Northrop Frye, the renowned Canadian literary critic (who studied at theology at Emmanuel College and was ordained as a minister in the United Church of Canada), in his book The Critical Path: An Essay on the Social Context of Literary Criticism sets forth the notion of the "myth of concern" and the "myth of freedom." When Frye uses the word "myth" he is not using it in the sense of something being true or false, but in the literary sense of a story that is of particular significance and value to a defined group. Both myths of concern and myths of freedom are important overarching narratives in the functioning of society and within subgroups in society. The narrative of concern and the narrative of freedom both function in the culture and life of the Seventh-day Adventist Church.

The myth, or narrative, of concern exists to hold a group together (36). The language of concern becomes the language of belief and doctrine. Concern, when it is a feeling, is close to anxiety—especially when threatened. There is, in the myth of concern, the "anxiety of coherence" and the "anxiety of continuity" (37). The anxiety of coherence is central, and becomes more pronounced when the Church is under perceived attack (a somewhat constant feeling if you work at headquarters). Calls for unity are frequent and insistent. Voices of "doubt or dissent are to be muted at all times" (37).

Often coupled with the anxiety of coherence is the "anxiety of continuity," which insists on the transmission of tradition and established practice or belief vested in authority. One easily recognizes the language: the "way marks," the "blueprint," the "fundamentals." The Spirit of Prophecy is often used in this context. The myth of concern requires the demarcation of boundaries and desires that the Church enrich "itself by what it includes" and define itself by "what it excludes" (105). The narrative of concern is closed.

On the other side is the myth, or narrative, of freedom, which carries the mental attitudes that become the values of "objectivity, suspension of judgment, tolerance, and respect for the individual" (44). In essence then, the narrative of freedom is the culture and the values of the academy. The narrative of freedom understands that unity can be achieved not only in agreement on answers, but also in the pursuit of questions. The narrative of freedom is open. Truth is not established by tradition, ritual, and authority, but by investigation, correspondence, and imagination. Frye notes that the university’s function within society is to protect and foster the myth of freedom as a balance to the myth of concern. The role of Adventist universities and colleges is to foster the narrative of freedom as a necessary balance to church administration, which must, of necessity, be the guardians of the narrative of concern.

Teachers of religion are acutely aware of the Church’s narrative of concern. More than other disciplines within the academy, they are the focus of concern. Some of them have had to make difficult personal choices when faced with the full weight of the anxiety of coherence and/or the anxiety of continuity. Yet discipline and training also attune them to the myth of freedom. Thus, teachers of religion constantly model for the rest of us the art of balance: the need to live and responsibly share values from both the narrative of concern and the narrative of freedom. In this respect, they are important to the rest of us in the Adventist academy. The academy must allow for dialogue, for academic freedom.

As many religion teachers know, even within the Adventist discipline of religious studies and theology there are strong voices stressing the primacy of the narrative of concern in teaching and preaching. These voices must be balanced by the story of freedom. To do so requires courage.

As a nontheologian, I tremble to interpret a biblical text, but I am reminded here of the famous text John 8:32 (RSV), "and you will know the truth and the truth will set you free"; and of 2 Corinthians 3:17 (RSV), "Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom." No doubt these texts speak of spiritual release from sin. However, I also read them as speaking to what we understand as academic freedom, a value central to the function and meaning of the Adventist academy. Religion teachers, in particular, must show by example, as Frye suggests, so "that beliefs may be held and examined at the same time" (109).

How teachers of religion play out the balance to students and constituency is vital to the success of the Adventist academy, and, I believe to the health of the Church as a whole. Frye makes it clear that when the myth of concern dominates and squeezes out all strains of the myth of freedom one comes in the end to a hierarchical, brutal tyranny. When the myth of freedom has full reign with no concern in sight, anarchy and chaos set in (54–55).

Effective preaching and teaching require the engagement and exercise of the imagination by both the preacher/teacher and the listener/student. Frye makes the case that religion should be increasingly understood as having a "poetic rather than a rational language, and that it can be more effectively taught and learned through the imagination than through doctrine or history" (116). At some level, Adventist teachers of religion need to address the question of how to deal with the narrative of concern and the narrative of freedom. It is only in the tension and respect of these two balancing poles that the Church can successfully fulfil its mission. As Frye notes, the basis of tolerance in society and in the Church, the "condition in which a plurality" of ideas can coexist, is "the recognition of the tension between concern and freedom" (108).

Work Cited

Frye, Northrop. The Critical Path: An Essay on the Social Context of Literary Criticism. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1971.

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