“I came to complete the training.”
“No more training do you require. Already know you that which you need.”
“Then I am a Jedi…”
“NO. Not yet. One thing Remains. Vader, you must confront Vader. Then, only then, a Jedi will you be.”
-Luke Skywalker and Master Yoda, Return of the Jedi (1983)
I love Star Wars. The original trilogy (Star Wars/A New Hope, The Empire Strikes Back, Return of the Jedi) is perhaps the greatest movie arc in global history. With each movie there are iconic moments, and the moment quoted above from Return of the Jedi is one of them. Luke Skywalker, back on Dagobah to complete his training with Master Yoda, finds his mentor dying. He comes with a few questions, perhaps more than a few questions, and learns of a terrible fate. His father is Vader, he must face him again, and he is not yet the Jedi he thought he was. One thing remains. One. It is a moment in which we realize how the movie and Luke’s story will end. Confronting the very thing that he does not want to face.
In higher education, we pride ourselves on being able and ready to meet the needs of our students. We work ourselves into the ground trying to support them. First year programs, second year experiences, Trio programs, support for all forms of identities, career advisors for students in academic consternation, mental health services for those who are struggling with any number of concerns. We work, we strive, and we care for our students. And we hope, maybe even pray, that these students graduate, move out in to the world, and become the best forms of themselves for the world.
In this way we advance a great and high morale achievement to the world: we equip individuals to better the world around them. Scientists, teachers, professors, lawyers, social workers, business professionals, we help them all. We address the challenges of individual identities, and we help them be the best they can be. We don’t complete the process, at least beyond graduation, but we begin that process. We have confronted over the generations our own failings. We have addressed the equity and inclusion needs our students have brought before us. We now can claim ourselves as fostering the transformation of millions of students because we commit ourselves to creating environments that support all identities. But one thing remains. And it’s the very thing so many of us don’t want to face.
Over the past twelve years, from my time at the University of Northern Iowa, to American University, the University of Minnesota, and now at Harvard, MIT, and Lesley Universities, alongside the more than 150 campuses I’ve been privileged to be invited to visit, I’ve given over to the reality that I want to spend my life committed to the one thing that remains: religious, secular, and spiritual identity. Many people who read this will struggle to understand why higher education needs to support these identities (and maybe why it is the one thing that remains). Creating space in higher education for religious identities can be challenging, as certain identities and communities have historically created challenges for other communities on campus. These experiences have led to some of us even believing that religion is a private affair that is handled by an individual and has no place in the public square. It is interesting that once not so long ago we felt the same about our sexuality and gender identities. Not that long before that, we directed persons of color to simply be patient in their calls for equality. And not long before that, we told women that they were too “uppity” because they wanted equal voices. Too bad.
Religious and non-religious affiliations as we all know are changing. The percentage of “spiritual but not religious” claiming individuals is skyrocketing. Even people still going to traditional religious services often claim a level of spirituality. We’re evolving, and many are now identifying as non-religious. This requires a change of thinking. But it does not mean that the identities of religious, secular, and spiritual, and all their iterations now doesn’t matter. For all those reading this who have read the numbers and are thinking “see, religion isn’t our problem anymore,” I hate to tell you, but I beg to differ.
Across the globe, nothing ties people together more than their affiliation to religious identity. Maybe people are post-Christian, are non-religious because they have been burned by Christianity, maybe people simply were raised in non-religious families because their families previously left. But everyone, everyone is tied to religion. There is no escaping it. And the reality is that the act of being devoid of religion is simply a part of an experience of the transformation of American religious culture. And thus, every single student we come across has some connection. Even if that includes them saying, “Oh, I don’t do religion anymore.”
How do we consider these identities? Do we avoid them, run away from them, put up walls and barriers like a “separation of church and state” defense, or irrationally argue that it doesn’t exist on our campuses? Do we send them off to a far distant place from campus, either across the street or down the road? The answer must become NO, no, no, and no more. Our institutions of higher education have sought to create an experience that allows students to be their true selves. But one thing remains. And that thing is their religious, secular, and spiritual identities.
We may not always like it, it may give us great fear, but what I can tell you from the many experiences I have had is that it matters. And it will continue to matter, no matter whether more people become a part of the non-religious community or if the tide shifts and people become more religious. So why don’t we allow it to matter, building out a healthy way in which our campuses can create equity. We might realize (and there’s data to back this) that communities that form around religious and non-religious identities actually enhance the student experience of those who participate in them. Mental health concerns are lower, retention rates are higher, students graduate at better rates, and the data goes on.
Much like Luke, when he returns to Dagobah, expecting that he has finished his journey toward being a Jedi, higher education in its endeavors to hit all areas of equity and diversity and creating an environment supporting all students, must realize that one thing remains. Luckily, ours is not the most vile evil in all the galaxy (though I can understand how some of you feel that way). We must face it. Then, only then, higher education institutions of global transformation will we be.
