Both children and adults love to be the best at something. It feeds our natural pride quite nicely, and it provides us with a certain sense of security. It is not surprising, then, that parents and teachers also want their students to be the best: to perform in the highest percentile, master the most content, or be the most ideally well-rounded children. And besides, isn’t that part of classical education—turning out students who are on the elite side of things?
We must beware of making superiority to others the false god of our schools. Classical education makes no promises of elitism, and Lutheran education takes no interest in it. The goal of a classical Lutheran education is simply the goal of the Christian: faith toward God and love toward the neighbor.
An excellent example of this proper outlook is seen in the Lutheran composer Michael Praetorius (1571-1621). Praetorius was a court music director and composer in Germany, living about a generation after Martin Luther. While his talent was often appreciated and respected, especially by his employers, he also received his share of criticism. On one occasion, the undaunted Praetorius responded to some critics with the following:
“I will accordingly use [the gifts and grace that God has bestowed upon me], modest as they may be, and whatever I have additionally learned up to this point through constant, unremitting practice and diligence (notwithstanding all those who might twist and misinterpret it on me), to the benefit of my neighbor and the most highly praiseworthy Germany, as my beloved fatherland…
“Therefore, as long as any breath remains in me, I will not refrain from doing good to my neighbor and serving him with the talent God has bestowed upon me. Even if I earn only a little thanks from some people in doing so, or none at all, that does not matter enough to let me be hindered from my good, well-intentioned, Christian plans or to be dissuaded from them.”
Christians may draw several helpful points from Praetorius’ words. First, the composer happily ascribed all his talents as gifts of God, not products of his own making. All his successes, even the qualities of determination and aptitude, were given by God.
Second, Praetorius still insisted on working his hardest and doing his best. But his aim in so doing was not to climb on top of others; rather, he maintained “constant, unremitting practice and diligence” so that he could better serve his neighbor. (And thank God he did—here and here are a couple samples of his gorgeous music!)
Finally, Praetorius did not allow himself to become disheartened, either by his critics or by his own shortcomings. He trusted that the gifts he had, “modest as they may be,” would be used for good. Because he went forth with a good conscience before God, he did not need to worry about the opinions of men. He could do his best, do it with zeal, and leave the rest to his Lord.
Whatever the level of knowledge and skill our students may gain at Mount Hope, they can go forward confidently with the same aim as Michael Praetorius: the aim of faith and love. Pride and dismay alike must disappear. Our sufficiency and worth are already secure in Christ. And our heavenly Father, the giver of all good things, will use our achievements for the good of our neighbor.
In Christ,
Miss Hahn
(Quotation from Heaven is My Fatherland: The Life and Work of Michael Praetorius by Siegfried Vogelsӓnger, trans. Nathaniel J. Biebert)
