The Hogwarts School of Religion

Rev. Katie Stein Sather, September 21, 2003

I intercepted an Owl last week. (That's with a capital O, not like the great horned owl I once grilled with my truck in Alberta.) If you've clued into the Hogwarts theme, you'll know I mean a message, a telegram, if you remember telegrams. (Is there anyone here who remembers telegrams?) Actually, an Owl is more like the message carried by a homing pigeon.

The Owl read:

Dear Hogwarts students,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts school of religious education for the 2003/2004 year. Classes begin on Sunday, September 7, 2003 at 10:30 a.m. We do hope you will be able to join us, since we expect great fun will be had by all in attendance.

Since, unfortunately, the Hogwarts Express is not running on Sundays, you are welcome to come by way of Muggle transportation. Feel free to arrive dressed in the Muggle manner, or in wizard attire, as you wish.

If you are unable to reply in the normal manner by owl, please direct responses or questions to beacondre@shaw.ca or via the Muggle telephony system at 604-888-2766.

We are looking forward to your arrival at Hogwarts.

Sincerely,

Minerva (Terry) McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
Hogwarts Academy of Religious Education

Yes, this was the invitation to Beacon's church school, sent to any and all prospective students. We wanted to pique the interest of our children in religious education. Why would they want to come to church, of all places, when they could be doing something fun and interesting? Well, learning can be fun and interesting, too.

Harry Potter, as you may recall if you've been paying any attention at all to that phenomenon, is the orphan suddenly brought to life, as it were, by the invitation, by Owl, to Hogwawrts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Here Harry learns all he needs to know in the world of wizardry, and in life in general. Since he has grown up in the Muggle, or non-wizard, world, he is literally starting from scratch. The most basic things are new to him. Like the any flavoured jelly beans, or the politics and history of the wizard world.

Harry goes from being an unwanted, and unnoticed, orphan, to a celebrity, even if a very young one. At home, his adoptive parents have neither interest nor time for him. At school, he makes friends, and learns that teachers care how he does in his lessons, both the formal school content, and the life lessons he learns on the side. Most of the teachers treat him much like any other student. One or two seem to single him out for extra harsh treatment. One, though, Professor Dumbledore, seems to care for Harry almost like a father would a son, although he always seems rather distant emotionally, in my opinion. Harry knows that Dumbledore would protect him physically, especially from dark magic, and would stand up for him. Dumbledore is an anchor in Harry's life. He is the kind of teacher students work hard for, because they know that the teacher truly cares about them.

School has started up; university and college, too. Many of us think daily about lunches and transportation and school supplies. And we think about teachers. What kind of teacher do I have for my class? What kind of teacher will my child have for the year? Or, what kind of teacher do I want to be this year? Or, if you're the Religious Education director, "Can I recruit the right folks to teach for a term?" Teachers make such a difference in the lives of their students. Which one we have makes a difference to both the enjoyment of our time together, and how much is learned. Are they affirming and challenging and empowering, or overly serious and expect too much?

Perhaps you remember a particular teacher or two. One of my second cousins taught my Sunday school class one year. I only remember this because she has reminded me, a number of times. I can't tell you anything at all about what she was like as a teacher, or what we talked about. Apparently, the teaching was more important to her than the learning that year was to me. Mind you, I gather that not remembering the details of what we were taught in Sunday School is usual, and not an exception. So why do we bother with Sunday school? Why do we want to entice our children into a religious education program called Hogwarts School of Religion?

The teachers I remember best are the ones who paid attention to me, the wallflower, those who took the time to dig under that timid, shy surface to encourage the flower to bloom. One teacher sparked an abiding interest in maps - we had to draw them over and over in his geography class. He expected a lot, but I rose to his expectations. Another teacher nurtured my interest in history, especially in the stories behind the string of dates. I remembered this when in seminary I took church history, and enjoyed it. I had expected it to be dry and boring.

I assume that all of us have had teachers along the way; I assume too, that most of us have also been teachers of one sort or another along the way as well. Whether formal classroom teachers, or Scout leaders, or canoeing instructors, or university professors, or parent, or special friend to someone in need of help, whether for a few moments or very much longer-there are many ways of filling the role of teacher and mentor in the life of someone else.

I am privileged to be the aunt of two sisters. When she was 9, my older niece Renee visited us in Alberta, and one of the many things we did together was to go hiking in the Canadian Rockies. Now, this was not just an hour's stroll in the city park, but a four mile each way, elevation gain of 900 feet, overnight hike in the mountains, a real adult hike. All she was carrying was my day pack with her sleeping bag and clothes in it, and she made it in grand style up until the last scree-filled mile, when Al relieved her of the pack. I like to think that my influence at that tender age encouraged her to take up mountain climbing when she made it to university. And now Renee is engaged to a guy she met while mountain climbing.

You never know at the time just how much you influence children. Only they can tell you, and probably not until much later.

Let us reflect on what makes a good teacher. The Indian Buddhist sage Nagarjuna from the second century describes the ideal teacher as having these twelve qualities: [Parabola 25:3] 'Much learning and great wisdom, Not aspiring for material goods or possessions, Possessing the Spirit of Awakening and great compassion, Enduring hardships and having little depression or fatigue, Having great practical advice, liberated from the mundane path, and possessing knowledge and erudition and comprehension of the signs of warmth, the indications of success in spiritual practice.'

