Discussion Forum Main Post - 1 - A+ Work Required

Christianity and Literature Vol. 48, No. 1 (Autumn 1998)

DIALOGUE

Teaching Contemporary Literary Theory at a Church-Sponsored University

Daniel K. Muhlestein

Criticism ought to promote the critique of religion . . . through di- verse challenges, including satire and mockery, in its dealings with literature and with cultural issues.

—Jonathan Culler, Framing the Sign: Criticism and Its Institutions

To what extent should potentially controversial approaches to lit- erature be pursued here?

—Brigham Young University, Graduate Council Report

It is important to talk about pedagogical strategy. —beU hooks,

"Toward a Revolutionary Eeminist Pedagogy"

Contemporary literary theory is the study of the assumptions upon which literary criticism is based and the analysis of the linguis- tic, cultural, political, and economic contexts within which litera- ture and criticism are produced and consumed. From one perspec- tive such theory—Marxism, feminism. New Historicism, post- colonialism, poststructuralism, postmodernism, and so forth—is an "attempt to govern interpretations of particular texts by appealing to an account of interpretation in general" (Knapp and Michaels 723). From another perspective it is a "low-visibility, high-intensity war" of cultural politics (Will 288). And from either perspective it is controversial. As Paul de Man observes.

The quarrelsome tone that hangs over the debates on the teach- ing of literature can often be traced to tbe advent of contemporary literary theory. This is certainly not surprising. Whenever new

79

80 DANIEL K. MUHLESTEIN

approaches or techniques are being advocated, a very understand- able ill-humor overcomes those who feel they may have to modify or to reconsider well-established pedagogical habits that served them well until the most recent troublemakers came along. But the polemical response in thecaseof contemporary literary theory, and especially of some of its aspects, runs deeper.

It feeds not only on civilized conservatism but on moral indig- nation. It speaks with an anxiety that is not only that of a disturbed tranquility but of a disturbed moral conscience. (21)

This anxiety, this disturbed moral conscience, has been expressed by writers ranging from George Will to W. Jackson Bate to Edward W. Said to Frank Lentricchia. It has produced a vigorous debate among Christian literary critics, many of whom view theory as a threat not only to cultural values but also to religious faith.^ And it is felt with particular intensity at educational institutions sponsored by religious organizations. As a result, teaching contemporary lit- erary theory at a church-sponsored university can be something of a challenge. That challenge can be met, however, through the appli- cation of three related principles. In the following pages I describe those principles and give examples of how they can be applied. My examples are necessarily based upon my own experience, but the principles they illustrate can be put to use in a variety of settings.

I

The first principle is almost self-evident: if you teach a contro- versial subject such as contemporary literary theory, then teach it in enough depth and complexity to give the students a real under- standing of the material. One obvious way to do this is through fo- cus. No student, however brilliant, can learn Jacques Lacan or de- cipher Jacques Derrida in a week or two. Consequently, in my un- dergraduate courses we study only two or three critical approaches a semester. And in my graduate seminar we do a semester-long case study in critical methodology: we study a single approach—and study our study of that material—in such a way as to learn to iden- tify and critique the master assumptions that underlie any given critical method.

A second way to facilitate real understanding is context. Theo- ries neither develop nor are embraced in a vacuum: they are the products of cultural, political, and economic pressures; and they bear the marks of that determination both in what they say and how they are received. Jean-Paul Sartre's assertion that scarcity trans- forms revolutionary fervor into state oppression, for example, is best understood as his attempt to come to grips with Soviet aggression (for an overview of Sartre's position, see Anderson, Considerations

TEACHING CONTEMPORARY LITERARY THEORY 81

85-87). And the popularity of Derrida in American literary circles probably has less to do with the "truth value" of bis views than with how well deconstruction fits what Michele Lamont calls tbe cultural and institutional requirements of current academic life (586). Con- sequently, in my courses on theory we study context as well as con- tent: we review the political events that engendered Antonio Gramsci's theory of hegemony (for a discussion of the circumstances under which Gramsci developed bis theory, see Anderson, "Antimo- nies"); we identify the link between the formalist emphasis on text- ual autonomy and Pierre Macherey's definition of ideology as an absent, wifer/iaZZy excluded determination existing at the very mar- gins of the text (for a review of Macherey's evolving theory, see Kavanagh 34-37); we discuss the relationship between Anglo-Ameri- can neŵ pragmatists and French writing-the-body theorists and ask what impact tbat has on Elaine Showalter's critique of biocriticism (for an example of her critique, see 250-52); and so forth. And in doing so, we use context to illuminate content.

