Hello, my dear friends! I am so glad to be back with you.
As Jacob already said, I left you for a while because I was getting married! In some ways (marrying a Baptist at age 22) I suppose I am very much a typical OBU girl. :) For those of you interested in pictures, some of the teasers are here.
I write this post for fairness (Jacob got to brag about his beautiful new daughter) and also because, believe it or not, my wedding reminded me about some of the things I love about OBU.
It has been asserted that I hate OBU or that I have turned my back on OBU. That may be true in some ways. But on my wedding day, I could not help but notice how much OBU has given me. OBU will always be a special place in my heart-- it is the place I met my husband. And not only that, it is the place I met the majority of my bridal party. Actually, now that I think about it, there was only one person in the wedding party who was not either family or a friend from OBU.
OBU really was a great place for me. I received an excellent education and met some of the best friends that anyone could ask for. Together, all of us questioned, discussed, learned, and grew. As I have said before, I wouldn't trade it for anything. I think that sometimes I forget the huge hand that OBU has played in who I am today. And for that, I am extremely grateful.
But the more I think about it, the more I realize that students like me will not be going to OBU much longer. And the ones that do go are much less likely to have my same experience.
When I was a junior in high school, looking for a place to spend my college career, I was not the typical person who might generally be looking to OBU. I was not a Baptist and I was not an Oklahoman. But I was drawn to the school because I had a friend who loved it there and saw that it was recognized across the board for spectacular academics.
My parents, believe it or not, did not want me to go to a faith-based school. Outside of the "Bible Belt" it is not uncommon to hold the assumption that faith based schools do not have as good academics as their secular counterparts. When it came to choosing a college, my parents were far more concerned about academics. The point of paying for an education is to get an education-- not to become a better Christian.
I think that this is still a pretty fair argument. But I wanted to study religion, and my heart was set on OBU. In the end, my parents were convinced by OBU's excellent rankings and both of them really enjoyed the visit that the three of us made to campus. Believing that the educational investment would be worth the money, they happily sent me to Shawnee, where I believe none of us were disappointed in what I got.
Now, at OBU, I learned that perhaps getting an education and growing in your faith are more related than my parents were willing to believe during my college search. But, as I learned from Arthur Holmes during welcome week, a Christian college is not a church. The primary goal must still be education-- although one may be surprised to find that even in pursuit of that goal Christ is King. At OBU, I saw the beauty of joining a community honestly seeking both God and truth.
I am unsure that if I were looking for schools now if my parents would be convinced by OBU. If you haven't seen Jacob's post on OBU's falling rankings, the numbers are startling. When I chose OBU, my parents trusted that although they disagreed with the school ideologically, I would still get a fantastic education.
But is that still true today? Or has OBU lost sight of its vision? In an effort to protect its "Christian-ness," I fear that OBU has stopped being an excellent institution of higher learning. The problem is that its excellence is part of what made OBU Christian. Each of us was encouraged to study as a means of encountering God-- and to do so with excellence for that is the highest calling of Christ.
Now, I am afraid that OBU is trying to be safe. But encountering God has never been safe. And so instead of good, Christian education, OBU is offering pat answers and certainty.
My parents would never have been willing to pay for that-- and I'm sure I wouldn't have wanted it.
Those of us who are vested in OBU's future need to consider what kind of students we will be attracting with this new path the institution has taken. If we continue in this way, I fear that our story may be similar to the SBC seminaries-- which it seems many OBU grads are avoiding. We will no longer be able to attract the best students; they will find their education elsewhere.
Please continue to help us bring OBU back to the place that made me first fall in love with it. I know I am not the only one.
Showing posts with label My OBU Story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label My OBU Story. Show all posts
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Holy Week 2012
For the next four days, we're taking a break from our incessant barking about the negative changes at OBU over the past 18 months and the many regressions in Baptist life over the past 30 years in general. It's not that we need a break (regular readers noticed that we took Spring Break off). It's not even that it is especially impolitic to be critical of religious leaders during Holy Week. It's just that these days are so significant. I'd rather write about their meaning and their mystery.
Background
Various events in the past 2 years have ignited our passion for saving OBU from fundamentalist encroachment. But it's easy to forget that our little movement is just a tiny subset of a vast community that stretches around the world, back across centuries of history, and encompasses not just we who are living but also the Saints Triumphant, that multitude which no one can number (Rev. 7:9). The people menacing Baptist life are just a small subset of fundamentalists from a diverse but relatively new stream in American Protestantism. We use categories like "evangelical" today out of convenience, though it obscures massive doctrinal and historical differences and there is tremendous diversity in the evangelical tradition. The "mainline"/established/institutional strand of American Protestantism, from which the fundamentalists decisively broke an already weak tie to the SBC, represents traditions going back to different Reformations in Europe. Then, even putting the Orthodox traditions aside (with their own theological distinctives, mystical elements, and geographic strongholds), we have Roman Catholicism, as large as all of Protestantism combined and 1,500 years more ancient. And even though this is "our" Holy Week, I can't help but think of the wider human family -- Christians' older cousins (Jews) and younger cousins (Muslims) in the Abrahamic/monotheistic tradition. All this says nothing of the post-Western "next Christendom" about which Philip Jenkins and others write.
Anyway, the thought of all the people around the world past, present, and future for whom this week was, is, and will always be the holiest of the year makes me feel uneasy about doing Save OBU business as usual. In my lifetime, I've been all over the spectrum in terms of religious belief and devotion. Holy Week has been a non-event. Holy Week has been all-consuming. And it has been everything in between.
As a child and a youth, I remember only occasionally going to services on days other than Sunday. My United Methodist congregation was not especially liturgical (one pastor aptly described our liturgical style as "high Baptist,") but modest efforts were made to mark the seasons of the church year. We had a dear church member who made beautiful banners for the various holy seasons. They changed the paraments in the sanctuary to correspond with the season: red for Pentecost, green for the long season after Pentecost, blue for Advent, purple for Lent. Palm Sunday included a children's procession of palm branches. Even though palms are native to Florida, they were so perfectly and identically sized that I later realized they were probably ordered from the Cokesbury catalog (a less overtly ideological United Methodist version of LifeWay). This was definitely the only Sunday we ever had anything even approximating a "procession." If I had to guess, the "processional hymn" (such as it was) was probably "Hosanna, Loud Hosanna" and not the more Anglican "All Glory, Laud, and Honor." I don't remember Good Friday services at all, probably because kids were either in school or on vacation. But I do remember the occasional Maundy Thursday service (and of course Ash Wednesday). We never had an Easter Vigil on Holy Saturday. In fact, I'm certain I was in graduate school before I heard of such a thing and even now, I can't say I've ever attended one. I do, however, remember that sometimes my dad would take me and my brother to the church the day before Easter and we'd pick up litter in order to make sure that the grounds looked their best for Easter, when a lot of visitors would drop in. I never told my dad this, but I always thought that was a really nice thing to do and was a true sign of integrity and humility, since no one ever asked him to do it and he never announced his good deed. He was (is) a prominent community member and has been a faithful lay leader in the congregation, but he was not above picking up gum wrappers and cigarette butts to make sure the church glistened on its holiest day. Our youth group always led a sunrise service for the community at a lakefront park. Easter was a day to wear new, pastel-colored clothing (from Penney's though, not from Nordstrom's, just to be clear). My church had a tradition where a moss-covered cross was placed in the courtyard and each congregant would bring a flower bud to place in the cross. Most years, we took a family picture in front of that cross.
In college, I felt like Holy Week was a total non-event. Though I would later discover that my childhood congregation's observance of Holy Week was somewhat less than many mainline churches, it seemed to me that in Southern Baptist life (or at least what I knew of it at OBU), Holy Week wasn't that holy or special. As I write this, I'm enjoying Holy Thursday off from my Catholic (Jesuit) university, where I'm a Ph.D. student in political science. I'm pretty sure we always had class on Holy Thursday and Good Friday at OBU. In seminary at Boston University School of Theology (I did the two-year Master of Theological Studies rather than the M.Div.), I encountered "high church" for the first time in the stunning neo-Gothic Marsh Chapel. This dynamic was evident year-round, but was on grand display during Holy Week. I grew to love the liturgy, symbolism, and music -- especially sacred choral music and the rich tradition of Anglican hymnody.
When I went into parish ministry, Holy Week became the busiest week of my year. Like most young ministers, I determined to remake the church in my own image. By that point, my personal journey had taken me away from many classical/orthodox doctrines. But I loved the music, the symbols, and the liturgy of the liberal Protestant tradition. Since being religious, for me, had more to do with stories and symbols than assent to specific doctrines, I wanted to introduce a more liturgical Christianity to the congregation I served. I wanted it to mean as much to them as it meant to me. Needless to say, this effort never went very far and I don't think it was very effective. In the end, being religious but not spiritual was a bad recipe for an aspiring minister -- I was a paid religious functionary who knew little of God, grace, or true piety. Though my breakup with the church was a lot more dramatic and sudden than it needed to be, it was a pretty complete separation. I don't miss the theology or even the community as much as you might expect of someone for whom the church so thoroughly shaped his social, intellectual, and vocational identity. But I sure do miss the music, liturgy, narrative, and mystery. Even after I fizzled out of church, it took a few years before Easter Sundays would come and go without me darkening the doors.
