Stanford Vox Clara | Fall 2010

Vox Clara

at Stanford

The Gentleness

God of Human Biology A

by

discussion with

A llen Huang

Penciling R evelations by

and

Spiritual Reality

Dallas Willard & Willam Hurlbut

in

Faith

from the

Samantha Penabad

Dalai L ama

Five Things Wisdom by

from the

M adison K awakami

Florentine Nuns

Vol. IV, Issue 1 | Fall 2010

Forum of Christian Thought and Action at Stanford

1

President C.E. Caruthers ‘11 Editor-in-Chief Tara Guarino ‘12 Designer-in-Chief Madison Kawakami ‘11 Design Intern Nate Gilbertson ‘11 Finance Cameron Mullen ‘11 Public Relations Samantha McGirr ‘11 Section Editors Ben VanBerkum ‘14 Board of Advisors D.G. Elmore Steve Stenstrom Andrea Swaney

2

Vox Clara, Vol. IV, Issue 1

Feature Articles

Contents

8

Fighting Sin

9

The Real Counterculture

Eric Johnston

10 20

Nina M. Chung

Five Things

Madison Kawakami

Turn the Other Cheek Justin Reed

Reflections Penciling in Faith

6

Samantha Penabad

Letters From Abroad

14

Human Biology and Spiritual Reality

22

Reagan Thompson

Allen Huang

New Features 18

Featured Visual Artists Brian “Pele� Zaro Celeste Noche

Regular Features Our Vision

4

Letter from the Editor

5

Fruit of the Spirit: Gentleness

16

Get Involved

25

Letter from the President

26

Closing Thoughts

27

Sarah Gilette Photos by Celeste Noche

Forum of Christian Thought and Action at Stanford

3

Vox Clara

Our Purpose

Vox Clara seeks to provide a platform for believers and non-believers at Stanford to engage in dialogue that inspires a lasting response to the Gospel message. We believe it is important to address issues of faith in the University community. As Jane Stanford’s words on the wall of Memorial Church warn: There is no narrowing so deadly as the narrowing of man’s horizon of spiritual things. No worse evil could befall him in his course on earth than to lose sight of Heaven. And it is not civilization that can prevent this; it is not civilization that can compensate for it. No widening of science, no possession of abstract truth, can indemnify for an enfeebled hold on the highest and central truths of humanity. ‘What shall a man give in exchange for his soul?’

the world in which we live. Vox Clara seeks to express to the Stanford community that religion is not a set of rules that threatens our freedom or creativity but rather is the hope that pervades our entire lives.

Simply put, we are trying to provide an account of the hope we cherish within us. We do not wish to impose our beliefs but instead to propose our views to everyone at Stanford who is searching just as we are—searching for purpose, for truth, and for Love. As we seek collectively, we will strive to speak with a clear voice and voyage together, elevating each other’s lives in the process. From different Christian traditions and each with our own experience, we at Vox Clara have come together to explore how faith illuminates life and how life enriches faith. We invite all to join us in this important conversation.

We find spiritual truth in Jesus Christ, the only Son of God, who became man, died, and rose again for the salvation of all. Through Him we interpret and understand

Vox Nostra A note on our name In the words of C.S. Lewis speaking on Christianity, “it is at her centre, where her truest children dwell, that each communion is really closest to every other in spirit, if not in doctrine. And this suggests that at the centre of each there is something, or a Someone, who against all divergences of belief, all differences of temperament, all memories of mutual persecution, speaks with the same voice.”

4

We at Vox Clara celebrate this voice of Jesus Christ and believe that His is the true voice. It forms the foundation of our hope and strength. For this reason, we have chosen “Vox Clara,” a Latin phrase meaning “clear voice,” as the name for this organization.

Vox Clara, Vol. IV, Issue 1

Letter from the Editor It isn’t very surprising that in our world gentleness is not often an attribute that rallies much attention. Associated with words like passivity and timidity, gentleness runs counter to our project of speaking assertively in class, campaigning passionately for our beliefs, and running hard after goals and dreams we’ve worked tirelessly to achieve. Gentleness means weakness and uncertainty, an outdated value from past decades better left to those who yield to the will of others and have no intention of living the kinds of lives we hope to live.

Speaking at least for myself, I see where similar values like goodness, honesty, and even kindness fit into the type of power I hope to have driving my pursuits, academic or otherwise, but gentleness requires an element of submissiveness that I’m unwilling to allow.

When standing before a situation that might even invite or require an act of gentleness, I’m left largely unsure as to how I ought to proceed.

Gentleness has its origins in the Greek praotoes, which effectually translates to mean “meekness.” But in its native Biblical definition, this word knows nothing of compliance and spiritlessness; rather, gentleness has everything to do with power and strength—the strength to grant forgiveness to those who have wronged us, to look upon our own failings with humility, to live in a way that exhibits intentionality.

If you are coming to Christ for the first time, bring your confusion, doubts, questions, and even your areas of stark disbelief, and know that He can and will meet them. With eternal gentleness, God continues to respond to us with mercy and grace, regardless of how many times we turn away. He remains always in relentless anticipation of our return.

In 1 Kings, the prophet Elijah flees death at the hands of an angry queen and takes refuge in a cave at Mount Horeb.

There God instructs him to await the Lord’s imminent arrival. “Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave” (1 Kings 19: 11-13).

With the theme of this issue as Gentleness, our hope and prayer is that something you find in these writings might prepare you to hear that whisper and approach the mouth of your cave.

Jesus perfectly models this kind of gentleness. As both divine and human, the Son of God made fully flesh, Jesus was at once the most powerful man and also the most gentle. Throughout the Gospels, it is with gentleness that Jesus reached out to bless the sick (Mark 5:25-34, Luke 17:11-10), the poor (Luke 7:11-17, Mark 10:46), the adulterous (John 8: 1-11), the doubting (John 20:24-29), and the marginalized (John 4:1-26).

Tara Guarino Editor-in-Chief, 2010 -11

Vox Clara at Stanford P.O. Box 12109 Stanford, CA 94309 www.voxstanford.org | info@voxstanford.org Cover Photo: Brian “Pele” Zaro

Forum of Christian Thought and Action at Stanford

5

Penciling in Faith

by Samantha Penabad I arrived promptly at 8:30 a.m. and found my way to an open seat in the fourth row. Everything about the arena was familiar. The student in front of me furiously waving down her friend before the neighboring crowd encroached permanently on the seats she was saving. The girl to my left, silent, textbook on her lap, engrossed in last minute studying, making sure she utilized and scheduled every moment of the day. The student to my right, harping loudly about last night’s Happy Hour, giving a full account of whom had arrived with whom, and more importantly, who had left with whom. They were all consumed entirely by their present predicaments, and yet at the muffle of the microphone, they became silent, ready to be enlightened by the Dalai Lama. I, too, sat, cognizant of my own peacefulness, ready to be told the meaning of love, life, and my Stanford career. Pen and paper in hand, I sat ready to relay these thoughts to readers.

Two hours later, I had only one question in mind.

How could I possibly write a piece on this talk? Quite honestly, I had not understood a word the man had said. True, there would be transcripts and Daily articles that I could draw upon. But the idea of summarizing or cherry-picking quotations struck me as wrong – this was not an IHUM paper, this was the Dalai Lama. I should be enlightened and have something to say, without two pages of works cited.

