In a letter to an American clergyman, the great French thinker Alexis de Tocqueville wrote: “There are people in France who have a blind love for instruction. They believe that simply by having taught a man to read, write and count, one has made of him a good citizen and almost a virtuous man.” He went on to explain that his native France had become a nation “completely shaped by men of letters,” built on an almost religious faith in the power of education to transform human nature. In just a few sentences, Tocqueville brilliantly describes a belief that still dominates our thinking today: that education has the power to redeem humanity and root out evil.
But is this really true? Does education make you better?
The answer, as both the Bible and modern experience show us, depends entirely on the kind of education you receive. The standard university education ā the “reading, writing and counting” that Tocqueville described ā is simply not enough. It may fill our minds with knowledge and information, but as recent events demonstrate, it often fails to shape our moral character. This is where Biblical education offers something profoundly different.
Two revealing stories at the very beginning of Genesis help explain why Biblical study is so critical. God punished the generation of the flood far more harshly than the generation of the Tower of Babel. The latter directly challenged divine authority, attempting to build a tower to the heavens, yet they were merely scattered across the earth:
But the generation of the flood met a far more terrible end:
Why was the generation of the flood punished so terribly? The great commentator Rashi explains this seeming paradox: “Now which [sins] were worse, those of the Generation of the Flood or those of the Generation of the Dispersion? The former did not stretch forth their hands against God, whereas the latter did stretch forth their hands against God, to wage war against Him. Nevertheless, the former were drowned, while the latter did not perish from the world. That is because the Generation of the Flood were robbers and there was strife between them, and therefore they were destroyed. But these behaved with love and friendship among themselves, as it is said ‘one language and uniform words.’ Thus you learn that discord is hateful, and that peace is great.”
The prophets powerfully reinforce this message. Isaiah, for instance, delivers one of the most striking rebukes in all of scripture when he declares that God rejects even the most elaborate sacrifices and fervent prayers when they come from those who oppress others. What God truly desires, Isaiah proclaims, is justice and care for the vulnerable:
This principle reveals something profound: in God’s eyes, sins against our fellow humans are even more serious than rebellion against Him. We see this same truth reflected in Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. According to Jewish tradition, this holiest day atones for our sins against God, but it cannot atone for our sins against our fellow humans. For those transgressions, we must seek forgiveness directly from those we’ve wronged.
The implications are clear: God’s primary concern, the thrust of His Bible, isn’t primarily religious in nature, but ethical and moral. As Rabbi Akiva, one of Judaism’s greatest sages, taught: “‘Love your fellow as you love yourself’ (Leviticus 19:8) – This is the great principle of the entire Torah.”
This brings us to our modern universities, particularly the Ivy League institutions, where we see the dangerous results of knowledge without morality. Over and over again, we see Ivy League students, graduates and professors committing many of the most heinous acts in America. When UnitedHealthcare CEO Brian Thompson was murdered, a University of Pennsylvania professor celebrated the accused killer on social media, calling him “the icon we all need and deserve.” This same institution had recently been rocked by controversy when students and faculty celebrated Hamas’s October 7th massacre, leading to the president’s resignation.
These weren’t uneducated people ā they were among our most highly educated. Yet their education left them morally adrift, unable to distinguish between good and evil. As Dennis Prager has said, “If you attended Harvard, my assumption is that you are a moral idiot, until proven otherwise.” Thomas Sowell put it even more bluntly: “the road to hell is paved with Ivy League degrees.”
This moral confusion among the highly educated isn’t new. Throughout history, some of the most educated people have committed terrible acts. The terrorists of the Red Army Faction in 1970s Germany were university graduates. Mohamed Atta, the leader of the 9/11 attacks, held advanced degrees in architecture and urban planning. Their education didn’t prevent their descent into evil ā it merely gave them more sophisticated ways to justify it.
This is why we study the Bible ā not primarily to become scholars, but to become holy people. True education must go beyond mere knowledge to shape our moral character. In a world where the most prestigious universities can produce graduates who celebrate violence and terrorism, the timeless ethical teachings of the Bible are more crucial than ever. As Tocqueville understood nearly two centuries ago, teaching someone to read and write isn’t enough to make them good. That requires a different kind of education altogether ā one that speaks not just to the mind, but to the heart and soul.
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