C.S. Lewis Onstage in Cville on November 14! $5 for students.
Thursday, November 14 at the Paramount.
UVa & PVCC student tickets are only $5! Buy before Nov. 1 & sit with us.
Get $5 tickets: Venmo @Theological-Horizons
or credit card https://donate.theologicalhorizons.org/
A Journey to Vulnerability at UVa | Reflections by Fellow Logan Tyree
When I came to UVa, I brought with me a story that had never been told. For all of my life, I had kept everything bottled up. I had never truly let my wall down with anyone, never opened up about the things I had been through or was going through, and certainly never let anyone see the real me. For me, I felt a lot of apprehension about opening up to people and letting them into my world. I was fearful of judgement and I definitely didn’t want to burden anyone else with my problems. Why would anyone care to hear about what I’ve been through? What good will come out of talking about all of the wrong I’ve experienced? I don’t want to cry in front of anyone! These were some of the thoughts that circulated in my mind when I even remotely began to think about sharing anything about my life. Needless to say, vulnerability was not something that I had practiced or enjoyed.
I continued to live my life this way for the first part of college. I wasn’t making good friends, I wasn’t making good decisions, and I felt like the people around me really didn’t care too much about what was actually going on in my life. I continued to walk these grounds feeling incredibly heavy, unknown, and acutely lonely. How could there be so many people around me, yet I still feel so lonely? However, something inside of me began to change when I joined the Christian community at UVa. I specifically remember the first small group I ever went to and how loved I felt by a bunch of strangers. I felt valued and known, which is something I hadn’t felt in the longest time. Slowly I began to realize that all of the stuff I had kept inside for so long needed to come out. I didn’t have to be alone in my struggles and I certainly didn’t have to carry all of this weight by myself. I had spent all of my life hiding my story out of fear and anxiety. All of that seemed to change when I was shown the love of Jesus through the love of others.
As I’ve journeyed through college, I have become more vulnerable and more emotional than I could have imagined. It feels good. It feels real. I have shared my story with people and groups a number of times and each time I do, I am reminded the importance of a story. I tell you about my journey because I would have never been able to get to this point if it were not for the Christian community at UVa. When we went on our retreat for the Horizon’s Fellows this fall, one thing we were asked to do was to share our story. I was admittedly a little nervous to share, but I knew that I would be welcomed, known, and loved—just as I had been many times before. I saw this moment as somewhat of a culmination of my four-year journey to vulnerability at UVa. I have spent a lot of time at this university learning the value of a story, learning what it meant to be vulnerable, learning what it meant to be a good listener and friend, and so much more. As I sat in my chair at the retreat and prepared myself to share, I thought to myself, “this is it.” While I know that moment didn’t mark the end of my journey, it did represent something significant to me. It represented all of those times I was scared to share and refrained. It represented the countless times I was reminded that I was loved. It represented a journey—something bigger than myself. I am thankful for the Christian community at UVA for helping me get to where I am today. I am stronger, a better lover, and more vulnerable than ever before. The journey continues.
Interview with Goodwin Prize Winner - Hina Khalid
The 2019 $1,000 Goodwin Prize has been awarded to Hina Khalid (University of Cambridge) for the essay, “At the bedside: a theological consideration of the role of silence and touch in the accompaniment of the dying.” More about the Goodwin Writing Prizes.
What inspired you to pursue an advanced degree in theology?
My journey to the vast and verdant tracts of theological thought finds its root in some rather mundane patterns of my childhood: listening to devotional songs on long car journeys, learning sacred Arabic formulas before learning to speak English, never eating a meal before first expressing gratitude to God. Growing up, then, religion was always something that subtly and visibly shaped the contours of my family life. Whether it was the hope of exam success, the wish for restored health, the anxieties of moving home, there was a specific prayer (which was often deeply poetic) for every conceivable eventuality: and it is this language of collective prayer, of song, of poetry, that constituted the religious fibers of my childhood. Over time, my interest in how religious thought shapes our relation to self, others, and the environment, deepened – and I have been fortunate, over the course of my undergraduate and postgraduate studies, to have encountered new ways of understanding and ‘inhabiting’ religious identity as a mode of both enriching personal devotional practice and sustaining (even deepening) outward, social action. More recently, I have returned to a few of the songs and prayers that formed some of my initial encounters with religious thought, in an effort to better understand how longings for the ‘transcendent’ become encoded in poetic verse and informed by cultural vernaculars.
What do you hope to do with your degree?
I hope to continue on to doctorate study and in a professional capacity, to seek new, creative ways of bringing the wisdom and insights of theological texts to our most pressing social and environmental issues today.
Where do you see connections between your personal faith, your intellectual work and the other aspects of your life?
My academic studies have constantly introduced me to new ways of conceptualizing, imagining, envisioning and indwelling the world - sometimes calling me to a renewed appreciation of my own personal and social relations, at other times eliciting a more attentive regard for the earth and its diverse creatures, and often compelling me to pause and ask, 'but how is God-talk possible from within our conditions of human finitude?’ I have been persistently drawn to mystical literature as presenting a mode of living with these questions, not always needing to resolve or dissolve them abstractly or conceptually at a single stroke, but bodying forth a devotional sensibility which recognizes that these questions can never admit of a final ‘closure’ (at least not in this life). Reading the utterances – at times broken, fragmented, and cryptic - of saints alongside the treatises – occasionally systematic, formulaic, and doctrinal - of theologians has imbued my own study with a kind of accepting uncertainty which patiently waits upon God; a recognition that however much we are called upon to consciously employ our God-given faculties of reason, often the most profound witness to God comes by way of a silent, faithful attentiveness to that which forever eludes our cognitive-experiential grasp.
How would you summarize your paper for someone without a theological background?
