Reminiscences

The Poetry He Lives

By Jeannie Corbitt Cardona

Paul

His tears they welled

His voice it broke

For a church he will not see

A church, he said, eyes burning,

“That will have no place for me.”

Burned his eyes

Not with rage or sorrow

But with intensity

For the church he loves, that Was and Is

And still is Yet to be.

I saw what he was saying

About his credo and his call,

He cannot, even for love, hold the church

So he will let go,

Trust in God, hope in us all.

The moment shook—

I saw the garden

That was our dear classroom

And he was gardener, tender, toiler

Yet not controller

of crop, yield, and bloom.

Ah, so this

“thou perceiv’st,

which makes thy love more strong,”

To till, to water, to tend, to delight in

what “thou must leave ’ere long.”

To know each “rule”

Recall each digit

At a moment—F-numberdotohnumber-quoted!

Yet to know also, Spectacularly,

The Wild God will not be encoded.

This is his gift

A source of grace

When old rules like straitjacket fit:

To know the order, and know it well,

And know that God will break it.

Jeannie Corbitt Cardona (MDiv’20) is director of church relations at Austin Seminary. A graduate of Centre College, she received the Seminary’s David Stitt Fellowship and served for two years as Pastoral Resident at Preston Hollow Presbyterian Church in Dallas, Texas.

A Source of Strength and Grace

By Sarah Allen

I began the Doctor of Ministry program at exactly the wrong moment. I had two children under six and was amid a very stressful pastoral transition in the church I served. I was, in a word, exhausted. I remember calling Paul, fulling intending to say, "This isn't the time for me; maybe I'll pursue my doctorate later." As I gave him the laundry list of reasons why this was not the right moment to start this pursuit, he paused and suggested, in his calm and encouraging manner, that perhaps this "wrong" moment was actually divine timing.

He was right. God’s renewing spirit poured forth in the DMin program in myriad of ways. Paul led the program with grace, wisdom, and of course, poetry. From the moment we stepped on campus for our week of residency, he made us feel at home and cared for. All of us in the DMin program knew that Paul was just a phone call away when we wanted to throw in the towel and quit, and when any of us called or emailed to say, “I can’t do this,” he took a deep breath, and then calmly and pastorally said, “Yes, yes, you can and you will. Let’s see how I can help.” His leadership of the Doctor of Ministry program at Austin Seminary was a source of strength and renewal for many pastors and for the program itself. He saw the program through a transitional moment; the program underwent a curriculum change under his guidance, and the new curriculum that he and the faculty created meets deep needs in both pastors and communities of faith.

I now sit in Paul’s office, literally, down here in the “basement” of the Trull Administration Building, and I fully realize that I have huge shoes to fill. I won’t ever be a polity wonk or a poet like he is, but I hope to be a source of strength and grace to students like he has been for me. I am immensely grateful for his leadership, his friendship, and his love for Christ’s church. Paul placed the Doctor of Ministry and Supervised Practice of Ministry programs at the Seminary in a place of great strength; so many churches, pastors, and students have benefitted from his leadership and gifts, and will continue to do so far into the future.

Sarah Allen (MDiv’07, DMin’19) joined the Austin Seminary faculty as director of ministerial formation and advanced studies following the retirement of Dr. Paul Hooker. She has served as associate pastor at First Presbyterian Church, Austin, and in leadership positions in Mission Presbytery, as well as adjunct teaching at the Seminary.

Conversations in Harmony

By Eric Wall

One of my first interactions with Paul Hooker was during the 2015 interview process that was part of my being called to Austin Seminary’s faculty. In the course of a search committee dinner, I inadvertently poked the polity bear by commenting on the pros and cons of “Minister of Word and Sacrament” and “Teaching Elder.” Ted Wardlaw wasn’t in reach to kick me under the table, but his inevitably winsome expression across the salad course was plain: “You’re stepping into it.” But of course it was a delightful and revealing conversation, and as we all do anytime we’re in Paul’s presence, I learned much.

Since then, Paul and I have poked and prodded theology, music, poetry, literature, worship, and the life of the church. I’ve treasured those conversations: the ways Paul inevitably lights up, taking books down from the shelves of his vast mind, quoting, recalling, connecting. His wisdom and knowledge are not only theological and historical and artistic—they are human and pastoral, overflowing with thoughtfulness, brimming with keen observation. At minimum, I’m usually awestruck. Paul has always been a ready conversation partner, and particularly in the sometimes bewildering days of being a new faculty member, I gravitated to those conversations eagerly and gratefully. Paul invariably calmed my anxieties and stirred my imagination as we sat in his office. I loved how one or the other of us would send the germ of an idea or question along the Trull-McMillan pipeline—within minutes, we were in his office or mine kicking it around, seeing what it might offer. Time relaxed in those conversations even as ideas become more vibrant.

Paul has also been a ready conversation partner in a different place: the back row of the tenor section in University Presbyterian Church’s choir. As a choir director myself, I know the signs of the singers who maintain a subterranean conversation throughout rehearsal. Paul has helped me travel full circle to become That Choir Member. (Naturally it’s his fault—he’s always talking to me …) Paul and I have cultivated a steady, sotto voce back-and-forth during rehearsals, like a DVD commentary. I’ve also relied on him to hit the high and low notes that are not in the scope of my small voice. Beyond those rehearsals, of course, he and I have collaborated on music in worship, whether it’s piano and bass playing or writing new hymn texts and tunes. Again, I’m always awestruck at his ability to enter so many collaborative and creative spaces with profound seriousness and also the easy humor and friendliness that he shares with everyone.

I’m looking forward to more ideas, more hymns, more choir rehearsal commentary. I’m incredibly grateful for the gift of his friendship and colleague-ship in the past few years at the Seminary. He’s helped many of us find the high notes, the low notes, the elusive notes of the life of faith and servanthood. May he keep doing just that for many years to come.

Eric Wall is a The Gene Alice Sherman Associate Professor of Sacred Music at Austin Seminary where he helps oversee the worship life of the campus and teaches courses in church music and worship. He is also the staff musician at Montreat Conference Center and is past president of the Presbyterian Association of Musicians.