A third way to help students come to grips with the material is to require them to read primary texts. No summary can take the place of reading Louis Althusser's "Ideology and Ideological State Appa- ratuses," Fredric Jameson's The Political Unconscious: Narrative as a Socially Symbolic Act, or Stephen Greenblatt's "Invisible Bullets: Renaissance Authority and Its Subversion." No overview can do jus- tice to Judith Fetterly's The Resisting Reader, Helene Cixous' "The Laugh of the Medusa," or Adrienne Rich's essays on the link between sexuality and textuality. And no gloss can replace Julia Kristeva's "Women's Time," Lacan's "Seminar on 'The Purloined Letter,'" or that amazing collaborative effort titled Anti-Oedipus: Capitalism and Psychoanalysis. There simply comes a point at which the stu- dents must read and reread the primary texts themselves.

A fourth way to nail down knowledge is through application. Summary is easy; application is hard; and critique is mandatory. Hence the culmination of a class on literary theory should be an extended essay in which students describe an approach, apply it, and critique approach and application alike. In doing so, they both synthesize the theory and test its mettle by translating the general into the specific, the abstract into the concrete.

II

Of course, this first principle, the notion that if you are going to teach something you should teach it in depth, is hardly new. Neither is there much new in the second principle: if you teach a controver- sial subject such as theory, then critique what you teach. Indeed, in an obvious sense tbe second principle is little more than a logical

82 DANIEL K. MUHLESTEIN

extension of the first. A professor, that is to say, has a professional obligation to present both sides of an issue, to identify the weak- nesses in a given position as well as its strengths. The question, then, is not whether but how to critique theory. A number of things help, some of which are a simple function of the initial attempt to under- stand the material.

For example, studying the context out of which a theory develops or within which it is popularized demystifies that theory by reveal- ing the iron necessity behind the apparent freedom with which the theory unfolds. When Terry Eagleton's Literary Theory: An Intro- duction is placed within the context of what Perry Anderson calls the "crisis" of Western Marxism, for instance, the necessity behind Eagleton's switch from an approach based upon the work of Althusser to one grounded in the texts of Walter Benjamin becomes clear (for an account of the crisis, see Anderson, In the Tracks 68- 80). And Eagleton's sudden enthusiasm for pluralism—"Any method or theory which will contribute to the strategic goal of human eman- cipation . . . is acceptable," he writes (210)—is revealed as a symp- tom of an underlying problem: Western Marxism's determinate in- ability to prove that its master narrative of history and the methods of literary analysis based upon it are objectively superior to other such narratives and methods.

Context, then, can help us see how and why a theorist like Eagleton switches from a type of criticism that identifies and de- fends the Marxist master narrative upon which it is based to an apparent pluralism that is in fact simply Marxism under cover. The example of Eagleton is also helpful in that it points to a second, and closely related, way in which the quest for detailed understanding can lead to substantive critique. And that ŵ ay is sequence. Inmost cases those who are best qualified to critique the theorists of one generation are the next generation of theorists within that same tradition. An obvious example can be found in Anglo-American feminism. Many early feminists in America focused on the ways in w ĥich male authors stereotype female characters. This kind of analysis is called "feminist critique," and it was pioneered by Kate Millett, who in Sexual Politics proved that in Henry Miller's narra- tives women are defined as sexual objects in order to ensure the su- periority of the male hero. One of the best critics of feminist critique is Showalter, a second-generation feminist who argues that feminist critique is too male-oriented and that "if we [only] study [men's] stereotypes of women,... we are not learning what women have felt and experienced, but only what men have thought women should be" (130). And one of the best critics of Showalter's alternative to feminist critique ("gynocriticism") is contemporary feminist Lillian S. Robinson, who notes that too often "conclusions about 'women's

TEACHING CONTEMPORARY LITERARY THEORY 83

fiction' or 'female consciousness' have been drawn or jumped to from considering a body of work whose authors are all white and comparatively privileged" (114).

My point, of course, is that, when the theorists within a given tra- dition critique one another in this way, studying them in sequence does triple duty: it helps us understand the theories themselves (who can better explicate feminist critique than Showalter?); it gives us a vigorous, detailed, and evolving critique of those same theories; and it teaches us to look at recent theories, those hot commodities that have yet to be demystified by future generations, with less awe and more skepticism.

