I was thinking of Mary as I opened my Steiner this morning. I was thinking how she was called on to be the mother of Jesus. She is being asked by one above her to do something that she believes is beyond her capabilities, just as a master would ask of a disciple. Steiner talks about the summons to be a master with a spoken question: “Why are you calling me, what would you have me do?” as a recognition of that call (17). In Luke, Mary asks a question of the angel who is speaking to her—the same kind of “why me?” question. “How will this be, since I am a virgin?” she asks fearfully (Luke 1:34). Mary, however, is being called to be a disciple of the Lord and not a “master” in this case.
Are disciples then, to receive a calling to be a follower? Are students called to be a learner? Is the “summons” essential to the disciple as well as the master?
Both master and disciple are a necessary role in the drama of education as Steiner describes it. Each has to be engaged to fulfill their relationship role. Why then, do we (or maybe it’s just me) think that Steiner is making the distiction between one is "called" and the other is there by some less noble reason. To be summoned has an air of mystery and power surrounding it. As Steiner says, “The teacher is aware of his magnitude and, if you will, mystery of his profession” (17). Are we to believe then, that summons are only for those who are about to do great things and that this privilege is not for the student?
We do see disciples, those who are faithful to a master, who chose to be in a pact, as if they were asked. In many cases, it seems that it is the Master who is the summoner. In The Manuscript Found in Saragossa Alphonse is bound to his master to the point of putting himself in harm’s way to fulfill his master’s wishes. King Phillip V had “graciously bestowed on [him] a commission” and he was “bound by the sacred laws of honor to take the shortest route to Madrid without considering whether it was the most dangerous” (6). Alphonse was called and he responded. In fact, he was willing to give his life for his master. This seems pretty noble.
Is the difference then that Steiner makes of masters and disciples and how they are called, is that one is summoned through a divine power and the other through a mortal being? How can they be so separate in their calling when the master who is called by the divine is now somewhat divine and through calling their students to take part in the mystery of learning the student is receiving a divine calling as well.
If there is a summoning required to be a master or disciple, then there are those who are neither disciple or master.
I'm groovin' on the idea of the reluctant Master. The reluctant disciple seems easier to understand (look in any classroom!), but thinking about it, that may be an impossibility because of the basic idea of the disciple--one who enters into the relationship passionately (that's way more intense than just "willingly"). Now that I'm typing this, it's all really obvious, isn't it? But the reluctant Master is far more interesting. The Master must know what she's getting into. She must anticipate the powerful and painful potentials that will follow accepting "the calling."
ReplyDelete"Good blog entry," is what I meant to say.
We talked about this briefly on Wednesday, but I'm pondering the choice question here. We receive a call to teach, we like to believe we have the choice to refuse...do we? And if so, what are the consequences of refusing a divine call? What if the call is divine? What if it's a trickster? How do you know?
ReplyDeleteAs for the student, same questions. I'm assuming free will in these situations, but then, looking at myths, the hero/disciple/master doesn't always get a choice in the matter. Do we? As master or disciples? I feel like we have to, in order for the calling to matter... Action without awareness seems less important and much less difficult. What I like about the idea of the Reluctant Master is it enforces a constant re-acceptance of the call; this isn't a one time offer or an easy path. To be a master (and I think a disciple), you must constantly choose to once again take up the mantle, or to continue to bear the burden.