtyards of our schools must take heed that we are not blinded by our own control, inadvertently creating an ethos not of compassion but of efficiency, misusing our power to serve our own utilitarian ends. May we look carefully at the beauty and mystery of those whom we hope to encounter in authentic dialogue and pedagogy of “life to faith to life.” Perhaps the follower is a child, revealing the beauty of innocence in the early stages of faith, so full of imagination and stories. Perhaps the follower is a young man or woman, just starting to step away from the influence of their parents, moving into a more critical stance of the stories that they were raised on, applying newfound logical thought to that which starts to feel stranger as they mature. Or, perhaps the stranger we meet is one who is much deeper into the mystery of Christ’s offer of kingdom citizenship, an acolyte who carries the wisdom of a second naiveté, who has been called to help us enter into our deeper journey of faith development. The images of Christ offered above from the Gospel of Mark deeply embody an authority rooted in compassion, the ethos of all of our communities. May all of us be receptive to the way our dialogue in the courtyard of the Gentiles is authentic, inclusive, and cross-generational, not judgmental and exclusive, open to the surprise of Christ himself appearing to offer us his hand and the chance to truly see through the eyes of blind Bartimaeus.

Works Cited 

• Cardus-University of Notre Dame Research Initiative. (2013, May 23). Retrieved May 26, 2013, from Cardus: <www.cardus.ca/research/education/initiative/>.
• Fowler, J. W. Stages of Faith: The psychology of Human Development and the Quest for Meaning. New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 1981.
• Freire, P. Pedagogy of the Oppressed. New York: Continuum International Publishing Group, 1970.
• Groome, T. H. Will There Be Faith? A New Vision for Educating and Growing Disciples. New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 2011.
• Penner, J., Harder, R., Anderson, E., Désorcy, B., & Hiemstra, R. Hemorrhaging Faith: Why and When Canadian Young Adults are Staying, Leaving and Returning to Church. EFC Youth and Young Adult Ministry Roundtable, 2011.
• The Courtyard of the Gentiles. (2013, May 25). Retrieved May 25, 2013, from Pontifical Council for Culture: <www.cultura.va/content/cultura/en/dipartimenti/ateismo-e-non-credenza/perche-il-cortile-dei-gentili-.html>.
• Wolfe, G. “Courtyard of the Gentiles.” Image. 76 (2013): 3–6.