A third way to separate the wheat from the chaff is to listen very closely to the dialogue between competing approaches. Such dia- logue can range all the way from personal attacks (Eagleton's essay on formalism in Literary Theory is an obvious example) to attempts to bring together related approaches (the work of the Marxist/femi- nist collective in Paris is a case in point). And while not all such texts repay careful attention, many do, giving us valuable insight into the possible weaknesses in competing theories. Thus, Anderson's Marx- ist analysis of deconstruction can show us the downside of defining all human activity in terms of language {In the Tracks 43-55). Showalter's feminist critique of Lacan—she calls him, with no small irony, "the ladies' man oi Diacritics'' (247)—can make clear some of the problems produced by his attempt to debiologize Freud. Rich- ard Levin's humanist critique of feminism can dramatize the way in w^hich some feminist critics project their oŵ n ideologies onto Shakespeare. And Edward Pechter's old historicist critique of ap- proaches influenced by the Western Marxist tradition can highlight the gap between New Historicist theory and practice.

A fourth way to critique a contemporary literary theory is to read it symptomatically. As its name implies, a symptomatic reading is a kind of diagnosis: it treats a formal contradiction in the text as a symptom of a subtextual ideological impasse that the author is struggling to resolve or repress. Such symptomatic readings have been employed by critics ranging from Claude Levi-Strauss to Jameson (see Levi-Strauss 206-31; Jameson 74-83). The benefit of interpreting a theory symptomatically is that doing so can reveal what Macherey calls the unconscious of the text, its ideological sub- strata.

For a case in point, consider Carol Gilligan's influential essay "In a Different Voice: Women's Conceptions of Self and of Morality," where Gilligan defines a process of moral development that culmi- nates in the application to both self and other of tivo fundamental imperatives: an "obligation [to care]" (302) and an "injunction against hurting" (302). In the final stage of moral development, the

84 DANIEL K. MUHLESTEIN

mature self recognizes

. . . the psychological and moral necessity for an equation of worth between self and other. Responsibility for care then includes both self and other, and the obligation not to hurt... is reconstructed as a universal guide of moral choice. [Making a choice thus in- volves] seeking that solution which would best protect both... self and others. (306)

This is a persuasive conclusion, one reminiscent of Christ's admo- nition to love thy neighbor as thyself. Unfortunately, it is contra- dicted by Gilligan's methodology and use of examples. In the essay all of her examples of moral choices involve abortion. And she de- fends each decision to abort the fetus not (as her theory directs) by applying to moral equals an "obligation to care" and an "injunction against hurting" but rather by excluding from the self/other equa- tion the unborn child, who given its stake in the outcome is argu- ably the most significant other.

Consequently, when we read Gilligan's essay, the contradiction between her theory and her methodology prompts us to read it "against the grain." In doing so, ŵ e analyze the various covert meth- ods by which she excludes the fetus from the self/other equation. We interpret her use of such methods as a symptom of a latent ideologi- cal imperative, concluding that she wrote the essay less to define moral development/^er se than to redefine abortion as a quint- essentially moral act. We view the necessity behind her use of such methods as evidence of a flaw in the ideology that overdetermined her production of the text. And we highlight that flaw by emphasiz- ing what happens when her model is applied to her examples in a nonexclusionary ŵ ay.

A symptomatic reading, then, can be used to uncover and make available for critique the ideological subtext of an essay like "In a Different Voice." In doing so, such readings typically work in tan- dem with yet another ŵ ay of critiquing contemporary literary theory. And that way is "grafting": turning a theory against itself by applying it to itself. In his critique of Beyond the Pleasure Prin- ciple, for example, Derrida turns Sigmund Freud's text against itself by showing the extent to which the particulars of Freud's theory are determined in advance by Freud's own search for pleasure. Jame- son's theory of metacommentary has been used to show the flaws in metacommentary as theory (Muhlestein, "Rethinking" 40-86). Annette Kolodny's "three critical propositions" have been used to highlight the political function of the gap between theory and prac- tice in her own analysis of "A Jury of Her Peers" (Muhlestein, "His- tory" 3-17). And most students can find examples of Macherey's

TEACHING CONTEMPORARY LITERARY THEORY 85

three critical fallacies—the "empirical," the "normative," and tbe "interpretive"—in Macherey's own criticism. The great strength of this kind of criticism is that there is no easy way to appeal the ver- dict since both the basis for the critique and tbe method by which it is carried out have been established in advance by the theory un- der scrutiny. The theory has provided the rope with which it is hanged.

