“Then what under heaven did you come to college for, if not to increase your theological information and whatever ability you might have as a preacher.”
“I came to college,” I replied, “to get the other man’s point of view. I reasoned with myself that a purely technical education tends to narrow a man unless supplemented by an education which might be entitled, ‘The Other Man’s Point of View.’”
“That’s a thrust at me,” replied the Doctor, “as if to say that I, because I took my medicine with old Dr. Desbrow, and never went to one of your colleges, was narrow. The idea!”
“I was not alluding to you, sir,” I responded. “I was merely making a generalization which seems provable. For instance, I have a friend who is an expert surgeon. He has been trained in some of the best clinics and has diplomas from the most reputable medical colleges. He has learned his profession well, in all its finer, technical points. But he never received any liberal education. The result is, that he is narrow in his tastes, caring for nothing which is not flavored by anaesthetics or redolent of carbolic acid. As there are among his friends those whose stomachs turn at the mention of an operation or at the whisper of anaesthetics, he has no way of interesting them on subjects in which they are interested. He imagines that because all the world is not poking steel points in ulcers and cancers, it had better be left alone. The result is, that when you mention the surgeon’s name to the townsfolk, you will hear words like these: ‘A fine surgeon, but as cranky and bitter as a hobby-rider.’ No one can get along with him. He loses business by it. He knows nothing but his profession!”
“Well,” demanded the doctor, “that’s a job big enough for any man with brains, isn’t it?”
“True,” I responded, “but the truly educated surgeon has not only to know his tools, his diagnoses, his operating methods, but along with that knowledge, his final success demands that he be liberally trained in human nature, that he have at least a faint idea of the subjects in which other people are interested. A liberal education, added to his professional education gives him that.”
“I’d like to know how?” demanded the Doctor.
“Well, take my case again, for instance. I am going to take a lot of studies which are not technically pertinent to sermons or doctrines: study of Dutch paintings, Italian, Chemistry, Anatomy of the Brain and Sense Organs, and others which I can’t mention at this time, because I have not decided just what they will be. Here is what I mean. After an introductory study of Italian, I shall learn just how the Italians think. It is good to know that, surely? Then after a brief course in chemistry, though I shall not care enough about it when I am through with the experiments, to carry off a test tube, tie it with baby ribbon and keep it for a souvenir, as some students do, I shall ever after realize that while I am swearing by theology, others, about me, have reason for being engrossed in chemical formulas and tests. Each study that I shall take, and each classroom that I shall visit, will form opportunities for me to get at the points of view which determine why Tom differs from Joe and why Joe differs from me. If the college can do that, Doctor, and not add a single jot to my theological knowledge, I shall feel more than repaid for the time I spend in it and the money I pay to it. So that is why I don’t think it either wasted time or an entirely hopeless situation, Doctor, if a large number of students in the college do not know why they are there. One thing is certain, they are getting trained in the other man’s point of view!”
The Doctor, evidently not at all in agreement with my explanation, after he had pooh-poohed to himself for a minute, thought to change the subject and for that purpose he said to me,
“I rather pity you, young man. I always did pity ministers. They don’t seem to do anything substantial; that’s why I don’t go near a church. It’s all up-in-the-air preaching, and darned little doing. Now, keeping pullets or mixing a sick draught—why, they are something worth while, now—but preaching and preachers—um!”