Being unchurched or post-churched has been eye-opening. For some reason, Holy Week has become a time to reassess my own journey as I remember Jesus' journey to the cross. Like a lot of people my age, I have church people from my "former life" who pity me or resent that I dropped out. And I have new friends and colleagues who are shocked when they find out that religion was once such a defining force in my life. Becoming involved with Save OBU has given me an interesting, new perspective on a lot of issues I thought I had left behind. From age 18 to 26, as I reconciled the faith of my childhood with basic facts of science, history, and other disciplines, I searched desperately for some version of Christianity I could believe honestly and with integrity. When I finally allowed myself a break from that struggle, I ultimately realized that it just wasn't as important to me as I once thought it was. But you do find out that with or without you, institutions/churches/denominations are forever caught in power struggles and ideological battles. When you quit, your "side" comes a little closer to losing. I think this is basically what happened with the strand of Protestantism with which I identified most closely. So many of us left church that our "side" ended up losing. So to those of you who are still "in the trenches," take heart. A lot is at stake. Some of us just aren't cut out for it, though. We have to be true to our own selves.
I'm not sure why I feel compelled to say all this. I guess I just feel like I've met a lot of new friends through Save OBU and I want to share something of myself with them. Especially to our student supporters, young alumni, seminarians, and people considering church vocations -- I've been where you are. My journey has been quite different than I expected (and I've been through a lot of therapy), but I just want to say: Be who you are. Embrace your struggles with faith. Endure the dark nights of the soul. Don't be afraid to question and doubt. Your faith is yours alone, and not for others to judge. It may survive; it may not. But you will survive. Above all, you need to be able to live with yourself, whether religion is an aid, a hindrance, or a surprising mix of both.
I've worked assiduously to steer clear of political and theological controversies for the sake of a unified movement. Clearly I lack the bona fides to lead this movement indefinitely. But because I've been all over the spectrum, I have close friends in all the various camps: fundamentalists who prize obedience and orthodoxy above all else; thoughtful yet believing evangelicals who genuinely and seriously grapple with the hard issues of faith; relatively more enlightened intellectuals who still feel a deep sense of spiritual longing; post-orthodox Christians who insist on a faith they can believe honestly and that can withstand the most rigorous intellectual scrutiny; hangers-on who are church people by tradition but feel deep down that this really isn't their thing; the unchurched (or post-churched) who stay away because they can't abide the authoritarianism, partisan politics, or squelched freedoms; people who are agnostic about doctrines but cherish the community; and atheists who span the spectrum of sympathy for or hostility toward the entire enterprise.
Enough about me and my journey. This week, I want to do a few things:
Can Baptists Be Liturgical?
As I mentioned above, I was surprised to come to OBU and discover that Palm Sunday, Holy Thursday, and Good Friday were not very high in the Baptist pantheon of holy days (though I noticed that OBU had a Holy Week Chapel yesterday). The holy season of Lent was a non-event. A lot of people even gave off a "just another Sunday" vibe about Easter. I don't know all the reasons behind this difference. A lot of it may be rooted in the important differences in history, liturgy, and even church architecture between heirs of the "radical Reformation" vs. the "magisterial Reformation." On the radical side, we have Calvinists and Anabaptists whose heirs typically worship in plainer, sparser settings, whereas on the magisterial side we have Lutherans and Anglicans (and later Methodists) whose worship spaces are typically more ornate and laden with symbols and art.
I certainly don't want to express a value judgment about "low church" vs. "high church," because I've seen firsthand that both have their advantages and limitations. But I do think that observing Lent and celebrating Easter as the highest holy day offers churches a chance to increase their congregants' faith and devotion as well as their cultural influence in their communities. It's strange to me that in an overwhelmingly Christian culture, Americans know the holy days and seasons in Judaism and Islam but think Christmas is the highest holy day in Christianity. Christmas is the holiest season in consumer culture. Churches should embrace Lent and Easter, if for no other reason than to show the world that we don't rank our holy days based on the whims of consumer trends and the demands of corporations with 4th quarter financial targets to meet. The number of American Protestants who seriously observe Lent is small. I think evangelicals and Baptists should consider joining in Lenten devotions. I'm not just talking about "giving up" chocolate or soda or reading the next, though that may be part of it. I'm talking about a serious commitment to prayer and self-denial. The benefits to Christians are obvious, and I think it sends the kind of counter-cultural message the church would like proclaim.
As things stand, the only thing a lot of Protestants know about Lent is that you can get a good deal on Filet-o-Fishes at McDonald's (a lot of Catholics don't eat meat during Lent, especially on Fridays). This year, Major League Baseball's Opening Day coincides with Holy Thursday and Good Friday. I just think it's interesting that our whole society grinds to a halt for Christmas because the markets demand it. Yet Lent and Easter come and go with no notice but an uptick in candy sales. What difference would it make, spiritually and culturally, if tens of millions more American Christians properly observed and celebrated their holiest season and day?
Holy Thursday
We Protestants can be dismissive of what we perceive to be extra-biblical elements in Catholic traditions. But in this case, it's all right there in John chapter 13. A lot of Protestants observe Holy Thursday. It's often known as "Maundy Thursday." Somehow, "Maundy" came into English from the Latin mandatum novum ("new commandment" -- John 13:34). Though I have never seen it done, a lot of churches observe a rite of foot-washing on Maundy Thursday. I think the most common observance for Maundy Thursday is the Lord's Supper, since the holiday commemorates Jesus' Last Supper with his disciples. I have also seen Tenebrae services. Tenebrae (Latin for "shadows") is a service in a dimly-lit space that features scriptural readins. After each reading, a candle is extinguished, until worshippers leave in darkness, representing Jesus' agonizing, lonely night in Gethsemane.
Another rite that is typically performed at the end of Holy Thursday services is the stripping of the altar/church. Often accompanied by a reading of the 22nd Psalm, all decorative items (crosses, Bibles, etc.) and the purple Lenten paraments are removed in preparation for Good Friday services, in which congregants enter a bare sanctuary.
With all that activity, I'm not sure how seriously preachers or worshippers grapple with the many difficult texts in John 13-17. But that's another problem for another day, I suppose. There are so many beautiful and comforting texts to focus on: "A new commandment I give unto you; that ye love one another" (13:34a). "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give as the world gives. Let not your hearts be troubled neither let them be afraid" (14:27). Too many to mention.
Here is a Lenten hymn entitled "Ah, Holy Jesus" performed by the organ and choir of the Washington National Cathedral. I posted the lyrics below. The tune name is HERZLIEBSTER JESU.
Ah, holy Jesus, how hast Thou offended,
That man to judge Thee hath in hate pretended?
By foes derided, by Thine own rejected,
O most afflicted.
Who was the guilty? Who brought this upon Thee?
Alas, my treason, Jesus, hath undone Thee.
’Twas I, Lord, Jesus, I it was denied Thee!
I crucified Thee.
Lo, the Good Shepherd for the sheep is offered;
The slave hath sinned, and the Son hath suffered;
For man’s atonement, while he nothing heedeth,
God intercedeth.
For me, kind Jesus, was Thy Incarnation,
Thy mortal sorrow, and Thy life’s oblation;
Thy death of anguish and Thy bitter passion,
For my salvation.
Therefore, kind Jesus, since I cannot pay Thee,
I do adore Thee, and will ever pray Thee,
Think on Thy pity and Thy love unswerving,
Not my deserving.
If, by chance, you participate in one of these observances, let us know in the comments or email SaveOBU@gmail.com!
Background
Various events in the past 2 years have ignited our passion for saving OBU from fundamentalist encroachment. But it's easy to forget that our little movement is just a tiny subset of a vast community that stretches around the world, back across centuries of history, and encompasses not just we who are living but also the Saints Triumphant, that multitude which no one can number (Rev. 7:9). The people menacing Baptist life are just a small subset of fundamentalists from a diverse but relatively new stream in American Protestantism. We use categories like "evangelical" today out of convenience, though it obscures massive doctrinal and historical differences and there is tremendous diversity in the evangelical tradition. The "mainline"/established/institutional strand of American Protestantism, from which the fundamentalists decisively broke an already weak tie to the SBC, represents traditions going back to different Reformations in Europe. Then, even putting the Orthodox traditions aside (with their own theological distinctives, mystical elements, and geographic strongholds), we have Roman Catholicism, as large as all of Protestantism combined and 1,500 years more ancient. And even though this is "our" Holy Week, I can't help but think of the wider human family -- Christians' older cousins (Jews) and younger cousins (Muslims) in the Abrahamic/monotheistic tradition. All this says nothing of the post-Western "next Christendom" about which Philip Jenkins and others write.
Anyway, the thought of all the people around the world past, present, and future for whom this week was, is, and will always be the holiest of the year makes me feel uneasy about doing Save OBU business as usual. In my lifetime, I've been all over the spectrum in terms of religious belief and devotion. Holy Week has been a non-event. Holy Week has been all-consuming. And it has been everything in between.
As a child and a youth, I remember only occasionally going to services on days other than Sunday. My United Methodist congregation was not especially liturgical (one pastor aptly described our liturgical style as "high Baptist,") but modest efforts were made to mark the seasons of the church year. We had a dear church member who made beautiful banners for the various holy seasons. They changed the paraments in the sanctuary to correspond with the season: red for Pentecost, green for the long season after Pentecost, blue for Advent, purple for Lent. Palm Sunday included a children's procession of palm branches. Even though palms are native to Florida, they were so perfectly and identically sized that I later realized they were probably ordered from the Cokesbury catalog (a less overtly ideological United Methodist version of LifeWay). This was definitely the only Sunday we ever had anything even approximating a "procession." If I had to guess, the "processional hymn" (such as it was) was probably "Hosanna, Loud Hosanna" and not the more Anglican "All Glory, Laud, and Honor." I don't remember Good Friday services at all, probably because kids were either in school or on vacation. But I do remember the occasional Maundy Thursday service (and of course Ash Wednesday). We never had an Easter Vigil on Holy Saturday. In fact, I'm certain I was in graduate school before I heard of such a thing and even now, I can't say I've ever attended one. I do, however, remember that sometimes my dad would take me and my brother to the church the day before Easter and we'd pick up litter in order to make sure that the grounds looked their best for Easter, when a lot of visitors would drop in. I never told my dad this, but I always thought that was a really nice thing to do and was a true sign of integrity and humility, since no one ever asked him to do it and he never announced his good deed. He was (is) a prominent community member and has been a faithful lay leader in the congregation, but he was not above picking up gum wrappers and cigarette butts to make sure the church glistened on its holiest day. Our youth group always led a sunrise service for the community at a lakefront park. Easter was a day to wear new, pastel-colored clothing (from Penney's though, not from Nordstrom's, just to be clear). My church had a tradition where a moss-covered cross was placed in the courtyard and each congregant would bring a flower bud to place in the cross. Most years, we took a family picture in front of that cross.