I began to think about why I had expected so much out of an encounter with the Dalai Lama. I knew nothing about Eastern religions, nothing about this particular Dalai Lama’s accomplishments or miracles, and nothing, really, about what the talk was supposed to cover. All I knew was that the ticket I was mailed last August was thick and shiny and artistic. It practically begged you to frame it, effectively making any other stub I had collected from any other occurrence in my life— a World Series Yankees game, a flight to Europe, my very first Stanford football game— utterly meaningless. This was the ticket stub of ticket stubs, the talk of talks.

There was the feeling of expectation in the room, but it was not heavy with anxiety, rather light with a touch of naivety.

This slight ambivalence of being on the edge of deep, compassionate Understanding brought me back to my own

6

attempt at a spiritual odyssey earlier this year. I had begun my summer pretty aware of how much free time I would have on my hands outside of work. Unlike the previous year, I would not be navigating the glamorous streets of New York City, nor basking in the hot Southern Spanish sun. No, I would be in Sacramento. Well, when else will I have the chance or desire to read 2,000 pages? And so I began to read the Bible, hoping to be inspired, moved and full of assurance that my path in Christianity was the right one.

The goal was to finish sometime over the summer, but it was more of an idea than an objective. I just wanted to see where the pages would take me if I immersed myself in the gold-leafed-leather-tomeava i l a b l e - i n - e ve r y - h o t e l - r o o m but-usually-just-reserved-for-thecherry-picking-of-quotations-fora-struggling-celebrity-or-for-thepastel-sympathy-card Good Book. I imagined, or, more likely assumed, that the stories would impact me one way or another.

I started reading by myself before going to bed. I was sure my roommate probably thought I was psycho. What Stanford student that slaves over Case In Point to land a big consulting internship could possibly have Christian values? It’s a lifestyle that’s about working late, making bank, and letting loose, way loose, when given the chance. As if fear of my own roommate’s judgment wasn’t enough, I took a step further.

Photo: Brett Weinstein Whether it was the California sunshine that pulled me, the dingy hotel room that pushed me, or because God himself challenged me to step outside into the world. I began doing something crazy: reading the Bible in public.

To me, faith had always been something very private.

Occasionally I would attend seminars or large groups, schedule in a Bible study, read Christian novels or go to Church and listen to the sermon. But these were scheduled moments of enlightenment. I would prepare myself for others’ thoughts and inspiration, and come back with a renewed sense of Christian faith. But as far as casual conversation, outside of the comfort zone of a church or Christian setting…. Oh no, no, no. I was brought back to my days in Branner, being asked: if I was Christian, how come I believed in science, and how come war existed, and how come good people got sick, and how come I got drunk last weekend? I was

Vox Clara, Vol. IV, Issue 1

challenged, not in a manner that promoted growth, but in a way that made me retreat and cower.

And so, in total defiance of my rational routine of privacy and spirituality, I took my Bible to Starbucks, hoping that no one would bother me.

“I’m Cindy by the way.”

At that moment, it occurred to me that while she poured out her soul, I never so much as knew her name, where she was from, or even how old she was. She had no robes, no entourage of monks, and only spoke one language. But she spoke it clear.

“You don’t mind if I smoke out here do you?”

I looked up. Actually I did.

“No, of course not.” Smile. Eyes back to my book. I listened for the zipping sound of the lighter, so I could sigh loudly in response. It didn’t come. Instead, she began to speak.

“

I wonder why we are so willing to accept inspiration from the Man, and so much less willing to find it among mere men.

We would much rather be talked at and instructed than be given bits and pieces and forced to shift through what is right, what is wrong, and what faith means to us. Cindy was right, there’s more than one way to make tea.

”

I wonder why we are so willing to accept inspiration from the Man, and so much less willing to find it among mere men.

“We’re really similar, you and me.”

I looked at my Bible and closed its cover.

I looked back up. Her jet black hair contrasted against her green eyes to give her an edgy look, but it’s all thrown off by the corporate Starbucks apron. I searched her eyes to find what might be similar between the two of us as she fiddled with the unlit cigarette between her fingers. She slid onto the bench across from me and began her story.

The crowd rises to its feet and begins to clap. The two friends in front of me part ways, the girl beside me picks up her textbook, and the guy to my right starts planning the next night’s festivities.

They may each tack their ticket up on their bulletin board, change their Facebook status, and call home boasting that they were in his presence. But I wonder if their lives were changed.

“Sometimes I’ll just sit outside for hours and read about religion,” she starts, “I really like Buddha.” So that’s what we have in common, I mused. You read Buddha outside.

Not to be a brat, but my life wasn’t changed. I didn’t feel the Spirit, fall on my knees, cry to the Lord or see everything clear for the very first time. Embarrassingly, I couldn’t understand a single sentence the Dalai Lama uttered. I had listened purposefully, but nothing was enunciated well enough for me to understand.

I’m sorry I have no review, no quotes pulled from the Daily, no interviews with fellow students. In an academic world that doesn’t let you cite Wikipedia, that challenges you to come up with the longest list of works cited material, that brainwashes you into thinking you’ve got to check your problem set against that kid who sits in the front row, answers all the questions right and wears xkcd t-shirts, I’ve come to realize, experts aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. That people who you think don’t know anything, know something, it’s just something different than what you know. And that inspiration, divine or otherwise, cannot be scheduled.

She continued, “I like to read about all different religions. It’s, like, you take what you like, and leave the rest.”

I listened to her speak about what she had read, how she felt, what she liked best, and how it translated into her everyday life. I realized the last thing she wanted to do was quiz me on Scripture. She really just wanted someone to talk to, and apparently, holding a Bible while I sipped my latte translated into an open invitation for her to spill her feelings. “It’s like my boss, I get so mad at him. He gets all angry when I don’t make a customer’s tea the way he makes it. I mean, there’s, like, more than one way to put tea in hot water. He just doesn’t get it. As long as the customer gets the tea, and it tastes good to the customer, what does it matter how I put the bag in the water?”

She sighed and stood up and said her break was about over.

But before she headed inside and put her cigarette back in her pocket, she stuck out her hand.

Samantha Penabad is a senior from

Murray Hill, New Jersey. When not busy as a Management Science and Engineering major, she can be found volunteering in East Palo Alto with WYSE or cheering on Stanford friends and athletes. She can be contacted at spenabad@stanford.edu.

Forum of Christian Thought and Action at Stanford

7

Fighting Sin

Children know from a young age what sin is.

Just ask kids leaving Sunday school, and they will tell you that sins are bad things people do. Killing, stealing, lying. These are all sins.

And for the most part they are right. “Do unto others as you would have others do unto you” (Matthew 7:12). If we deviate from the golden rule we are sinning. It’s simple, really.

Yet this definition does not seem to be sufficient. After all, an island castaway who has not seen a single person in years can commit sin as easily as I can. Babies and young children do not have the capacity to knowingly do “bad things” to their parents.

Nevertheless, the majority of Christian denominations baptize these children so that the Holy Spirit can cleanse them of sin.

Why is this necessary? Others have argued that only sins related to social issues are important. They complain that Christians are far too preoccupied with what happens in the bedroom and need to focus on the real issues like poverty and crime. If such a basic definition of sin as the golden rule is used, these critics may in fact be right. It seems then that in order to overcome sin we should delve deeper into what sin is and how sin affects each one of us.

St. Thomas Aquinas defines sin as a morally bad act not in accord with reason. Adam and Eve committed the “original sin” by eating the forbidden fruit, whether literally or figuratively, and thus falling away from God. But the sin itself was a morally bad act in that it occurred and ended. Adam and Eve ate the fruit. Why, then, does Man’s fallen state from God affect us now, thousands of years later? Adam and Eve should have been punished for their act, but why me? The reason is that while sin itself is an act, the consequences of sin stay trapped in the form of damaged relationships.