This paper is situated at the intersection of medical ethics and theology – more specifically, it sets forth a theological reading of certain practices in the realm of palliative care (care for the terminally ill and the dying). Cicely Saunders, who founded the first modern hospice, articulated her vision of good care for the dying as a profound mode of attentive presence, a being with the other even when he/she cannot be cured in the medical sense. I argue that the embodied practices of ‘silence’ i.e. sitting with a dying person in silence and ‘touch’ i.e. a gentle stroke of the hand, both constitute and make visible one’s love for the particular person, a love which is upheld by the sustaining foundation of God’s own love. Essentially, such concrete ways of being present to another tangibly affirm that we do not ‘drop’ or abandon others when they are no longer materially or economically productive: in this regard, the hospice ethos aligns with the Christian ethic of human personhood as determined ultimately, not by the person’s functional/material abilities, but to his/her abiding in the everlasting love of God. I thus draw on theological texts outlining the doctrine of creation and relationality, and bring these into dialogue with recent medical literature in the field of palliative care, to suggest that our embodied modes of lovingly attesting and bearing witness to the reality of an other, become finite reflections of and participations in the very ground of God’s love.
How might this award make a difference in your life?
The subject of this paper is one very close to my heart, and I am deeply humbled by this recognition - which suggests, for me, that some of its insights might be deemed practicable in contexts of care and in broader theological reflection on faith-based practice. The relational ethics that, I think, a Christian metaphysics makes possible, re-situates our personal and communal relations in the light of the infinite self-giving of God - and in doing so, endows those relations with a profound spiritual potency. Reflecting on how this dynamic bears on the specific context of palliative care has been thoroughly stimulating, and I am encouraged by this prize to continue thinking about these theological notions as well as striving to align my actions with them.
How do you spend your time when you are not studying?
In my free time, I enjoy both listening to music and (attempting to) play some songs on piano, playing board games, watching Bollywood films, exercising, and cooking. I am also a keen traveller.
Any other comments?
A huge thank you to the Theological Horizons team! And a huge thank you to my supervisors who have shown me just how scholarly rigor can co-exist with a generosity of heart and spirit. The inspiration for this essay came from my father, whose silent and humble faith continues to guide me in all my academic and personal endeavors today.
Interview with Goodwin Prize Winner Drew Masterson
Drew Masterson (Duke Divinity School) has been awarded $500 2019 Goodwin Prize for the essay, “Challenging Our Limits or Sacrificing Our Relationity? Karl Barth, Colin Gunton, and Transhumanist Anthropologies.” More about the Goodwin Prizes.
What inspired you to pursue an advanced degree in theology?
A few years ago, I came into contact with the Christian Study Center movement, and the knack these spaces had for bringing together intellectual rigor, spiritual formation, and radical hospitality immediately drew me in. I felt a strong sense of call to help spaces like that flourish, whether around college campuses or elsewhere, and one clear way I could do that was to pursue further study.
What do you hope to do with your degree?
I hope to be of service to God’s people in spaces that come alongside local churches and offer them ways to go deeper— intellectually, spiritually, and relationally— than their current capacities allow.
Where do you see connections between your personal faith, your intellectual work and the other aspects of your life?
“The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it” (Ps 24:1)! I find it wonderfully energizing to know that working towards a deeper understanding of the world around us can (and should) at the same time equip me to worship the Creator God more faithfully and to work for the flourishing of God’s creation more joyfully.
How would you summarize your paper for someone without a theological background?
We are all aware that technology is everywhere in our culture. Something which we might not be as attuned is how this proliferation of technology has shaped the way we view our bodies. It is becoming more and more common to describe our bodies as if they are not much more than highly complicated computers; we are “hardwired” for this and only have “bandwidth” for that. These are simple examples, but they represent a stream of ideas that has been on the rise since the Enlightenment: the idea that the core of our humanity, what really makes us people, are our rational minds.
The first part of my paper explores the long history of this idea, how it arose within Christianity from a particular understanding of being “made in the image of God” and how it eventually broke from its Christian moorings after the Industrial Revolution and can be found most clearly articulated in the contemporary Transhumanist movement. I then wanted to point out some of the ethical repercussions that flow out of this idea. In essence, once we come to see our ourselves as our minds and our minds as computers, we can begin to see our messy, needy, and decaying bodies as the primary obstacles keeping us from the continued advancement and preservation of our cognitive selves. So we look for technological solutions to upgrade ourselves or our children; we “challenge our limits,” as Transhumanists like to say. But this can lead us to be so focused on the possible future we might one day achieve that we overlook the already-present needs of those around us. If we are truly able to advance our statuses as humans through technological means, what happens to those who don’t have the money or the access to these technologies? Many ethicists are worried that these programs of human advancement will result in the sub-humanizing of whole swaths of the global population.
The final part of my paper addresses how two Christian theologians from the 20th Century, Karl Barth and Colin Gunton, offer interpretations of being “made in the image of God” that could be helpful to the church as we seek to offer a Christian response to Transhumanism’s view of the person. Barth argues that if you want to know what it really means to be a human, look at Jesus. Through his willingness to become a suffering and dying body, his lived pattern of healing and reconciliation, and his vision of an embodied eternal communion with God, Jesus’ life offers a powerful counter to Transhumanist visions of the good life. For his part, Gunton stresses that we are made in the image of a Trinitarian God. Because God is “made up" of his relationships as Father, Son, and Spirit, anything that such a God creates will similarly be “made up” of their own relationships. This makes us deeply connected to the lives of other people and creatures around us, which means that our own flourishing must necessarily involve far more than simply each of our own individual lives. Taking Barth and Gunton together, we can gain a fundamentally relational and embodied vision of human life and flourishing that cuts against the grain of Transhumanism’s emphasis upon the preservation of individual collections of cognitive tissue.
How might this award make a difference in your life?
This is a deeply meaningful honor that will play an important role in helping me discern my vocation as a scholar.
How do you spend your time when you are not studying?
My wife and I love to hike, explore local cuisine, and host movie discussion nights at our house.
Any other comments?
I am deeply grateful to my thesis advisor at Duke Divinity, Daniel Train, whose generous gift of time, attention, and advice were critical to the development of this paper.
