Call for Applications: Summer Internship in Lived Theology
The Project on Lived Theology is now accepting applications for the 2016 Summer Internship in Lived Theology, an immersion program designed to complement the numerous existing urban and rural service immersion programs flourishing nationally and globally by offering a unique opportunity to think and write theologically about service.
The internship is open to UVA undergraduate students in any field of study.
Find more information at: http://www.livedtheology.org/summer-internship/
Follow the conversation and our interns' summer work on Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/livedtheology) and Twitter: @livedtheology #PLTinterns
Watch the VIDEO: Philip Yancey's Lecture on Suffering & Grace
CLICK HERE to watch the video of the lecture.
Sunday, March 22, 2015 at 3:00 pm
in Old Cabell Hall at the University of Virginia
Philip Yancey has explored the most basic questions and deepest mysteries of the Christian faith, taking millions of readers with him. Early on he crafted best-selling books such as Disappointment with God and Where is God When it Hurts? while also editing The Student Bible. He has felt the freedom to explore central issues of the Christian faith, penning award-winning titles such as The Jesus I Never Knew, What’s So Amazing About Grace? and Prayer: Does It Make Any Difference? His books have garnered 13 Gold Medallion Awards from Christian publishers and booksellers. He currently has more than 15 million books in print, published in 35 languages worldwide.
The Capps Lectures are co-sponsored by Theological Horizons and the Project on Lived Theology at UVa. For more information, contact us at info@theologicalhorizons.org.
LEARN MORE! Go to our Capps Lectures in Christian Theology.
Before the Rush talk with Miska Collier
Hear the good news: you are loved! Christian spiritual counselor Miska Collier speaks words of wisdom & comfort to all who long for true acceptance. Miska's talk was recorded at an event we did in 2014 called "Beat the Rush" during sorority rush--her insights speak deeply to us all.
Knowing the Love & Light of God - Miska Collier. Click here to listen.
Fourth Sunday of Advent: Joseph tends the Fire
Preparing for the birth of Jesus, Joseph keeps watch. He tends the warming fire, he cooks and washes. Yet in the decisive moment, even the ox and donkey have a better view than he. Joseph, the carpenter, takes second place: the one who cares for Mary and Jesus---the protector of a little family that is not even his own.
"Joseph at the Nativity"
There he lies...
Is he God enough
to know that I am poor,
that we had no time
for a midwife, that swine ate
from this bed this morning?
If the angel was right, he knows.
He knows that Mary's swell
embarrassed me, that I was jealous
of her secret skyward smiles,
that now I want to run into these hills
and never come back.
Peace, peace, I've heard in my dreams.
This child will make you right.
But I can only stand here,
not a husband, not a father,
my hands hanging dumbly
at my sides. Do I touch him,
this child who is not mine
and not mine? Do I enter the kingdom of blood and stars?
{Tania Runya, American, contemporary} exerpt
"Those Winter Sundays"
Sundays too my father got up early
and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.
I'd wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.
When the rooms were warm, he'd call,
and slowly I would rise and dress,
fearing the chronic angers of that house,
Speaking indifferently to him,
who had driven out the cold
and polished my good shoes as well.
What did I know, what did I know
of love's austere and lonely offices?
{Robert Hayden, African-American, 1913-1980}
credits: poem by Rachel M. Srubas in "Rediscovering Advent" | "The Visitation" by Moretto da Brescia | Where God Wants to Be by Dietrich Bonhoeffer | "The Visitation" by Romare Bearden
Surprised by Laughter with C.S. Lewis | Terry Lindvall talk
Author, speaker and the C.S. Lewis Endowed Chair in Communication & Christian Thought Professor of Communication at Virginia Wesleyan—Terry Lindvall shares on comedy in C.S. Lewis. Be sure to listen to his talk here & to check out his latest book God Mocks.
You may listen to his talk at Vintage Lunch on December 2, 2016 here.
Lindvall occupies the C. S. Lewis Chair of Communication and Christian Thought at Virginia Welseyan College, since 2006. He received his Ph.D. from the University of Southern California, his MDiv from Fuller Theological Seminary, and his BA in Literature/Biology from Vanguard University; he has taught at Azusa Pacific University, Wheaton College, and Regent University. He was also a Visiting Professor at Duke University School of Divinity and the Walter Mason Fellow in Religious Studies at the College of William and Mary. He also slummed as a former president of Regent University for four years where he was called "Peck's Bad Boy.".
Third Sunday of Advent: Elizabeth's surprise visitor
Shepherds Detail 11 © 2016 John August Swanson| Eyekons
Mary's pregnant but not showing. Those who pause to think about Mary as she passes (and few do) sense only that she knows something she's not telling.
Why me? Elizabeth wonders when Mary turns up at her door. She's taken aback but still willing to receive the mother of her Lord.
Who are you inviting in? What burden does she bring? How's your life about to change? How come you aren't singing?
Sing for the day that isn't going as you planned. Sing for the Advent of surprises. Sing for disruptions and inconveniences. Sing for God who wears unlikely disguises.
{Rachel M. Srubas in "Rediscovering Advent}
Visitation by Moretto da Brescia
Elizabeth greeted Mary as soon as she walked in the house, and Elizabeth's baby, not yet born, seemed to know too that Mary was God's favored one. Elizabeth was astounded that the mother of our Lord would visit her, and she felt her baby leap for joy at the sound of Mary's voice. She blessed Mary and praised her for her faith. The two women had much to talk and laugh about. They were delighted, they were grateful...and Mary sang a joyful song of thanksgiving for God's goodness. {after Luke 1:40-45}
Visitation by Romare Bearden
Where understanding is outraged
where human nature rebels,
where our piety keeps a nervous distance:
there, precisely there, God loves to be.
There he baffles the wisdom of the wise;
there he vexes our nature, our religious instincts.
There he wants to be, and no one can prevent him.
Only the humble believe him and rejoice
that God is so free and so grand,
that he works wonders where man loses heart,
that he makes splendid what is slight and lowly.
Indeed, this is the wonder of wonders,
that God loves the lowly.
"God has regarded the low state of his handmaiden."
God in lowliness--
that is the revolutionary, the passionate word of Advent.
{Dietrich Bonhoeffer}
Second Sunday of Advent: Gabriel announces the news
In the fullness of time, the angel Gabriel announced the news to Mary,
the creative Spirit visited her & she conceived the Son of God.
This Advent, our Advent, is a time of creation, too.
God's same Spirit abides in us, shaping & forming us, being formed & shaped by us.