After all, we are not ourselves independent of everyone else. I am myself only in relation

by Eric Johnston

to my family, friends, acquaintances, people I have never met, and most of all God. When any of these relationships is damaged the effects of sin hurt everyone else in the network of relationships that makes up humanity. Like a virus released on a city, sin infects people long after Man’s initial contact and spreads from person to person through generations.

Infants do not decide to do morally bad acts, but unfortunately they are conceived into a world damaged by sin. Children enter a world fallen away from God and therefore have a mark of sin themselves.

The entire Old Testament deals with Man’s sorry state fallen away from God. The Israelites continually commit sins, and yet as an act of pure love God stays with His chosen people. Nevertheless, the effects of sin were of course so grave that nothing could really be done to heal Man’s fall away from God. After all, Man’s relationship with God had been damaged to a point that Man himself could not repair it. As an ultimate sacrifice, God Himself became man in order to die. As an act of love, God hung dead from a tree in order to reverse the sinful act of taking fruit from a tree. And only through Christ’s love can we hope to rebuild those relationships that were damaged beyond repair.

Christ has died. Christ is risen! Christ will come again. His sacrifice has set us free from sin, but we still continue to fall all the time. How then can we attempt to fight sin and break free from it? While we will always continue to sin, it seems that the best place to start is to actually strengthen the relationships that we have and to develop new ones. If the effects of sin are trapped in damaged relationships, we need to fix the damage.

Our most important relationship is with God, and we can slowly build up our relationship with God through prayer. The greater our relationship is with God, the harder it is for

Eric Johnston is a junior majoring in physics. In his spare time he enjoys playing pool and eating unhealthy amounts of fast food.

8

Vox Clara, Vol. IV, Issue 1

us to damage it. Group prayer also helps to strengthen relationships because we grow closer both to God and to everyone around us. Finally, acts of charity to those around us help to strengthen relationships. By building up our relationships we slowly build an immunity to sin so that sin does not control who we are.

At the same time, we must pay attention to all of our relationships in order to combat sin, and not just focus in on some of them. If I am trying to fight infection, what good would it be for me to wash my hands ten times a day only to then eat food that someone had sneezed on? In the same way, one broken relationship allows the consequences of sin to propagate to the others. We therefore cannot focus only on good causes like social justice and racial reconciliation without also focusing on issues affecting our relationship with Christ: attending church, personal mortification, and overcoming sinful personal desires. After all, Adam and Eve thought they were building their own loving relationship by eating the fruit, when in fact they were only destroying their most important relationship of all.

It therefore appears that the best way to combat sin is not merely to become overly scrupulous, thinking only of ways to avoid offending God and each other. Rather, by building up our relationships there is simply no place for sin. Sin cannot exist in the presence of love, in Christ’s presence. Let us then give thanks for Christ’s sacrifice, because through His death and resurrection we are able to regain a loving relationship with Him.

The Real

Counterculture

by Nina M. Chung

Note: An original version of this article was published in The Stanford Daily.

I don’t work on Sundays.

Seven days a week, students at Stanford University are working. We have classes Monday through Friday, or a three-day weekend if you hit the schedule jackpot.

We have primary document Course Readers to skim, job hours to clock in and night meetings to get to. Unfinished work is never a distant thought, which means meals are cut short and phone calls home are brief. (And the self-proclaimed procrastinators are often just the modest but meanest homework machines.) This is Stanford culture: accomplishment via productivity, and that’s great, period.

Yes. I don’t work on Sundays. It’s the day I put on my shelves everything that attempts to pressure and push me around. At the most basic level, I don’t do homework.

At the most abstract level, I do anything/ everything that truly fulfills me. This means much of my adored alone time, reading, journaling and seeing the people I love for rendezvous dates and adventures. (I have a blog about cafes and restaurants, to give you a hint of what my exploration style is.)

Every Sunday is different because no week is the same, but the timeless constant is that it’s cut from worldly chronology.

Unfortunately (fortunately), we’re all limited by our biological humanity, i.e. sleep, food, social quotas. Times when deadlines don’t press in allow for temporary cold-shoulder treatment of the to-do list. You follow a TV show, hit the gym, skip classes, get drunk, etc. for study breaks – otherwise, diminishing marginal returns (I’m taking Econ 1A!) from deliriously working. But let’s break down that nomenclature. Study breaks are defined by what they are not: studying. They simply emphasize the slots of time that restrict them.

Perhaps you’re thinking I’m taking some effortless eight units, but this is my “hardest” quarter. Typical student small talk is usually a complaint congress debating who is reaching insanity faster, so please see this as honest context: a language partner twice a week, uncompleted major declaration and study abroad application, an on-campus job, weekly commitments to my faith’s fellowship (though I feel more need for these than duty), a weekly column for the paper (also not dread-inducing – yay!), five courses, the most homework I’ve had to date, and 20 units (not my first experience, but this time not buffered by an athletic class, which I thus had to pay for instead).

And now for a one-word vocabulary quiz: Define rest.

Stop reading. Think.

Dear reader, I don’t know who you are, but we’re similar in a lot of ways, which is why I’m writing this to you at all: my sources of joy are public domain. (But wow, I’m struggling to legitimately introduce this next one. Okay, I’m going for direct.)

Honoring an entire day of rest was not and is not a random Sunday-morning decision, and it requires my wiliest scheduling strategies. Looking in from the outside, it appears unattainable and – what? Difficult?

Wasteful? Unproductive? That’s what I first thought, before I opted in. Actually, though, when I acknowledged my refusal/inability

to rest, I realized I was opting out. I was opting out of this entire framework where we pick our majors and courses and activities and then let the world pick how we operate them. We live and breathe an atmosphere that demands that we work, all the time, and the significance is lost in the agenda. But when I started resting (doesn’t it sound epic?), I re-established all of my weekday work as my privileged choice, and not my charge. I rest, because I need to and I want to and it’s possible.

My Sunday is my Sabbath, and it is counterculture. It means reinforcing what my life’s true, top priorities are. It also means many challenging conflicts as I put myself at odds with most of my classmates and virtually disconnect. At bottom, it’s a weekly gift we’ve all received – often unaware – of a life whose value has nothing related to the world’s stubbornly narrow idea of productivity.

Consequently, the one question I get, even if well-intentioned, is a frown-tinged “So what do you do?” The easy, literal and beautiful answer is that I rest. I watch out for this girl named Nina who loves going out, running around, sitting outside on benches (watching people) and remembering her favorite things.

I give praise to the One who loves me for who I truly am – and not what I do – by celebrating the ways I’ve been so unimaginably blessed my entire twenty years of life.

Every day is technically still my favorite.

On this one day, though, the world and all of the petty things it asks of me gets a busy tone. There’s so much constant stress around, but I’ve never felt this much stability and peace in my life. I’m serious.

And there’s so much more goodness in that than I could ever have imagined. Or tried to stick in between study sessions.

Nina M. Chung is a junior at Stanford University in the International Relations program - just recently declared! Her current hometown is Hermosa Beach, California, where the generally sunny weather tends to match her overall disposition. She sees a lot of blessing in life and has spent much of her life trying to share the light - even when she hadn’t yet realized she was. Lastly, Nina would like to wish you a day to smile grandly about.