A sixth way to critique a literary theory is simply to apply it to a number of dissimilar texts and see what kind of criticism it pro- duces. One way to do tbis is to take a book like Contexts for Criti- cism, an introduction to literary theory that discusses a different approach per chapter and that divides each chapter into one section on theory and one on application, and apply the theory described in one chapter to the literary texts referenced in the application section of another. What happens, you ask, when the Oedipal Com- plex is applied not to Hamlet or Sons and Lovers but to "The Red Wheelbarrow," "There is no frigate like a book," or "The Eagle"? In fact, two things happen. First, tbe students see that some theories are more portable than others and begin to view lack of portability as a red flag, as evidence that tbe theory is not as universal as it claims to be. Second, the students begin to rethink tbe relationship between theory and text and see that the process by wbicb meaning is produced can become a dialectical engagement in which the text is used to critique the theory as much as the theory is used to illu- minate the text.

Context, sequence, discourse, symptomatic readings, grafting, and application, then, are six ways to critique contemporary liter- ary theory in the process of teaching it well. Some aspects of theory, however, are made of sterner stuff and simply shrug off standard methods of analysis. Tbey look like Truth. And that is a wonderful thing. Our goal, after all, is to discover and proclaim that which is true. Except that in some cases something which from a profes- sional perspective looks like a Truth that is impervious to critique also conflicts with Christian doctrine or practice. What then?

There are at least two options. Tbe first and easiest one is sim- ply not to assign those kinds of texts. To leave them out, however, is surely to shirk the principal obligation of a professor, which is to teach the material in the field. Further, to abandon the texts is also effectually to abandon tbe students. After all, many of them will go on to do graduate work at other universities. And when they do, they will have to face the same texts in a neutral or even, as is sometimes the case, covertly hostile environment (for examples of such hostil- ity, see Culler). What about them?

A second option is to approach such texts from within a perspec- tive in which faith is given full value as a method of critique as well

86 DANIEL K. MUHLESTEIN

as a way of life. This is the better option, obviously. But how? That depends. In some cases the best move may be to stress the moral implications of embracing a given position or of employing a par- ticular technique. For example, when we study Althusser's discus- sion of the significance of the naming process and read his assertion that families are Ideological State Apparatuses which use "hailing" to turn their children into servants of capitalism (162-65), I point out that, while adopting Althusser's method of analysis is an effec- tive way to discuss literature, when we use his technique we also necessarily signal our acceptance of the assumptions in his theory by which that technique is authorized. And if we are not comfort- able with those assumptions, we should not employ the technique.

In other cases it may be necessary to concede part of the theory, identify the point at which we say "This far, no further," and ac- knowledge the problems inherent in our position while at the same time inviting our students to adopt it with us. When we read "Com- pulsory Heterosexuality and Lesbian Existence," for example, I con- cede Rich's assertion that throughout history men have used every- thing from literature to laws to rape to murder to enforce hetero- sexual relationships and repress lesbian relations. I then identify the part of her essay that I reject: her advocacy of a lesbian continuum. And I acknowledge that my rejection of her advocacy is based upon two fairly simple reasons, neither of which has much to do with lit- erary theory. The first reason is my sense that the fact that some- thing has been repressed tells us very little about the nature of the thing/7er se. Something is not good simply because it has been re- pressed any more than it is bad simply because it has been repressed. And this is so even if the repression itself turns out to be bad—even, that is to say, if the repression is achieved through the casual denial of free agency or the ready use of violence. The second reason that I reject Rich's advocacy of a lesbian continuum is my own prior ac- ceptance of my church's teachings on the proper expression of hu- man sexuality. As I review these reasons with my students, I both acknowledge the problems inherent in my position and invite my students to occupy it with me. If they cannot do that, 1 invite them to suspend judgment until they can.

Seldom if ever do I use church doctrine or authority as a lever in a classroom debate about theory. There are two reasons for my re- luctance to do so. The first is that in an academic environment gen- erally dedicated to the ideals of free inquiry, vigorous critique, and demonstrable evidence, the switch from dialogue to authority tends to jar some students and alienate others. This is especially true in a class that is learning to analyze binary structures and critique appeals to authority and that is therefore understandably eager to apply its new skills to (among other things) the professor's pedagogy.

TEACHING CONTEMPORARY LITERARY THEORY 87

Consequently, although framing the issue that way certainly stops the discussion, it does so without really solving the problem: it per- suades those who are already, in effect, persuaded, but it dissuades those who are not. The second and more important reason is that such an approach gives the students only part of what they need. It gives them the correct answer but leaves them without a way to de- fend that answer in a rigorous academic setting. And, in doing so, it calls into question the veracity of the answer itself.