In college, I felt like Holy Week was a total non-event. Though I would later discover that my childhood congregation's observance of Holy Week was somewhat less than many mainline churches, it seemed to me that in Southern Baptist life (or at least what I knew of it at OBU), Holy Week wasn't that holy or special. As I write this, I'm enjoying Holy Thursday off from my Catholic (Jesuit) university, where I'm a Ph.D. student in political science. I'm pretty sure we always had class on Holy Thursday and Good Friday at OBU. In seminary at Boston University School of Theology (I did the two-year Master of Theological Studies rather than the M.Div.), I encountered "high church" for the first time in the stunning neo-Gothic Marsh Chapel. This dynamic was evident year-round, but was on grand display during Holy Week. I grew to love the liturgy, symbolism, and music -- especially sacred choral music and the rich tradition of Anglican hymnody.
When I went into parish ministry, Holy Week became the busiest week of my year. Like most young ministers, I determined to remake the church in my own image. By that point, my personal journey had taken me away from many classical/orthodox doctrines. But I loved the music, the symbols, and the liturgy of the liberal Protestant tradition. Since being religious, for me, had more to do with stories and symbols than assent to specific doctrines, I wanted to introduce a more liturgical Christianity to the congregation I served. I wanted it to mean as much to them as it meant to me. Needless to say, this effort never went very far and I don't think it was very effective. In the end, being religious but not spiritual was a bad recipe for an aspiring minister -- I was a paid religious functionary who knew little of God, grace, or true piety. Though my breakup with the church was a lot more dramatic and sudden than it needed to be, it was a pretty complete separation. I don't miss the theology or even the community as much as you might expect of someone for whom the church so thoroughly shaped his social, intellectual, and vocational identity. But I sure do miss the music, liturgy, narrative, and mystery. Even after I fizzled out of church, it took a few years before Easter Sundays would come and go without me darkening the doors.
Being unchurched or post-churched has been eye-opening. For some reason, Holy Week has become a time to reassess my own journey as I remember Jesus' journey to the cross. Like a lot of people my age, I have church people from my "former life" who pity me or resent that I dropped out. And I have new friends and colleagues who are shocked when they find out that religion was once such a defining force in my life. Becoming involved with Save OBU has given me an interesting, new perspective on a lot of issues I thought I had left behind. From age 18 to 26, as I reconciled the faith of my childhood with basic facts of science, history, and other disciplines, I searched desperately for some version of Christianity I could believe honestly and with integrity. When I finally allowed myself a break from that struggle, I ultimately realized that it just wasn't as important to me as I once thought it was. But you do find out that with or without you, institutions/churches/denominations are forever caught in power struggles and ideological battles. When you quit, your "side" comes a little closer to losing. I think this is basically what happened with the strand of Protestantism with which I identified most closely. So many of us left church that our "side" ended up losing. So to those of you who are still "in the trenches," take heart. A lot is at stake. Some of us just aren't cut out for it, though. We have to be true to our own selves.
I'm not sure why I feel compelled to say all this. I guess I just feel like I've met a lot of new friends through Save OBU and I want to share something of myself with them. Especially to our student supporters, young alumni, seminarians, and people considering church vocations -- I've been where you are. My journey has been quite different than I expected (and I've been through a lot of therapy), but I just want to say: Be who you are. Embrace your struggles with faith. Endure the dark nights of the soul. Don't be afraid to question and doubt. Your faith is yours alone, and not for others to judge. It may survive; it may not. But you will survive. Above all, you need to be able to live with yourself, whether religion is an aid, a hindrance, or a surprising mix of both.
I've worked assiduously to steer clear of political and theological controversies for the sake of a unified movement. Clearly I lack the bona fides to lead this movement indefinitely. But because I've been all over the spectrum, I have close friends in all the various camps: fundamentalists who prize obedience and orthodoxy above all else; thoughtful yet believing evangelicals who genuinely and seriously grapple with the hard issues of faith; relatively more enlightened intellectuals who still feel a deep sense of spiritual longing; post-orthodox Christians who insist on a faith they can believe honestly and that can withstand the most rigorous intellectual scrutiny; hangers-on who are church people by tradition but feel deep down that this really isn't their thing; the unchurched (or post-churched) who stay away because they can't abide the authoritarianism, partisan politics, or squelched freedoms; people who are agnostic about doctrines but cherish the community; and atheists who span the spectrum of sympathy for or hostility toward the entire enterprise.
Enough about me and my journey. This week, I want to do a few things:
- Show a side of the Christian music/worship/liturgical tradition that some Baptists may not know much about but may nonetheless find enjoyable and meaningful.
- Suggest that there are other ways of understanding Jesus' death and resurrection. If we see it as more than just a cosmic bargain and a divine magic trick, we might actually magnify its meaning rather than diminish it.
- Argue that increasing our reverence for and observance of Holy Week will stimulate not only piety and devotion but also theological reflection among clergy and laity even as it embodies ecumenism and Christian unity.
- Share little parts of my own story with people who might be struggling with cognitive dissonance and who wonder if there is a place for them in American Protestantism.
Can Baptists Be Liturgical?
As I mentioned above, I was surprised to come to OBU and discover that Palm Sunday, Holy Thursday, and Good Friday were not very high in the Baptist pantheon of holy days (though I noticed that OBU had a Holy Week Chapel yesterday). The holy season of Lent was a non-event. A lot of people even gave off a "just another Sunday" vibe about Easter. I don't know all the reasons behind this difference. A lot of it may be rooted in the important differences in history, liturgy, and even church architecture between heirs of the "radical Reformation" vs. the "magisterial Reformation." On the radical side, we have Calvinists and Anabaptists whose heirs typically worship in plainer, sparser settings, whereas on the magisterial side we have Lutherans and Anglicans (and later Methodists) whose worship spaces are typically more ornate and laden with symbols and art.
I certainly don't want to express a value judgment about "low church" vs. "high church," because I've seen firsthand that both have their advantages and limitations. But I do think that observing Lent and celebrating Easter as the highest holy day offers churches a chance to increase their congregants' faith and devotion as well as their cultural influence in their communities. It's strange to me that in an overwhelmingly Christian culture, Americans know the holy days and seasons in Judaism and Islam but think Christmas is the highest holy day in Christianity. Christmas is the holiest season in consumer culture. Churches should embrace Lent and Easter, if for no other reason than to show the world that we don't rank our holy days based on the whims of consumer trends and the demands of corporations with 4th quarter financial targets to meet. The number of American Protestants who seriously observe Lent is small. I think evangelicals and Baptists should consider joining in Lenten devotions. I'm not just talking about "giving up" chocolate or soda or reading the next, though that may be part of it. I'm talking about a serious commitment to prayer and self-denial. The benefits to Christians are obvious, and I think it sends the kind of counter-cultural message the church would like proclaim.
As things stand, the only thing a lot of Protestants know about Lent is that you can get a good deal on Filet-o-Fishes at McDonald's (a lot of Catholics don't eat meat during Lent, especially on Fridays). This year, Major League Baseball's Opening Day coincides with Holy Thursday and Good Friday. I just think it's interesting that our whole society grinds to a halt for Christmas because the markets demand it. Yet Lent and Easter come and go with no notice but an uptick in candy sales. What difference would it make, spiritually and culturally, if tens of millions more American Christians properly observed and celebrated their holiest season and day?
Holy Thursday
We Protestants can be dismissive of what we perceive to be extra-biblical elements in Catholic traditions. But in this case, it's all right there in John chapter 13. A lot of Protestants observe Holy Thursday. It's often known as "Maundy Thursday." Somehow, "Maundy" came into English from the Latin mandatum novum ("new commandment" -- John 13:34). Though I have never seen it done, a lot of churches observe a rite of foot-washing on Maundy Thursday. I think the most common observance for Maundy Thursday is the Lord's Supper, since the holiday commemorates Jesus' Last Supper with his disciples. I have also seen Tenebrae services. Tenebrae (Latin for "shadows") is a service in a dimly-lit space that features scriptural readins. After each reading, a candle is extinguished, until worshippers leave in darkness, representing Jesus' agonizing, lonely night in Gethsemane.
Another rite that is typically performed at the end of Holy Thursday services is the stripping of the altar/church. Often accompanied by a reading of the 22nd Psalm, all decorative items (crosses, Bibles, etc.) and the purple Lenten paraments are removed in preparation for Good Friday services, in which congregants enter a bare sanctuary.
With all that activity, I'm not sure how seriously preachers or worshippers grapple with the many difficult texts in John 13-17. But that's another problem for another day, I suppose. There are so many beautiful and comforting texts to focus on: "A new commandment I give unto you; that ye love one another" (13:34a). "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give as the world gives. Let not your hearts be troubled neither let them be afraid" (14:27). Too many to mention.
