Dear friends,
-It's been some time since I last posted anything on the blog. In fact I've even had a few of you contact me to make sure I was o.k. (which I greatly appreciate). I haven't suffered any great calamity or misfortune but I have been extremely busy in the last six months. That's what happens when you're working three part-time jobs and going to school and taking odd gigs and side jobs. But in spite of the crazy schedule I'm still much happier with my life right now than I was when I worked for McDonald's.
-But there is also another reason that I haven't been in contact with any of my friends from Wheaton and that one is much harder for me to write about. In fact this is one of the hardest things that I've ever had to tell anyone, especially you my friends, and is that I'm gay. I've dreaded telling you guys but I think that the time has finally come. I don't know what your reactions will be. I'm not asking any of you to approve or condone my life decisions. I will say that the decision to come out and be gay was not, I repeat, not, a sudden or an easy decision for me and one that I've struggled with for as long as I can remember.
-I will ask this of you though. Please do not write or call me with the intention of arguing or impressing upon me the wrongness and/or sinfulness of my being gay. I grew up, as did many of you, in an extremely conservative, republican, and christian family in addition to being in a conservative, family values minded church. I don't know yet how this is affecting my faith. I'm still working through that myself.
-I've heard a great many arguments on both sides of the gay issue but I've decided that ten years of trying to be someone that I'm not is enough for me. If after reading this any of you still wish to talk to me you can get my info off my profile or from Strauss. Thanks for your love and your friendship.
Monday, January 30, 2006
Sunday, January 29, 2006
Which country am I in?
I thought two of you might be interested to know that the Japanese guy who owns an Indian curry restaurant near my house has been playing Sitar for 8 years and gave me a demonstration, and that I asked if I could try, so he let me.
So, following his instructions, I rubbed the first and second fingers of my left hand in coconut resin to make them slide easier up and down the strings (because you only use those 2 fingers to push down the strings), fitted the metal pick-like implement onto the first finger of my right hand, took off my shoes, sat in the classic sitar sitting position on a mat he had laid down on the wood floor for me, and played around for 10 minutes while a few other patrons continued eating their dinners (it's a small restaurant, with a bar and 4 tables). I was surprised to see that there are 2 layers of strings: you strum and pluck the upper layer, while the layer underneath just resonates.
Seeing how skillfully I played, he asked if I played guitar, too. He also lent me a book he has explaining the basics of playing sitar.
I'm tempted to take either sitar or shamisen (like a traditional japanese banjo) lessons.
So, following his instructions, I rubbed the first and second fingers of my left hand in coconut resin to make them slide easier up and down the strings (because you only use those 2 fingers to push down the strings), fitted the metal pick-like implement onto the first finger of my right hand, took off my shoes, sat in the classic sitar sitting position on a mat he had laid down on the wood floor for me, and played around for 10 minutes while a few other patrons continued eating their dinners (it's a small restaurant, with a bar and 4 tables). I was surprised to see that there are 2 layers of strings: you strum and pluck the upper layer, while the layer underneath just resonates.
Seeing how skillfully I played, he asked if I played guitar, too. He also lent me a book he has explaining the basics of playing sitar.
I'm tempted to take either sitar or shamisen (like a traditional japanese banjo) lessons.
201
I couldn't resist puting up a new post when I discovered that my profile broke the 200-view mark. It would appear my egoism knows no bounds.
Happy lunar new year! Congradulations on making a fortune! [as an English-speaker would say today in Hong Kong]
Happy lunar new year! Congradulations on making a fortune! [as an English-speaker would say today in Hong Kong]
Sunday, January 22, 2006
new article
The Wall Street Journal - A Test of Faith: A professor's firing after his conversion highlights a new orthodoxy at religious collegesJan. 3, 2006
By Daniel GoldenCopyright 2006 Dow Jones & Company, Inc.
The Wall Street Journal reports about hiring practices at religious universities, including Baylor.
WHEATON, Ill. -- Wheaton College was delighted to have assistant professor Joshua Hochschild teach students about medieval philosopher Thomas Aquinas, one of Roman Catholicism's foremost thinkers.
But when the popular teacher converted to Catholicism, the prestigious evangelical college reacted differently. It fired him.
Wheaton, like many evangelical colleges, requires full-time faculty members to be Protestants and sign a statement of belief in "biblical doctrine that is consonant with evangelical Christianity." In a letter notifying Mr. Hochschild of the college's decision, Wheaton's president said his "personal desire" to retain "a gifted brother in Christ" was outweighed by his duty to employ "faculty who embody the institution's evangelical Protestant convictions."