I remember vividly my own experiences as a student in this re- gard. In a course on the New Humanists, for example, we read H. L. Mencken's essay "Memorial Service" in which he asks, "Where is the grave-yard of dead gods?" (143), and catalogues the hundreds of deities who were once "gods of the highest eminence. . . . They ranked . . . with Jehovah himself; the worst of them stood far higher than Thor. Yet they have all gone down the chute" (145). Mencken concludes his catalogue with this observation:

You may think I spoof. That I invent the names. I do not. Ask the rector to lend you any good treatise on comparative religion: you will find them all listed. They were gods of the highest standing and dignity—gods of civilized peoples—worshiped and believed in by millions. All were theoretically omnipotent, omniscient, and im- mortal. And all are dead. (147)

In class that day, after reviewing the implications of Mencken's es- say, the professor provided an informal scriptural alternative to those implications. And I sat there shaken, knowing that I needed more than that. I knew what the Scriptures said. What I did not know was how to defend them in a way that did not feel like a retreat into denial. What I did not have, and what I very much needed, was a way to defend my faith that did not force me to model the precise behavior that Mencken had so persuasively defined as evidence of gullibility. What I needed was a way to respond to Mencken that did not substantiate through its method his position and undermine my own, I needed the w^herewithal to say what I then felt but could nei- ther articulate nor justify—namely, that it is as logical to read Mencken's catalogue as evidence of a heaven-sent impulse to grope toward salvation as it is to interpret the graveyard of the gods as proof that God is man's creation. What I learned the hard way that day, and what my students' reactions have since conflrmed, is that, as odd and unsettling as it may seem, using, say, the letters of the apostle Paul to confront the research of Nancy Chodorow without giving the students a substantive way to bridge the gap between faith and intellect can be a surprisingly high-risk approach. We really do have to yoke faith to study—authentic, serious, rigorous study. And when we do not, our faith, as well as our learning, suffers.

88 DANIEL K. MUHLESTEIN

III

Of course the success ofthe endeavor depends upon more than just what is taught: how it is taught, the framework within which it is taught, makes a great deal of difference as well. And that brings us to the third and final principle: if you teach a controversial sub- ject such as theory, create a set of policies and a classroom environ- ment that are conducive to learning and faith alike. Although no professor ever has complete control over the complex give-and-take of classroom dynamics, there are a number of ways to fine-tune the context within which theory is studied.

Tŵ o obvious ways have to do with the mundane but critical issues of testing and evaluation. In order to push the students to learn the material, a class's examinations must be as rigorous as its syllabus. They must require specificity, synthesis, and a sense of history. Multiple-choice and fiU-in-the-blank will not do. Indeed, the best exams, by which I mean the ones most likely to help the students master the material, are made up of essay questions that require substantive preparation, independent thinking, and a near eternity to grade.

Tough tests alone, however, are not sufficient to guarantee either understanding or critique. This is especially true when the subject matter is in controversy. Why? Because in the short run grades matter. Sometimes they matter a lot. And unless the students are sure—and I mean really sure—that the professor will not punish them for advocating alternative views, they will feel a surprising amount of pressure simply to repeat the professor's position rather than doing the hard work of discovering and defending w ĥat they themselves actually believe, which work is an absolute prerequisite to both true understanding and authentic critique. Of course, some professors, especially those w ĥose main goal is to advance a particu- lar position, intentionally maximize that pressure in order to intimi- date their students into agreement or silence. But even in the ab- sence of bad intent, some degree of pressure is almost always present in an academic setting: it is a function ofthe hierarchical relation- ship between the grader and one being graded. And when it is felt too keenly, it produces the antithesis of education: agreement with- out debate, compliance without understanding, and silence without critique. Consequently, any professor who teaches issues in contro- versy has a fundamental obligation to counteract such pressure by creating a classroom environment in which fairness and generosity are as abundant—and as obvious—as rigor and the demand for evi- dence. Before they can learn theory well, students really do have to know that their grades will be based on their knowledge, not their politics. They have to know that they will be treated kindly regard-

TEACHING CONTEMPORARY LITERARY THEORY 89

less of what stance they may take on a given issue. And they have to know that the necessary critique of positions and theories will never degenerate into a personal attack on either students within the class or professors without. Until students learn that, even the most rig- orous exams will extract from them only nervous calculation and a too ready reflection of the professor's own position.