Forum of Christian Thought and Action at Stanford

9

Five Things

by Madison Kawakami

I count myself blessed. This past spring quarter I lived abroad in Florence, Italy. I ate delicious food, traveled to many different places, and spent much of my time with a group of nuns from the Monastic Communities of Jerusalem. I have much to thank them for. When I left, they sent me home with their blessings, their hugs, and a small book they call their Book of Life, or their guidelines for community living. The book is small, and I often think that I am lucky that their library had a copy in English. I hope to share with you some of the time I spent with them. The section headings and quotes come from their Book of Life, and what follows is a series of vignettes. Enjoy.

HOSPITALITY – “When a foreigner settles in your land you are not to oppress him; he is to be treated as a native born among you and you are to treat him as yourself.”

“Sto cercando Suora Rosalba,” I say, the words stumbling out of my mouth with difficulty. I’m not sure if I had said the right things. I’m pretty sure I was speaking Italian, but after four years of Spanish in high school, I knew that there were still words that I mixed up. But at the mention of Rosalba, the nun who stands across from me seems to light up and squeeze my hands just a little bit tighter.

She no longer wears her white robes, but instead had changed into a simple blue habit with her hair covered by a white headscarf.

“Ciao, ciao!” she says grasping my hands again. I try to explain to her that I want to write an article, that I want to learn more about the monastic life, that I want to grow in my faith. I’m not sure if she understands everything, but she says, “Si! Si!,” before calling over Sister Marta, who will become a dear friend and mentor.

They speak quickly in Italian before Marta turns to me, and says, in English, “So you will visit us twice a week. You will work and pray and eat with us?”

“Yes!” I say, relieved to be speaking English. Sister Marta smiles at Rosalba, and Rosalba moves forward to kiss me on both cheeks and then hugs me tightly. I am surprised by this heartfelt gesture.

Leaving the church, I wave good-bye.

“A martedi!” I call out. Until Tuesday.

“Sono io! Sono io!” she says excitedly. I take a moment to translate the words she’d just spoken into English: “It is I! It is I!” I breathe a sigh of relief and then grin in amazement. I’m not familiar with Catholic services and when the nuns had fanned out among the congregation to clasp churchgoers’ hands and whisper blessings of peace, I had taken the moment to find out how I could speak with Photo: Madison Kawakami Suora, or Sister, Rosalba.

As I hold the hands of the prioress, the head of the monastic community, she listens carefully to every word of my limited Italian while the other nuns wait for her to proceed with the service. Nodding, as if already anticipating this unexpected visit, she promises that we will speak after the service.

10

After, I wait outside in the courtyard. The Italians leaving the church give me quizzical looks, scanning me up and down.

Greta, my host sister, tells me all the time, “Maddie. You are so U.S.A.” I guess these Italians can tell that too. I turn again to look at the doors to the church and Rosalba bursts out of them, walking quickly towards me with a huge smile on her face.

SILENCE – “Silence is the wellspring

of your prayer at the heart of the city and the daily peace of your soul. You need to learn how to listen, how to retreat into the depths, how to rise above yourself.”

The sisters begin their days in silence at 5am. They meditate in silence on their knees at La Badia for up to two hours before morning prayers at 7am. Before 7am, candles flicker in the darkness before dawn. When I enter the church at 6:50am for my first day with the sisters, the silence seems overwhelming. I cringe at the click of my boots on the floor and the sound my purse makes when I set it down next to me on the wooden pew. For the next ten minutes, before the sisters begin morning prayers, I sit in silence. When morning prayers begin, they welcome in the day with singing and after morning prayers, I return with the sisters to their home on Via Lavatoi.

Vox Clara, Vol. IV, Issue 1

We eat our breakfast in silence. Marta tells me it is so we can continue to pray and contemplate. Each sister bows her head, and then begins to eat. I sip my coffee out of a ceramic bowl, a French breakfast habit from the home of the Monastic Communities of Jerusalem’s founder, Father Pierre-Marie Delfieux. The bread is fresh, and I spread their homemade honey mixture on it.

One by one, the sisters depart from the dining room. Marta smiles at me from across the room and gets up. As we exit the kitchen, she begins to whisper.

“Now,” she says, “I will show you your cella.”

I pause.

Wait.

A cell? A room? I find out later that the celle of the sisters are important because so much of their time is spent in prayer and solitude. The sisters had wanted me to experience it as well. I followed her up a narrow staircase, onto the second floor, and through the library.

Photo: Madison Kawakami

out of things to say, and then there’s the silence again—both external and internal.

Is there really nothing more I have to say to God? To the Creator of the universe? I feel like I need to say something. I rise from my knees to look at my watch.

It’s been five minutes.

I’m never able to stay comfortably in silence for long. But, I begin to see the importance of silence in those moments alone, in prayer with God. There doesn’t always have to be words.

The Book of Life says silence is a mystery, a discipline. It speaks of silence as being both material and spiritual. With the spiritual silence comes inner peace. There is something hard, but essential about silence. Sister Marta says that periods of silence make it easier to discern the word of God. I am still trying to understand.

WORK

With a click, the door opens, and I cross the library to peek inside. There’s small bed in the corner with a chest of drawers Photo: Madison Kawakami beside it. Marta opens the shutters and light and sound pour in from the busy street outside. There is a desk with a small lamp near the window. Two books rest on the desk: a Monastic Communities of Jerusalem information book with large pictures and their small English version of what they call the Book of Life.

“Do you like it?” Marta asks. I am in awe. I have my own room at the monastery.

“Yes. I love it!” I say. And I really do.

“You will pray now?” she asks. I nod my head excitedly. She shows me a small stool that the sisters use so that they can kneel for long periods of time. Marta smiles and tells me that she will come and knock on my door before midday prayers. The door closes softly behind her.

It feels strange to pray on my knees. I don’t have a posture that I take when I pray at home. As I’m on my knees, in all that silence, I pray for this and for that. And before long, I run

– “By choosing to work as much as necessary but not more than you ought, not primarily in view of a perishable end but one that endures to eternal life, you are to stand free and challenging in a world where work has been overrated, often to the point of idolatry, a world of confrontation and competition, of alienation and the rat race for material wealth.”

“We will wash. We will clean. And then we will cook,” says Sister Marta, miming the actions for me as we stand in the kitchen. Sister Marta is my “angel”, or mentor, in the monastic community. I am a novitiate to them: a newcomer to the community, someone who is seeking to know more about their way of life.

I quickly learn that the sisters of the Monastic Communities of Jerusalem are a strange religious mix. As Sister Marta explained to me earlier in the day, the Monastic Communities of Jerusalem (composed of both brothers and sisters), are a unique hybrid of the “nun” and “sister” lifestyles. Nuns typically live apart from the world, often taking vows of silence, while sisters participate in the community often as teachers or spiritual guides.

The sisters at La Baddia work part-time jobs and spend the rest of their day in prayer and contemplation. They are also uniquely

Forum of Christian Thought and Action at Stanford

11

Photo: Madison Kawakami

suited to city ministry where they integrate themselves into city communities and serve peoples’ needs there. The original cofounder of the order (who lived in the Sahara Desert as a hermit for 2 years), realized that deserts can be found everywhere–especially in cities. Thus, the creation of the Monastic Communities of Jerusalem.

As a part of living in the city community, the sisters work a diverse collection of jobs which include teaching, chemistry, and working with the elderly (which is what Sister Marta does). In addition to their part time work, they also have chores around the monastery.

But their work isn’t their identity or their primary focus.