Mr. Hochschild, 33 years old, who was considered by his department a shoo-in for tenure, says he's still willing to sign the Wheaton faith statement. He left last spring, taking a 10% pay cut and roiling his family life, to move to a less-renowned Catholic college.
Mr. Hochschild's dismissal captures tensions coursing through many of America's religious colleges. At these institutions, which are mostly Protestant or Catholic, decisions about hiring and retaining faculty members are coming into conflict with a resurgence of religious identity.
Historically, religious colleges mainly picked faculty of their own faith. In the last third of the 20th century, however, as enrollments soared and higher education boomed, many Catholic colleges enhanced their prestige by broadening their hiring, choosing professors on the basis of teaching and research. As animosities between Catholics and Protestants thawed, some evangelical Protestant colleges began hiring faculty from other Christian faiths.
But now a conservative reaction is setting in, part of a broader push against the secularization of American society. Fearful of forsaking their spiritual and educational moorings, colleges are increasingly "hiring for mission," as the catch phrase goes, even at the cost of eliminating more academically qualified candidates.
Addressing faculty at the University of Notre Dame, the school's new president, the Rev. John Jenkins, recently expressed concern that the percentage of faculty who were Catholic had fallen to 53%, compared with 85% in the 1970s. Today's level is barely above a line set in 1990 by the late Pope John Paul II, who decreed that non-Catholics shouldn't be a majority of the faculty at a Catholic university.
Notre Dame is compiling a database of candidates who can contribute to the university's religious mission. Administrators say that instead of reducing quality, Notre Dame's religious identity has lured some premier faculty, such as associate professor Brad Gregory, who left a tenured job at Stanford in 2003 for an equivalent, higher-paying position. "Notre Dame's Catholic character wasn't only a factor, it was the factor," says Mr. Gregory, a Catholic, who specializes in the history of Christianity. "By any ordinary measure, you'd be crazy to leave Stanford for Notre Dame."
At another Catholic school, Boston College, some administrators would like to hire more people committed to its religious mission, but its faculty has proved "particularly resistant," says a 2004 report by the Association of Jesuit Colleges and Universities. To achieve its goals, the college is contemplating establishing research centers on Catholic intellectual tradition and Catholic education. Georgetown University, also a prominent Catholic school, appointed its first vice president for mission and ministry, a Jesuit priest, in 2003.
About 400 U.S. colleges cite religion as an element in their hiring policies. And many of these colleges, such as Brigham Young, an almost entirely Mormon university, are growing fast. At the 102 evangelical Protestant schools belonging to the Council for Christian Colleges and Universities, full-time faculty rose 36.2% from 1991 to 2003, the latest available data. These schools hire only Christians, mostly Protestants.
Defining evangelical schools isn't easy to do, but in general they are populated by people of various Protestant faiths who share a common religious vision. That includes a commitment to spreading the word of God and a literal interpretation of the Bible.
Many, like Wheaton, bar Catholic and Eastern Orthodox faculty. "We've got a marvelous Greek Orthodox person we'd kill to hire and we can't," says Wheaton sociologist James Mathisen. Mr. Mathisen says he has mixed feelings about the Protestants-only policy. He understands the religious rationale but also feels it deprives Wheaton of quality faculty.
Such hiring policies would be illegal at most universities but the 1964 Civil Rights Act carves out an exemption for religious colleges. Their students qualify for federal financial aid. Partly because of their hiring practices, evangelical Protestant colleges have been denied certain kinds of aid in California and Colorado under laws barring support of "pervasively sectarian" schools.
Phi Beta Kappa, the honors society, hasn't established a chapter at any of the evangelical colleges that make up the Council for Christian Colleges and Universities, including Wheaton. Kelly Gerald, a spokeswoman, says the society wants to uphold what it sees as the values inherent in the liberal arts and sciences, such as tolerance for diverse points of view. The American Economics Association, which operates a Web site for academic job seekers, deletes references to religious preferences in job listings.
Injecting faith into hiring decisions often runs counter to decades of tradition -- even at religious schools -- and as a result has sparked fierce debate. Robert Sloan stepped down last year from his position as president of Baylor, a Baptist university in Waco, Texas. He alienated some faculty by questioning job candidates about how they would infuse religion into teaching and research, and vetoing some who didn't answer satisfactorily.