Here is a Lenten hymn entitled "Ah, Holy Jesus" performed by the organ and choir of the Washington National Cathedral. I posted the lyrics below. The tune name is HERZLIEBSTER JESU.
Ah, holy Jesus, how hast Thou offended,
That man to judge Thee hath in hate pretended?
By foes derided, by Thine own rejected,
O most afflicted.
Who was the guilty? Who brought this upon Thee?
Alas, my treason, Jesus, hath undone Thee.
’Twas I, Lord, Jesus, I it was denied Thee!
I crucified Thee.
Lo, the Good Shepherd for the sheep is offered;
The slave hath sinned, and the Son hath suffered;
For man’s atonement, while he nothing heedeth,
God intercedeth.
For me, kind Jesus, was Thy Incarnation,
Thy mortal sorrow, and Thy life’s oblation;
Thy death of anguish and Thy bitter passion,
For my salvation.
Therefore, kind Jesus, since I cannot pay Thee,
I do adore Thee, and will ever pray Thee,
Think on Thy pity and Thy love unswerving,
Not my deserving.
If, by chance, you participate in one of these observances, let us know in the comments or email SaveOBU@gmail.com!
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Women at OBU, Part 2
Today, we move from looking at women in the CCCU specifically to women at OBU. (See our first post on this subject here.)
In general, it is not terrible to be a woman at OBU. There are, of course, two major exceptions to this rule.
In general, it is not terrible to be a woman at OBU. There are, of course, two major exceptions to this rule.
First, it is not terrible to be a woman at OBU, unless you are an administrator. Then, it might be terrible to be a woman.
After all, David Whitlock is known to have said that he will not be alone in his office with a woman.
Well, that's one way of presenting himself as one with integrity. But it's also a way to say a woman can never be his number 2 or his right-hand-man-- pardon the phrase. Of course, then, it makes sense that in order to bring in a wingman, the easiest person to demote is a woman. After all, he couldn't have meetings alone with her anyway.
So what is the current female administrative situation at OBU? Right now, the two highest ranking women are in sort of a weird situation. One, the oft-referred to demotion, holds a double title due to the addition of a lower-level job without technically taking away her former job. So, is she a dean or a Senior VP? It's a good question.
The other, as the token yes-woman, has received a promotion, yet still holds her original title as well. So, is she a dean or the associate provost? Also, a good question.
In fairness, I don't know much about higher education administration, so some of this may not be what it looks like to me. But I do think the double title business is a little fishy. Is it too much to actually promote a woman within this regime? Probably. From my point of view it seems that a woman cannot be trusted to actually hold a position any higher than dean, although she may be given the illusion of such a title.
But before I find myself delving into the sexual presuppositions which support a system as such described, I will move on.
Because the second scenario is one I know much more about. It is not terrible to be a woman at OBU, unless you want to do ministry. Then it is almost necessarily terrible.
Once, after telling an administrator's wife that I was a biblical languages major, she asked me if I wanted to do missions or children's ministry.
I wish I was kidding.
You see, those are the only viable options for women at OBU. As a former chapel CREW co-chair, I can tell you that it's very true that women cannot preach in chapel on Wednesdays, unless it is women in missions and ministry day.
Once, when asked to preach at a student-led chapel on a Friday, I was told by an administrator to, "just speak, and not make a big deal that you are preaching."
I wish I was kidding.
But, you see, a woman cannot be trusted not to spew feminism anytime she is given a public platform. Every woman we ever put forward as a speaker in my two years on chapel CREW was assigned to a Friday chapel. And, who, you may ask, has the final say in these decisions? Why, it is the president's chapel-- and the president ultimately chooses who gets to come.
So, is chapel a place where we should all be led in worship? Because it looks to me like the only people asked to lead, except by students, are white men in suits.
It is interesting to me that OBU is going in such a direction that it discriminates against its own alumni. Both the overlooked theology applicant and the mistreated female administrator are former Bison. Upon walking across the stage last May, being hooded summa cum laude, holding the distinction of outstanding senior in religion, I knew that if I was walking into that same school with a PhD, I would not be hired. Or if I took another route and became a pastor of a large baptist church (not SBC, of course, but perhaps CBF), there is only one day per year in which I might be able to bring the good news to those who are in the shoes I once filled.
The truth is, I was almost always encouraged by my (all male) faculty. They surely believed in me and supported me in ways I'm still not sure I understand. With the help of one of them I ended up at the school where I study now.
Don't get me wrong. OBU still remains in my heart four of the best, call-defining, years of my life. Given the chance I would not change my alma mater. I do still love it.
But, the truth is also this: when I left OBU, parts of me were dead.
And that is what it's like to be a woman at OBU. It is to live between a tension of a community which is supposed to care for you as if you are all members of one body, but refuses you the agency to define your own spiritual gifts and calling. It is to be ignored and rejected by some-- working hard to receive deserved recognition, not just for yourself but for all the sisters who have been marginalized before you. It is knowing that no matter how smart you are, no matter how hard you work, no matter how much more qualified you are than any man against whom you might compete-- you will not be asked to do certain things or hold certain positions, for these are not women's positions. It is knowing in your heart those are the exact things which make you feel alive, which God had in mind when crafting you. There's only so long when you must start every conversation with a justification for your voice to even be there before you just give up.
It is parts of you dying, and forgetting that there are indeed communities which encourage them to live.
I am one of the lucky ones. I have found such a community and I grew up in such a community. Slowly but surely, I am coming back to life. But four years at OBU nearly pushed me past the place of remembering the possibilities.
Is that the kind of University we wish to pursue in the name of Christ? Perhaps it's time to put BGCO politics behind us and be faithful to our own, caring for them and helping them grow.
I am very glad that Clayton's OBU experience prepared him for ministry-- but that is not everyone's story.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
We Will Not Be Silenced (Part 2)
Although the first attempt at dialogue went disastrously, students continued an attempt at dialogue with the administration. The first student had been bullied, but hopes were high that if, perhaps, administration was approached directly the result might be more profitable.
Five seniors, involved in various activities and organizations across campus, all exemplary students, decided to try to schedule a meeting with Dr. Whitlock and Dr. Norman. This group intentionally included two SGA representatives. The goal of this meeting was to bring to the attention of the administration what was perceived to be concerns of the student body. The group did not want their questions answered, but rather, intended to suggest an avenue which could put the administration directly into dialogue with the students. The unrest among the student body, which they sensed, was great enough to warrant direct address by the administration. Basically the students wanted to say, "You've got to let the students know what is going on or they're going to riot."
This sentiment was not unwarranted. There had already been proposed ideas for peaceful protests among the students. But in favor of moving forward in unity, these five decided to try to make ways for dialogue.
In preparation for this meeting the five students reviewed the 2020 plan as well as Dr. Whitlock's 2010 convocation address. Because they wanted to discuss the future of the University, they arrived knowing both what the administration had already presented as their vision for the future, as well as the concerns of the student body.
This student group wished to propose an open forum where students would be empowered to ask administrators about their concerns. Furthermore, they explained, this forum could have pre-selected questions, submitted by students in advance to an email account created for this event. This way the students could get the answers they wanted while the administration could maintain the decorum of a well-organized official event, they thought.
But before this meeting could take place, the students were forced to reschedule two or three times. Granted, it is hard to get seven busy schedules to line up. But when the time was finally set, it had not been rescheduled to a more opportune time to give them plenty of time to talk, but was scheduled for the 10:00 hour (which is free because of chapel), meaning the students had about 45 minutes to present weeks' worth of preparation.
The meeting began with the students individually introducing who they were, what they did around campus, and why they were there. They talked openly about students' concerns with the state of the University, each of them having prepared a part of the presentation.
Dr. Whitlock and Dr. Norman wanted to simply answer these concerns, but the students had not come for answers. They knew that the student body needed to hear these answers for themselves. They came in solidarity with the student body as their representatives asking for openness.
Dr. Whitlock and Dr. Norman spent most of the meeting pushing the responsibility for communication back on to the students asking things like, "Why aren't you dispelling these rumors?"
But these students did not know the answers to the questions the student body was asking. How were they supposed to stop rumors when there were no answers to be had?
Why was the administration's secrecy suddenly the burden of these students?
Besides, this meeting was not about answers. It was about empowering students in a formal venue. But the overarching feeling the students were confronted with in the meeting was, "Why aren't you doing something about this?"
In the final five minutes, three students clarified what seemed to be a misunderstanding on the part of the administrators, explaining that they were not SGA representatives (the first thing which they had said in the meeting). From there, the meeting went totally downhill.
"Who are you again?"
"We're here to represent the student body."
"You're not in SGA; you don't represent anybody."
It seemed as if any communication made throughout the meeting had been completely undermined. The students left feeling blown off, as if, because they were mostly humanities majors, they somehow only represented a small sect of the school.
Each of them left feeling like they had no say in the future of their own institution and that the administration did not care.
At 12:44 PM that day, David Whitlock tweeted:
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Click here to read about the administration's little P.R. event, ostensibly to address students' concerns.
Five seniors, involved in various activities and organizations across campus, all exemplary students, decided to try to schedule a meeting with Dr. Whitlock and Dr. Norman. This group intentionally included two SGA representatives. The goal of this meeting was to bring to the attention of the administration what was perceived to be concerns of the student body. The group did not want their questions answered, but rather, intended to suggest an avenue which could put the administration directly into dialogue with the students. The unrest among the student body, which they sensed, was great enough to warrant direct address by the administration. Basically the students wanted to say, "You've got to let the students know what is going on or they're going to riot."
This sentiment was not unwarranted. There had already been proposed ideas for peaceful protests among the students. But in favor of moving forward in unity, these five decided to try to make ways for dialogue.
