(Image: The Water of Life, by Stephen Broadbent)
I recently visited Chester Cathedral. Entering the Cloister Garden, I was confronted by a greening sculpture of two ghostly figures, one bent over the other, both holding a bowl. The encircling inscription read:
Jesus said, “the water that I shall give will be an inner spring always welling up for eternal life” – John 4:14
I had several questions: Which one of the figures was meant to be Jesus? Who was doing the giving? And why were the two figures connected at the “tail”, so to speak? It was the last question that mostly occupied my mind. Regarding the first two questions, I could safely assume that at least one of the figures was Jesus and at least one of them was doing the giving. But why were they connected?
Given their physical connection, one might suggest that there are not in fact two figures, but rather two aspects of a single being; and that the sculpture therefore depicts an act of self-giving.
And what is being given? According to the inscription, it is no less than eternal life – the ultimate good within the Christian moral framework. This offers an answer to the second question, above: Who was doing the giving? For presumably only Jesus (God the Son) is qualified to give such a thing.
In sum, then, eternal life is something that we each must give ourselves, and it can only be given through Jesus. In other words, salvation is something to be found within, but only with the guidance of God.
Stepping back from the Christian specifics, the sculpture offers a more general message: the ultimate good (whatever that might be) is something that we each must give ourselves. This resonates with ancient Greek wisdom: “Know thyself,” inscribed on the Temple of Apollo at Delphi, or Socrates’ famous dictum, “the unexamined life is not worth living.”
However, it would be a mistake to think that the ultimate good is something that can be achieved introspectively on one’s own. Jesus, recall, was the embodiment of love, compassion, and forgiveness, which are all interpersonal virtues. Thus, while goodness is something that we each must give ourselves, it is given through our interactions with others. The path to salvation is an inward path, but it cannot be trodden alone.
One might therefore suppose that there is something innate within us that can only be satisfied through virtuous interactions with others. Modern empirical psychology supports this idea. According to Goal Contents Theory, intrinsic goals such as community involvement and close relationships satisfy our basic psychological needs and promote well-being.
What does all this mean for moral education? First, moral educators should perhaps acknowledge that the good life is something that each person must ultimately give to themselves – it cannot be imposed on them from outside. However, this self-gift comes only through our interactions with others. Moral education should therefore aim to help young people develop reflective, interpersonal virtues such as love, compassion, and forgiveness.
These were the thoughts that occupied my mind as I sat with the sculpture in the Cloister Garden. It may seem obvious that moral education should cultivate love, compassion, and forgiveness. The harder question is how.
Later, I read John 4 – the chapter from which the quotation encircling the sculpture is taken. Jesus is sat by a well, and asks a Samaritan woman for a drink. She is reluctant because Jesus is a Jew, and Samaritans do not associate with Jews. However, after Jesus reveals intimate knowledge of her past, the woman has a change of heart, proclaiming him as a prophet and (possibly) the Messiah.
Does this story help us answer the question of how to cultivate virtues in young people? Yes, in a way. The turning point for the woman was when Jesus revealed that he knew her. Similarly, if we are to have any hope of inspiring virtue in young people, especially the most vulnerable, we must know them. Moral education cannot be delivered by a stranger.
I shared the above with two of my Christian colleagues, whose thoughts and feedback I value deeply. They explained that, within the Christian framework, the ultimate source of goodness is not found within the self, but in God. In their view, an action is truly good only if it is motivated by love for God. I would like to thank my colleagues, first, for taking the time to talk to me about this. But I still have some questions:
How are we to know God? Of all the things we can know in this world, the most immediate and familiar is arguably the self. We seem to have direct access to our own inner life in a way that differs from our knowledge of external objects. If God is truly omnipresent, as Christian belief holds, then it seems reasonable to think that looking inward could be one way – perhaps even the most direct way – to encounter God.
My point is this: God may be the ultimate source of goodness, but since God can be found within the self, then it still makes sense to claim that the path to moral growth is an inward-leading path. However, I would stress again that this path cannot be walked alone, but only in good company.