What is the angel's message of grace and favor in the fullness of our own time?
In Mary, God became flesh. What will God become in us this Advent?
And the angel Gabriel was sent from God unto a city of Galilee, named Nazareth, to a virgin espoused to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David; and the virgin's name was Mary. And the angel came in unto her, and said, "Hail, thou that art highly favoured, the Lord is with thee: blessed art thou among women!" {Luke 1:26-28}
young Mary, loitering once her garden way,
felt the warm splendor grow in the April day.
as wine that blushes water through. and soon,
out of the gold air of the afternoon,
one knelt before her: hair had he, or fire,
bound back above his ears with golden wire,
baring the eager marble of his face.
Not man's nor woman's was the immortal grace
rounding the limbs beneath that robe of white,
and lighting the proud eyes with changeless light,
incurious. calm as his wings, and fair,
that presence filled the garden.
she stood there,
saying, "what would you, sir?"
he told his word, "blessed art thou among women!" half she heard,
hands folded and face bowed, half long had known,
the message of that clear and holy tone...
and said, "so be it!"
-Mary & Gabriel, poem by Rupert Brooke
Annunciation Angel by Titian
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Banner detail, Shepherds Detail 11 © 2016 John August Swanson
Sacred Silliness by Fellow Hannah Zachman, '17
This blog post original appeared on incourage.me here.
Growing up as the oldest in a family of four daughters, I prided myself on being the practical one. My younger sisters would spend long car trips giggling about some new imaginary friend or silly game while I’d sit quietly and try to focus on a book. I was the Meg to our Little Women and the Beezus to three Ramonas.
In my mind, there were too many important things to do in life to waste time merely being silly.
And to be honest, I still fall into this mindset more often than not. It feels safer to reduce life to checking off items on my to do list because to have fun for the sake of fun feels all too risky and unproductive. There are problems to be solved and papers to write and laundry to fold and a never-ending list of tasks to do. Who has time to roll on the floor in laughter?
I recently picked up a copy of C.S. Lewis’s The Weight of Glory and added it to my ever growing to do list. This guy understands the intensity of the Gospel, right? The first line of the introduction brought a welcome surprise:
This [weight of glory] does not mean that we are to be perpetually solemn. We must play. But our merriment must be of that kind (and it is, in fact, the merriest kind) which exists between people who have, from the outset, taken each other seriously.
I think I read over that quote at least a dozen times over a two week period before moving on in the book. Where I was expecting to find heavy, convicting truth, I received an invitation to live the abundant life Jesus promises. There was some weighty glory in there, for sure, but it all pointed back to a man named Jesus who came to live among us and be a real friend.
My sisters and brothers, we serve a God who entered humanity not to lengthen our to do lists, but to breathe life into our dry and tired souls.
We have a Savior who cried, sobbed, loved, groaned, felt compassion, and was full of joy. Bubbling, exploding, contagious joy. That sounds a lot like laughter to me.
Let the truth of this sink in for a minute:
If the Spirit of Him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, He who raised Christ Jesus from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through His Spirit who dwells in you. {Romans 8:11}
So as I continue to press into this glorious Gospel, I am learning to savor the solemn and the silly moments. Because this news is too joyous not to explode in giggles every so often.
First Sunday of Advent: Isaiah leads the way
If you could see the journey whole you might not undertake it;
might never dare to take the first step that propels you
from the place you have known to the place you know not.
But Advent messengers lead the way, heralds of Christ's coming.
This first Sunday on the journey, we follow a prophet...Isaiah.
In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord,
make straight in the desert a highway for our God.
Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low;
the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain.
Then the glory of the Lord shall be revealed,
and all people shall see it together. {Isaiah 40:3-5}
Writing to a people in exile, the prophet Isaiah promises a pathway that leads to redemption & return. The transformation of creation will envelop all people and all communities. Our interior landscapes will be utterly changed and a road will appear-- a way for the redeeming, restoring God. Are you ready?
In Advent we expectantly wait for the One who has already come.
We anticipate the promised justice of God’s new world, yet we praise God who raised the “righteous branch” to rule with justice and righteousness.
We hope for the restoration of the afflicted, the tormented, and the grieving, yet we delight that healing has come in Christ.
We long for the beating of swords into plowshares, yet we rejoice that the Prince of Peace has appeared.
We yearn for the barren deserts of our inner cities to flourish, yet we laud the desert Rose that has bloomed.
We dream of the land where lions and lambs live in harmony, yet we acclaim the child born to lead us into the promised land.
Shepherds Detail 11 © 2016 John August Swanson; Companion to the Book of Common Worship ; Una and the Lion by Briton Riviere
Singer-songwriter Claire Hitchins on the gift of Song
The below is reposted from a post last year on the On Being blog.
Claire will be performing an Advent Concert at Common Grounds on Sunday, December 4th in partnership with UKirk ministries. More information is here.
As the nights stretch steadily longer, eclipsing the waning daylight hours, my sun-loving-self plunges and stumbles into the spiritual depths. The seed buried deep under the earth and the insect shrouded in its chrysalis both remind me that darkness holds the possibility of nourishment, hope, transformation, and new life.
As we in the northern hemisphere approach the shortest day of the year, the deepening darkness holds a persistent promise of the coming light. In Christian traditions, this is a time of remembrance and expectation. We recall how love collapsed the space between the Creator and the Creation in the mystery of the Incarnation — and we anticipate the ultimate incorporation of all into this perfect communion.
Paradox runs through the season of Advent like a shining thread, weaving together transcendence in imminence, power in vulnerability, kairos in chronos, the ultimate in the intimate. I find myself woven into this fabric even as my heart stretches wide to hold such mystery. Sometimes that stretching, that tension, hums with music like the strings pulled taut over the bridge of an instrument.
Over Thanksgiving weekend, I retreated into my bedroom to record People, Look East!, a collection of homespun songs old and new, borrowed and of my own creation, inspired by the season of Advent. A poem by a wise teacher, Patrick Twohy, nudged me to share these songs with you. Speaking of the power of songs among his dear friends, the Coast Salish community, he writes:
The Most Wonderful Gift
But the greatest gifts shared were the Songs
That carried the People through the dark nights.
Like rain held for a moment in the high branches
of the tall cedars, then released to shower gently
upon the dark earth below,
These songs came down, moistening hearts,
Renewing the inmost roots of the People's being.
These songs came down, visiting the villages
Sending strength out like medicine
To the life sleeping within all things,
Until the sun returned, and light would fill
Mountain and valley, marsh, river, and sea
with the green motion of life.