In preparation for this meeting the five students reviewed the 2020 plan as well as Dr. Whitlock's 2010 convocation address. Because they wanted to discuss the future of the University, they arrived knowing both what the administration had already presented as their vision for the future, as well as the concerns of the student body.
This student group wished to propose an open forum where students would be empowered to ask administrators about their concerns. Furthermore, they explained, this forum could have pre-selected questions, submitted by students in advance to an email account created for this event. This way the students could get the answers they wanted while the administration could maintain the decorum of a well-organized official event, they thought.
But before this meeting could take place, the students were forced to reschedule two or three times. Granted, it is hard to get seven busy schedules to line up. But when the time was finally set, it had not been rescheduled to a more opportune time to give them plenty of time to talk, but was scheduled for the 10:00 hour (which is free because of chapel), meaning the students had about 45 minutes to present weeks' worth of preparation.
The meeting began with the students individually introducing who they were, what they did around campus, and why they were there. They talked openly about students' concerns with the state of the University, each of them having prepared a part of the presentation.
Dr. Whitlock and Dr. Norman wanted to simply answer these concerns, but the students had not come for answers. They knew that the student body needed to hear these answers for themselves. They came in solidarity with the student body as their representatives asking for openness.
Dr. Whitlock and Dr. Norman spent most of the meeting pushing the responsibility for communication back on to the students asking things like, "Why aren't you dispelling these rumors?"
But these students did not know the answers to the questions the student body was asking. How were they supposed to stop rumors when there were no answers to be had?
Why was the administration's secrecy suddenly the burden of these students?
Besides, this meeting was not about answers. It was about empowering students in a formal venue. But the overarching feeling the students were confronted with in the meeting was, "Why aren't you doing something about this?"
In the final five minutes, three students clarified what seemed to be a misunderstanding on the part of the administrators, explaining that they were not SGA representatives (the first thing which they had said in the meeting). From there, the meeting went totally downhill.
"Who are you again?"
"We're here to represent the student body."
"You're not in SGA; you don't represent anybody."
It seemed as if any communication made throughout the meeting had been completely undermined. The students left feeling blown off, as if, because they were mostly humanities majors, they somehow only represented a small sect of the school.
Each of them left feeling like they had no say in the future of their own institution and that the administration did not care.
At 12:44 PM that day, David Whitlock tweeted:
Click here to read about the administration's little P.R. event, ostensibly to address students' concerns.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
We Will Not Be Silenced (Part 1)
As I mentioned in the last post, suspicion arose for most upperclassmen upon arrival to Welcome Week, August 2010. After many lengthy discussions of where the students' voices properly fit into the university atmosphere and what sorts of actions should be taken, the first action came by the brave pen of one student as a letter to the editor of the Bison.
This letter mentioned concerns for the University's future, citing that although the 2020 plan seemed to propose a lofty vision of University prosperity, the means to that end seemed to be "relieving [professors] of their professorial duties," as well as demoting a beloved administrator "masked behind a simple, titular change." The dates and figures for the student's knowledge came from his leadership in the Welcome Week Steering Committee, something openly discussed in the letter. In short, this letter asked for more information, specifically, asking the Bison to write stories which would address what this student perceived to be the concerns of the student body.
This letter came out in v. 94, issue 6, of the Bison on October, 20, 2010. This issue of the newspaper came out the day before Fall Break. Upon return to Bison Hill (10-25-10), the student received a call from Dr. Whitlock's secretary on his cell phone, expressing an urgent desire that he meet with the president. It was understood from that conversation that the meeting would be that day. After all, the secretary seemed to have his schedule in front of her while conferring with the student about a time to meet.
After spending the morning looking up words used in the letter to make sure that the time between Welcome Week and Fall Break in which the letter had been crafted, had indeed been sufficient time to make sure that every word was the correct one, he felt sure in his decision to put his name on such a letter in such a forum.
After taking a test, the student arrived at Dr. Whitlock's office and was told it would be just a moment before the president would see him. When he walked into the front door of the president's office, Dr. Whitlock was walking in the side, a copy of the Bison in hand.
Dr. Whitlock positioned the two on two chairs which were placed parallel to one another, the national championship basketball between them. This made eye contact very difficult as the two were either facing the same way or separated by a basketball.
After a handshake, initiated by the student-- not the president, Dr. Whitlock began the meeting with a series of statements which revealed clearly the hostile nature of the meeting. This involved statements like: "I was wrong about you." "I thought you would come to me if you had concerns instead of writing a letter like this." "This kind of information is not for students to know." "I was out of town last week, I just got a copy of this this morning." As well as a repetition of the statement, "I misjudged you."
When Dr. Whitlock finished with this invective, he looked to the student for an answer. Having realized that this diatribe contained no question, the student calmly began to state, "My purpose in writing the letter..." But he was never able to finish explaining his thought. In his first opportunity to speak in this meeting he was interrupted by Dr. Whitlock reading the expressed purpose as written in the letter. Dr. Whitlock then looked to the student for an answer.
He tried again. "I wrote the letter because..." At this point, he was again interrupted. Dr. Whitlock stopped him from speaking and demanded, "The only thing I need to know is, do you think everything written in this letter is true?" Obviously, confronted with such a question, the student began to second guess himself. But he remembered that all morning he had rechecked every word of that letter, not to mention that he had spent two months writing it in the first place (a fact mentioned in the letter itself). Feeling empowered by these things, the student replied, "Yes." At this point he was attacked with another onslaught of "I misjudged you." etc.
At this point, Dr. Whitlock put the paper down on the table and stood up; he was now literally talking down to the student. Here he asked a few questions, putting the burden of administrative secrecy onto the student. "Why didn't you talk to someone?" "Don't you know who you are and what it means to put your name on a letter like this?" It was very clear that Dr. Whitlock thought the letter was written unthinkingly, in a fit of rage-- perhaps like the one which had inspired this meeting.
Finally, Dr. Whitlock asked, "Do you think every hiring decision needs to go through students?" To this, the student responded, "No, and I said that in the letter. I was only asking for more information." To this, Dr. Whitlock replied by laughing at the student and asking, "Oh, so if you don't know about something, then no student does?"
Of course, at this point in time, that student was currently reading every single post which appeared on the OBU website. So the answer was probably, yes. But that is beside the point.
After laughing at the student, Dr. Whitlock walked to his desk-- perhaps 8 or 9 yards away, sat down, and started writing. Feeling dismissed, the student stood up, got his backpack and walked to the door. At this point, Dr. Whitlock started talking again.
"Admissions is probably a hard place to work for you with such a duplicitous attitude towards the university."
The student recalls that at this point he had little to say to the president. He had been literally talked down to, laughed at, and now, Dr. Whitlock was making it clear that he did not know what a student worker did in the Admissions office. Student workers are not on the front lines convincing students to come to OBU, they are most often in the back folding t-shirts. Furthermore, this student had been doing this job quite competently for nearly 4 years.
From here, Dr. Whitlock managed to mention that the issues with an ex-professor, whose name he said incorrectly, did not concern the student. Already sitting at his desk, he turned to face his computer.
Certain he was now dismissed, the student again walked to the door and managed to open it this time. Again, Dr. Whitlock resumed speaking.
"You should talk to the head of admissions about position reassignment."
In shock, from the doorway, the student simply responded, "My job?"
"Yes. Something with the same wages and the same hours, but a different job because it must be hard for you to work in Admissions when you hate the University so much."
Unable to stand anymore, the student nodded and left.
-------------------------------------------
Click here for Part 2 in this series.
This letter mentioned concerns for the University's future, citing that although the 2020 plan seemed to propose a lofty vision of University prosperity, the means to that end seemed to be "relieving [professors] of their professorial duties," as well as demoting a beloved administrator "masked behind a simple, titular change." The dates and figures for the student's knowledge came from his leadership in the Welcome Week Steering Committee, something openly discussed in the letter. In short, this letter asked for more information, specifically, asking the Bison to write stories which would address what this student perceived to be the concerns of the student body.
This letter came out in v. 94, issue 6, of the Bison on October, 20, 2010. This issue of the newspaper came out the day before Fall Break. Upon return to Bison Hill (10-25-10), the student received a call from Dr. Whitlock's secretary on his cell phone, expressing an urgent desire that he meet with the president. It was understood from that conversation that the meeting would be that day. After all, the secretary seemed to have his schedule in front of her while conferring with the student about a time to meet.
After spending the morning looking up words used in the letter to make sure that the time between Welcome Week and Fall Break in which the letter had been crafted, had indeed been sufficient time to make sure that every word was the correct one, he felt sure in his decision to put his name on such a letter in such a forum.
After taking a test, the student arrived at Dr. Whitlock's office and was told it would be just a moment before the president would see him. When he walked into the front door of the president's office, Dr. Whitlock was walking in the side, a copy of the Bison in hand.
Dr. Whitlock positioned the two on two chairs which were placed parallel to one another, the national championship basketball between them. This made eye contact very difficult as the two were either facing the same way or separated by a basketball.
After a handshake, initiated by the student-- not the president, Dr. Whitlock began the meeting with a series of statements which revealed clearly the hostile nature of the meeting. This involved statements like: "I was wrong about you." "I thought you would come to me if you had concerns instead of writing a letter like this." "This kind of information is not for students to know." "I was out of town last week, I just got a copy of this this morning." As well as a repetition of the statement, "I misjudged you."
When Dr. Whitlock finished with this invective, he looked to the student for an answer. Having realized that this diatribe contained no question, the student calmly began to state, "My purpose in writing the letter..." But he was never able to finish explaining his thought. In his first opportunity to speak in this meeting he was interrupted by Dr. Whitlock reading the expressed purpose as written in the letter. Dr. Whitlock then looked to the student for an answer.