Author J. L. Walker, after quoting Nagarjuna, goes on to say that Buddhist philosophy declares that such a teacher arises only in the presence of a student. Master and disciple are interconnected. We become teachers of the moment, in the presence of a momentary student.

Here's another definition of a teacher: 'The perfect teacher, surely, is one who does not ask for anything for themself, who is not caught up in politics, in power, in position; he [or she] does not ask anything for themself, because inwardly they are rich. Their wisdom does not lie in books; their wisdom lies in experience, and experiencing is not possible if they are seeking an end.'

He continues, 'A teacher is not merely a giver of information; the teacher is the one who points the way to wisdom. And the one who points the way to wisdom is not the guru. Truth is far more important than any teacher; you who are the seeker of truth have to be both student and teacher. In other words, you have to be the perfect teacher to create a new society; and to bring the perfect teacher into being, you have to understand yourself. Wisdom begins with self-knowledge, and without self-knowledge, mere information leads to destruction.'

We have come to the crux of the matter. To be a good teacher, you have to be a good student, and especially of yourself. A teacher is a transformer, a catalyst, the leaven. Sometimes it seems easier if only the information we need would just be given to us, but the process of finding and figuring it out for ourselves makes the knowledge gained richer and deeper than any knowledge handed over on request, whether from a person on a Google search. The challenge for the teacher is to light enough spark in the student that the student will embark on their own learning.

We are all teachers-as we are examples to others, whether younger or not. One of the things I remember best about the church in which I grew up is the community, and the individuals in the community. I remember one guy because we shared a love of lemon meringue pie. I learned this at the pie table at some potluck dinner. Another neighbor I remember for her great lawn and gardens. She worked tirelessly on them, and didn't mind sharing them with others, including our 4-H horse club that met at her farm; she was most gratified when my sister wanted her wedding photos taken by her picturesque weeping willow and pond. Another guy, my great uncle Ted, infected me with his curiosity for the natural world. One of my best memories is when he guided several of us kids to see some rare mountain laurel in bloom. He only knew of one spot left that had enough of the right conditions for it. His task as he saw it was to tell us about the world of the woods, and the flora that grew there.

One of the tasks of a religious community is to transmit just how to get along in the world. We want to transmit an understanding of what tolerance is about, understanding that our religious diversity means that we have to go beyond tolerance to an acceptance of others as they are, warts and all. Harry and Ron and Hermoine learn about life from each other, as well as from their studies and from their professors. They learn from all the other residents of Hogwarts, even from the poltergeist who lives in the girls' bathroom.

So we, as a community, are role models to our children. They see and hear how we live together. Do we do it with affection and honesty for each other, along with integrity to ourselves? Do we care about the less fortunate in the world? Do we struggle with moral issues that require some kind of sacrifice of us, like learning how to live with only one vehicle, instead of driving everywhere all by ourselves?

Religious education is a means of progressing on our spiritual journey. I see this journey as never ending, ongoing. We just keep on learning about how to be in the world, and what it is that gives our lives meaning. Harry struggles with what it means to be a good person in his new world. He doubts that he knows how to do that. Yet, he seems in the end to make the right choices. Professor Dumbledore reminds him. 'It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.'

Harry often recalls that his mother's loving sacrifice saved his life. He learns that love matters. And friendship matters. Ron and Hermoine and Harry together make quite the team in their collective quests. Hermoine is clever and logical, and remembers just the right potion or spell at the right moment. Ron is loyal and smart, especially in chess. Harry is intuitive, and follows his passion, and his sense of what is right. Each contributes their particular gifts.

Harry and his friends learn that someone's outward appearances can be deceiving. The giant Hagrid may be scary to look at, but he's a softy, good guy underneath that brusque exterior. Others who appear normal on the outside bear watching. They learn that what matters is who they are underneath, their values. Are they good folks, or are they greedy for wealth or power?

Harry never seems to lose hope for his future, even if he's in the middle of some scrape. He never gives up. In a way, he reminds me of my dog Lizzie who is ever hopeful that at mealtime, some tidbit will come her way, even if it happens infrequently. Harry works for his future, his hope. He doesn't wait around passively waiting for handouts. Harry is all initiative. Perhaps that is why he learns so much, so fast.

We all have a lot to learn about being religious, and about being human in the world. Our reading referred to some of the tasks we have to learn, no matter what age we are. Some of them are easy, on the surface, but even one as simple as learning to go to church spirals around to where you can learn something new, something deeper from the task at a later time in your journey. It seems to me that the tasks form a progression, a journey, from head stuff-the facts, and just the facts-to personal reflection. What do these particular ways of thinking, these particular values we say we hold, mean to me as an individual? Can I learn to live more lightly on the earth if I say I hold ecological values as theological ones? What does that mean to my individual life, each day? Spiritual practices are called practices because they happen each day, to be practiced over and over. Perfection is never possible. We have to keep practicing.

We all have more to learn about being religious, about being human religiously. We learn by others' example, by stories, by sermons, by our own thinking process, and by being in community, and by self-reflection. Our challenge is to be that living, breathing, affirming, forgiving religious community that walks with us on our spiritual journey, both individual and collective. I believe we are each other's teachers, each other's catalyst for the inner transformation that is our spiritual journey. A thirteenth century author says of teaching, 'True teaching is always an epiphany: sometimes a clap of thunder... but often only a whisper, easily missed. But like the yeast in bread, it is an essential commitment, a commitment to our common life.'