It is my hope that my songs, born of my own bewilderment and delight, longing and joy, may be for you something of that gift, that gentle rain, that strength, that medicine.
Theological Horizons awarded UVa Parents Fund Grant
Theological Horizons is pleased to announce the award of a $3000 grant from the UVa Parents Fund to go toward our Vintage Lunches for students.
Every Friday afternoon from 1-2pm, around fifty students gather at Common Grounds on the corner of Rugby Ave and Gordon Ave. to receive a home-cooked meal, listen to the life and words of a vintage saint and discuss the connection to their own lives. All are welcome! To learn more, click here.
The UVA Parents Fund enhances the student experience through annual gifts from parents of current and former students. Directed by the UVA Parents Committee, the Parents Fund supports student clubs and cultural events, academic enhancement programs and career services, health and wellness initiatives, and class dinners and traditions that enrich student life across Grounds. Last year, they awarded over $1.0 million to more than 90 student organizations. To learn more about them, click here.
Reflections on Paying Attention by Horizons Fellow, Julia Scoper '17
Ben Noble '17, Julia Scoper '17, Fellow Cameron Fleming '17, and Charlie Smith '16
There’s always a tension in my English and Religious Studies classes between learning the academic theory and history of a text over any personal or spiritual intuition. Learning through the head over the heart is a common thread throughout UVa’s history. Jefferson specifically made the Rotunda as the library and center of grounds instead of a chapel which was how most universities were planned at the time. Students are called first, second, third, and fourth years because education lasts forever- we’ll never graduate from learning. That also means we’ll never graduate from questioning. Yet, it tends to be in those deep “meaning of life” questions that libraries and the head alone do not suffice.
I’ve become exhausted by head driven peers and the overall culture of elitism that infiltrates UVa. It’s exhausting getting caught up in the elitism and then realizing that all of these hierarchal societies and clubs have been socially constructed as prominent and will only matter within the bubble of UVa, assuming they do or should even matter within the confines of UVa in the first place.
Despite the exhaustingly competitive atmosphere of school, it’s been times with my Fellows group where I have found the most rest, for my head and my heart. Recently, we read essays about paying attention to our lives and making time for reflection. David Foster Wallace explains in “This is Water,” how we all have certain default settings and will easily become hypnotized by the constant monologues inside our own heads. We discussed how we all get so caught up in our daily routines that we rehearse our next action as if it’s profound.
I tend to act as if whatever role I have as student is of the upmost importance in attempts to validate my busyness and want for control. I continually hypnotize myself into myself. But it’s in moments of vulnerability, sharing truth, and stepping outside myself with others that I find the most profound moments— and that’s what this fellows program has provided. Karen and Christy create fertile ground to talk about things that have eternal meaning and substance which is hard to find at UVa. We are set up for meaningful conversations that will impact us eternally instead of typical conversations that are geared towards impressing others and looking good. Christy and Karen provide space for real conversation to happen at an academic level- but more importantly on a spiritual level.
In an essay we read by Simone Weil, she writes, “Even if our efforts of attention seem for years to be producing no result, one day a light which is an exact proportion to them will flood the soul. Every effort adds a little gold to a treasure which no power on earth can take away.” Nothing is wasted when time is spent together in community centered on Christ. Meetings with the Fellows group are like these little pieces of gold with eternal power.
Titles, organizations, and prestige will fade away, but we never forget how our hearts were touched by God amidst our questioning and fears. Just as it’s at the intersection of the cross that we find redemption, it’s at the intersection of the head and the heart that we find peace. The Theological Horizons Fellows program has been that intersection point for me as I grow in my faith. It’s through examining tension points in my own life alongside these Fellows that I find more depth than anything else UVa could give me.
For more information on the Fellows Program, click here.
Reflections on the CCDA National Conference by Perkins Fellow Kevin Cao '16
One quicker-than-expected plane ride later and it was goodbye humid Charlottesville and hello balmy southern California.
In August, I had the opportunity to attend the 2016 Christian Community Development Association (CCDA) National Conference in Los Angeles. As the name suggests, CCDA is centered on issues of community development, as well as social justice and civil rights, through the lens of the Christian faith. John Perkins, a civil rights activist himself and founder of the CCDA, participated in the conference as an unforgettable keynote speaker who delivered powerful Bible studies each morning. The three-day conference featured a number of diverse faith leaders from across the country, a multi-lingual worship set, and a variety of partner organizations across the world.
As a Global Development Studies major deeply interested in community development, I've found CCDA to be a hopeful vehicle through which the Church is coming together to seek justice, love mercy, and walk humbly. As a follower of Christ, I found great joy and encouragement in catching a glimpse of eternity in the people from all walks of life worshipping the same God – a true reflection of the diversity and oneness of the body of Christ. As one speaker put it, “heaven is fully integrated.”
Los Angeles itself proved to be a fitting backdrop for the CCDA National Conference. The proximity to Skid Row in Downtown LA, one of the largest areas of homelessness and drug abuse in the United States, is a reminder of the brokenness of this world and the utter necessity of Christ. A number of speakers native to the city also discussed the LA Riots of 1992 which tore the city apart – literally, in terms of physical destruction, and figuratively, as the direct consequence of an escalating racial divide. However, hearing the testimonies of men and women working to combat poverty and addiction, as well as those serving in multiethnic churches that sprang up as a desire for racial reconciliation, gives hope that God is not dead and that His Church is still at work.
Perhaps the most powerful story shared during the conference was not an encouragement, but rather a call to action. Reverend Doctor Brenda Salter McNeil of Seattle Pacific University recounted her time in Ferguson, Missouri shortly after the death of Michael Brown. She met with activists and leaders of the protests – young people who had lost confidence in the church due to what they cited as misogyny, hypocrisy, and churches “working harder to keep people out than to let them in”. Where did we go astray? Was not the church of Christ where adulterers and tax collectors felt embraced as opposed to rejected? We must ground our work not in judgment and condemnation, but rather in service and love.
It is with this in mind that I return to Grounds and look ahead to this year as a Perkins Fellow with Theological Horizons. There is still much to be done, but it is my hope that I might join in and do my part.
Interview with Goodwin Prize Winner Brittany Fiscus
Brittany Fiscus of Columbia Theological Seminary was awarded $500 for her essay, “The ‘Sum of the Gospel’ as Good News on the Streets.”
What inspired you to pursue an advanced degree in theology? What do you hope to do with your degree?