He tried again. "I wrote the letter because..." At this point, he was again interrupted. Dr. Whitlock stopped him from speaking and demanded, "The only thing I need to know is, do you think everything written in this letter is true?" Obviously, confronted with such a question, the student began to second guess himself. But he remembered that all morning he had rechecked every word of that letter, not to mention that he had spent two months writing it in the first place (a fact mentioned in the letter itself). Feeling empowered by these things, the student replied, "Yes." At this point he was attacked with another onslaught of "I misjudged you." etc.
At this point, Dr. Whitlock put the paper down on the table and stood up; he was now literally talking down to the student. Here he asked a few questions, putting the burden of administrative secrecy onto the student. "Why didn't you talk to someone?" "Don't you know who you are and what it means to put your name on a letter like this?" It was very clear that Dr. Whitlock thought the letter was written unthinkingly, in a fit of rage-- perhaps like the one which had inspired this meeting.
Finally, Dr. Whitlock asked, "Do you think every hiring decision needs to go through students?" To this, the student responded, "No, and I said that in the letter. I was only asking for more information." To this, Dr. Whitlock replied by laughing at the student and asking, "Oh, so if you don't know about something, then no student does?"
Of course, at this point in time, that student was currently reading every single post which appeared on the OBU website. So the answer was probably, yes. But that is beside the point.
After laughing at the student, Dr. Whitlock walked to his desk-- perhaps 8 or 9 yards away, sat down, and started writing. Feeling dismissed, the student stood up, got his backpack and walked to the door. At this point, Dr. Whitlock started talking again.
"Admissions is probably a hard place to work for you with such a duplicitous attitude towards the university."
The student recalls that at this point he had little to say to the president. He had been literally talked down to, laughed at, and now, Dr. Whitlock was making it clear that he did not know what a student worker did in the Admissions office. Student workers are not on the front lines convincing students to come to OBU, they are most often in the back folding t-shirts. Furthermore, this student had been doing this job quite competently for nearly 4 years.
From here, Dr. Whitlock managed to mention that the issues with an ex-professor, whose name he said incorrectly, did not concern the student. Already sitting at his desk, he turned to face his computer.
Certain he was now dismissed, the student again walked to the door and managed to open it this time. Again, Dr. Whitlock resumed speaking.
"You should talk to the head of admissions about position reassignment."
In shock, from the doorway, the student simply responded, "My job?"
"Yes. Something with the same wages and the same hours, but a different job because it must be hard for you to work in Admissions when you hate the University so much."
Unable to stand anymore, the student nodded and left.
-------------------------------------------
Click here for Part 2 in this series.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
My OBU Story: Veronica Pistone
Dear Friends, please allow me to introduce myself.
My name is Veronica Pistone. I am a May 2011 OBU graduate and current seminarian at Brite Divinity School. After taking time to consider Jacob's invitation to become a contributing editor I have decided to add my voice to Save OBU-- and I’d like to use my first post to tell you why.
OBU represents, for me, maybe the best four years of my life. At OBU I learned to think, I met my best friends, I fell in love with my future husband. It was a place where I blossomed academically and socially-- and regardless of devastating changes which began in my final years there, I still think of it fondly.
I hope that many of you think the same way.
I came to OBU a 17-year-old who knew everything. (Didn’t we all?) I came because I wanted to study religion and the program was incredibly viable academically. I grew up evangelical, I wanted to get far away from my home-- but not too far-- OBU seemed like an ideal choice. Add a little scholarship money and I packed my bags and headed to Shawnee.
Some things I did not know about OBU as a high schooler turned out to be my favorite things.
2. Liberal arts curriculum opened my eyes to the possibilities of the world. OBU trained me to believe that this style of education was going to make me fully human, and I still believe it. Some of my favorite memories include my time in Civ-- still the class which stands as the reason I consider myself an educated individual.
3. My final, and maybe most important point-- my bachelor education has well-beyond prepared me for success anywhere in my field. After studying religion at OBU, I was able to skip almost all of the introductory classes at my seminary. Fellow students ask all the time, “Again, where did you go to undergrad?” I was a biblical languages major and left being able to translate on par with (if not better than) many of the doctoral students in my classes.
I don’t say this to say I’m awesome at what I do. I say this because OBU’s program was top notch. I speak of my department because that’s what I know. But I know many others’ stories are the same as mine.
OBU is a treasure. No one would expect an institution quite as beautiful in the middle of nowhere, bible belt. But there is and it’s near and dear to my heart.
Now, there comes a time when places of your past cease to be the same and it’s time to mourn and move on. Possibly that’s what is happening at OBU. But, to me, this feels less like a death and more like a murder. Desiring to be a good alumna, it is my duty to at least mace the killer on the way down if I can do nothing else.
This is important to me because future generations of evangelicals are being robbed of the opportunity to blossom into people whose voice is respected in both the Christian and the academic world. And that is something worth fighting for.
I love OBU. I hope this reminds you of some of the reasons you do too. We cannot let our beloved ship go down without at least bailing water like crazy. In future posts, I will explain further why I think my beloved institution is in danger. But for now, this is who I am and I stand in solidarity with anyone looking to save OBU. I hope you will stand with me.
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| 2010 Walk-- courtesy OBU facebook |
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
My OBU Story: Kris Shiplet '03
We are pleased to have found so much support in such a short time. Dozens of you have emailed with words of encouragement and gratitude. As we build this grassroots network, we want to help connect current students with retired faculty, older alumni with recent alumni, and Shawnee residents with Baptist clergy and laypeople around the state. Most of us know OBU only from our personal experience. Yet others' OBU experiences can provide great insight. We all share -- students, alumni, parents, faculty, and concerned friends -- a wellspring of affection for OBU, a great deal of anger and disappointment about its recent trend toward fundamentalism, and a collective fear for its future as long as we lack autonomy and independence from the BGCO.
Today, we continue sharing our OBU stories. If you would like to send in yours, copy the text below and type to your heart's content! Email your story to SaveOBU@gmail.com for inclusion in an upcoming edition!
Name: Kris Shiplet
Years: 1999-2003
Major(s): Youth Ministry & Journalism
Hometown: Bixby, Oklahoma
Church Affiliation Then: Southern Baptist
How/Why I Chose OBU: I felt called to be a youth pastor and wanted to go to a college that would give me the knowledge needed for the job. Raised by a Baptist pastor and Shawnee was the perfect distance away from home.
Good Times: Many, many good memories. Meeting and bonding with several students, especially Bible and ministry majors. Eating with the guys at Van's Pig Stand, late-night studying at IHOP/Denny's. Working with some talented writers at The Bison and writing "The Ship on Sports." Meeting my wife through one of my roommates.
Bad Times: Seeing the odd tension between fundamentalists and moderates on a daily basis. I think we had a great blend of professors but it was obvious even then that OBU was headed in the wrong direction because of Dr. Brister's leanings. Being labeled a liberal amongst fellow ministry majors because I think women in ministry is a good thing.
Best Thing(s) about OBU: Preaching at "OBU Day" my Freshman and Sophomore years. When I preached at a church in Enid my Freshman year, that was my very first experience behind the pulpit. When I preached at a small church in St. Louis, OK my sophomore year, I got my very first job in youth ministry and was there for the rest of my time as a student. Learning from great profs like Mr. Philip Todd, Dr. Mac, Dr. Bobby Kelly and Dr. Tom Wilks...
Worst Thing(s) about OBU: Again, just the odd tension between a fundamentalist President and conservative/moderate profs. Finding out that not too long after I left Mr. Todd, who taught me not only about journalism but a great deal about life in general, was fired basically because he wouldn't allow Brister to completely censor the newspaper.
Spiritual/Religious Reflections (if any): OBU was great for my spiritual life. I had plenty of fellow students and professors who encouraged me in my faith. When my mom had a stroke, I had a lot of support. If I had a question about ministry or something good to share, I always had support right there. I learned to think for myself and become more open-minded, but definitely didn't "lose my faith." I came there with the idea of learning things on my own, not just taking my dad's opinion, and I accomplished that.
Life/Career: I'm married and have a great dog :) I work as a customer service rep for US Cellular and volunteer/teach in the youth ministry at Christ's Church of Yukon.
Residence: Yukon, OK
Church Affiliation Now: Christian Independent
Reflections on OBU-BGCO Relationship: I genuinely believe that the two need to break up. OBU needs freedom from the organization itself. OBU can be a Baptist University without being the redheaded stepchild of the Mother that is BGCO. It needs to be a place of learning, not just a 4-year-long Sunday School class that it seems to be becoming.
Final Thoughts: I genuinely loved my time on Bison Hill and pray for its success. I still have friends who work there and hope they can continue to teach future generations. I hope true balanced liberal arts education can be restored.
Now, it's your turn...
Name:
Years:
Major(s):
Hometown:
Church Affiliation Then:
How/Why I Chose OBU:
Good Times:
Bad Times:
Best Thing(s) about OBU:
Worst Thing(s) about OBU:
Spiritual/Religious Reflections (if any):
Life/Career:
Residence:
Church Affiliation Now:
Reflections on OBU-BGCO Relationship:
Final Thoughts:
Today, we continue sharing our OBU stories. If you would like to send in yours, copy the text below and type to your heart's content! Email your story to SaveOBU@gmail.com for inclusion in an upcoming edition!
Name: Kris Shiplet
Years: 1999-2003
Major(s): Youth Ministry & Journalism
Hometown: Bixby, Oklahoma
Church Affiliation Then: Southern Baptist
How/Why I Chose OBU: I felt called to be a youth pastor and wanted to go to a college that would give me the knowledge needed for the job. Raised by a Baptist pastor and Shawnee was the perfect distance away from home.
