The Veritas Conflict (27 page)

“I’m sure it is.” Sherry looked at her watch. “Actually, I’ve got to run or I’ll be late. See you.”

As she walked toward the restaurant with her two new friends, Claire was very conscious of Brad’s presence. He strolled next to her, talking politely, gesturing for her to go first through doorways and tight spaces. As they progressed through Harvard Square, she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He was short with a strong profile, a shock of brown hair, and a stocky build. He wasn’t what she would have called handsome, but she was drawn toward his warmth and kindness.

Claire recognized the tall figure of her history professor strolling along beside several students. She tugged on Alison’s arm. “What’s
he
doing?”

“Professor Mansfield often joins us for Fellowship dinners.” She laughed at Claire’s shocked expression. “He’s a mentor and surrogate grandfather to a lot of students in this group. He’s a wonderful guy. You’ll love him.”

“He’s my European history professor!”

“Well, then, you’re even more fortunate than most. C’mon, I’ll introduce you.”

Before Claire could protest, Alison was pulling her toward the next little knot of people. Alison caught Mansfield’s eye.

“Alison!” Mansfield smiled and stopped to give her a hug. “I haven’t seen you since we’ve been back this year. How was your summer, my dear? Did you enjoy your internship?”

“I really did—it was fascinating. You were so kind to help—”

Mansfield waved a hand. “It was nothing. I knew you’d do well. Finding good people like you to work on Capitol Hill for the summer makes me look good to my old colleagues in Washington, after all! So you could say I was really doing it for
me.”

Alison grinned and shocked Claire by punching the professor lightly on the arm. “Yeah, right. Well, for whatever reason you did it, thank you. I had a blast.”

Mansfield turned Claire’s direction. “And who is this, Alison? You didn’t introduce me to your friend.”

“Professor, this is a new student, Claire … um, what’s your last name?”

Claire held out her hand. “Claire Rivers. I’m in your European history class, actually.”

“Well, good. At least, I hope it’s good. I shouldn’t speak too quickly, I suppose. Are you enjoying the class?”

“Oh, very much! It’s my favorite class. I hope it will
still
be my favorite class after your quiz next week.”

Mansfield chuckled and motioned to the group to continue walking.

Over dinner, Mansfield talked with Claire and Doug Turner, the two freshmen at his table, about their families, their hometowns, their hobbies, what they thought their majors would be. As he listened with evident interest to their answers, Claire had to remind herself that he was a famous figure. The presence that was so charismatic in the classroom was now warm and humble, focusing intently on them.

Claire found, herself describing a hobby she loved but hadn’t had time for since arriving on campus: genealogy research. “I just love the investigation aspects. It’s like being a detective, trying to put together the pieces of a historical puzzle.”

Mansfield leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head. “Well, Claire, if you enjoy historical investigations, we’ll have to talk sometime. I always have projects that I need student help on. Why don’t you come see me at some point next week?”

“Are you serious?”

“Of course I’m serious. You seem like just the sort that I’d like to have as a research assistant, and it would be a paid job. Why don’t you drop by on Thursday afternoon? I have office hours all day, and we’ll have plenty of time to talk. Call and schedule a time.”

Claire could only nod eagerly.
Thank You, Lord!
She felt a spreading warmth at this
unexpected opportunity. Her parents would be so proud of her assisting a famous professor on an academic project. Not to mention a little extra income.

“You’ll really enjoy working with this guy, Claire,” Brad said. “He’s the best. Speaking of all your projects, Professor, how is the
big
project coming?”

“Actually, very well. We’ve just got another few weeks before the big meeting. You’re the prayer coordinator this year, aren’t you? I’d appreciate this group’s prayers before and during the meeting.”

Brad nodded. “You got it. The meeting’s down on our calendar, and we’ll start praying and fasting in shifts the week before. I think we students sometimes forget how important it is to pray for our professors, to pray for the school. We may not have another chance like this for years. We need to cover this whole thing in serious prayer.”