As long as I can remember, I have felt called to work in the church; it was my childhood dream. As early as High School I remember investigating seminaries, and planning to attend one day. I hope to use my degree to continue doing the work of God in a variety of ways. I would love to continue my education further and never stop writing and teaching, but I also feel called to be in communion with those on the margins and desire to be a pastor to those often overlooked.
Where do you see connections between your personal faith, your intellectual work and the other aspects of your life?
Throughout the week I intern with a grassroots community church. Most of the members live on the streets, and our study of scripture often has a recovery lens. Inevitably, I have found myself thinking of what this community has taught me as I read and write theology. In turn, I cannot help but share with this community what I am studying in seminary, as I lead lessons and moderate discussions. It has all become intertwined. My personal faithfulness comes out of witnessing and pointing to God in this community. It is alongside them that I worship and work, and because of them that I keep coming back to continue my studies.
How would you summarize your paper for someone without a theological background?
Whether or not one is familiar with election and predestination, the thought that some people could be somehow destined for eternal damnation is terribly problematic. Theologian Karl Barth offers a helpful alternative to this potentially harmful dogma, wherein election is actually God’s decision before humans were even created to love and have value for us all. This idea is particularly important from the perspective of our brothers and sisters who live on the street. Too often those of us out of housing are overlooked and not seen for our value. Those living on the streets are not a ‘tool’ to help others feel better about themselves, nor should they be judged as not worthy of receiving God’s love and blessings. Barth’s interpretation of God’s choice to love and be for all of us, can remind us that each and every person has value and is chosen to do God’s work. We are all elected to live into our own calls to be in relationship with God and with one another in a mutual way that honors the value of each person.
How might this award make a difference in your life?
I love thinking and writing theologically, but to be acknowledged for my passion is truly the affirmation I needed to pursue my education and my work even further. Moreover, because this award came with a monetary prize, I plan to gift it to the community where I am currently serving. As a student, I do not have extra ‘unbudgeted’ money. To receive this free gift, and to be able to in turn give it to the community that inspired my writing in the first place is a joyous experience.
How do you spend your time when you are not studying?
When I am not in class or studying I can often be found worshiping with my brothers and sisters at Mercy Community Church. Otherwise, I like reading Japanese comic books and drinking red wine, snuggling with my cat, hiking Buddhist pilgrimages, practicing yoga, and escaping to fantasy worlds playing Dungeons and Dragons with my husband, Cooper.
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Through the three annual Goodwin Prizes we recognize and reward the most promising graduate theology students in the world. The Louise and Richard Goodwin Writing Prizes for Excellence in Theological Writing are given to graduate students in recognition of essays that demonstrate: creative theological thinking, excellence in scholarship, faithful witness to the Christian tradition, and engagement with the community of faith.
Interview with Goodwin Prize Winner Nadia Marais
The $1,000 prize has been award to Nadia Marais of the Stellenbosch University for her essay, "Lovelyn, Belhar, and Mary: Exploring the rhetoric of confession as resistance to injustice."
What inspired you to pursue an advanced degree in theology? What do you hope to do with your degree?
Well, to be honest, I did not want to study theology initially.
When I finally did switch courses - from commerce to theology - and as I progressed through my studies, I found various theological disciplines inspiring and thought-provoking, especially as these related to church and society in South Africa. The church that I grew up in, the Dutch Reformed Church, played an important role in my eventual decision - at first to study theology at all, and later to pursue advanced studies in theology. For ordination in the Dutch Reformed Church in South Africa we had very specific subjects and degrees to complete, so myself and my classmates followed the church-specific requirements before considering advanced studies in theology.
- Moreover, I have great respect for the theologians who taught me, some of whom are now my colleagues at the Faculty of Theology. Because of them the real difficulty was not whether or not I should pursue advanced studies, but rather the eventual decision on a focus and a discipline for further study! I am, after a practical year (a kind of church apprenticeship) in the Karoo, very positive about ministry - and yet in equal part passionate about a career in academia. I had hoped that my advanced studies would eventually enable me to do both. I am very grateful to be in a position now where I can indeed do both - as a recently appointed fulltime lecturer in Systematic Theology as well as a recently ordained minister in a local congregation, Stellenbosch-Welgelegen. I enjoy both worlds, and my colleagues in both the faculty and in the congregation give me energy in the pursuit of and being in service of that which I am passionate about - namely, theology and church.
- Where do you see connections between your personal faith, your intellectual work and the other aspects of your life?
- It is difficult to speak of my personal faith apart from my community of faith. I have mentioned that the Dutch Reformed Church is the church wherein I was raised, and wherein I am an ordained minister. She is my mother, but she also troubles me deeply. Not only her past - as the church who provided theological justification for apartheid in South Africa; she was in that time called the National Party at prayer! - but also her future. At the moment we have huge debates on same sex relationships, church reunification within the Dutch Reformed family of churches (seeing as churches within this family were separated based on race), and the Belhar Confession. Last year our general synod finally, after 30 years of deliberation and discussion, decided to recognize same sex relationships. The decision was, however, not implemented - and to this day remains unimplemented by church leadership. We also cannot seem to come to a point where we are able to seriously consider and accept the Belhar Confession as a theological confession. This saddens many of us younger ministers; as those who studied with students from URCSA (our sister church wherein Belhar originated), as those who were legitimised in a joint ceremony with our colleagues in URCSA, and as those who decided to sign the Belhar Confession (in addition to the ecumenical confessions and three articles of unity) at this ceremony. Much of my thinking behind the research and intellectual work I do, including the essay that won a Goodwin Prize, is shaped by these debates and concerns. I wonder, and struggle, and try to imagine alternatives to these difficult issues.
However, fortunately herein too there are many people - not just myself!- within this community of faith that want to and try to work toward greater justice and flourishing for all. And really, we have had wonderful theologians who were always deeply committed to the church but who also did not shy away from direct confrontation with the church when she did wrong - they who, exactly from their deep love for this church, were willing to offer courageous critique at critical moments of our history. I am reminded of remarkable theologians like Beyers Naudé and Willie Jonker, who shaped this church in innumerable ways. It is a great comfort to be reminded that they too form part of this community of faith, and herein remind us that the Dutch Reformed Church always also included those who resisted injustice and promoted human flourishing.