Interview with Goodwin Prize Winner, Jonathan Platter
The $2,500 2019 Goodwin Prize has been awarded to Jonathan M. Platter (University of Cambridge) for the essay, "Divine Simplicity and Scripture: A Theological Reading of Exodus 3:14." Platter’s faculty advisor, professor Ian McFarland, receives an award of $500. More about the Goodwin Prizes.
What inspired you to pursue an advanced degree in theology?
I genuinely love the work of theology. Looking back, I think this has to do with childhood experiences in a family that was active in the church and with parents who always took my siblings’ and my questions seriously by offering the best answers they could and helping us to find resources. My dad helped to build and maintain our city’s public library, so I remember spending a lot of time there while he worked. Books and the opportunities for exploration they provide became something of a natural habitat for me because of that. Pursuing an advanced degree in theology in particular springs from the twin convictions that thinking about God so outstrips our reach as to be unending and at the same time it is God’s infinite and generative love that makes all our thought and imagination possible. Consequently, the academic work of thinking about God is about being initiated into a life-long task, one that deserves to be disciplined with appropriate intellectual practices and habits of mind.
What do you hope to do with your degree?
I hope to teach theology in a university or seminary context.
Where do you see connections between your personal faith, your intellectual work and the other aspects of your life?
I think life, faith, and intellectual work are mutually implicated, perhaps most explicitly so when one’s intellectual work is theology. For a particularly transparent example, working to interpret and articulate the doctrine of creation is bound up with how one inhabits the world and relates to the Creator. Love and wonder for the world joins naturally with the intellectual work of thinking about the ongoing activity of God to give existence to each creature. And this latter thought doubles back to one’s vision of the world so that each creature can be perceived as the radiance of God’s generous love. In parenting, this also involves joining with my child to enact forms of attention, care, and imagination in relation to the things around us. Love and wonder for God and creation flow into the practices that we try to cultivate as a family, and these practices in turn cultivate new moments of love and wonder, which then further motivates the intellectual work of thinking about God’s creative activity. And so on… In this way, faith, intellectual work, and personal life together form a kind of ongoing spiritual exercise in which each aspect deepens the others.
How would you summarize your paper for someone without a theological background?
My paper addresses an aspect of the doctrine of God called divine simplicity, which is a concept that has a long tradition in theology but is not as much talked about recently. At its core, the doctrine of divine simplicity holds that God is not made up of parts—God is “simple” in the sense that God is not “composed” of more basic kinds of stuff. The doctrine can be rather philosophical, and most of the debates about it today are concerned with the metaphysics and ontology involved. Exodus 3:14, where God provides the name “I am who I am,” was important for pre-modern articulations of divine simplicity because it was taken to suggest that God is simply being-itself, an unlimited act of existence.
The verse is not typically interpreted this way anymore. This is partly because of some important questions about how to translate the original Hebrew, but it also has to do with the sense that using Exod. 3:14 to defend divine simplicity is an especially egregious example of “proof-texting”—using a verse to make a theological point far removed from the narrative context. I try to argue in my paper that divine simplicity is in fact relevant to the narrative context, because Moses is asking for God’s name in order to confirm that God can be trusted in the mission Moses is being called to and that God is capable of fulfilling the mission in and with Moses. By asking about God’s name, Moses is also asking about God’s reality or nature. The way that divine simplicity expresses the unique mode of God’s reality fits well in this context. If the name, “I am who I am,” resonates with an unlimited, qualitatively different mode of existence (like simply “being-itself”), then the name bears forth God’s reality in such a way as to disrupt the powers by which Egypt kept God’s people enslaved and to enable Moses’ vocation as an act of trust in the God so named.
So, trusting God is bound up with how we think of God’s reality. Divine simplicity, and Exod. 3:14, involve us in a radical vision of God, one that perpetually leads us to see God at the center of all things and beyond all things, to see God as the ultimate object of trust because God is the most intimate source of being.
How might this award make a difference in your life?
First, it is a significant encouragement. In academia, many of us experience the “imposter syndrome,” and I admit that I almost didn’t submit my essay to the contest because I was all too aware of its weaknesses and limitations. For me, then, this is a reminder to trust friends, peers, mentors, and myself, even when doing so requires an uncomfortable degree of vulnerability.
Second, the award will provide some financial cushion as I conclude my degree program. My wife and I are anticipating a transition period and don’t know what to expect on the other side. The prospect is a little less daunting because of the award money.
How do you spend your time when you are not studying?
I am the primary caregiver for our 2.5 year-old son; so when I’m not studying, I’m likely immersed in conversations between an excavator and a dump truck or driving toy fire-engines to extinguish fire on the bookshelves (I wonder why it is that my theology books are often the object of imagined fires…). I also enjoy learning languages, reading (beyond just for studies), and cooking and baking.
Any other comments?
I am grateful to Theological Horizons for the honor of this award. I’m also grateful for my supervisor, Ian McFarland, and the many friends here in Cambridge and abroad with whom I get to discuss theological matters—their diverse specialisms and willingness to discuss such a seemingly bizarre and archaic doctrine as divine simplicity enrich my thinking greatly. Finally, I want to thank my wife, Janette, for her work to support our family and for discussing (or at least listening to me discuss) things like divine simplicity even without having a personal interest in the subject. I believe that love for God and our sense of God’s own love are shaped by our closest relationships: I’m sure I would know God’s love through a much darker glass apart from daily life with Janette and our son.
Vocation & Discernment | A talk by Rev. Bill Haley for our Horizons Fellows
Every year, our Horizons Fellows travel to Corhaven retreat farm, just north of Harrisonburg for 24 hours to share their stories, eat an incredible locally grown vegetarian meal by host, Tara Haley, and listen to her husband, Rev. Bill Haley, share about their family’s vocational journey along with some teachings on vocation and discernment.
Run time is 1.5 hours. Take a walk, fold the laundry, go for a drive. Listen here.