“That will be very important,” Mansfield said. “I’m convinced this is a spiritual battle. We’ll need concerted prayer and fasting to take back this ground for the kingdom.”

Brad glanced at a few puzzled expressions around the table. “Professor, would you mind outlining your project for those who haven’t been involved?”

“No, I wouldn’t mind. Before I tell you this, though, I’ll need your word that it doesn’t go beyond this room. A lot of what we’re trying to do depends on it remaining quiet until the appropriate time.”

Each of the students nodded.

“Harvard considers itself the ultimate marketplace of ideas,’ and the project I’m leading aims to bring that marketplace into true balance. Let me provide some background.”

Mansfield leaned back in his chair and adopted a professorial tone of voice. “Like many universities, Harvard considers itself a leader in society, a first mover on new ideas, new ways of viewing the world. And it probably is. The problem, as I discussed in the talk tonight, is that as Harvard has left it’s Christian roots behind, it has not simply embraced and encompassed the new ideas; it has actively rejected the old ones. In that way, it is not truly a marketplace for free thought. Some types of thought, such as traditional, faith-based values—actually, Judeo-Christian-based values—are often discriminated against in a way that alternative viewpoints would not be. The same goes for politically conservative viewpoints.

“This school seems to value diversity and tolerance above all, but that tolerance is actually limited in a way that many don’t recognize. Anything that can be labeled ‘intolerant’—the Christian view that Jesus is the only way to salvation, for example—is simply not acceptable. Not
tolerated
, if you will. It’s rather ironic.

“This has resulted, not surprisingly perhaps, in a sort of speech code environment, where only ‘tolerance’ viewpoints are welcomed, and others are often met with
active dislike, if not hostility. The end result is that those with faith-based viewpoints may not share those views as openly as they otherwise might.”

Mansfield smiled at the knowing chuckles that came from several students.

“Now, in a strange sort of way you should be encouraged by the existence of tacit speech codes. What that really means is that some people know, deep down, that their viewpoint can’t stand up to a fair and open debate. Therefore, they try to keep the debate from happening. They don’t even want to think about it. If you can get around that blockage, you’ve got a great chance of making a lasting point and even changing some minds.

“So, what does this have to do with the project that Brad mentioned? Well, for years now I’ve felt a calling to try to reintroduce fairness into this marketplace of ideas and to work for kingdom purposes here at this school.

“I have served off and on as an ad hoc member of the steering committee that sets the standards for the undergraduate curricula. Just recently I was made a permanent member. This steering committee is sometimes quite frustrating because it’s controlled largely by those who
like
the status quo and don’t see a problem. They don’t seem to see the fact that students who are not challenged with ideas beyond their comfort zone—such as some of those that are now suppressed in the classroom—are actually learning less than those who are challenged in that way.” A small smile played on Mansfield’s lips. “But I hope and pray that that’s all about to change.

“You see, several years ago the school was on this ‘diversity’ crusade. They wanted to ensure the diversity of the student body because they know—rightfully—that different types of people bring different viewpoints and enrich the learning experience for everyone. They had plans to increase the diversity of race, of gentler, of sexual orientation, diversity of skills and interests. Pretty much every kind of
outward
diversity was championed. However, the school was doing nothing to encourage
ideological
diversity. In fact, as we’ve discussed, it was actively discouraged.

“So about two years ago I made a case to the steering committee that just as there needed to be task forces that assessed the diversity of race, sexual orientation, and the others, there needed to be a task force that did an empirical study of ideological diversity on campus.” He smiled slightly. “A few of the more … obstructionist committee members were not there the day I proposed this, and somehow the others agreed to the proposal with very little debate.