Moreover, it is significant that both at the Faculty of Theology - who, as part of a broader strategic initiative called The Hope Project (launched in 2010), decided to focus on the MDG of promoting human dignity - and in the Dutch Reformed Church - who entered into what is called The Season of Human Dignity (in 2013), which is characterized by the values of respect, listening, love, and embrace - the focus on human dignity is prominent. Herein I find a very important connection or convergence between these two worlds in which I live and work. As such, an important impetus behind my interest in the kind of issues reflected in the Goodwin essay - such as student protests in South Africa, Mary's song as a song of protest, and the role and rhetoric of confession(s) - is my academic work on ecological and human flourishing. My PhD dissertation entailed a systematic theological exploration of contemporary discourses on salvation, and included analyses of the soteriologies of theologians for whom I have the greatest respect - Mercy Oduyoye, Serene Jones, Ellen Charry, Denise Ackermann, and David Kelsey, among others.
So, in short: at this point in my life I find the most interesting and important connections between faith, theology, and church in reflecting on the claim that all human beings have dignity and in (the collective) imagining of what it means for human beings and the ecology to flourish.
How would you summarize your paper for someone without a theological background?
I am very interested in rhetoric. I think that the kind of language used, whether in church or in society, shapes our worlds in crucial ways - a good example is probably the political rhetoric evident in the lead up to South African elections earlier this year and the American elections later this year. The way in which we speak about our world and one another - the neighbour, the stranger, the refugee, the opponent - cannot be ignored. It has the power to heal and bless, to hurt and curse. In short, the ways in which language performs are important. This is the first point that the paper wants to make.
However, not just any kind of language - but the specific language used within particular contexts (in church, and in faith, and by theology) is important. The rhetoric specific to that which we do and say in faith communities, such as confession, has some role to play exactly because language performs, shapes, empowers, disempowers, distorts, heals, curses in concretely particular, specific ways. Stated somewhat differently, there is something particular or specific to the rhetoric of confession that is different from other kinds of language. Here the affirmation that confession is the grammar of faith is helpful. This means that confession provides us with language to express our faith in the Triune God. This is the second point that the paper wants to make.
These two prior points provide the basis upon which the paper's third point, and core argument, rests.
The third point that the paper explores is what kind of power the particular language of confession wields. The rhetoric of confession may do more than only admit guilt in a confessional booth ("bless me Father, for I have sinned") or own up to a crime in a court of law (“I admit that I killed Reeva, My Lady”). In this paper I argue that embedded in the confession as the grammar of faith are ground patterns or a core logic, which entails a double movement of affirmation and resistance, of saying yes and saying no. The classic dictum is that of God's yes and God's no that both come to expression in our confessions. Of course we affirm and embrace certain belief claims when we confess, which is the 'yes' of confession. What we say yes to is important and, I think, complex. The 'no', I argue, is in itself also important and complex - for this no can entail a myriad of no's, such as a no to heresy, a no to a theological or political opponent, a no to injustice. Two examples that I use in the paper of the no to injustice in confessions is that of Mary's Song, the Magnificat (in Luke 1:40 - 55), and the Belhar Confession that was adopted in 1986. A third example, I argue, is that of the speeches of a young woman in South Africa, Lovelyn Nwadeyi, whose speeches portray traces of such a rhetoric of confession as explained, very shortly, above. Together these examples all served to illustrate that confession may possibly become one way of resisting injustice - of course not as the only way, or even the best way, but merely one classic way to protest or resist injustice - by saying 'no'.
So, in summary: this paper, exploring the rhetoric of Mary’s Song and the Belhar Confession in the light of the challenges raised by young female voices of protest, and in particular that of Lovelyn Nwadeyi, highlights confession as a classic theological way of resisting injustice and promoting human flourishing. Herein the double movement of affirmation and rejection, of naming theological heresy as well as the truths of the gospel, of resistance and insistence, provide the grammar and patterns for our language of faith. Lovelyn’s resistance of exclusion based on race, gender, and class is accompanied by her insistence on the reclaiming of a ‘collective humanity’; Belhar’s resistance of division, irreconcilability and injustice is accompanied by insistence on unity, reconciliation, and justice; and Mary’s resistance of the oppression by the powerful is accompanied by her insistence on the flourishing of the vulnerable. Confession becomes a strategy for addressing oppression and violation, exactly insofar as it insists on the flourishing of human beings – and therein may provide one alternative, amidst many alternatives, to publicly and actively resist injustice.
How might this award make a difference in your life?
I am thankful for the reward, primarily because I regard the prize as a recognition of the high quality theological education provided by Stellenbosch University. I was, while a student at the Faculty of Theology, fascinated by the variety of research foci of theologians at Stellenbosch; and now that I myself teach at the faculty, I continue to be inspired by the wonderful work that my colleagues are engaged in. The one person that I am particularly thankful to is my supervisor and mentor over many years, Prof Dirkie Smit. He brought the Goodwin Prize under my attention and encouraged me to apply, but long before this he has played and continues to play an essential role in my formation as a young theologian.
I must also say a word about the wonderful students in our faculty, who continue to be always greatly involved on campus - in leadership structures, in public debates and discussions, in student protests - and who enrich and challenge the faculty and their various churches in important ways. When I look to them I am hopeful for the future of South Africa, and I look forward to see how they will live out their respective callings in church and society.
When I think of students, young ministers, young theologians, the future - I cannot help but remember the important role that one specific theologian played in both the Dutch Reformed family of churches and Stellenbosch University. Prof Russel Botman, who was not only a renowned South African public theologian but also the rector and vice-chancellor of Stellenbosch University until his death in 2014, played a pivotal role in placing the university on a trajectory of transformation. The Hope Project was his gift to Stellenbosch University and South Africa, with its focus on positioning the university in service of communities in South Africa and Africa, and the promotion of human dignity was an important concern in all of the many roles that he played. I included him in my PhD study, but I think that in a way the Goodwin Prize reflects much of what he stood for and felt strongly about. I cannot help but think of him and his legacy when asked how this award might make a difference in my life. My hope is that, through the kind of work that the Goodwin Prize recognizes, his dream for a better world may come to be.
How do you spend your time when you are not studying?
I love horseriding and drinking wine. We have really good wine in Stellenbosch, so for someone that did not grow up in the winelands I have a lot of appreciation for Stellenbosch's wine! I don't get much time for horses, unfortunately, but I try to jog regularly, and swim, and read. I also try to have regular conversations and spend time with friends and colleagues; those who consistently challenge me on my own thoughts and questions, who accompany me in much that I do - including in the faculty and in the church. And I am blessed by a supportive family - we always have very interesting discussions and debates.