New Vintage Lunch Series | How to Live: Invitations for Everyone
Vintage Lunches | Fall 2019
Life and How to Live It: Invitations for Everyone
“Everything is phenomenal; everything is incredible; never treat life casually. To be spiritual is to be amazed.” ---Abraham Joshua Heschel
The Christian spiritual life is not about achievement; it’s about amazement. It’s not about labor; it’s about play. This semester we explore the abundant opportunities to “taste and see that the Lord is good.” (Psalm 34:8) Join us as any Friday as we reclaim our lives and our peace---one invitation at a time. With fee lunch every time!
Fall Semester Schedule (1-2pm at Common Grounds, 480 Rugby Road. All are welcome!)
Sept 13 | Pay Attention: the Art & Science of Play, Practices & Habits
Sept 20 | To Be Spiritual is to be Amazed: a theology of Christian mindfulness
Sept 27 | Wander Through Scripture with Robert Cunningham, RUF Director
Oct 4 | Embody Scripture: acting out the Word with Kate Burke, UVa drama professor emerita
Oct 11 | Pray Your Anything: Jesus Prayer | Breath prayers | Help, Thanks, Wow!
Oct 18 | Life with Others: Ask 3 Good Questions| Just Connect |Say Thank You
Oct 25 | Body, Mind, Spirit: Laugh, Move, Sing with Terry Lindvall, Virginia Wesleyan Communications professor
Nov 1 | Morning Wake Ups: Make a Map | Choose your Intention | Fuel Up
Nov 8 | Lunch Breaks: Review the News |1 Small Thing with Great Love | Use Your Words
Nov 15 | Happy Hour Stretches: Do That Thing | Go To Your Edge | Give It Away | Bring Beauty
Nov 22 | Evening Rituals: Make a List | Do Nothing with Nobody | Walk Backwards | Get Ready to Rest
Nov 29 – Thanksgiving
Dec 6 | Mindfulness & Mental Health: Statio | Get Away | Hit Pause | Follow Your Breath
Theology of Work | Talk by Karen Wright Marsh
• What and who shapes my future?
• How do I know if I’m doing what I’m created to do?
• Does God care about my career path as much as my Christian community?
• Am I prepared for life after graduation?
These are questions undergraduates ask as they consider the ambiguous "post-college" time of life. Figuring out how your career, social life, basic responsibilities, and spiritual life connect can become more complicated than you may want to admit. But, God has given you everything you need to do “adulting” well.
Contrary to rumors around this transition, life after graduation does not need to be defined by dissonance and confusion but can be enjoyable and purposeful. Taking advantage of available resources and preparing yourself with realistic expectations can set you up to enter this next phase of life with anticipation and freedom in the journey God has promised to lead you through.
The Faith, Work & Calling Conference, provided a theological framework for your identity and calling, learn why a church community is crucial to your flourishing, and build a game-plan for next steps in your career.
This conference was be packed with practical steps for how to discern calling and time to process what's next in your life. You'll also have opportunities for conversations with community members in various industries to learn how they integrate faith and work.
Karen Wright Marsh, the Key Note speaker, serves as Executive Director and Co-Founder of Theological Horizons, a university ministry at University of Virginia (Charlottesville) that works to advance theological scholarship at the intersection of faith, thought, and life.
Three Women of the Faith - Talk by Karen Wright Marsh
In this talk, given to a women's group in Charlottesville, Virginia, Karen Marsh shares powerful stories of three women of the faith with us as a means of pushing us to think about what emotions we are carrying, and how we are bringing them to the Lord.
Watch (or listen) to the video here.
Julian Norwich
Amanda Berry Smith
Thérèse of Lisieux
Post-Easter Cravings for the Tangible Body of Christ | Reflections by Zoe Larmey '21
These two sculptures are my set of handcrafted confessions. They are rough to the touch and heavy in the hands and to me, their weight is comforting. They are my confessions of a craving that has stayed with me in the aftermath of the Easter season: to encounter a touchable God.
I will clarify for the sake of reader interpretation: this was not my attempt to fashion idols out of bronze and I have no intention of worshiping these pieces. They are created as hand held rosaries of sorts to accompany prayers that surpass words.
Recently, I noticed that the Easter traditions I partake in often guide me to the contemplation of the human body and its shortcomings. Lenten fasting, in the past, has challenged both my reverence and resistance to appetite. Communion reminds me of “the body of Christ,” which I receive as a pinch of bread. This year, however, even as a good month has passed since Easter festivities, I have remained most fixated on the character of Thomas, and his brief appearance at the end of the resurrection narrative in the book of John.
In the exchange that would give him the unfortunate reputation of “The Doubter,” Thomas declares that he would not believe in the living Jesus unless he could touch the scars on his hands and feet. To me, this statement is grounding. It allows me to appreciate the absurdity of a story that Easter celebrates so redundantly. It is not a lesson in doubt for me as it is a recognition that the miraculous is still present in the midst of a mundane, material world. More so, this story reiterates the affirmation that the human world matters enough that the Eternal became ephemeral in human form. It matters enough that the resurrected Christ assumed a body that could be touched by human hands. It affirms that the work of justice that we do in this world matters also.
There is time to dwell on the unseen and ungraspable images of God. But right now I am interested in the simple realness of a scarred hand that prompted the simplicity of Thomas’ exclamation, “My Lord and my God.”
Learning A Radical E Pluribus Unum | Reflections by Fellow Caitlin Flanagan '19
“When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the universe.” John Muir
The first essay I wrote for an English class in college was about the “privacy of the soul” in Virginia Woolf’s Mrs. Dalloway. Although I cringe now reading over the apparent and enthusiastic belief I had discovered Woolf’s use of the stream of consciousness method myself, it is evidently written from a place of personal investment. My first reading of Woolf’s literature sparked in me an appreciation for the capacity of literature to show reverence for the unique interiority of each individual soul. I loved the line in the novel, “There is a dignity in people; a solitude; even between husband and wife a gulf; and that one must respect,” and carried an interest in the ways literature could express that fundamental personal solitude into the remainder of my studies.