I work with Sister Marta on Tuesdays. I learn to sweep the floors, wipe down the tables, wash the dishes (without a dishwasher), and cook the large, midday meal for the whole group of nuns. I get to wash the zucchinis and add tomato sauce and toppings to pizza.

Even though they live simply, God continues to abundantly provide for them. They never go hungry (in fact, their food was some of the best I had in Florence!) and they even have their own rooms in a crowded city for personal prayer and reflection.

When the nuns enter into the community, they are asked to give up all of their personal belongings. Everything in the monastery is community property. They live free of the things that can bind us to this world. They trust and depend on God everyday in a way that leaves room for Him to abundantly provide.

PRAYER – “Prayer is difficult: that you know. It is the pre-eminent domain of gratuitousness, the realm of the invisible, often of the unfelt, the incomprehensible, the ineffable, the unexpected. For you too, it will be hard to love a God whose face you have never seen.”

12

I had been praying more than I have ever prayed since I began my journey to Italy. Lord, please help me make my flight on time. I had been praying because I felt like I had just jumped into something I’d never done before. Lord, I am lost. I had been praying for help. Lord, please let this be the right street. Please help me find the way home. And I was praying because I needed purpose. Lord, what are your plans for me here?

When I first tried to pray my first day at the monastery it was difficult.

I had little structure, and my prayers were a stream of unfocused thoughts. The Lord loves and listens to all prayers, and sometimes those spilling out of thoughts and emotion are what I need to say to God. But, Sister Marta taught me another way to pray: lectio divina.

This spiritual practice uses the Scripture to structure your prayers to God. Sister Marta taught it to me like this: 1. Statio (sosta) — This part essentially means to stop and empty your mind of distractions, worries, fears, etc., and then request God to be present.

2. Lectio — During this part, one picks out a passage of Scripture and reads it slowly a few times–I’m going to say that it is the part where one “savors Scripture.”

3. Meditatio — Then one thinks about the Scripture and what God is saying to the individual in this particular passage.

4. Oratio — This is the response part where one can offer up prayers to God. 5. Actio — Last, actio, which sounds a lot like action, is the moment where you meditate on how God wants you to implement what you have learned from Scripture into your life.

My prayers begin to change, or rather, I become more aware of my prayers because of this spiritual discipline and the way I saw

Vox Clara, Vol. IV, Issue 1

Photo: Madison Kawakami

the sisters pray. I begin to pray more specifically for the people around me. Lord, may you touch the lives of those around me in extraordinary ways. I began to pray with thanks. Lord, thank you for this day. I began to ask for what seemed impossible. Lord, may this person find his or her way to you. I began to respond in prayer to Scripture. As I see the sisters’ faith, I begin to believe in the power of my own prayers.

LOVE –“To be able to love, be open. Let yourself be known and strive to know others.”

The sisters are open to God. They assume God is the one behind every intersection of paths, every chance meeting.

They understand that God works in mysterious and sometimes perplexing ways, and instead of asking why God sent them an American student, they just said “Si! Si!” from the start. Yes. Yes. My favorite moments, besides those in the kitchen with Marta, were the moments I got to spend with the sisters around their round wooden table, sharing in sweet treats and warm coffee and tea. The sisters laughed often—more often than I thought nuns would. They talked about field trips around the city they could take together. They talked about Sister Rosalba’s pilgrimage to Jerusalem.

They talked about a lot of things I couldn’t understand in words, but I read emotions in their hand gestures and tried to pick up on the knowing looks they exchanged with one another.

I am so grateful to these Florentine sisters, especially the faith and love that Marta and Rosalba shared with me. It is a strange and delicate

thing to go about loving someone you don’t know. But, perhaps it is one of the highest forms of faith—the genuine loving of someone who doesn’t deserve the love, and the giving of this gift without asking or expecting anything in return.

I do not wish to become a nun. I do not feel called to that way of life like the other sisters have been. Marta described the moment when she knew she wished to become a nun as a moment where she fell in love with this way of life. She loves praying, relishes moments of silence, takes joy in serving others, and lives fulfilled in having dedicated her life to Christ.

I asked her once what the hardest part of being a nun was. Her reply? Waking up early. She’s not a morning person.

I wish to say that I have carried with me across the Atlantic all of the joy and peace of the sisters. But it’s hard to maintain. Moments of silence and prayer become scarce. Work becomes of paramount importance. And then I suppose it’s no surprise that love doesn’t come as easily. It isn’t as hard to see and desire God when you Photo: Madison Kawakami see the strength of faith in those around you who so passionately and faithfully model the love of Christ. What was so clear in their company becomes hazy and somewhat distant when I’m consumed by work or worries about the future.

But every once in a while, a letter from Italy will be waiting for me in my mailbox. I see their faces and voices coming into focus again as I read their handwritten words. I hear their prayers and blessings for me, and I remember the strength of their faith. What a gift this is.

Madison Kawakami is a senior majoring in English. She enjoys spending time with her friends, California sunshine, and the occasional fountain day. She can be contacted at madisonk@stanford.edu

Forum of Christian Thought and Action at Stanford

13

Letters from Abroad: OXFORD

by Reagan Thompson

Photo: Reagan Thompson

This fall I am attending Oxford University through Stanford’s Bing Overseas Study Program. I am having a fantastic time getting to know England, and my tutorial has been quite engaging. British students are welcoming, and it has only now started to get cold.

I have been pleasantly encouraged by the state of Christianity at Oxford. As I prepared to cross the pond, I heard some missionaries share about their evangelism efforts in the U.K. They described Europe as the “lost continent” and cited discouraging statistics about the large percentage of Europeans who have turned away from the Gospel in the past two decades. I go to a good church at Stanford and my small group of other young believers has proved to be an effective catalyst for my personal growth. So you can imagine I was a little hesitant to leave my comfortable Christian group of California friends and travel to a place that seemed hostile to everything faith-related.

But oh how I was wrong. During my first week at Oxford, I went to an energetic and young church that was full of God’s presence. There I experienced literally hundreds of Oxford students visibly passionate about sharing the Gospel. The next week I went to another church and had a similarly positive experience. I learned that student volunteers were the ones efficiently running the general university Christian group that oversees small groups in each of the colleges. I have met most of my closest Oxford friends at church and I am so encouraged by their service to Christ. One church runs an outreach just for students going home after a night of clubbing. Volunteers pass out free coffee and cookies and lend a listening ear to anyone on the street at 2am.

The homeless outreach program provides food and advice to Oxford’s poor. The church leads mission trips during the winter and spring to far-away locations to serve those

who are in need all around the world. Students even go into local elementary schools and volunteer with Sunday school classes to ensure that the next generation has a solid understanding of the Bible.

My experience is that not only are Oxford students active in serving God, but there are also many supportive intellectual adults who are committed to spreading God’s love. It has given me such confidence to know that there are also wellplaced, highly educated types defending our faith.

I’ve been surprised by the level of spiritual activity at this university. While I perhaps came to England with an overly negative view of the state of Christianity here, the love expressed by other believers has systematically taken apart my negativism and stereotypes. It’s all been quite enlightening for me.

I praise God anew that He is indeed working throughout the world, especially at Oxford. When I return to Stanford, I will be more aware of Christ’s global reach.

And I will work with renewed energy to share my faith, as the students at Oxford do.

Reagan Thompson is a junior studying International Relations and Chinese. At Stanford she is involved with Menlo Park Presbyterian Church, Stanford in Government, and KaeMe volunteer work, though she always finds time to swim outside. She would love to answer questions on Oxford or Christianity and can be reached at reagant@stanford.edu.