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Through the three annual Goodwin Prizes we recognize and reward the most promising graduate theology students in the world. The Louise and Richard Goodwin Writing Prizes for Excellence in Theological Writing are given to graduate students in recognition of essays that demonstrate: creative theological thinking, excellence in scholarship, faithful witness to the Christian tradition, and engagement with the community of faith.
Click here to learn more.
Interview with Goodwin Prize Winner Stephen Lawson
The $2,500 prize has been awarded to Stephen D. Lawson of Saint Louis University for his essay, “Only Through Time/Time is Conquered: A Theological Reflection.”
What inspired you to pursue an advanced degree in theology? What do you hope to do with your degree?
As I imagine many children are, I was full of theological questions long before I knew what theology was. I have vivid memories of staying awake late into the night consumed by the questions to which theology responds. I remember my father’s gentle patience as he listened to me (I couldn’t have been more than seven or eight) ask, “why does existence exist?” I knew then that many of the most significant questions in life were not covered in my school. Had I been raised in a different family or a different Christian community then perhaps I would have set aside questions like these, settling for rote memorization of confessional certainties. I’m grateful that I was raised in a family where several times a week the conversation over supper was likely to develop into an hour-long discussion of some biblical or theological topic.
As I matured these questions coalesced with the typical vocational angst of a teenager. Guided by ministers and my parents, I decided to pursue an undergraduate degree in ministry and biblical studies at Ozark Christian College. In college I found a place to explore many of the questions that persisted in my mind in the context of a serving community. This experience helped to bring me out of the land of the overly abstract by underscoring the centrality of concrete encounters with others. When I completed my undergraduate degree I was set on continuing my studies in graduate school, but I was unsure whether I would pursue a vocation in parish ministry or academic theology.
Emmanuel Christian Seminary was an ideal place to dwell in this tension between ministry and academic theology. At Emmanuel, I was blessed to be a part of a small but vibrant theological community that overlapped with a faithful ecclesial community. I developed deep relationships and was encouraged to plumb the depths of the Christian tradition in order to discover resources to renew the church today. As I neared the completion of my degree I asked ministers, friends, and my family to pray with me about my future vocation. The result of this discernment was taking the risky step of applying to doctoral programs in theology. I am deeply grateful to have been accepted into my current program in historical theology at Saint Louis University.
Like most people I know who are pursuing PhDs in theology my eventual goal is to teach theology in a university or seminary setting. After serving as a research assistant and teaching assistant at SLU I have now started to solo teach my own undergraduate theology classes. This has been life-giving work for me and has confirmed my vocational passion for teaching. I hope for a position where I can interact with students while also having the space to continue pursuing research and writing.
Where do you see connections between your personal faith, your intellectual work and the other aspects of your life?
There are many different connections between my work as an aspiring theologian and my life as a disciple. A number of years ago in seminary I read Karl Barth’s classic Evangelical Theology. In that little volume there is a section where he discusses how the theologian in invested in his or her work more than any other kind of researcher because the subject matter of theology, God, is of utmost importance for their personal lives. He cited the Latin phrase tua res agitur (it concerns you) to underscore his point. I wrote that phrase on a note that has sat above my workspace for years. It’s a small reminder that all of the work I do as a student of the Christian theological tradition should not merely satiate my intellectual curiosity but should enliven my soul in enjoyment of God.
When I came to Saint Louis University I was blessed to be welcomed into a Christian intentional community, the Lotus House, in north St. Louis. Situating my study within a community life marked by the rhythms of daily prayer, shared meals, and service has enriched my work in countless ways. My three years among the brothers and sisters of this small place of grace has forever changed the way I conceive of the connection between theology and Christian practice. In May I left the Lotus House to begin a new life with my wonderful wife Emily. We have endeavored to create in our new family a space where our work, study, worship, and service all enrich one another.
How would you summarize your paper for someone without a theological background?
My paper is a theological exploration of two problems that the nature of time poses for us. First, as humans we all live in finite time; we all live our lives knowing that we are heading toward our own end in death. Though many people try to distract themselves from this truth, it remains on the edge of our experience of everything in this life, an enigma we’re incapable of unlocking ourselves. I look at two different responses humans have to this enigma: we either try to forget that we are creatures and reach out beyond what we’ve been given by God or we embrace the immediate experience of our daily lives and dismiss any questions about what came before us or what happens after. I suggest that the doctrine of the Christ answers our situation by showing that our lives are not surrounded by emptiness stretching infinitely before and after us, but are rather enfolded in God’s infinity, which is pure goodness and delight.
The second movement of the essay offers a reflection on the problem of suffering in time. The persistence of evil in a world Christians believe a loving God created has long been a question posed to the faith. I focus on one aspect of this question: is memory redeemable? I suggest that the cross shows us that salvation is not simply the making whole of what was broken (like a cast on a broken arm). If Jesus Christ really is God then God’s “memory” becomes the victim’s memory in Christ’s suffering on the cross. In this way I suggest that God redeems even our broken past by taking it into himself and raising it anew in his resurrection.
How might this award make a difference in your life?
The news of this award appeared in my inbox one morning while I was quietly translating German at home. I was overjoyed and deeply humbled by the honor; I had to interrupt my wife at work just to tell her the news. It came as a great encouragement to a student who is often beset by worries that all these years in theological higher education might end in unemployment. I have reached the point in my program beyond coursework and comprehensive exams so I do not frequently receive encouraging feedback on my work; this prize is a welcome break from that and it has granted me more confidence to consider submitting other work for publication.
Additionally, being honored with this recognition is a positive sign to colleagues and potential future employers and I am grateful for that.
Finally, this honor is a major practical benefit to my wife and me. We were just married on May 21. In addition to all the unforeseen sundry costs of joining two lives together we also had to move her from South Carolina to St. Louis, which was not a small burden on a graduate student stipend. This additional support comes at a crucial time in our lives and we are both so appreciative to receive it.
How do you spend your time when you are not studying?
If marriage has taught me anything so far it’s that sometimes other people know us better than we know ourselves. So I asked my wife, “How do I spend my time when I’m not studying theology?” Her response: “studying other things.” I suppose there is truth in that. I enjoy when I can drift from the field of theology to explore history, philosophy, literature, politics, or music. When I do, I find that I return to theology with fresh insights. I also enjoy hiking, cooking, and exploring the many wonderful museums and parks of St. Louis with my wife. When we have the time and funds, my wife and I love to travel; we’re especially fond of Germany and hope to visit there again soon.