I think a literary lens on essential aloneness, particularly on the value of each individual story, helps navigate a world of difference with compassion. In the stories of his community-making, Jesus meets each person with an emphasis on their particular hearts and stories, and rejects the urge to categorize them according to their work, gender, or ethnicity. Just as I relished literature for the way it chewed over the contradictions, wonders, and questions of every human person, I tried to push myself to meet each person with a readiness to be surprised. At a place like UVa, where there are so many markers of social belonging to lend quick, shallow categorization to each person I met—from the Greek letters on their t-shirt and the buttons on their backpack, to their major and hometown—it takes a conscious decision to expect the unexpected. To the extent that I have at least tried to refrain from judging a person according to the stories told about them, their imposed narratives, I have benefited enormously.
We each know that we ourselves do not belong firmly within one, static identity, and even often surprise ourselves with the person we are becoming. My love for literature has accompanied my belief in a God who writes into each individual a story worth telling. I think a respect for the self as a radically unique and complex being has enhanced both my personal experience of college, as I have given myself time for reflection and allowed myself to defy certain imposed categorizations, and my engagement with others, as I have worked to open my mind to appreciating their narratives for the ways they tell them and understand them, rather than for the ways they can fit into my own.
Yet, while I can look back on these four years and identify the ways I grew in my appreciation for human solitude, I feel just as strongly that I have a greater awareness of connectedness. A writer I studied for my senior thesis, Rebecca Solnit, writes in an essay on hope, history, and indirect consequences that she thinks the only way “to stop tyranny and destruction” would be a society which is a “radical e pluribus unum,” one which compassionately remembers, retells, and celebrates stories of self, other, and together. A compassionate democracy looks beyond individual freedom and individual responsibility to see the connections which necessarily exist between people, between the ecology and people, between past and present, between different ideas. Like Walt Whitman’s guiding metaphor in Leaves of Grass, Solnit theorizes a thriving democracy which both recognizes the pluribus: that each human soul stands erect as one individual, solitudinous leaf of grass, one which carries its own meaning, responsibility, and dignity; and which asserts the great unum, the unity between all living things in this world that must be nurtured and recognized.
One quote from Mother Teresa has entered into my mind many times in college: “If we have forgotten who we are, it is because we have forgotten we belong to one another.” This is a testament to a fundamental interconnectedness, a belief that fullness of self is only found in depth of relationship. Living outside of a family unit for the first time, it can be easy to operate as a lone agent, responsible to and for none. For me, though, I often felt unmoored when I only conceptualized my time in terms of my own needs and goals. In close community, and with the recognition of the ways my time can be used for others, I found it easier to escape the sadness of self-sufficiency. In love of others, the formation of a personal identity is not a stressful, abstract endeavor to find myself and then express that self through the clothes I wear or my social media posts. Rather, I have tried to, and will continue to try to, find myself in the work of love—a more complicated, flawed, and beautiful sense of self, which is not ever static, but grows in certain directions. The belief that I am more fully myself when I am in community with others removes the heavy burden from my shoulders that I need to enter relationship with an articulable and identifiable identity, and frees me to find myself in the convoluted, scrappy, and wonderful work of human relationship.
I think an increased sense of connection also lends greater power to the decisions I make, whether out of generosity and love or self-interest and fear. I am often struck by the ways that the love we experience from others either limits or enables increased love for others. The connections between the language of individual compassion and large-scale kingdom-building in Jesus’ message lends a deep significance to the power of the everyday. Each specific decision to love another, from a heartfelt apology to a cookie on a sad day, has profound, compounding resonances, as another immortal soul internalizes the compassion they have been given and walks into the world with increased generosity and openness. Similarly, I have tried to view the pain I have experienced from negligent friends or cutting comments in terms of a larger network of shame and frustration, to imagine the connections between the way they are treating me and the way they have been made to feel. This is an essentially anti-American idea, as connection can be seen as undercutting individualistic responsibility, but has been a perspective that has both enabled me to take the consequences of my own choices seriously and to view the mistakes of others with human empathy.
As I move into a new space, attempting to find a home there, I hope I remain connected to the person I felt myself becoming in college with understanding and love, even as I continue to grow and change. I hope I remain grateful for my connections to the people who loved and shaped me in this place, even as we all forge relationships in these new places. I hope I see the vine upon which we are all branches, the body of which we are all parts, the family within which we are all brothers and sisters. I hope, too, I value each individual soul for its particularities. I hope I never lose the sense that I belong to others. My time in college, with both its radical loneliness and depth of community, makes me hope for a future characterized by a radical e pluribus unum, a divine unity founded on reverence for each soul as an individual miracle.
Matching Gift Campaign 2019
Batman and Robin. Lucy and Ethel. Holmes and Watson. Calvin and Hobbes. Dynamic Duos pack more energy and action together than as two individuals apart. (Imagine Ben’s ice cream without Jerry? Ernie without his roommate Bert?)
Throughout Scripture, God creates duos for great purposes. God ordains Eve and Adam to begin the human family. God works through Naomi and Ruth, David and Jonathan, Mary and Joseph to demonstrate the life-giving power of loyalty, friendship and care.
Dynamic Duos enliven the ministry of Theological Horizons. Mark, a Mentor, accompanies Rambert, a Horizons Fellow, through epic life decisions. Ginger and Karen co-lead a Spirit-focused small group. In the office, the team of Beth and Christy do wonders. Interns in aprons, Maddie and Ben, team up to cook delectable Vintage Lunches—while Ellie and Caroline greet newcomers at the door.
Now YOU can join a Dynamic Duo! Donate to Theological Horizons and every single dollar you give will be matched by another generous superhero. In fact, challenge givers have pledged $50,000 to double all contributions made through May 31.
Remember: there’s no Dynamic without the DUO. We need you with us at the intersection of faith, thought and life.
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Everything Happens for a Reason? | Fellow Rambert Tyree '19
When I was a child, my parents would always respond to any stroke of misfortune with one simple sentence: Everything happens for a reason. Get rejected by your middle school crush? Everything happens for a reason. Lose the biggest game of the season? Everything happens for a reason. Do poorly on an assignment in math class? Everything happens for a reason.