Mr. Sloan, now the school's chancellor, says the unhappiness was "one of the central factors" in the "turmoil" that led to his resignation. John M. Lilley, the new president, won't interview faculty candidates, says Baylor Provost Randall O'Brien, a high-ranking administrator.
Baylor hires only Christians and Jews. According to Mr. Sloan, Jews were included because a prominent Jewish scholar was on the faculty at the time the policy was formulated. Mr. Sloan says the school gives hiring preference to Baptists first, followed by other Protestant evangelicals, then other Protestants, other Christians, and lastly Jews.
Wheaton College, founded in 1860, is ranked the 55th top liberal arts college by U.S. News and World Report. It has an endowment of $294 million. On the 1600-point SAT scale the average combined verbal and math score of entering freshmen is 1336, similar to the average scores at University of Virginia and Bryn Mawr.
Wheaton has a handful of Catholic students, houses papers of Catholic authors such as J.R.R. Tolkien and welcomes Catholic visiting professors. But it has never hired a Catholic professor full time and tells Catholic applicants it won't consider them for such posts.
In 1993, Wheaton's English department did venture outside Protestant circles, bringing in visiting professor Thomas Howard, whose conversion to Catholicism had cost him a job at an evangelical school in Massachusetts. That same year, Wheaton hired a minister from an evangelical church in Tennessee, Duane Litfin, as its president. One of Mr. Litfin's early acts was to prevent Mr. Howard from giving a speech in the college chapel. Mr. Litfin says his decision was in line with college rules.
Since then, Mr. Litfin has mostly stuck to tradition. An exception in 2003 was easing Wheaton's ban on faculty drinking, which was considered a disadvantage in recruiting.
In a 2004 book titled "Conceiving the Christian College," Mr. Litfin argued that hiring Catholics would start Wheaton down a slippery slope. Wouldn't having Catholic faculty, he asked rhetorically, "lead to a gradual sacrificing of Wheaton's distinctives?"
In an interview, Mr. Litfin acknowledges that a ban on Catholic faculty "narrows the pool that you can draw from." But he says that the school's niche is also a key to its success. "If you look at the caliber of our faculty, this is an amazing place. It's thriving. Why do genetic engineering on it? Why muck up its DNA?"
As president, Mr. Litfin was forced to tackle that question, which came unexpectedly from a young professor traveling a roundabout spiritual journey.
Joshua Hochschild grew up in Plainfield, Vt. His father, who died when Joshua was 9, was Jewish; his mother came from a Lutheran family. Neither was observant. Josh edited the student newspaper and was valedictorian at his public high school before enrolling at Yale.
There, for the first time, he made friends who took religion seriously. Studying philosophy, he came to believe that many important philosophical questions ultimately lead back to religious ones. Evangelized by an Episcopalian friend, he converted as a sophomore and was later baptized. Of Protestant denominations, Episcopalianism is closest in doctrine, liturgy and hierarchy to Catholicism.
Mr. Hochschild's brother Adam, a St. Louis lawyer, says he was appalled by his brother's religious turn at the time. "I just thought he had been lost to the dark side," he jokingly recalls. Eventually, Adam also became a Catholic -- on the same day as his brother.
Mr. Hochschild pursued his philosophy studies in graduate school at Notre Dame. "I had friends who thought, 'You're going to Notre Dame, you'll convert,' " recalls Mr. Hochschild, who says he gave the matter little thought. His Ph.D. dissertation analyzed the 15th-century writings of a Vatican cardinal, who was later sent to urge Martin Luther, the founding father of Protestantism, to recant.
When he got his doctorate, Mr. Hochschild was offered jobs by Wheaton and a Catholic school -- Mount St. Mary's University in Emmitsburg, Md. Says Carol Hinds, a former Mount St. Mary's provost: "He was a Protestant, but he was a faithful person. He could contribute to the mission." Feeling "in between" the two schools' spiritual traditions, Mr. Hochschild chose Wheaton.
He signed Wheaton's faith statement, which asserts that the Bible is "inerrant," meaning without error, and "of supreme and final authority." Wheaton President Mr. Litfin asked in a job interview how Mr. Hochschild understood that passage, according to their later correspondence. Mr. Hochschild said he agreed, but added that the Bible should be read in light of "authoritative traditions," an example of which would be church councils. Although that view is closer to Catholicism than evangelical Protestantism, the president approved the appointment.