Good Times: Many, many good memories. Meeting and bonding with several students, especially Bible and ministry majors. Eating with the guys at Van's Pig Stand, late-night studying at IHOP/Denny's. Working with some talented writers at The Bison and writing "The Ship on Sports." Meeting my wife through one of my roommates.
Bad Times: Seeing the odd tension between fundamentalists and moderates on a daily basis. I think we had a great blend of professors but it was obvious even then that OBU was headed in the wrong direction because of Dr. Brister's leanings. Being labeled a liberal amongst fellow ministry majors because I think women in ministry is a good thing.
Best Thing(s) about OBU: Preaching at "OBU Day" my Freshman and Sophomore years. When I preached at a church in Enid my Freshman year, that was my very first experience behind the pulpit. When I preached at a small church in St. Louis, OK my sophomore year, I got my very first job in youth ministry and was there for the rest of my time as a student. Learning from great profs like Mr. Philip Todd, Dr. Mac, Dr. Bobby Kelly and Dr. Tom Wilks...
Worst Thing(s) about OBU: Again, just the odd tension between a fundamentalist President and conservative/moderate profs. Finding out that not too long after I left Mr. Todd, who taught me not only about journalism but a great deal about life in general, was fired basically because he wouldn't allow Brister to completely censor the newspaper.
Spiritual/Religious Reflections (if any): OBU was great for my spiritual life. I had plenty of fellow students and professors who encouraged me in my faith. When my mom had a stroke, I had a lot of support. If I had a question about ministry or something good to share, I always had support right there. I learned to think for myself and become more open-minded, but definitely didn't "lose my faith." I came there with the idea of learning things on my own, not just taking my dad's opinion, and I accomplished that.
Life/Career: I'm married and have a great dog :) I work as a customer service rep for US Cellular and volunteer/teach in the youth ministry at Christ's Church of Yukon.
Residence: Yukon, OK
Church Affiliation Now: Christian Independent
Final Thoughts: I genuinely loved my time on Bison Hill and pray for its success. I still have friends who work there and hope they can continue to teach future generations. I hope true balanced liberal arts education can be restored.
Now, it's your turn...
Name:
Years:
Major(s):
Hometown:
Church Affiliation Then:
How/Why I Chose OBU:
Good Times:
Bad Times:
Best Thing(s) about OBU:
Worst Thing(s) about OBU:
Spiritual/Religious Reflections (if any):
Life/Career:
Residence:
Church Affiliation Now:
Reflections on OBU-BGCO Relationship:
Final Thoughts:
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Student Saturday: My OBU Story
One of the things I want this blog to become is a forum for students and alumni to tell their OBU stories. Many people have indicated interest, but say they don't know exactly what to say. Some are hesitant to speak publicly for fear of recrimination or harassment. Others are unsure whether to emphasize the positive aspects, or the ways in which encroaching fundamentalism detracted from their experience.
I'm hoping some of you have dramatic stories of run-ins with fundamentalism -- being silenced by administrators, being threatened or harassed, being forced into reparative therapy for being gay, etc. I don't have any stories like that. My story is actually pretty ordinary. But it is my own, and I'm happy to share it with you in gratitude for your kindness in taking the time to hear all I've had to say these past six weeks.
Name: Jacob Lupfer
Years: 1999-2002
Major(s): Religion (Bible emphasis)
Hometown: Kissimmee, Florida
Church Affiliation Then: First United Methodist Church, Kissimmee, Florida
How/Why I Chose OBU: A girl
Good Times: Life felt pretty carefree! I spent a lot of time with my girlfriend (we married in 2002 and divorced in 2008), but also enjoyed a small-ish circle of really good friends. In 2001 and 2002, I completed the OKC Memorial Marathon -- that was 10 years and 50 pounds ago, but remains one of my proudest accomplishments. I went hiking in several locations around Oklahoma and visited a number of friends' hometowns. I don't have a lot of campus memories that stick out in my mind, but I enjoyed late-night study and BS sessions at Denny's, IHOP (which opened while I was there), a dumpy diner/truck stop the name of which escapes me now, and a bar called Dietrich's. I absolutely loved Van's Pig Stand, and there were two other BBQ places -- one on S. Kickapoo and one just east of campus on MacArthur -- that we went to a lot. I did some volunteer work at the Central Oklahoma Juvenile Center in Tecumseh, which was pretty eye-opening. I jogged around the airport, downtown, and along the (then) dirt roads near St. Gregory's. I tried racquetball, but never became very good. I took voice lessons from a music major. Attending oratorio concerts helped nurture a lifelong love of sacred choral music. I loved all the professors in my department. I wish I had taken more classes with Don Wester and Tom Dowdy.
Bad Times: J-Term and summer school were pretty boring -- and that's saying something because much of the time at OBU, there wasn't a lot going on. It was hard to have a serious girlfriend, because you could never spend time alone together. In retrospect, I found the authoritarian cultural/institutional dynamic about morals and sexuality to be extremely backwards, repressive, and ultimately pretty harmful to people's development. I learned to think for myself at OBU, but I didn't learn to be my own person. I enjoyed class lectures, but discussions could be pretty painful. A lot of students had never thought for themselves and had no intention of ever doing so. Chapel services were often quite bad (though I liked the pipe organ). The fact that chapel was compulsory struck me as extremely odd, but I was so compliant and non-confrontational back then I never tested the policy to find out what the consequences were, if any. I had a NatSci biology class that was 5% science and 95% indoctrination. It was the only class I had at OBU that was just awful. At the time, I was no Mark Brister fan. I knew he had been part of the fundamentalist takeover and I was suspicious of his every move, especially when Professor Slayden Yarbrough retired under circumstances that weren't clear to me. I had a few friends on the Bison staff, and it stinks how badly student journalism has been censored at OBU.
Best Thing(s) about OBU: The professors were great. Almost from the beginning, I got the feeling that I wanted to become a professor one day (though I wouldn't last long at a place like OBU). My teachers took the time to get to know me, to mentor me, and to take my questions seriously. When I decided to go to graduate school, they were very encouraging and helpful. Occasionally we brought scholars to OBU for conferences and lectures, and this helped me to see what academia outside the confines of fundamentalist-tending institutions could be like. Meeting scholars like Jacob Neusner, William Scott Green, Phyllis Trible, and others turned out to be very consequential for my development.
Worst Thing(s) about OBU: The culture was extremely authoritarian and conformist. I was always someone who pretty much did what I thought my parents/church/family wanted, but even I never got over how weird it was to be part of a community that was so conformist. Maybe I just wasn't familiar with the Calvinist strand in Baptist life where you have to show people that you're "in." But it was strange seeing Christians trying so hard to out-Christian one another. Combine that with the bizarre mating ritual that involved getting very fashionably dressed for Tuesday night BCM services... it was just all very strange to me. And as much as I hated chapel, I sometimes wished there was a Sunday service on campus because a lot of the Baptist churches in and around Shawnee were insufferable -- like parodies of themselves. (To be fair, I never attended UBC or FBC. Eventually, I attend the UMC church downtown, and finally ended up driving 40 miles each way to Mayflower United Church of Christ in Oklahoma City, which was absolutely wonderful). Overall, there were things about OBU that seemed to retard peoples' personal development. A lot of identity/personality/values issues tend not to get worked out in that kind of environment, because it's only "okay" to be one kind of person. I think a lot of people ended up trying so hard to be that idealized OBU Christian that they resisted/fought/hated whatever they actually were. Well, enough pop psychology. I just feel like there were ways in which being at OBU was more harmful than helpful, and to the degree that's true, it's a shame.
Spiritual/Religious Reflections (if any): For many years, most OBU students who entered as church kids and left as moderate evangelicals can honestly say that OBU helped them to think for themselves, engage their religious tradition with a good balance of head and heart, and contributed to their development as thinking Christians. That's great. And really, I think that ideal is about the best we can hope for. My journey was quite different. At OBU, I realized I didn't believe most of what I was taught about the Bible, God and Jesus as a child. The books I read and the critical thinking skills I learned helped me arrive at relatively unorthodox positions. Most of all, I learned that it's better to take the Bible seriously than literally -- and that the two are mutually exclusive. For several years, I would keep searching for a version of Protestantism I could believe honestly and with integrity. In the end, all I could do was define my faith in terms of what I didn't believe, not what I did believe. There turned out not to be much left. So I know all the hymns, most of the scriptures and I love parts of the tradition, but I just don't feel it. I'm eternally grateful that OBU afforded me the skills, knowledge, and encouragement to think through some of the most profound implications of our existence. I hope others will continue to find that same opportunity, no matter where their journey takes them.
Life/Career: Master of Theological Studies at Boston University School of Theology; 2 years in parish ministry; 2 years in K-12 public education; Currently pursuing a Ph.D. in political science
Residence: Washington, D.C.
Church Affiliation Now: None
Reflections on OBU-BGCO Relationship: People's perceptions about OBU are relative. I thought I was conservative, but when I came to OBU, I was liberal by comparison. What amazed me was this prevalent idea among Oklahoma Baptists that OBU was liberal. I always found that laughable, but compared to a lot of fundamentalist churches in Oklahoma, I guess it's true. Even now, as fundamentalists are replacing moderates on Bison Hill and the BGCO is obviously calling a lot of the shots, there are still Baptist pastors warning their young congregants, "Don't go to OBU -- you'll lose your faith." The only way we are ever going to win this fight is if we fight battles on two fronts. We all know the idea that OBU is liberal is completely ridiculous -- and we need to push back against fundamentalism whenever it rears its ugly head. But to the degree that Oklahoma Baptist clergy and laypeople actually do believe OBU is liberal, godless, and/or dangerous, we need to continue to stoke and affirm those fears. In order for our long-awaited split to happen, it can't just be a coalition of relative moderates breaking the tie that binds us to fundamentalists. It has to be a large number of fundamentalists saying "good riddance" to us.