Rigor and fairness, then, must be woven together in order to cre- ate a classroom environment in which learning can flourish. But what of faith? What fosters that? Testimony does. And testimony is thus the third thread that a professor at a church-sponsored uni- versity must weave into the fabric of a class in contemporary liter- ary theory. Personal testimony, that is to say, must become as much a part of the classroom environment as scholarly rigor and unflinch- ing fairness. In that way, if students begin to struggle with the chal- lenges to faith posed by literary theory, they have before themselves the example of others who have faced the same challenges, worked through the same issues, and remained true to their religious con- victions. The question, then, is how testimony can best be integrated into a class on contemporary literary theory. As can be seen, the bulk of this essay has been devoted to answering precisely that ques- tion in terms of course design and classroom pedagogy. Indeed, perhaps all that remains to be discussed is what might be called the Catch-22 of bearing testimony at a church-sponsored university.

Unlike the case at most other institutions of higher education, professors at church-sponsored universities have the opportunity to bear testimony to their students. Indeed, they typically have a well defined professional obligation to do so. For example, the document detailing the policy on faculty rank and status at the school where I teach, Brigham Young University, declares: "Members of the faculty . . . must live lives of loyalty to the . . . gospel; their students must know where they stand on the most important issues of life, and their colleagues must feel their love and support for the church.... Students should see by their teachers' lives and scholarship that they are committed to the gospel of Jesus Christ" (4). Further, this call to witness through word and deed is so central to BYU's mission that it is measured semiannually, with failure to meet University expec- tations constituting possible grounds for dismissal (Teacher Evalu- ations 2). This is not an unexpected requirement; neither is it un- reasonable. BYU is, after all, funded by the tithes of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. And most students attend BYU precisely in order to receive an education in which the sacred and the secular are fused. Sometimes, however, the law of unintended consequences kicks in. For on occasion the fact that declarations of faith are both encouraged and subject to review is sufficient of itself to undermine the very witness it seeks to promote.

90 DANIEL K. MUHLESTEIN

Mencken once observed, when speaking of the need for academic freedom:

No man's opinion is worth a hoot, however well supported and maintained, as long as he is not absolutely free, if the spirit moves him, to support and maintain the exactly contrary opinion.... He may seek the truth and the truth only, and bring up his highest tal- ents and diligence to the business, but always there is a specter be- hind his chair, a warning in his ear. Always it is safer . . . for him to think one way than to think another way, and in that bald fact there is excuse enough to hold his whole chain of syllogisms in suspicion. He may be earnest, he may be honest, but he is not free, and if he is not free, he is not anything, (150-51)

And what is true of an intellectual position is equally true of a spiri- tual declaration. To be effective, a professor's testimony not only must be freely given, but it also must be seen to be offered up with- out compulsion or restraint, without "a specter behind his chair" or "a w^arning in his ear." It is not that the spirit cannot function when testimony is encouraged: it can and does. It is, rather, that some students, especially those who are studying the ways in which orga- nizations maintain ideological coherence, are less likely to search for that spirit when they know that the testimony being borne exists within the necessary framework of an institutional imperative. What this means is that, paradoxically, the same policies that en- courage a professor to bear testimony also make that testimony less likely to touch those who most need to feel it.

This is a perplexing problem, and one not easily solved. In the end the solution to what might be called the specter of necessity must come, if it is to come at all, through the nature of the testimony be- ing borne: if the testimony itself is pure, then the spirit in which it is offered will usually, although not always, come through. By "pure" I mean three things: first, that the testimony is an honest one, nei- ther claiming faith as knowledge nor reducing knowledge to hope; second, that the testimony is used as a tool to increase faith, not as a way to score cheap points when an issue is in doubt or as a weapon to silence an opponent; and, third, that word is matched by deed. For if ̂ ve preach like Christians but teach like agnostics, if the way in w ĥich we approach our subject matter is not shaped by the truths to w ĥich we testify, then, as Derrida would say, we are supplement- ing that which is peripheral for that which is central, replacing deed with word and hailing the latter as the former. If, on the other hand, both our course design and our classroom pedagogy are themselves a testament to our faith, formal testimony then becomes a capstone rather than a supplement, a culmination rather than a gesture. Ac- tions speak in unison with words. And that harmony of word and

T E A C H I N G C O N T E M P O R A R Y L I T E R A R Y T H E O R Y 91

deed carries us beyond the Catch-22 of bearing testimony at a church- sponsored university.