Any other comments?
I would like to thank all of those who have donated their time and resources so that the Goodwin Prize can be offered. I am grateful for those who agreed to serve as judges and for the staff of Theological Horizons for all of the work they do in organizing this and many other theological programs. I also would like to thank Grant Kaplan, who has been a steady friend and theological guide throughout my program at SLU. Finally, I would like to thank my friend David Bentley Hart. David served as a visiting professor of theology at SLU during the 2014–2015 academic year. He generously shared his time and theological insight over many cups of coffee. I’ve been deeply influenced and encouraged through his friendship. I originally wrote this essay for a seminar he offered and his comments have helped improve it.
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Through the three annual Goodwin Prizes we recognize and reward the most promising graduate theology students in the world. The Louise and Richard Goodwin Writing Prizes for Excellence in Theological Writing are given to graduate students in recognition of essays that demonstrate: creative theological thinking, excellence in scholarship, faithful witness to the Christian tradition, and engagement with the community of faith.
The Dust of Glory Pt 2 | Peter Hartwig, '16
Yossei the son of Yoezer of Tzreidah would say
Let your home be a meeting place for the wise,
dust yourself in the soil of their feet,
and drink thirstily of their words.
-Perkei Avot
Papa Jesse’s sermons usually start something like: Hello there, everybody! Isn’t this a beautiful mornin’? I’m so excited to be here. That lovely woman there is my first wife, Kay. We’ve been married…phew… 55 years. I’m only 75 years old! I’d be 76 ‘cept I was sick a year…
Papa Jesse’s presence is comforting, like Santa Claus or FDR. He speaks with the Carolina twang of a jaw harp. He laughs like a backfiring jalopy. He really does have a belly like a bowl full of jelly. He is the extravertedest extravert that ever extraverted.
Once we were in the Fußgängerzone(the foot-walking-zone) of Papenburg, Germany. He sallied up to a towering German stranger. “It’s me! Jesse! I’ve missed you!” The man uneasily shook Jesse’s out-thrust hand. “Was sagt der littel mensch? What is this little man saying,” he asked his wife. The man started to laugh at the stout, little American beaming up at him. Still shaking hands, Papa Jesse revved up a laugh too. “God bless you, brother!” He came back over to me. “I think he likes me.” He’s a man who loves people.
Papa Jesse is my father’s mentor—took me forever to figure out he was not my grandfather; he was always called Papa. Jesse hired my father early on. To be honest, they are not much alike. My father does not look or sound like Jesse. My father is sociable, though not to the point of transnational aggression. Still my father, as long as I can remember, has called my Papa Jesse his mentor.
I take him to mean that, in some significant way, he wants to be like Jesse. It’s true that even though they are far from twins, Papa Jesse has rubbed off on my father over the last three decades, given him some of the Jesse-Dust. My father will tell you that Jesse, in large part, has taught him what it means to love people, rich and poor; to talk to anybody, even the people you wouldn’t usually talk to; to “do missions,” as the two of them say.
I called Papa Jesse this week. He was on vacation in Williamsburg.
“Papa Jesse, it’s Peter.”
“The younger one?”
“Yeh. Pete Hartwig 2.0.” (I’m named after my dad. Your pity is welcome.)
“Oh brother, I’m so blessed you called.”
“Jess, I have a question for you. I don’t think I’ve ever asked you before.”
“Shoot!”
“Did you have a mentor in life? Someone, maybe early on, who had a real impact on you?”
“I did. I did. I certainly did. His name was Dr. Ben Crandall. When I started at Northpoint Bible College, he preached the first chapel of my freshman year. He spoke on the verse There was a man sent from God named John. He taught me what it meant to be a man of God. He was the president of the college. And he pioneered a church in Brooklyn called Calvary Chapel. I became his associate Pastor. He was ten years older than me. He’s still alive, bless his heart. I have looked up to him all these years.”
“What about him, Jess? Did he have someone?”
“Yes he did. Yup.” I have to admit, I was a little surprised that he knew the answer to this question. “Her name was Christine Gibson. She founded the college in 1928 to train ministers in the Assemblies of God. Let me tell you, Pete: the graduates of that college are doing amazing things for the Kingdom of God all over the world… and then there’s me!”
He laughed. Somewhere a jalopy backfired.
“But you know there Pete. I’ve had someone who I’ve looked up to for a real long time. He’s about… oh… 30 years younger than me. You know who?”
“Do we happen to share a name?”
“Man, he has gone places far beyond where I ever could go. I’m so blessed to know your father.”
Papa Jesse passed the dust to my father. Ben Crandall rubbed off on him. Christine Gibson discipled him. They have all passed it to me. I do not mean to presume, but I wonder if the dust goes all the way back to Jesus.
Jesus told the disciples that physically followed Him to go and make other disciples. And then He left, floated away like dust on the wind. But somehow, even without Jesus there, the disciples managed it: they made disciples. Lots of them—enough that there are seven churches in Antarctica. Jesus to St. John to St. Someone to St. Someone to St. Gibson to St. Crandall to St. Owens to St. Pete—two thousand years of eating and praying and walking together: all the stuff Jesus did with his disciples. Jesus’ dust floating through history, dust to dust.
I think you find Jesus’ dust by finding dusty people, those to whom someone else once passed the impossibly small particles of humanness. It is not superficial dust—not like paint or gilding. It is the stuff we are made of. It does not wash off. Dust-to-dust means person-to-person, deep-to-deep.
So across the long room of history, we go drifting in the Wind. There’s a certain slant of light—as Miss Dickinson reminded us—that cuts the open air, window to floor. In its Body, a spot of dirt approaches stardom. The Light of the World on the dust of the earth, transfigured unto the dust of glory.
If Stones Could Talk | Reflections by Fellow Hannah Zachman '17
In early September, the Horizons Fellows drove out through the rolling hills and harvest-ready fields of the Shenandoah Valley to experience a weekend of reflection, renewal, fellowship, and prayer at Corhaven Farm. Rev. Bill and Tara Haley, who live and work at the farm with their family, welcomed us as strangers into their home, fed us a wonderful meal freshly harvested from their garden and the surrounding land, and shared with us the story of Corhaven, a safe place for the heart.
While the weekend was full of many wonderful conversations, times of worship, and new connections, I will most remember the 30 minutes I spent in a mosquito-infested field squinting through late summer sun at two dozen weathered stones of various sizes peaking out from amidst tall grasses. These unassuming chunks of rock mark the graves of the slaves who once worked the fields of this fertile, beautiful land.