When I was younger, this response began to infuriate me. What good could possibly come from me getting my heart crushed by my first *love*! What benefit could there possibly be from getting embarrassed in front of everyone I knew and costing the team the biggest game of the year? I didn’t see any value in these hardships and I didn’t understand how these things could be working for my good. These failures ultimately taught me my first lessons in faith.
I began to lean a little deeper into scriptures that my grandmother recited on an almost daily basis. Jeremiah 29:11, ‘“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future”’. I couldn’t comprehend the fact that I had to endure those failures in the beginning in order to grow towards my future. When I dropped the ball in front of hundreds of friends, family, and classmates and cost my team the game, I had no clue that I had to have that failure in order to grow to one day become a member of a collegiate varsity athletic football team.
There was an old church song my grandmother used to always sing, “He may not come when you want it, but He’ll be there right on time. He’s an on-time God, yes, He is!”. In those moments, I didn’t understand that I had to go through those young *love* heartbreaks in order to eventually end up with the significant other that was meant to be. Even if I can’t see it in the present, I know that what is meant to be will be…and what is not meant to be, won’t.
At a young age, I was determined to have things go my way on my time but as I grew more confident in my faith, I learned to let god and let God’s plan work just the way he intended. My all-time favorite scripture comes from Romans 8:28, “And we know that in all things, God works for the good of those who love him and have been called according to His purpose”. As I look back over my life, and think things over, I can truly say that every high, low, and in-between has all worked out for His purpose and for good. I guess when I think about it all, everything does happen for a reason…even if we can’t quite see it at the time.
Take 10: Finals Week Study Breaks
Make the most of a ten minute pause—wherever you may find yourself around the Grounds of the University of Virginia.
#1 Stop in to the UVa Chapel. Walk along the windows and find a piece of stained glass that draws your eye. Sit down, set a timer on your phone if you like (then put it away), and take ten minutes doing nothing but gazing at the window. Let your eye wander deeply into the colors, the lines and the images. Breathe deeply and let the quiet of the chapel surround you.
#2 Open the gate into an empty Pavilion Garden (you’ll find them behind both the East and West Lawn rooms & Pavilions). Set a timer on your phone (then put it away) and take ten minutes walking the garden paths. Step slowly, taking time to notice the path, the plantings, light in the sky. Listen for the noises of animals. Breathe in the fresh air. Walk a bit further along the path.
#3 Walk into the Fralin Museum of Art on Rugby Road. Leave your backpack in the coat room and wander into the galleries upstairs. Find a painting that intrigues you and stop in front of it. Sit down if you like. Set a timer on your phone (then put it away) and take ten minutes to lose yourself in the painting--taking in the details, wondering about the scene, maybe even imagining yourself in the painting. There’s no hurry.
#4 Climb up to the top of the marble steps of the Rotunda. Put down you backpack and sit looking out on the view from that height. Set a timer on your phone (then put it away) and take ten minutes to notice what you see from there: the people, the light, the natural beauty. Listen for sounds around you. Relax to know that, for now, you’re not doing anything at all.
#5 Step into the lobby of Old Cabell Hall. You are surrounded by Lincoln Perry’s mural, “Students’ Progress”. Set a timer on your phone (then put it away) and take ten minutes to peruse the painting, stopping wherever an image or a color draws you in. You don’t have to examine the whole painting. Notice the details in the mural. Imagine yourself in the scene. Lose yourself for a little while.
#6 Stop at your favorite coffee shop or café. Buy your favorite drink (or make it for free in your room). Sit down in an inviting chair—or take your drink outside. Leave aside your phone or your book or your laptop. For now, only savor the warmth, the flavor of this treat. Take all the time you need to drink it. Feel free to close your eyes or look at your surroundings. Daydream about the coming break. How will you relax then?
#7 If you’re in the library, stand up and stretch. Set a timer on your phone (then put it away) and take ten minutes to wander along shelves of books. Stop along the way to notice the titles; pick up books that interest you and flip through the pages, reading if something draws your eye. Look for engaging illustrations. There’s nothing you need to study or remember here. Simply enjoy.
#8 Find a place to sit down. Anywhere that feels out of the way. Outside on a bench, in the grass. Or inside in a comfortable chair or on the floor. Set a timer on your phone (then put it away) and take ten minutes to close your eyes and let your body relax. Imagine yourself in a place you love—or with people you enjoy. Put yourself in the scene, picturing details that take you deeper into that welcoming space. Allow your eyes to stay closed; nobody is watching you. Just rest for a while.
#9 Choose a piece of music—or a favorite playlist--and listen to it with earbuds. Wherever you are, take a wandering walk, letting the sounds fill your mind and your body. Don’t check your phone or do anything else right now; there will be time for that later. For these ten minutes, let the music be the soundtrack for your walk.
#10 Pause wherever you are. Get comfortable. Use your phone or laptop to visit the website, Pray as You Go. Try this guided meditation and prayer:
Longing for childlikeness | Reflections by Fellow Evan Heitman '19
Venerable Fulton Sheen tells the following parable:
Picture a child with a ball, and suppose that he is told that it is the only ball he will ever have to play with. The natural psychological reaction of the child will be to be fearful of playing too much with it, or bouncing it too often, or even pricking it full of pin holes, because he will never have another ball. But suppose that the child is told that perhaps next month, perhaps next week, perhaps even in five minutes, he will be given another ball, which will never wear out, which will always give joy and with which he will never tire of playing. The natural reaction of the child will be to take the first ball a little less seriously, and to begin playing with it joyously and happily, not even caring if someone does prick it full of pin holes, because he is very soon going to have another ball which will endure eternally.
He tells this parable to describe what life is able to and ought to be like for the Christian. He continues saying: “The Christian [believes] that some day, perhaps even tomorrow, he will have another ball, another world, another sphere, another life. And so he can begin to play with this earth, enjoy it’s monotony, and even be resigned to it’s pinpricks, for he knows that very soon he is going to have the other ball, which is the other life that will never wear out or become tiresome, because its life is the life of the eternal God, the beginning and the end of all that is.”