14

Vox Clara, Vol. IV, Issue 1

There are

27 million

slaves in the world today

2011

FREEDOM SUMMIT Building the Bay Area response to Human Trafficking Harbor L

ight Church

Featuring

Fremon t, CA Dr. Condoleezza Rice

Dr. David Batstone

U.S. Secretary of State (2005-09)

Not for Sale Campaign

Lt. John Vanek

Bradley Myles

San Jose Police Department Human Trafficking Task Force

Register online by January 15

Polaris Project

Fri, Jan 21 Sat, Jan 2 2

Sara Groves

Musical artist and justice advocate

http://Freedom-Summit.org

Sponsored by The Bay Area Anti-Trafficking Coalition & Menlo Park Presbyterian Church

Power in

Praotes

I heard the question in a message one day, listening to someone I highly respect: What are the markers of a truly godly person?

In my typical, find-the-answer-quickly fashion, I began to make a list in my notebook of all these great, admirable qualities: nice to others, loving, understanding, patient, serves, happy…my list trailed off as the same voice that had posed the question drew my mind back to the solid truth.

Every good tree bears good fruit, but a bad tree bears bad fruit…Thus, by their fruit you will recognize them (Matthew 7:17-20 NIV).

Of course. By their fruit. Rather, by the Holy Spirit’s fruit.

Paul wrote in Galatians chapter 5 that those who know Christ have the Holy Spirit, and those who have the Holy Spirit will bear the fruit of the Spirit. I used to believe that all of these qualities – love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control – were individual, compartmentalized and separate. I thought that I could work on one area and neglect all of the others, mastering them one by one.

However, Paul is very clear that the Holy Spirit bears one fruit with many qualities, all a part of the same body just as we who are many form one body in Christ (Romans 12:5 NIV). What a beautiful parallel!

Perhaps of those nine qualities, gentleness is the most misunderstood. By living in a culture where world and business leaders are expected to be powerful and unyielding, excused for crushing others to get to the top, we often dismiss the quality of gentleness. Yet the Holy Spirit’s fruit is incomplete without the touch of gentleness. To understand the importance of a gentle and humble heart, we will have to be counter-cultural, removing the small frame we tend to look through and

by Sarah Gillette

fixing our eyes on the larger canvas.

The Greek word for gentleness is praotes, meaning meekness, mildness, forbearance.

It tends to indicate an inward grace of the soul, calmness toward God in particular, and additionally the acceptance of God’s dealings with us as good in that they enhance the closeness of our relationship with him (see Beth Moore’s commentary on gentleness in “Living Beyond Yourself”).

For some, this might appear to be weakness, but I believe that praotes represents the opposite of weakness. Gentleness is having the power to act but choosing not to use it.

Gentleness is submitting to God’s will, a concept that is a difficult pill for anyone to swallow!

The clearest example of this kind of gentleness is in the life of Christ, fully divine and fully man. His choice to become a human, to live in gentleness and not dominance even to the cross demonstrates the kind of gentleness the Spirit can bear in us. Imagine this – a man, humble in appearance but powerful in his word and influence, is beaten, broken, and forced to carry the heavy burden of the cross up to the place where he knows he will die. This same man is the man who can call at once legions of angels into action (Matthew 26:53 NIV), and who holds the world together (Colossians 1:17 NIV). Yet, he chose to act in gentleness and submission, knowing that through gentleness God makes His power known.

As I remember Jesus’ example of true gentleness, true compassion for mankind demonstrated in his sacrificial death, I remember that question that first piqued my interest – do I bear the markers of a godly person? Have I been gentle enough, submissive enough to the Spirit to allow God to bear that fruit in me?

Sarah Gillette is a senior at Stanford majoring in English with an emphasis in creative writing.

Her favorite author is C.S. Lewis, and she hopes to one day write novels uncovering the realities of today’s social injustices, specifically human trafficking.

16

Photos: Celeste Noche

Vox Clara, Vol. IV, Issue 1

Notes

on the

fruit of the Spirit

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

Against such things there is no law. Now those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. If we live by the Spirit, we must also follow the Spirit.

Galatians 5:22-25 The characteristics listed in Paul’s letter to the Galatians as “fruit of the Spirit” are characteristics that almost all humans desire. Inevitably, however, the reality of our humanness keeps

us from perfectly reflecting these characteristics all the time.

The key difference in someone aspiring for these attributes and a follower of Christ is the latter’s realization that it can’t be done on his or her own. Christ, embodied as the Holy Spirit in an individual, is the agent of change. In the end, as the Spirit works to transform a Christian’s desires and attitudes, these attributes are not something Christians decide to do but become a part of who they are. Anyone can display these characteristics; the distinction for the Christian is that these attributes represent a natural outpouring of the transformed heart.

Love | Joy | Peace | Patience | Kindness | Goodness | Faithfulness | Gentleness | Self-control

Forum of Christian Thought and Action at Stanford

17

Featured

Visual Artists ian

Br aro

”Z

ele

“P 18

Vox Clara, Vol. IV, Issue 1

Brian Zaro’s work is featured on the cover of Vox Clara and throughout the journal.

He was born and raised in the beautiful Pacific Northwest and recently graduated from George Fox University. He now resides outside of Yosemite on Bass Lake where he spends the majority of his time exploring, playing soccer, and making beautiful prints for artists around the world.

Celeste Noche’s photos are featured in the Centerpiece of this quarter’s publication.

She grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area and is a fourth year in English and Classics.

She is a travel photographer, a food enthusiast, and author of the blog Wanderlust. She loves traveling, playing her ukulele, and daydreaming of Italy. Feel free to contact her at cfnoche@stanford.edu or visit her blog: celesteswanderlust.blogspot.com.

Celeste Noche

Forum of Christian Thought and Action at Stanford

19

“Turn Cheek” the other

by Justin Reed

“You have heard it said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also. And if someone wants to sue you and take your tunic, let him have your cloak as well. If someone forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles.”

I always saw these words as good but difficult advice coming from Jesus. Not to say that there is anything wrong with difficult advice (it is often the most sincere), but in Bible study two years ago I had a difficult time trying to see just how literal Jesus intended the “turn the other cheek” idea. I mean, if someone is wailing on you, how long are you supposed to just stand there? … I find myself asking Jesus, “when is it ok to take a step back, dodge a swing, or just get outta there…?”

But, now that I have learned about the historical context of Jesus’ audience I can see how radically ingenious Jesus’ advice really is! JC is a genius and I love how this teaching really illustrates this point! So, I invite you to take a look at how Jesus imagines creative, non-violent resistance to oppression…

Ok, let’s say that I’m a slave in 1st century Palestine. Now we all know that slavery was not the business in America in 1830. But, don’t be fooled. Slavery in the year 30 was no walk in the park either. While the connection between race and slavery is peculiar to the African slave trade beginning in the 1600s, the type of oppression, violence, mistreatment, lack of rights, and status as living property are all similarities between the slavery way back when and slavery for African Americans. So, if I am one of the many slaves in the Roman Empire during the year 30, chances are pretty high that I will be the recipient of plenty of inhumane treatment and violence.

Now, I’m pretty tired of my master beating me up all the time.

So, I start plotting with my fellow slaves. Everyone knows how it goes down: “an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.” It’s in the Assyrian law in Hamurabbi’s code, it’s in the Jewish scriptures all over the place (Ex 21:24, Lev 24:20, Deut 19:21), and the Egyptians know it too. So, I’m telling my fellow slaves, “If my master hits me one more time, I’m gonna knock him out.”