Brigham Young University

NOTES

'In Religion and Literature see the special 1990 issue titled Religious Thought and Contemporary Literary Theory. In Literature and Relief see Bruce L. Edwards, Jr., Tanner, Young, and the special 1989 issue titled Can There Re a Christian Theory of Literature? In Christianity and Literature see Battenhouse, Davies, Detweiler, Bruce L. Edwards and Branson L. Woodard, Jr., Michael Edwards, Finley, Knedlik, Low, McManmon, Ritchie, Ryken, Walhout, Wright, and Zornado.

WORKS CITED

Althusser, Louis. "Ideology and Ideological State Apparatuses." Lenin and Philosophy and Other Essays. London: NLB, 1971. 123-73.

Anderson, Perry. "The Antimonies of Antonio Gramsci." New Left Review 100(1977): 5 78.

. Considerations on Western Marxism. London: NLB, 1976.

. In the Tracks of Historical Materialism. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1983.

Bate, W. Jackson. "The Crisis in English Studies" Harvard Magazine Sept.- Oct. 1982: 46-53.

Battenhouse, Roy. "Anti-Religion in Academia." Christianity and Litera- ture 37.1 {1987): 7-22.

Brigham Young University. Graduate Council Report. Provo: Brigham Young U, 1997.

. Teacher Evaluations. Provo: Brigham Young U, 1997.

. University Policy on Faculty Rank and Status: Professorial. Provo: Brigham Young U, 1994.

Can There Re a Christian Theory of Literature? Spec Assue of Literature and Relief 9 (1989): 1-97.

Cixous, Helene. "The Laugh ofthe Medusa." Feminisms. Ed. Robyn Warhol and Diana Price HerndL New Brunswick: Rutgers UP, 1991. 734-38.

Culler, Jonathan. "A Critic Against the Christians." Times Literary Supple- ment 13 Nov. 1984: 1327-28.

. "Political Criticism: Confronting Religion." Framing the Sign: Criticism and Its Institutions. Norman: U of Oklahoma P, 1988. 69-84.

Davies, Lloyd. "Covenantal Hermeneutics and the Redemption of Theory." Christianity and Literature 46 (1997): 357-97.

Deleuze, Gilles, and Felix Guattari. Anti-Oedipus: Capitalism audPsycho- analysis, Trans. Helen R. Lane, Robert Hurley, and Mark Seem. New York: Viking, 1977.

92 DANIEL K. MUHLESTEIN

de Man, Paul. The Resistance to Theory. Minneapolis: U of Minnesota P, 1986.

Derrida, Jacques. La Cartepostale: De Socrate a Freud et au-dela. Paris: Flammarion, 1980.

Detweiler, Robert. "Vexing the Text: The Politics of Literary-Religious In- terpretation" Christianity and Literature 41 {1991): 61-70.

Eagleton, Terry. Literary Theory: An Introduction. Minneapolis: U of Minnesota P, 1983.

Edwards, Bruce L., Jr. "New Critics, New Readers, and the Assault on Ob- jectivity." Literature and Belief 5 {19S5): 31-44.

Edwards, Bruce L., and Branson L. Woodard, Jr. "Wise as Serpents, Harm- less as Doves: Christians and Contemporary Critical Theory." Christian- ity and Literature 39 (1990): 303-15.

Edwards, Michael. "The Project of a Christian Poetics." Christianity and Literature 39 (1989): 63-76.

Fetterly, Judith. The Resisting Reader. Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1978. Finley, C. Stephen. "Criticism and Prophecy." Christianity and Literature

39 (1990): 283-92. . "Hermeneuticand Aporia: Beyond Formalism Once More." Christ-

ianity and Literature 38.1 (1988): 5-17. Gilligan, Carol. "In a Different Voice: Women's Conceptions of Self and of

Morality." The Future of Difference. Ed. Hester Eisenstein and Alice Jardine. New Brunswick: Rutgers UP, 1980. 274-317.

Greenblatt, Stephen. "Invisible Bullets: Renaissance Authority and Its Sub- version." Glyph S {1981): 40-61.

hooks, bell. "Toward a Revolutionary Feminist Pedagogy." Falling into Theory: Conflicting Views on Reading Literature. Ed. David H. Richter. Boston: St. Martin's, 1994. 74-79.

Jameson, Fredric. The Political Unconscious: Narrative as a Socially Sym- bolic Act. Ithaca: Cornell UP, 1981.

Kavanagh, James H. "Marxism's Althusser: Toward a Politics of Literary Theory." Diacritics 12 {1982): 25-45.

Keesey, Donald, ed. Contexts for Criticism. 2nd ed. Mountain View: May- field, 1987.