Childlikeness has been calling to me a lot recently. It keeps inserting itself into my thoughts and prayers with what seems like the dogged persistence of a… child. Now, I’m a little ways out from being a young child myself and, by all appearances, a little ways out from having kids of my own (although I just become Catholic so who can say), but I’ve been struck by what a treasure trove of wisdom children possess, even if they won’t realize this fact until they’re at least a 20-something getting ready to graduate from UVA.
I could go on and about how the idea of childlikeness has captured my heart, but for brevity’s sake I’ll leave it at this:
I desire the playfulness that makes a child see a trip to the hardware store as an adventure not a chore
I desire the trust that makes a child ask to be thrown up in the air, never even imagining that they might be dropped
I desire the insouciance that makes a child approach total and complete stranger because they want to make a friend
I desire the wonder that makes a child want to see a magic trick over and over and over and over again
I desire that love that makes a child tell their parents everything without a filter
I desire to take my life a little less seriously, to begin living it more joyously and happily, not caring if someone pricks it full of pin holes, because I know Who my Father is.
Alleluia! Christ is risen!
The beautiful bright festival
In Orthodox churches, all the people stand up & respond as this sermon by John Chrysostom (4th c.) is read on Pascha, or Easter, morning.
Is there anyone who is a devout lover of God? Enjoy this beautiful bright festival!
Is there anyone who is a grateful servant? Rejoice & enter into the joy of the Lord!
Are there any weary with fasting? With gratitude join in the Feast!
The Lord is gracious. Let us all enter into the joy of the Lord!
First and last alike receive your reward; rich and poor, rejoice together!
Sober and slothful, celebrate the day!
You that have kept the fast, and you that have not, rejoice today for the Table is richly laden! Feast royally on it. Let no one go away hungry. Partake, all, of the cup of faith. Enjoy all the riches of God’s goodness!
Let no one grieve at their poverty, for the universal kingdom has been revealed.
Let no one mourn that they have fallen again and again; for forgiveness has risen from the grave. Let no one fear death, for the Death of our Savior has set us free.
Christ has destroyed it by enduring it.
Christ destroyed Hell when He descended into it.
He put it into an uproar even as it tasted of His flesh. Hell was in an uproar because it was done away with. It is mocked. It it is annihilated. It is now made captive.
Hell took a body, and discovered God. Hell took earth, and encountered Heaven.
It took what it saw, and was overcome by what it did not see.
O death, where is your sting? O Hell, where is your victory?
Christ is Risen, and you, O death, are annihilated!
Christ is Risen, and the evil ones are cast down!
Christ is Risen, and the angels rejoice! Christ is Risen, and life is liberated!
Christ is Risen, and the tomb is emptied of its dead; for Christ having risen from the dead, is become the first-fruits of those who have fallen asleep.
To Him be Glory and Power forever and ever. Amen!
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Spoken - A poem by Fellow Dominique DeBose '19
Maybe She speaks through sisters, through friends, through strangers.
Maybe She sometimes sounds like mom.
Maybe Their voice is a collective of my neighbors’ gestures. The song the choir seems to sing back to me.
Maybe I ask too decidedly, too unwillingly, with doubt disguised as hope.
Maybe He speaks through the rain or through my green tea.
Maybe He speaks through the croaking green toads at the bank of the pond next to me.
Maybe He speaks through my father’s tone after asking permission, telling me to be careful when I think I already know.
Maybe She speaks with a cold touch, good taste, or warm wind.
I never thought He’d sound like a simple “sure” or an uncomfortable unexpected “have you thought of this?”
I’m certain They speak through the stars and through my pastor. Through the Bible I can’t seem to bring myself to understand.
I’m certain They speak through close calls and euphoric sensations.
I’m convinced They speak to everyone else but me.
But maybe I’ve gotten used to those things, those sounds, those feelings.
Or maybe I don’t know them well enough at all.
Maybe She is much bigger than the things I know or am used to.
And maybe She is exactly what I am used to.
Maybe She speaks through my mom and friends’ affirmations.
Maybe He speaks through my poems or the guys I used to like.
Convincing me I get what I ask for. That’s how it goes, right?
Well, I must’ve been asking wrong without knowing because I live in lack of response.
Or maybe I wasn’t being honest.
And She knew all along, like father’s always do, like strangers always sense.
And She spoke through them replying with what I asked for, and what I didn’t.
And She spoke through the trees, too, just for fun.
And continues to speak through the choir on Sunday mornings.
Convincing me that maybe She listens.
Convincing me that maybe they’ve already spoken, and are speaking as we speak.
Because maybe a little is enough, especially when I know I am weak.
We are dirt people {Lent 1}
It's mud season in Virginia.
As I walk Ginger around University Circle today, stepping across puddles of melted snow, the poet Jane Kenyon's words come to mind: "Beside the porch step, the crocus prepares an exultation of purple, but for the moment holds its tongue..."
I resolve (fleetingly) to prepare my flower bed for great things. Back at my laptop, The Smiling Gardener educates me on the virtues of humus: the "super important" dark, rich organic matter that holds nutrients, water and microbes.
Humilis comes from the Latin for "low". "The Lord God formed a human from the humus and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life. And the human became a living being."
Humus. Human. It's right there in Genesis: you and I, we are dirt people---created by God to receive blooming, bursting, exultant life.
"Humility is a proper evaluation of who we are---and a recognition of the greatness of God in us."
From the distant 17th century, Francis de Sales tells it like it is. But information is not the same thing as transformation.
This Lent, let us take time and prayer to ponder, with humility, our true situation, acknowledge all of the knowing that we do not know, and prepare our earthy selves to welcome the graces of God, growing in us.
“Lent 2001”
The cosmos dreams in me
while I wait in stillness
ready to lean in a little further
into the heart of the Holy.
I, a little blip of life,
a wisp of unassuming love,
a quickly passing breeze,
come once more into Lent.
No need to sign me
with the black bleeding ash
of palms, fried and baked.
I know my humus place.
This Lent I will sail
on the graced wings of desire,
yearning to go deeper
to the place where
I am one in the One.