“As the various task forces have conducted their studies over the last few years, we too have been researching, analyzing, and polling students in nearly every class. But we’ve been much more quiet about it than the other task forces. While some of them provided interim updates, I elected not to. Now, at staggered times over the last year, each task force has finished its research and come out with its final report. Many of the
recommendations have been granted. The next—and last—report to be heard is mine. It will be very interesting to see the reaction of the various members of the committee, as they seem to have forgotten that this task force was ever formed.”

Alison chimed in suddenly. “That’s because you’ve been so careful to keep it under wraps. I’ve never seen such a massive project kept so quiet for so long! Whoever compiled all those survey sheets deserves a medal.”

The professor laughed. “I’ll be sure to tell my teaching assistant that you think so. His latest estimate was that we have good data on almost seventy percent of our undergrad classes and professors here.”

“Wow.” Brad said. “I didn’t realize you’d gotten so far. So are you going to share your results with the students?”

“Probably not, Brad. At least not for a while. I’ll be able to share a few things in summary form down the road, but the task force reports are strictly confidential.”

“Yeah,” Brad muttered. “Gotta hate that integrity thing.” The others laughed, and as she watched their good-natured ribbing, Claire found herself smiling. Brad was a really nice guy.

Idly, she wondered if this was what Sherry felt for Stefan. The unbidden thought was like a cold bucket of water poured over her head. The peace that had been growing in her all evening abruptly fled. Her memory replayed last weekend’s scene of Sherry stumbling into their room after being out with Stefan.

Claire tried to rid herself of that picture and reenter the camaraderie of this little group around a cozy restaurant table. She smiled and laughed with the others, but that scene, that gnawing sense of concern, wouldn’t leave her mind.

Early morning sun poured into the room, and Claire awoke with a start. She quietly rose and stood on tiptoe on her bed, peering over the rim of Sherry’s loft.

The comforter was uncreased, the sheets unruffled. Sherry’s teddy bear still sat at attention against her plumped-up pillow. He looked like he’d pulled the lonely late-shift duty, watching in vain all night.

“I know how you feel,” Claire muttered as she sank back to her covers and stared at the ceiling. She sighed.

Now what, Lord!

TWENTY-FIVE

L
YING IN HER BED
, C
LAIRE WATCHED
as her roommate changed into a night shirt and prepared to turn in. She moved around, hanging up clothes, putting books in their place. She never looked over at Claire.

“Sherry, where were you last night?”

Sherry didn’t respond immediately, and when she did her tone was cool. “Just out with some friends.”

“I was worried about you.”

“Don’t be. This is a safe campus.” She started shuffling her papers into piles.

“Yeah, safe from everyone but cute young men that would just
love
to get their hands on an equally cute southern belle.”

Claire was relieved when Sherry laughed. “Okay, you guessed. I was with Stefan. We stayed up really late talking, and I was exhausted. It was easier to sleep on his sofa than come all the way back here.”

“Sherry, I have to ask. Did you and Stefan—?”

“Did I sleep with him? Is that what you want to know?” Sherry slammed something down on the desk. “I appreciate your concern, but is that really your business?”

“Um … actually, yes. You did ask me to hold you accountable. And I can’t help but wonder when you spend the night in a guy’s room!” She jumped out of bed and went over to her roommate. “Look, I don’t want to pry, but I care about you and I care about your desire to keep from going down the wrong road. You said that was what you needed in an accountability partner. And if I don’t do it for you, then you won’t want to do it for me … and I know I need to be held accountable, Sherry. Either we’re doing this or we aren’t!”

Sherry let out a small sigh. “Yeah.” She turned slightly, not quite looking at Claire. “You’re right. I’m sorry. You were only doing what I asked you to do.”

Claire stepped over and gave her roommate a quick hug. “Sherry, I didn’t mean to make you angry. I don’t
want
to make you angry. It’s not exactly comfortable for me to ask you these questions.”

“You need to, though.” Sherry’s voice was so low Claire could hardly hear it.

“Yes, I do. And you need to do the same for me.”