Mr. Hochschild got on well with colleagues and students, and University of Notre Dame Press agreed to publish his revised dissertation. "He was excellent on every score," says Wheaton's philosophy department chairman, Robert O'Connor.
Yet a question nagged Mr. Hochschild: Why am I not a Catholic? As he saw it, evangelical Protestantism was vaguely defined and had a weak scholarly tradition, which sharpened his admiration for Catholicism's self-assurance and intellectual history. "I even had students who asked me why I wasn't Catholic," he says. "I didn't have a decent answer."
His wife, Paige, said her husband's distaste for the "evangelical suspicion of philosophy" at the school might have contributed to his ultimate conversion. The Hochschilds say some evangelicals worry that learning about philosophy undermines students' religious convictions.
During a 2003 academic conference at Notre Dame, Mr. Hochschild revealed his anguish to another attendee, a priest. The priest replied that Mr. Hochschild seemed, in his heart, to have already embraced Catholicism. Although he had taken Communion in the Episcopalian church, Mr. Hochschild realized after the conversation that he longed to "obey the Gospel commands to eat the flesh of Christ [as a Catholic]." Returning home, he signed up for a Catholic initiation class.
Aware of Wheaton's Protestants-only policy, Mr. Hochschild recalls thinking he would probably lose his job. In September 2003, he told the philosophy chairman, Mr. O'Connor, of his intention to convert. Hoping Mr. Hochschild could stay, Mr. O'Connor notified the administration.
In general, Catholics believe the Pope is the final authority on religious matters. Protestants reject that authority and generally profess a direct relationship between the individual and the Almighty.
A months-long debate followed between President Litfin and Mr. Hochschild. They argued over whether the professor could subscribe to Wheaton's faith statement, which faculty must reaffirm annually. Like most evangelical colleges, Wheaton bases its employment practices on such a document.
Wheaton's 12-point statement doesn't explicitly exclude Catholics. But its emphasis on Scripture as the "supreme and final authority" and its aligning of Wheaton with "evangelical Christianity" were unmistakably Protestant, Mr. Litfin wrote to Mr. Hochschild in late 2003. Because Catholics regard the Bible and the pope as equally authoritative, a Catholic "cannot faithfully affirm" the Wheaton statement, he continued.
Mr. Hochschild disagreed. The Bible, he wrote, is indeed the supreme authority for Catholics, who turn to the Church hierarchy only as Protestants consult their ministers. While acknowledging the college's right to exclude Catholics -- and knowing his position was endangered -- he replied that as a matter of principle, "I see no reason why I should be dismissed from the College upon joining the Roman Catholic Church."
Mr. Hochschild was "quibbling," the president retorted four days later. "Perhaps Wheaton College has come to a point where, because of challenges such as yours, it must revise its documents to make more explicit its non-Catholic identity."
Mr. Litfin said the college would terminate Mr. Hochschild's employment at the end of the 2003-2004 school year. He later agreed to let Mr. Hochschild stay another year to find a job. On the eve of Easter 2004, Mr. Hochschild was received into the Catholic church.
President Litfin's office is across the street from the Billy Graham Center, named for the famed preacher and Wheaton alumnus who has sought to reconcile Protestants and Catholics. The president says he has also been "a part of this rapprochement." But, he maintains, the core doctrinal issues separating Protestants and Catholics "have by no means gone away."
The president wouldn't discuss the specifics of Mr. Hochschild's case, which he calls a personnel matter. He did say, "Josh is a terrific young guy. We would have loved to keep him."
The decision disappointed some at the college. Describing his ex-colleague's conversion as "a real act of intellectual and spiritual courage," philosophy professor W. Jay Wood says Wheaton could enhance its quality by "expanding the extent to which it draws on evangelicals within the major Christian traditions -- Catholic, Orthodox and Protestant." Indeed, not all evangelical schools are so strict. Messiah College, in Grantham, Pa., counts a dozen Catholics among 170 faculty.
Josh Carlton, a 2004 Wheaton graduate, says Mr. Hochschild excelled at guiding discussion. "I'm thinking about graduate school, and I don't know if I would be doing that if I hadn't had him," says the philosophy major, who complained to trustees about the dismissal. Mr. Litfin says the majority of faculty, students and alumni support the Protestant-only hiring policy.
At home, Mr. Hochschild encountered doubts within his family. His wife, a Canadian native, remains Episcopalian. "I hoped she would convert to Catholicism," Mr. Hochschild says. "I tried for a while to press it, but that's not the kind of thing you can force."