{Joyce Rupp}
More on humility…
“I encourage you, then, to make experience, not knowledge, your aim. Knowledge often leads to arrogance, but this humble feeling never lies to you.” —Anonymous, Book of Privy Counsel [1]
“I love especially these three little virtues: gentleness in the heart, poverty in the spirit and simplicity in life.” Francis de Sales
in Mere Christianity, C.S. Lewis writes:
Do not imagine that if you meet a really humble man he will be what most people call "humble" nowadays: he will not be a sort of greasy, smarmy person, who is always telling you that, of course, he is nobody. Probably all you will think about him is that he seemed a cheerful, intelligent chap who took a real interest in what you said to him. If you do dislike him it will be because you feel a little envious of anyone who seems to enjoy life so easily. He will not be thinking about humility: he will not be thinking about himself at all.
From “The Litany” by Dana Gioia
This is the litany to earth and ashes,
To the dust of roads and vacant rooms,
To the fine silt circling in the shaft of sun,
Settling indifferently on books and beds.
This is a prayer to praise what we become:
‘Dust thou art, to dust thou shalt return.’
Savor its taste—the bitterness of earth and ashes.
Choosing a college: Practical Advice for Christian Parents by Susan Yates
We’re so grateful for this guest post by author/speaker Susan Yates. You can see more of her work and sign up for her blog posts at www.susanalexanderyates.com
Choosing a college can be thrilling and agonizing, hopeful and grab-your-kleenex-where-did-the-time-go emotional. As Christian parents, we pray not only for the right school for our children, but also that they will get involved in campus ministries and build solid relationships with other believers.
How can we guide our children through the process of choosing a school, and help get them established once they’re there?
Here are some practical tips I hope will help — with thanks to my daughter Allison, who provided input. It’s hard to believe our two oldest grandkids are now college-aged!
Visiting colleges
It’s best to begin visiting colleges your junior year or before. This will enable you to know what the realistic options are, and will help relieve the stress of the unknown. (A visit with a college counselor might also inspire your child to work harder to be considered.)
A few tips to get the most out of these visits:
Meet with campus ministries.
Before your visit, line up a college tour, and arrange to meet with a representative of one or two campus ministries. You’ll want to find out what the fellowship is like on campus. A college administrator should be able to give you names or check out groups like Cru, InterVarsity, Navigators, Reformed University Fellowship, etc.
Visit during the week.
It’s best to visit a campus during the week rather than on the weekend. Time your trip so your son or daughter will be able to attend one of the campus fellowship meetings.
Take notes!
Have your student take notes on each place, listing the pros and cons. It’s easy to forget the details when you’re looking at several schools.
Consider budget and scholarships.
Be careful looking at colleges you know you can’t afford. This will set you and your child up for disappointment. However, do check out financial aid and scholarship possibilities. There are many — often unpublicized — options and you don’t want to miss them.
Determining which school
Set a date before the beginning of senior year for the college applications to be finished. This is a long process and your child may need your encouragement along the way (even if they roll their eyes, they appreciate it more than you know).
Once you’ve heard from schools, it’s wise to visit the ones your child is most interested in again. This time, arrange for them to spend the night in a dorm with a believer. Going to class and attending another fellowship meeting will give them a better picture of what college life is like. If you’re visiting with them be sure to give them space to attend activities by themselves.
Consider a gap year
Many students benefit from taking a gap year off before beginning college. If you’ve been accepted at your school choice, you can apply for a deferment for one year, which will secure your place.
A gap year should be a meaningful experience. There are many opportunities that integrate discipleship as well as service. Our long-term goal is that our kids love Christ and love their neighbor, so you want to choose a program that has these components. Simply hanging out at home is unlikely to contribute to maturity. Choosing a gap year should be a family decision.
Before they go
Encourage your child to find a believing roommate.
They may not become best friends, but they’re more likely to have the same moral standards. This is crucial because your child can’t always control what will go on in their room. There will be enough adjustments and they don’t need to add a difficult roommate situation to the mix. Right after our granddaughter was accepted to her school, she found a Christian roommate on the college Facebook page and it has proven to be a huge gift.
Connect with ministries from day one.
Many campus fellowships host “moving-in day” luncheons for families. Find out if there are some on your campus and sign up to go. It’s a great way to meet other believers the first day. Statistics show that who a student hangs out with their first ten days of school will largely determine what group they align themselves with.
Expect your child to attend a campus fellowship. It’s wise to check out several and then commit to one by the end of the second month of school. The same is true for church. Especially if you’re supporting your child financially, it’s fair to expect this in return.
Communicate clearly about financial expectations.
Be clear about extra expenses, credit cards, and who pays for what. This will avoid misunderstanding in the future. It may be wise to write out an agreement.
Along the way
A wise parent will have begun preparing her child to leave for several years. We want to raise independent, confident kids. This involves the turning over of responsibilities along the way. Your high school kids should be doing their own laundry, making and keeping their own appointments, waking themselves up, writing their own thank-you notes. (It’s important to thank those who wrote a recommendation. Gratitude is a character trait, and we need to thank those who take time to help us.)
Teach your teen how to use online resources for reconciling their bank accounts and using a budget app for planning expenses.
Pray and trust
This may be harder for mom and dad than the student. As parents, we’re used to providing for our child. But we have little control over what a college will say. Our child may feel rejected when he is not admitted by a school. We must remember that God knows our child and He knows what is best for them. He will lead them to the right place. In the final analysis it must be their decision, not ours.
If your child does not get into his first choice, he needs your reassurance that God has a better plan. He may need to rely on your faith — and your faith will be stretched as well. But God does have a plan for your child. And He will cause all things to work together for good as we trust in Him (Romans 8:28).
Although this can be a stressful season, do enjoy the blessings of it. You are about to launch your child whom you have had the privilege of raising. You are entrusting him or her to God in a deeper way. They have the privilege of a good education in a free country. None of us want to lose the perspective that education is a gift.
May God guide you and your child through the process of choosing a college.