Introduction
These talks are drawn from my later years at Brigham Young University. They contain a record of how, as an administrator, I tried to keep the dream of BYU alive. More broadly, they speak to a vision of learning that has been vital to me and central to Latter-day Saint doctrine and practice from the earliest days of the Church. I call it learning in the light.
Learning in the light entails learning by study and by faith; by reason and by revelation; through work and through worthiness; with mind and heart; and for me and many other Latter-day Saints, learning takes place in temple-like schools as well as in school-like temples—as depicted in the magnificent murals that grace the covers of this book. Above all, to learn in the light involves character education along with intellectual learning, for God cares about who we are becoming and not just what we know.
As do I. This is why these talks tend to approach life in the academy from the inside out. I am far more concerned about the inner life of students and faculty than I am about external issues such as budgets and buildings, curriculum and careers. While I necessarily refer to administrative matters in some talks, gratefully the editors have quietly removed much of the original administrivia.
These talks belong to a type of writing called “occasional literature.” They were given for specific occasions to particular audiences. However, I have attempted to select talks that have general interest and engage enduring questions. And while they do not treat learning systematically, yet read together they frequently circle back to similar core concerns, and thus they are not altogether lacking in coherence.
I have grouped these discourses into three loosely thematic sections and ordered the talks in each section chronologically. The first section, which collects talks given at yearly pre-school meetings, is entitled “A House of Dreams.” In my annual fall addresses, I tried to articulate the idea or vision of BYU in the hope of inspiring faculty to live up to its highest ideals. The second section is entitled “Of Mind and Soul.” These miscellaneous talks address the joys and challenges of being a disciple in the academy. Many of the talks discuss what it means be a student or faculty who loves God and his children with a pure heart and a willing mind. The third section, entitled “From Podium to Pulpit,” collects some of my devotional talks. The title refers to what happens on campus not only during devotionals but also as classrooms turn into chapels. On Sundays, Sacrament trays are laid out next to Bunsen burners; students place their scriptures on desks that hold textbooks on weekdays; and podiums turn into pulpits. The interchangeability of podium and pulpit is for me a moving metaphor of a university whose roots reach back to both Athens and Jerusalem. The epilogue publishes the last talk I gave as an administrator at BYU. It reiterates my commitment to its mission and founding documents.
The title of this book comes from a phrase in the Psalms: “in thy light shall we see light” (Ps. 36:9). This verse captures both my experience and my hope as a learner.
C. S. Lewis said, “I believe in Christianity as I believe that the Sun has risen, not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.” This has been my experience as a Latter-day Saint. The gospel provides the lens through which I see everything and the light by which I make sense of the world. I have experienced times when a classroom, a carrel, or simply my cranium seemed to fill with light. During these intense learning moments, I have been tempted to doff my shoes, spiritually.
There is something sacred about the discovery of truth—all truth. Epiphanies can attend secular as well as spiritual discoveries. To learn in the light is to be connected to God—not only when the light discloses the beauty, order, and love that throbs through things touched by His hand, but also when the light reveals dark, disturbing truths. God himself feels grief, outrage, and pity in the face of some realities. For Latter-day Saints, who believe that “the glory of God is intelligence, or, in other words, light and truth” (D&C 93:36), there is something divine about learning itself, something sacramental. My experience of learning in the light is captured by Elizabeth Barrett Browning in her epic work Aurora Leigh:
Earth’s crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
But only he who sees, takes off his shoes,
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.
The phrase from Psalms also speaks to my hope as a learner. The Psalmist writes “in thy light shall we see light.” This statement is future-oriented; it expresses faith that God not only can but shall illuminate truth for us. “We shall” is formally correct grammatically. It is also a way of being emphatic and even prophetic. This phrase points not just to possibilities for learning by revelation in this life but to hope for a future when we shall understand in full what we comprehend now only in part.
I confess with Paul that “for now [I] see through a glass, darkly; . . . now I know in part.” But with Paul I also trust someday to “know even as also I am known” and to see “face to face” (1 Cor. 13:12). Our understanding in this life is partial and fraught with questions. Hence, we cling to the promise that we shall see light, and that “a time will come in the which nothing shall be withheld” (D&C 121:28). At that day, “in thy light shall we see light,” even the Light.
It will have been worth rescuing these talks from my archives if they help others to seek light and to see light.
John S. Tanner
Laie, Hawaii