Knapp, Steven, and Walter Benn Michaels. "Against Theory." Critical In- quiry 8 {1982): 723-42.

Knedlik, Janet Blumberg. "Saussure, Derrida, and a 'Christian' Literary Criticism?" Christianity and Literature 39 {1990): 293-302.

Kristeva, Julia. "Women's Time." Critical Theory since 1965. Ed. Hazard Adams and Leroy Searle. Tallahassee: Florida State UP, 1990. 734-38.

Lacan, Jacques. "Seminar on *The Purloined Letter."' Essential Papers on Literature and Psychoanalysis. Ed. Emanuel Berman. New York: New York UP, 1993. 270-99.

Lamont, Michele. "How to Become a Dominant French Philosopher: The Case of Jacques Derrida." American Journal of Sociology 93 (1987): 584- 622.

Lentricchia, Frank. "Last Will and Testament of an Ex-Literary Critic." Lingua Franca Sept.-Ocl. 1996: 59-67.

Levin, Richard. "The Current Polarization of Literary Studies." The Em- peror Redressed: Critiquing Critical Theory. Ed. Dwight Eddins.

TEACHING CONTEMPORARY LITERARY THEORY 93

Tuscaloosa: U of Alabama P, 1995. 62-80. "Feminist Thematics and Shakespearean Tragedy." PMLA 103

(1988): 125-38. Levi-Strauss, Claude. Structural Anthropology, Trans. C. Jacobson and B,

G. Schoepf. New York: Basic, 1963. Low, Anthony. "Idolatry, Iconoclasm, and Beauty of Form." Christianity

and Literature 38.3 (1989): 5-12. McManmon, John J. "Formalism, Structuralism, Poststructuralism, and

Text." Christianity and Literature 40,1(1990): 57-68. Mencken, H. L. Prejudices, Ed. James T. Farrell. New York: Vintage, 1955. Millett, Kate. Sexual Politics. Garden City: Doubleday, 1970. Muhlestein, Daniel K. "History, Her-story, and the Political Function of the

Gaps between Theory and Practice in the Work of Annette Kolodny." Faculty Seminar on Postmodernism. Brigham Young University, 20 Feb. 1997.

. ''Rethinking The Political Unconsciousr Diss. Rice U, 1992. Pechter, Edward. "The New Historicism and Its Discontents: Politicizing

Renaissance Drama." PML^ 102 (1987): 292 303. Religious Thought and Contemporary Literary Theory. Spec, issue oi Reli-

gion and Literature 22.2 3 (1990): 1 224. Rich, Adrienne. "Compulsory Heterosexuality and Lesbian Existence." The

''Signs'' Reader: Women, Gender, and Scholarship. Ed. Elizabeth Abel and Emily Abel. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1983. 139-68.

Ritchie, Daniel E. "From Babel to Pentecost: Burke's India, Ideological Multicultural ism, and a Christian Poetics." Christianity and Literature 43(1994): 393 415.

Robinson, Lillian S. "Treason Our Text: Feminist Challenges to the Liter- ary Canon." The New Feminist Criticism: Essays on Women, Literature, and Theory. Ed. Elaine Showalter. New York: Pantheon, 1985. 105-22.

Ryken, Leland. "The Contours of Christian Criticism in 1987." Christian- ity and Literature 37.1 (1987): 23-37.

Said, Edward W. "Travelling Theory." Raritan 1 (1982): 41-67. Showalter, Elaine. "Feminist Criticism in the Wilderness." The New Eemi-

nist Criticism: Essays on Women, Literature, and Theory. Ed. Elaine Showalter. New York: Pantheon, 1985. 243-70.

Tanner, Stephen L. "Lionel Trilling and the Challenge of Modernism." Lit- erature and Relief 5 {1985): 67-78.

Walhout, Clarence. "A Response to Leland Ryken's Proposals for Christian Literary Critics." Christianity and Literature 31.1 (1987): 39-43.

Will, George. "Literary Politics." Falling into Theory: Conflicting Views on Reading Literature. Ed. David H. Richter. Boston: St. Martin's, 1994. 286-88.

Wright, Terry R. "Through a Glas Darkly: Derrida, Literature, and the Specter of Christianity." Christianity and Literature 44 (1994): 73-92.

Young, Bruce W. "Literary Criticism and Religious Values." Literature and Relief 1(1981): 95-113.

Z o r n a d o , Joseph. "Negative Writings: Flannery O'Connor, Apophatic Thought, and Christian Criticism." Christianity and Literature 42 (1992): 117-40.