“Is it worth it, J?” one slave replies. “You’ll be executed. Heck, the Romans might execute us all just for not stopping you.”

20

Now, I don’t want everyone to die, but I’m just so mad and frustrated because there is no way to fix my situation. I’m stuck being a slave (probaby for life) and I have no rights because I’m just a piece of property. But, then one of the other slaves tells me to go see Jesus.

“He can fix everything,” he says.

“The lame walk, the blind see, the deaf hear, and the dead are raised. There’s nothing Jesus the Messiah can’t make right.” …I’m skeptical. I mean healings and exorcisms are cool and all, but from what I hear, this is a peaceful dude and I don’t need that. I need some force if I am gonna get even with my master and prevent the Roman authorities from punishing me. I need an army not a Rabbi… but I go anyway.

So, JC is surrounded by a huge crowd and they are all asking him questions. People are yelling at the top of their lungs to get his attention and to get him to answer their questions.

So, I squeeze my way to the front and I start yelling too. But, he doesn’t hear me. I’m screaming at the top of my lungs to get his Photo: Nate Gilbertson attention. I’m right in front of him, but everyone else is so loud that my voice is lost in the crowd. I’m desperate for an answer, but I don’t get any response. Why can’t he hear me? Finally I fall to my knees in desperation with tears streaking down my face and I yell, “Jesus help me!” and he turns toward me.

Jesus raises his hand and the crowd becomes silent. In the midst

Vox Clara, Vol. IV, Issue 1

of sobbing, I whimper, “My master beats me and I don’t know what to do about it…”

Everyone is quiet as Jesus speaks to the crowd: “You have heard it said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’

But I tell you, do not resist an evil person.”

He stops. Everyone looks puzzled. “What is he saying?” people start murmuring. “Does he want us all to die?” “How do you stop an evil person without resistance?”

Jesus adds, “He who has ears let him hear.” Now every time he says that he is telling us to pay closer attention.

So Matthew, who is in the crowd trying to record this event, says, “Hey, JC! Look, I know you’re doing the whole Aramaic thing, but I’m trying to write this stuff down in Greek. Which word should I use for ‘resist’?”

So Jesus says, “antistenai.” (I’m staring dumbfounded… I don’t know Greek, what difference does that word mean to me).

Then Jesus looks at me and says, “I’m trying to tell you not to resist with force.”

“Ooooh,” says the crowd in unison.

“Wait. I still don’t get it, Jesus.

How am I supposed to resist my master beating on me without using force?”

So Jesus says, “If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also.”

“What!?” I retort. “That makes no sense!” I’m starting to get mad.

“My master beats me! If I turn the other cheek, he is still beating me! That doesn’t solve anything!”

So, I turn to leave, frustrated with the worthless advice Jesus gave me. Pretty much, all I got out of it was, “You’re a slave, Justin, so stay in your place.”

“Where have you been! I’ve been calling for you!” my master yells. Then he raises his right hand and I know exactly what is coming. For a split second I think about poppin’ him in his jaw, but I don’t.

SMACK! (Right handed backhand to the right cheek). I fall to the dust. My fists clench. I’m two seconds away from going off on this fool, but as I look up at Jesus he stares right into my soul. I still don’t understand him… so, I act on faith.

I stand up. Look my master in the eye. And he raises his hand once more. As I turn the other cheek, I close my eyes anticipating another slap. For a moment nothing happens. I look, and my master is looking at me quizzically. Like most people he is right handed and so it is his right hand that is raised in the air. But, now he has to adjust. He can’t give me the backhanded slap to the right cheek like he wants to. He cannot strike me in the manner in which a superior strikes a subordinate.

But, the hesitation is only for a moment.

SMACK! …Then it hit me.

The crowd gasps. Smiles start to spread across everyone’s faces.

People are all pointing in our direction and my master looks shocked as he realizes what he has just done.

You see, by turning the other cheek, my master had to adjust so that he could continue to beat me with his right hand. Instead of slapping me with a backhand as a superior would strike a subordinate, now he has used an open handed slap: the way that an equal would slap an equal who had offended him.

In other words, I just turned my master’s violent oppression into a means of confirming our equality rather than his superiority.

And even if it was only for a moment, the feeling of self-pride and worth that is bubbling up inside of me as the entire crowd witnesses this miracle is irreplaceable. That feeling will last for the rest of my life. He can never take that back and even if he is to beat me to death that very day, I will die with a sense of pride.

Although he hates me, beats me, and controls me, for that one moment, I was in control. In that one moment, I told him that we are both human beings and we are both equal. And I didn’t even lift a finger.

“He who has ears, let him hear,” Jesus repeats. I pause. But, at that very moment my master rolls up on me!

Justin Reed

is an African American Studies major and Religious Studies minor from the class of 2010. His major interest is Biblical Studies and his honors thesis was on the influence of ethnicity in the story of Samson. His interest in the story of Samson also spawned the creation of a 212 page published graphic novel, Samson: Blessed Savior of Israel. He was also a Track and Field and Cross Country varsity athlete for four years. If you would like to contact him with comments or questions, his email is jayreed2@gmail.com. In addition, his website www.image-of-God.com includes the hand-painted clothes he makes, information on his book, and spiritual growth resources.

Forum of Christian Thought and Action at Stanford

21

Human Biology

and

Spiritual Reality

event review

by Allen Huang We live in a world of dichotomies. Some are true, others are false. Many of them deal with deep issues regarding our being and doing. Science and faith, truth and authority, material and moral, and so on. In October of 2010, Trinity Forum organized an evening conversation between two experts to poke around at some of the dichotomies that flourish today, and investigate if they really hold up under the light. William Hurlbut is a physician and Consulting Professor at the Neuroscience Institute at Stanford. Dallas Willard is Professor of Philosophy at the USC School of Philosophy. The title of the event was “Human Biology and Spiritual Reality.”

global warming. Authority is fine if it can be tested, and we can learn a lot from sources of authority. The only authority that is bad is that which cannot be tested.

Although the misappropriation of authority and even reason have led to disastrous results in the last several centuries, restricting our definition of reality to include only what can be detected through the senses brings along its own host of problems. One cannot live life and make decisions based solely

a chimpanzee was crucified, its fellow creatures wouldn’t get it. They would be disturbed and scream and throw sticks at it. If a whale were stuck on a beach, no animals would care about it, not even other whales. It is only the human who would see the seriousness of the situation and take steps to save the whale. And when a man is crucified, it is only the human person who can see at the same time immense injustice as well as profound salvation.

Those two topics have more in common than might be first evident, both as points of conversation and in the way they affect our lives.

That’s because they address the question of “What is real?” And how we ask and answer that question, Photo: Clara Caruthers Willard argues, determines how we live. on the material. Willard asserts that we Many modern philosophers claim that need knowledge that is adequate to base only the “empirical” is real, the empirical our lives on. And that knowledge needs to encompassing only that which we encompass not just our senses and feelings, experience with our senses and feelings. but also reason and reliable authority.

But perhaps that’s a claim that needs to be reexamined, or at least we need to Is there room in knowledge for spiritual look again at how narrowly we define content?

