In the concern for inclusiveness, one area that has been largely neglected is the discrimination against left-handedness. This paper looks briefly at some of the scriptural and social stigmas and implications attached to left-handedness. Using Luther's theology of the cross as its basis, a left-handed theology is introduced. Arguing for the need for a theology which focuses on those who are marginalized, a left-handed theology offers a model whereby God's left hand offers to those who are in “minority” positions grace and solidarity. This is contrasted to the right hand of God, which portrays a God of power, strength, and triumphalism. The hand of God which one chooses to relate to determines, then, how one does theology, and how a theological inclusiveness is developed.

Recurrent debates about the church and higher education in the United States involve differing understandings of the nature and purpose of the church as well as differing understandings of the university. Catholic colleges and universities remain important but underutilized resources for the American church as it pursues its mission. Institutional, communitarian and servant models of the church must be examined more rigorously before they are used to prescribe changes in higher education. None is without problems. In a pluralistic and free society, a public church,” self-consciously mediating the tensions between Christian integrity, Catholic unity, and civic responsibility, provides an altogether appropriate stance for Catholic colleges and universities as well. It points not to a neat resolution of outstanding difficulties but to ongoing dialogue among the publics to which both church and higher education must address themselves.

In early Buddhism, “seeing” means the direct apprehension of reality, when the senses operate undistorted by the mediating, corruptible influences of preconceived notions or cognitive analysis. To see in this way is to be wise, to be a buddha. Yet one reaches this ultimate achievement by cultivating analysis of one's sense perceptions, guided by preconceived notions accepted on the basis of faith. By looking at several Pāli texts that teach the fundamentals of the Buddhist path, one can see how the Theravāda Buddhists resolve this congruity between their goal (direct, unmediated seeing) and the means to reach it (faith and reason): they treat both faith and reason as useful tools to be discarded when one has outgrown the need for them.

In this article I address two intersecting and recurring debates that occur in discussions of religious education. The first issue has to do with the role of conversion in religious development. The second issue regards various educational philosophies and the priority they set on “content” or “process” in learning. After reviewing these debates I delineate the way in which I believe they intersect. By pointing out that development involves both “heritage” and “achievement” I clarify the relationship between conversion and development. Conversion involves both a transformation of the tradition one has inherited and the choosing of a direction for one's religious journey. Authentic religious education involves a healthy balance of tradition (content) and open-ended questioning (process). At the same time it must allow for the occurrence of conversion, a radical shift from inauthenticity, that may be startling and challenging to the educator, the educational system, and the tradition itself.

Psychology is a valuable resource for spirituality when researchers incorporate mutually critical correlations in their use of this discipline. It can be used to identify pathological elements in religious practice, uncover unconscious motivation, provide developmental schemas, and describe responses to meditative experiences. Researchers in spirituality will most likely draw on different schools of psychology in relationship to the particular phenomenon under investigation. Their critical perspective will uncover the presuppositions of psychologies that are either hostile to religion or neglect relationship to transcendence within their theories. Researchers in spirituality will want to retain a religious vocabulary and theological perspective.

This article explores the criticism made against “virtue ethics” that it is insufficiently normative and thus is unable to assist decision makers in making practical moral choices. By assessing the claims, strengths, and weaknesses of contemporary proposals for “character ethics,” the article contends that a virtue approach to ethics does yield some central moral norms. An ethical perspective that combines these norms with the insights offered by the idea of virtue itself provides a compelling framework for moral choice. A case study illustrates the claims.

This article describes the experience of a man teaching feminist theology to an undergraduate class. It offers insights into the encounters between a male teacher and a class of students comprised mostly of females. It examines how the students react to the issues raised by feminist theology and what corrections, criticisms, and contributions they make toward the subject and the teacher. While the article indicates a number of the difficulties involved in teaching this area of theological inquiry in general, and in particular for a man, it argues that there are important pedagogical and theological reasons for men to teach the subject.

This article evaluates the adequacy of Orthodox ethics by examining Orthodoxy's response to questions of social justice as they have been raised by the churches of the third world.

The Eastern tradition is skeptical of such phrases as “structures of injustice” because it is improper to speak of sin with regard to structures. This does not mean that Orthodoxy is insensitive to questions of social justice, but rather that such questions can only be properly addressed by a personalist ethic grounded in trinitarian theology. It is trinitarian theology that provides the foundation for an understanding of love, community, and human relationship which demands relationships of mutuality and reciprocity and rejects all forms of human domination. This ethic is arrived at by an examination of the mode of being of the triune God in which all Christians participate, a mode of being that is both personal and communal. Orthodox ethics, while still in need of development with regard to the problems of concrete moral decision-making, offers a rich theological foundation often lacking in the more philosophical-ethical tradition of the West.

Textbooks on world religions offer a vast amount of factual information that often overwhelms undergraduate students. Because they get lost in detail, the students find it difficult to appropriate the religious traditions into their own experience. Is there a different approach to the religions—one that does not get too bogged down in historical dates or various philosophical movements, yet still remains academically respectable—that might better help them to appreciate the religious traditions? I want to suggest that one possible method might be to study selected key passages from the scriptures of the various religions, in particular their stories (rather than other literary forms). Such stories, whether narratives or parables, exist in the scriptures of all the major world religions. Carefully selected for their transformative and paradigmatic power, these stories easily lead into discussions of doctrines, rituals, ethics, and the other phenomenological dimensions of religion. More importantly, certain basic themes in these stories—desire for the direct experience of God, forgiveness, martyrdom, duty, balance of self-nature-society, and self-forgetfulness, for example—transcend their formulation in any one specific world religion. Student awareness of these and other archetypal themes is a healthy step in appropriating the cultural and spiritual life of their own religious traditions.

All of us have memories—good and bad—of learning experiences. Ridicule or a rap on the knuckles produced fear and intimidation. A knowledgeable and enthusiastic teacher may have opened the door to a life's work or even to a never-ending love for learning. One can be sure that affectivity was one key element in such experiences.

When you think of the emotional, feeling aspects of learning experiences, what comes to mind? What is the setting? Who are the persons? What is the material? How would you describe the affective aspects of this experience? What elements were instrumental in eliciting strong feeling? What were the effects of this experience? Was it enjoyable? And finally, is this a common or rare type of experience in your life? With these questions in mind, let us reflect on several important aspects of the role of affectivity in the teaching/learning experience.

My interest in affectivity emerged when I was a campus minister at a large university. Years of conversations with faculty and students about their faith experience produced a persistent question. Why did the emotions seem so non-functional in this arena? I began to wonder how persons understood and talked about affectivity before the Western emphasis on reason and strict empiricism became so pronounced. I discovered that scholars had described the medieval period as a time of intense emotion and longing, fierce passion and ardent desire. The first phase of my search ended in the thirteenth century with an analysis of affective language in the spiritual writings of the Franciscan professor at the University of Paris, Bonaventure.