Just the night before, we had eaten our fill of the fruit of this sacred land and we had spent the day soaking up the beauty of the rolling hills. It wasn’t until I found myself standing over the graves of these forgotten slaves that I fully felt the tension of my own peace and prosperity at the expense of the lives of thousands of Americans. This realization is extremely difficult to come to terms with, and yet it is completely true and completely necessary for the reconciliation we desperately need right now.
Just before sending us out to see the graveyard, Bill Haley shared with us how he had stumbled upon the stones while walking around the border of his property one day. He reminded us never to forget that our country was not only founded on the principles of faith, liberty, and courage, but also on the forced subjugation of one people group and the genocide of another. My heart can hardly handle the grief of this story.
As I write this, protests are raging on the streets of Charlotte over the loss of yet another life and Oklahoma is reeling from a similar tragedy. These incidents are a stark reminder that this history of injustice is not far behind us and that deep healing is needed. I must admit that it is hard for me to believe that any peace is coming. It is much easier to turn off the news and try to maintain a normal, comfortable life in a city that isn’t yet plagued by violence, but we are by no means exempt. Our brothers and sisters are mourning the lives of their husbands, fathers, brothers, and sons. As a Christian, I am called to mourn with them.
Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with one another. Do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly. Never be wise in your own sight. ~Romans 12:15-16
At Corhaven, I found a safe space for my heart to weep and to enter into my broken history of slavery and injustice even though I don’t have a solution. In the midst of this overwhelming mess, there is a strong seed of hope growing in my soul that this epidemic of violence we are facing is creating space for the Gospel to break through. It is reminding us of our need for a Savior. The Gospel of Jesus Christ says that we are created in the image of God, but that we have chosen to follow our own will and therefore experience brokenness apart from God. But because of Jesus’s grace and sacrifice on the cross, our broken history doesn’t have the final say in our story. We can be reconciled to God and to each other and experience salvation, shalom, and everlasting, abundant life beginning NOW.
Come Lord Jesus. We need you.
2016 Goodwin Prize Winners Announced!
Announcing the 2016 Richard & Louise Goodwin Prizes for Excellence in Theological Writing
The board of directors of Theological Horizons is pleased to announce the winners of the 2016 Goodwin Prizes. Awards are given to graduate students whose essays demonstrate creative theological thinking, excellence in scholarship, faithful witness to the Christian tradition, and engagement with the community of faith.
- The $2,500 prize has been awarded to Stephen D. Lawson of Saint Louis University for his essay, “Only Through Time/Time is Conquered: A Theological Reflection.”
- The $1,000 prize has been awarded to Nadia Marais of the Stellenbosch University for her essay, “Lovelyn, Belhar, and Mary: Exploring the rhetoric of confession as resistance to injustice.”
- Brittany Fiscus of Columbia Theological Seminary has been awarded $500 for her essay, “The ‘Sum of the Gospel’ as Good News on the Streets.”
Abstracts of the winning essays and interviews with the writers will be posted at www.theologicalhorizons.org by October 15. We are deeply encouraged to see young scholars of such promise and commitment and we offer our warm congratulations to all who participated in this year’s competition.
Karen Wright Marsh
Executive Director, Theological Horizons
The Dust of Glory Pt 1 | Peter Hartwig, '16
Part I
I had a friend who met Jesus twice. He was my sister’s Godfather’s father. He died just last month. But before he went, he met Jesus. We called him Mr. Burrus. I only knew him in his old age. He was 67 when I met him 19 years ago and even then, he looked ancient to me.
Mr. Burrus was not a warm-n-fuzzy guy, but he loved sweets and he was generous with it to a fault. One Easter, Mr. Burrus gave my sisters and me three towering baskets of candy, each with a stick-horse jutting out of the wrapping. They whinnied when you squeezed the button in their ears. We thought he had given us the greatest gift in the world. Not until his funeral did I have much to say about Mr. Burrus beyond, “He gave us presents and met Jesus twice.”
I have wondered since his passing whether those two facts are connected. I wonder if, when he met Him, Jesus rubbed off a little generosity on him. I have never met Jesus or seen Jesus, but I just feel like He would leave some kind of sparkling residue behind. Like fairy-dust, but made of God’s element. The dust of glory, maybe.
My maternal grandfather, Charlie Piccione, was a Jupiter of a man. A life long Catholic and devout Italian, his funeral looked not unlike a heritage festival. After the service, we cleaned out a few of his things, gave them away to family members as mementos. They all still smelled like him. The music box I took smelled like his loyal cologne. We all leave a residue behind on the world, traces of our having been here. We rub off on each other.
When I left high school, I discovered that my classmates and I had created a language. After years of spending every weekday together, we had developed a manner of speaking that was genuinely novel in human philological history. No one at UVA understood that the latin word fulmen is an exclamation meaning, ‘Did anyone else see how awesome I just did that?!’ Or that Oh Hen! means ‘you’re so adorable!’ Then again, no one at UVA knew Paul Zakin or Caroline Michaels. I did. We changed each other. You are changed, you know, by the people who rub off on you.
In the church today, there is a widespread myth of sorts. Well…it’s not entirely a myth. Christians often say, “You know, there was an old Jewish blessing in Jesus’ day that said, ‘may you be covered in the dust of your Rabbi.’ It means you should be so close to your Rabbi that you are covered in the dust of his feet.” While it is not true that such a blessing existed, there is a passage in an early Rabbinical text called ‘The Ethics of the Fathers’ Pirkei Avot. It reads:
Yossei the son of Yoezer of Tzreidah would say:
Let your home be a meeting place for the wise;
dust yourself in the soil of their feet,
and drink thirstily of their words.[1]
It’s the same idea as the myth (just historically accurate): let wise people rub off on you. Whatever sort of schmutz they leave behind as they go through the world—cover yourself in it. Dust or cologne or speech pathology. Be like them. Dust yourself in the soil of their feet.
In the Book of Genesis, in those by-gone days, God would take evening walks in the garden where the first people were living. God liked the way the breeze feels at the end of the day, when the sun is going down. God on a stroll with dust on His blessed feet. Jesus recaptured that: the strolling God. For 33 years, He wandered around Palestine teaching anyone who would listen. Jesus was a nomadic Rabbi, the kind whose foot-schmutz you could cover yourself in. You could wash His feet. He would wash yours. You could be covered in Jesus’ dust.
Do you want some of His dust?
[1] http://www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/682498/jewish/English-Text.htm