Posted on 10/28/2002 8:19:41 AM PST by dead
Recently, I set some of my students a number of sub-editing exercises which included the following: Identify the sole adjective in the Lord's Prayer. Surprisingly, none of the students who attempted this exercise got it right. The problem was not their command of the parts of speech as much as their knowledge of this seminal Christian text.
Many had trouble recalling the Lord's Prayer, others confused it with the Creed; still others had no idea about what they were being asked to examine.
Before anyone jumps to the wrong conclusions, it should be said that the Lord's Prayer is not required reading in any subject these students undertake for their university course and it is conceivable that in the previous 13 years of their schooling (whether public or private) it was never broached.
Nor are these students' heads empty: they are filled with all sorts of information their parents and grandparents do not possess and probably will never acquire.
Still these students are interesting because of their profile: males and females, 18-20 years of age, from both rural and metropolitan backgrounds, and all of them educational high achievers.
The deciding factor in determining what they know is relevance - defined largely in a vocational sense. But what about the kind of general knowledge that connects them with their history, allows them to appreciate the dominant religious, philosophical and moral currents within their culture, and enables them to view the world and their place in it in other than strictly utilitarian ways?
Implicitly we make assumptions about the widespread possession of this sort of knowledge all the time. Take last Thursday's national memorial service for the victims of the Bali bombings as a case in point.
This service was a decidedly Christian affair. But if you don't know the Lord's Prayer what chance is there that you were likely to enter into the religious meaning of the service except at the level of simple decorative ritual?
In July, the National Church Life Survey reported that new figures indicated that in the 20 to 29 age group, only 59 per cent of people had any exposure to church activities in their childhood (compared with 70 per cent of Australians overall).
"It is likely," concluded NCLS researcher Dr John Bellamy, "that the current generation of primary-school-aged children will be the first where the majority will have no memory of a church involvement at some stage in their upbringing."
But if the students who struggled to recite the Lord's Prayer are any indication, something much more dramatic is happening: among people under 25 years of age, Christianity is becoming the equivalent not only of a dead religion but also of a dead language.
Previous generations largely lost the ability to "read" Christian symbolism, except in its most basic forms and even this is often misinterpreted. The evidence can be seen among those who wander aimlessly around cathedrals and older churches, admiring the architecture and stained glass but having as little understanding of the religious significance of gargoyles as they have of the Galilee Porch.
But previous generations at least retained a sense of the Christian narrative and of the world view to which it contributed. Now even these seem to be receding from the cultural memory.
Outside of the churches (which have a vested interest in matters of belief, membership and commitment) this doesn't seem to unduly concern too many people. In NSW, for instance, schoolchildren are tested for their proficiency in literacy and numeracy skills. General knowledge, by contrast, is considered either too hard, too subjective, or of too little significance to warrant similar attention.
Yet the importance of such knowledge would seem to be increasingly obvious. If, for example, there is any truth to the suggestion that the world is on the brink of a clash of civilisations, it would surely be useful if people on both sides of the divide understood what distinguishes them and why. If there is no truth to the suggestion, it is just as important to know how we ever got to the dangerous point of taking this idea seriously.
Beyond this is the everyday matter of discernment. We live in an age of pluralist beliefs and values. It is difficult to weigh up the relative merits of each unless we possess some points of reference, some rudimentary contexts, to use as our scales. Without these, we have little to go on but impressions.
Don't expect the result to be a liberation from superstition: it could just as easily be a field day for clerical fanatics and the peddlers of snake-oil in religious garb.
Chris McGillion, the Herald's religious affairs editor, teaches in the school of communication at Charles Sturt University.
Our Father, who art in Heaven, Hallowed be Thy Name....
That's my guess.
I think if you turn "Hallowed be thy name" around and put it as "Thy name be hallowed", it looks like "hallowed" would be some kind of verb form. (Hey, I am a math guy, not a grammar guy.)
"Our" Father
"daily" bread
"our" (debts/trespasses)
"Thy" Kingdom
"Thy" Will...
As I said above, grammar is not my strong suit but isn't "Our" a possessive pronoun?
I believe the answer is "daily". As in, what kind of bread? 'Daily' bread.
Bring back sentence diagramming !!! It really does make it easier to figure out the parts of speech/sentence.
CSU Directory: Search Results for : McGillion
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Mr Christopher MCGILLION
Position: Senior Lecturer
Communication, School
Phone: (02) 6338 4047
Internal Phone: 84047
Fax: (02) 6338 4409
Internal Fax: 84409
Campus: Bathurst Room: N5
Email: cmcgillion@csu.edu.au
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