How to Teach Religion | Page 3

who are able to leave their impress on young lives.
Without such teachers all the rest is but as sounding brass or a tinkling
cymbal. And to be a real teacher is a very high achievement.
Bishop Vincent was giving a lecture on "That Boy." He himself was
"that boy," and in the course of describing his school days he fell into
meditation as follows: "That old school master of mine!--He is dead
now--_and I have forgiven him!_--And I am afraid that was the
chronology of the matter; for I never was able to forgive him while he
lived." I, as one of the listeners, smiled at the bitter wit of the speaker,
but was oppressed.
This somber view of the impression sometimes left by teachers on their
pupils received an antidote the following day, however, when a
venerable old man approached my desk bearing in his hands an ancient

and dog-eared copy of a text in grammar. He opened the book and
proudly showed me written across the fly leaf "Grover Cleveland,
President." Then he told me this story:
"I have been a teacher. In one of my first schools I had Grover
Cleveland as a pupil. He came without a textbook in grammar, and I
loaned him mine. Years passed, and Grover Cleveland was President of
the United States. One day I was one of many hundreds passing in line
at a public reception to grasp the President's hand. I carried this book
with me, and when it came my turn to meet the President, I presented
the volume and said, 'Mr. President, do you recognize this book, and do
you remember me?' In an instant the light of recognition had flashed in
Mr. Cleveland's eyes. Calling me by name, he grasped my hand and
held it while the crowd waited and while he recalled old times and
thanked me for what I had meant to him when I was his teacher. Then
he took the old book and autographed it for me."
Three types of teachers.--Two types of teachers are remembered: one to
be forgiven after years have softened the antagonisms and resentments;
the other to be thought of with honor and gratitude as long as memory
lasts. Between these two is a third and a larger group: those who are
forgotten, because they failed to stamp a lasting impression on their
pupils. This group represents the mediocrity of the profession, not bad
enough to be actively forgiven, not good enough to claim a place in
gratitude and remembrance.
To which type would we belong? To which type can we belong? Can
we choose? What are the factors that go to determine the place we shall
occupy in the scale of teachers?
THE PERSONAL FACTOR
When we revert to our own pupil days we find that the impressions
which cling to our memories are not chiefly impressions of facts taught
and of lessons learned, but of the personality of the teacher. We may
have forgotten many of the truths presented and most of the
conclusions drawn, but the warmth and glow of the human touch still
remains.

To be a teacher of religion requires a particularly exalted personality.
The teacher and the truth taught should always leave the impression of
being of the same pattern. "For their sakes I sanctify myself," said the
Great Teacher; shall the teachers of his Word dare do less!
The teacher as an interpreter of truth.--This is not to say that the subject
matter taught is unimportant, nor that the lessons presented are
immaterial. It is only to say that life responds first of all to life. Truth
never comes to the child disembodied and detached, but always with
the slant and quality of the teacher's interpretation of it. It is as if the
teacher's mind and spirit were the stained glass through which the
sunlight must fall; all that passes through the medium of a living
personality takes its tone and quality from this contact. The pupils may
or may not grasp the lessons of their books, but their teachers are living
epistles, known and read by them all.
For it is the concrete that grips and molds. Our greatest interest and best
attention center in persons. The world is neither formed nor reformed
by abstract truths nor by general theories. Whatever ideals we would
impress upon others we must first have realized in ourselves. What we
are often drowns out what we say. Words and maxims may be
misunderstood; character seldom is. Precepts may fail to impress;
personality never does. God tried through the ages to reveal his
purposes to man by means of the law and the prophets, but man refused
to heed or understand. It was only when God had made his thought and
plan for man concrete in the