Final Thoughts: I am happy to continue providing some informational and structural resources to Save OBU. But I cannot be the only leader in this movement. Not that the fundamentalists would like me any better if I was a United Methodist minister or a liberal Episcopal layman, but the fact that I turned out not to be very religious makes me even easier to dismiss. While there are plenty of things I find admirable about the Baptist tradition before the fundamentalist takeover, it never was or will be my tradition. But for many of you, it is yours. That's why we need you to be leaders in this movement. You have had something taken from you, and you are the ones who need to fight to take it back.
As always, if you would like to share your OBU story, perhaps you can follow some version of the format I used above. Feel free to copy the text below and, in the words of Shakespeare, "Speak what you feel, not what you ought to say."
Name:
Years:
Major(s):
Hometown:
Church Affiliation Then:
How/Why I Chose OBU:
Good Times:
Bad Times:
Best Thing(s) about OBU:
Worst Thing(s) about OBU:
Spiritual/Religious Reflections (if any):
Life/Career:
Residence:
Church Affiliation Now:
Reflections on OBU-BGCO Relationship:
Final Thoughts:
I'm hoping some of you have dramatic stories of run-ins with fundamentalism -- being silenced by administrators, being threatened or harassed, being forced into reparative therapy for being gay, etc. I don't have any stories like that. My story is actually pretty ordinary. But it is my own, and I'm happy to share it with you in gratitude for your kindness in taking the time to hear all I've had to say these past six weeks.
Name: Jacob Lupfer
Years: 1999-2002
Major(s): Religion (Bible emphasis)
Hometown: Kissimmee, Florida
Church Affiliation Then: First United Methodist Church, Kissimmee, Florida
How/Why I Chose OBU: A girl
Good Times: Life felt pretty carefree! I spent a lot of time with my girlfriend (we married in 2002 and divorced in 2008), but also enjoyed a small-ish circle of really good friends. In 2001 and 2002, I completed the OKC Memorial Marathon -- that was 10 years and 50 pounds ago, but remains one of my proudest accomplishments. I went hiking in several locations around Oklahoma and visited a number of friends' hometowns. I don't have a lot of campus memories that stick out in my mind, but I enjoyed late-night study and BS sessions at Denny's, IHOP (which opened while I was there), a dumpy diner/truck stop the name of which escapes me now, and a bar called Dietrich's. I absolutely loved Van's Pig Stand, and there were two other BBQ places -- one on S. Kickapoo and one just east of campus on MacArthur -- that we went to a lot. I did some volunteer work at the Central Oklahoma Juvenile Center in Tecumseh, which was pretty eye-opening. I jogged around the airport, downtown, and along the (then) dirt roads near St. Gregory's. I tried racquetball, but never became very good. I took voice lessons from a music major. Attending oratorio concerts helped nurture a lifelong love of sacred choral music. I loved all the professors in my department. I wish I had taken more classes with Don Wester and Tom Dowdy.
Bad Times: J-Term and summer school were pretty boring -- and that's saying something because much of the time at OBU, there wasn't a lot going on. It was hard to have a serious girlfriend, because you could never spend time alone together. In retrospect, I found the authoritarian cultural/institutional dynamic about morals and sexuality to be extremely backwards, repressive, and ultimately pretty harmful to people's development. I learned to think for myself at OBU, but I didn't learn to be my own person. I enjoyed class lectures, but discussions could be pretty painful. A lot of students had never thought for themselves and had no intention of ever doing so. Chapel services were often quite bad (though I liked the pipe organ). The fact that chapel was compulsory struck me as extremely odd, but I was so compliant and non-confrontational back then I never tested the policy to find out what the consequences were, if any. I had a NatSci biology class that was 5% science and 95% indoctrination. It was the only class I had at OBU that was just awful. At the time, I was no Mark Brister fan. I knew he had been part of the fundamentalist takeover and I was suspicious of his every move, especially when Professor Slayden Yarbrough retired under circumstances that weren't clear to me. I had a few friends on the Bison staff, and it stinks how badly student journalism has been censored at OBU.
Best Thing(s) about OBU: The professors were great. Almost from the beginning, I got the feeling that I wanted to become a professor one day (though I wouldn't last long at a place like OBU). My teachers took the time to get to know me, to mentor me, and to take my questions seriously. When I decided to go to graduate school, they were very encouraging and helpful. Occasionally we brought scholars to OBU for conferences and lectures, and this helped me to see what academia outside the confines of fundamentalist-tending institutions could be like. Meeting scholars like Jacob Neusner, William Scott Green, Phyllis Trible, and others turned out to be very consequential for my development.
Worst Thing(s) about OBU: The culture was extremely authoritarian and conformist. I was always someone who pretty much did what I thought my parents/church/family wanted, but even I never got over how weird it was to be part of a community that was so conformist. Maybe I just wasn't familiar with the Calvinist strand in Baptist life where you have to show people that you're "in." But it was strange seeing Christians trying so hard to out-Christian one another. Combine that with the bizarre mating ritual that involved getting very fashionably dressed for Tuesday night BCM services... it was just all very strange to me. And as much as I hated chapel, I sometimes wished there was a Sunday service on campus because a lot of the Baptist churches in and around Shawnee were insufferable -- like parodies of themselves. (To be fair, I never attended UBC or FBC. Eventually, I attend the UMC church downtown, and finally ended up driving 40 miles each way to Mayflower United Church of Christ in Oklahoma City, which was absolutely wonderful). Overall, there were things about OBU that seemed to retard peoples' personal development. A lot of identity/personality/values issues tend not to get worked out in that kind of environment, because it's only "okay" to be one kind of person. I think a lot of people ended up trying so hard to be that idealized OBU Christian that they resisted/fought/hated whatever they actually were. Well, enough pop psychology. I just feel like there were ways in which being at OBU was more harmful than helpful, and to the degree that's true, it's a shame.
Spiritual/Religious Reflections (if any): For many years, most OBU students who entered as church kids and left as moderate evangelicals can honestly say that OBU helped them to think for themselves, engage their religious tradition with a good balance of head and heart, and contributed to their development as thinking Christians. That's great. And really, I think that ideal is about the best we can hope for. My journey was quite different. At OBU, I realized I didn't believe most of what I was taught about the Bible, God and Jesus as a child. The books I read and the critical thinking skills I learned helped me arrive at relatively unorthodox positions. Most of all, I learned that it's better to take the Bible seriously than literally -- and that the two are mutually exclusive. For several years, I would keep searching for a version of Protestantism I could believe honestly and with integrity. In the end, all I could do was define my faith in terms of what I didn't believe, not what I did believe. There turned out not to be much left. So I know all the hymns, most of the scriptures and I love parts of the tradition, but I just don't feel it. I'm eternally grateful that OBU afforded me the skills, knowledge, and encouragement to think through some of the most profound implications of our existence. I hope others will continue to find that same opportunity, no matter where their journey takes them.
Life/Career: Master of Theological Studies at Boston University School of Theology; 2 years in parish ministry; 2 years in K-12 public education; Currently pursuing a Ph.D. in political science
Residence: Washington, D.C.
Church Affiliation Now: None
Reflections on OBU-BGCO Relationship: People's perceptions about OBU are relative. I thought I was conservative, but when I came to OBU, I was liberal by comparison. What amazed me was this prevalent idea among Oklahoma Baptists that OBU was liberal. I always found that laughable, but compared to a lot of fundamentalist churches in Oklahoma, I guess it's true. Even now, as fundamentalists are replacing moderates on Bison Hill and the BGCO is obviously calling a lot of the shots, there are still Baptist pastors warning their young congregants, "Don't go to OBU -- you'll lose your faith." The only way we are ever going to win this fight is if we fight battles on two fronts. We all know the idea that OBU is liberal is completely ridiculous -- and we need to push back against fundamentalism whenever it rears its ugly head. But to the degree that Oklahoma Baptist clergy and laypeople actually do believe OBU is liberal, godless, and/or dangerous, we need to continue to stoke and affirm those fears. In order for our long-awaited split to happen, it can't just be a coalition of relative moderates breaking the tie that binds us to fundamentalists. It has to be a large number of fundamentalists saying "good riddance" to us.
Final Thoughts: I am happy to continue providing some informational and structural resources to Save OBU. But I cannot be the only leader in this movement. Not that the fundamentalists would like me any better if I was a United Methodist minister or a liberal Episcopal layman, but the fact that I turned out not to be very religious makes me even easier to dismiss. While there are plenty of things I find admirable about the Baptist tradition before the fundamentalist takeover, it never was or will be my tradition. But for many of you, it is yours. That's why we need you to be leaders in this movement. You have had something taken from you, and you are the ones who need to fight to take it back.
As always, if you would like to share your OBU story, perhaps you can follow some version of the format I used above. Feel free to copy the text below and, in the words of Shakespeare, "Speak what you feel, not what you ought to say."
Name:
Years:
Major(s):
Hometown:
Church Affiliation Then:
How/Why I Chose OBU:
Good Times:
Bad Times:
Best Thing(s) about OBU:
Worst Thing(s) about OBU:
Spiritual/Religious Reflections (if any):
Life/Career:
Residence:
Church Affiliation Now:
Reflections on OBU-BGCO Relationship:
Final Thoughts:
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