Hurlbut pressed this issue “empirical.” The broader meaning of during the evening, inviting listeners empirical includes reason and authority. to consider the possibility that there is The notion of authority is suspect in a biological basis for spiritual ascent in our day, and rightly so for its misuses humans and suggesting that spirituality throughout history. Keep in mind, though, is not just subjective experience but that most of what we know we take from rather part of reality. It is built into our authority, whether it’s the make-up of being to see moral meaning in material the periodic table or the recent trends in situations. Hurlbut mentioned that if

The spiritual dimension of our lives has implications on how we view and treat our bodies and our actions.

Whatever our philosophical or spiritual background, there is an awesomeness in the unity of the human person that behooves us to be reverent in our interventions in it, from the earliest stages of the embryo to the last breaths of life. Hurlbut brought up Nathaniel Hawthorne’s short story “The Birthmark.”

It speaks of a husband who has a wife who is almost perfect, except for a birthmark. In his quest to make her perfect, he coerces her into a treatment that only continually disfigures her. It is similar to our modern attempts to perfect ourselves and our loved ones. When it comes to novel genetic modifications to perfect our bodies and intellect, it’s not just a matter of opening Pandora’s box.

We may be denying our very identities.

Whether our aspirations for perfection are steeped in lofty or base motives, we risk writing ourselves out of our own story if we do not respect our given nature.

These matters bring up questions

22

Vox Clara, Vol. IV, Issue 1

pertaining to responsibility, and the thorny issues of sin and free will quickly follow. The narrowness of empiricism may have us believe in an equally narrow determinism that boils down our actions to our physiology and external circumstances, Willard laments, but responsibility and decision-making are things every person engages in every day.

Even the most ardent determinist does not go into a restaurant, look at the menu, and wait to see what happens. Our material make-up and outside circumstances may be the basis of our decision-making, but in the end we as persons decide our actions. And if we believe that, we may

make ourselves better off. Hurlbut cited a study that showed that those who had an understanding of free will made decisions that had better results than those who simply ascribed their lives to chance.

But even if we move beyond a view of the world that is simply governed by chance, we still are beset by the uncomfortable coexistence of both love and suffering.

Hurlbut suggested that we might look to the cross and the One crucified upon it for the answer. There before us is both suffering and injustice, yet the choice of Christ to be crucified was one of love, giving His life for his fellow man. On the

Photo: Clara Caruthers

cross we see the moral manifested in the material. There was neither meaningless matter that found itself at some random place and time, nor some disembodied idea or spirit which hovered amorphously for us to guess at its purpose. At Calvary, there was a perfect unity of the physical and the spiritual. At the foot of the cross we can meditate on, and maybe even answer the question of what is real.

What is real is love, and the greatest manifestation of Love was a Person.

Allen Huang is a co-term in Classics from Irvine, California, though his heart will always stay in neighboring Tustin where he went to high school. He has a love for Homer and all things epic.

Forum of Christian Thought and Action at Stanford

23

The Augustine Project Vox Clara was inspired by The Augustine Project, which is a growing movement to establish Christian journals at colleges across the country.

The Project’s goal is to be a “thoughtful witness to [Christian] faith in the modern university,” knowing that “Truth cannot be pursued in a vacuum.”

The Augustine Project was founded by Jordan Hylden, a graduate of Harvard University.

Other Member Journals Include: • • • • • • • • • • • •

The Harvard Ichthus Revisions (Princeton) The Beacon (William and Mary) To An Unknown God (Berkeley) Closing Remarks (Brown) The Pub (Wheaton) Religio (Duke) Wide Awake (University of Virginia) The Fish (University of Chicago) Logos (Yale) The Dartmouth Apologia The Stand (UC San Diego)

Vox Clara at Stanford is a chapter of Vox Clara, a Christian non-profit dedicated to building a network of Christian organizations on college campuses across the country that produce publications and host speaking events and conferences for college students. This national organization grew out of Vox Clara at Stanford, its first chapter. For more information, please visit www.voxclara.org.

The Augustine Project: theaugustineproject.blogspot.com

24

Vox Clara, Vol. IV, Issue 1

Want to get involved? www.voxstanford.org info@voxstanford.org

www.voxstanford.org info@voxstanford.org

Interested in submitting an article or other content?

Vox Clara is currently accepting all types of student submissions, including research articles, opinion pieces, interviews, short stories, book reviews, poems, and photography & art (please take into consideration that journals are typically printed in black & white). We feature this content and archived material on the online version of our journal.

The deadline for articles for the Winter 2011 issue is February 18th.

We will still accept submissions after this date but they may be postponed to a later issue.

We welcome any submissions, including those that fit with our winter journal theme: Self-Control.

Please submit your work to submissions@voxstanford.org.

Questions | Comments | Sponsor | Get Involved www.voxstanford.org | info@voxstanford.org

Forum of Christian Thought and Action at Stanford

25

Letter from the President

The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life—of whom shall I be afraid?” – Psalm 27:1 Last summer I had the chance to participate in a bike ride with International Justice Mission to help raise awareness of human trafficking. The third day of our ride in Alabama influenced the way I looked at the remaining five weeks of the trip and continues to impact me today. We were staying the night in a small church in Moundville. Due to some miscommunication, the church had thought we were going to be arriving the following evening instead, so they had organized a gathering on the next night for us to speak to the community about the issue of modern-day slavery. But unfortunately, we were going to have to wake up early the next morning and bike to another city. Rather than cancel the event, members of the church began a phone chain to let the town of Moundville know that the event would be happening in a couple of hours instead of on the following day. Amidst a downpour and at last-minute’s notice, the town came out to encourage us and to learn about God’s call for us to seek justice for the oppressed. They were a community that was connected in love and support for one another and for others; they were a concrete image of the body of Christ.

When we gathered together in the church’s sanctuary, Sean Litton, the director of Field Operations for IJM, shared a story of a young girl that his team had rescued from a brothel she had been held captive in for years.

During an undercover investigation, Sean’s team had taken a picture of the girl’s cell. Across the back wall of her cell, the girl had written the first verse of Psalm 27: “The Lord is my light and my salvation—whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life—of whom shall I be afraid?” (NIV). I was struck when I heard those words. In the face of daily rape and enslavement, this child held on to her faith in God. God heard her prayers, and He stirred within the IJM team the courage and commitment to bring her rescue.

After the event ended, the other girls on the ride and I headed to a room in the church to get some sleep.

When we walked into the room, the first thing we saw was a painting hanging on the wall. Written on it were the words of Psalm 27:1—the same verse that the young girl had written on her cell. Seeing those words and spending time with the Moundville community made me realize just how connected we are as the children of God. It gave new meaning to my understanding of the passage from Colossians, which says, “Here there is no Greek or Jew, circumcised or uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave or free, but Christ is all, and is in all.

Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion and kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. […] And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity” (NIV 3:11-13). As we begin this new year, I pray that we will clothe ourselves in these virtues and in love, knowing that we do so not as isolated individuals but as part of the dearly loved body of Christ.

C. E. Caruthers President, 2010 - 11

26

Vox Clara, Vol. IV, Issue 1

Closing Thoughts Thank you for reading Vox Clara. It is our sincere hope that you come away enlightened about aspects of Christianity. Whether you are a skeptic, seeker, or believer, we encourage you to continue exploring the faith. We leave you with these closing thoughts.

In a gentle way, you can shake the world.

- Mahatma Gandhi Nothing is so strong as gentleness, nothing so gentle as real strength.

- Saint Frances de Sales A profusion of pink roses being ragged in the rain speaks to me of all gentleness and its enduring.

- William Carlos Williams

Photo: Brian “Pele� Zaro

Forum of Christian Thought and Action at Stanford

27

28

Vox Clara, Vol. IV, Issue 1