Mrs. Hochschild, who recently finished her dissertation in theology at the United Kingdom's Durham University, says she sometimes wishes her husband would have "waited for the rest of the family to be on board." But, she says, she trusts his reasoning and convictions. The Hochschilds are raising their three children, ages 11 months to 5 years, as Catholics.
His brother Adam says Mr. Hochschild "knew he was supposed to be doing what he was doing" and was calm about the decision, even though he was his family's sole breadwinner.
In what was at best a lateral move, Mr. Hochschild accepted a lower-paying assistant professorship at Mount St. Mary's, the college he once spurned. Mr. Hochschild applied to both secular and Catholic colleges, but only the latter invited him for interviews.
Mount St. Mary's has a lower average freshman SAT score -- 1094 -- than Wheaton and a much smaller endowment of $33 million. The transition delayed his opportunity for tenure by two years, increased his teaching load and uprooted the Hochschilds from their home in an affluent Chicago suburb. They now live in a smaller, rented house on the Maryland-Pennsylvania border.
On Sundays, the family worships at a Catholic church, St. Anthony's Shrine, though Mrs. Hochschild sometimes slips out early to an Episcopal one. Mr. Hochschild wishes the service, which features modern hymns, was more traditional.
For Mount St. Mary's, Mr. Hochschild's newfound Catholicism was a bonus because the school was just starting to reassert its own religious mission. The Rev. J. Wilfrid Parent, the school's executive director for Catholic identity, says he will be involved in hiring new faculty, asking candidates about their faith and tracking the proportion of Catholics.
Meanwhile, Wheaton hasn't replaced Mr. Hochschild. One obstacle: Most scholars of medieval philosophy are Catholics.
By Daniel GoldenCopyright 2006 Dow Jones & Company, Inc.
The Wall Street Journal reports about hiring practices at religious universities, including Baylor.
WHEATON, Ill. -- Wheaton College was delighted to have assistant professor Joshua Hochschild teach students about medieval philosopher Thomas Aquinas, one of Roman Catholicism's foremost thinkers.
But when the popular teacher converted to Catholicism, the prestigious evangelical college reacted differently. It fired him.
Wheaton, like many evangelical colleges, requires full-time faculty members to be Protestants and sign a statement of belief in "biblical doctrine that is consonant with evangelical Christianity." In a letter notifying Mr. Hochschild of the college's decision, Wheaton's president said his "personal desire" to retain "a gifted brother in Christ" was outweighed by his duty to employ "faculty who embody the institution's evangelical Protestant convictions."
Mr. Hochschild, 33 years old, who was considered by his department a shoo-in for tenure, says he's still willing to sign the Wheaton faith statement. He left last spring, taking a 10% pay cut and roiling his family life, to move to a less-renowned Catholic college.
Mr. Hochschild's dismissal captures tensions coursing through many of America's religious colleges. At these institutions, which are mostly Protestant or Catholic, decisions about hiring and retaining faculty members are coming into conflict with a resurgence of religious identity.
Historically, religious colleges mainly picked faculty of their own faith. In the last third of the 20th century, however, as enrollments soared and higher education boomed, many Catholic colleges enhanced their prestige by broadening their hiring, choosing professors on the basis of teaching and research. As animosities between Catholics and Protestants thawed, some evangelical Protestant colleges began hiring faculty from other Christian faiths.
But now a conservative reaction is setting in, part of a broader push against the secularization of American society. Fearful of forsaking their spiritual and educational moorings, colleges are increasingly "hiring for mission," as the catch phrase goes, even at the cost of eliminating more academically qualified candidates.
Addressing faculty at the University of Notre Dame, the school's new president, the Rev. John Jenkins, recently expressed concern that the percentage of faculty who were Catholic had fallen to 53%, compared with 85% in the 1970s. Today's level is barely above a line set in 1990 by the late Pope John Paul II, who decreed that non-Catholics shouldn't be a majority of the faculty at a Catholic university.
Notre Dame is compiling a database of candidates who can contribute to the university's religious mission. Administrators say that instead of reducing quality, Notre Dame's religious identity has lured some premier faculty, such as associate professor Brad Gregory, who left a tenured job at Stanford in 2003 for an equivalent, higher-paying position. "Notre Dame's Catholic character wasn't only a factor, it was the factor," says Mr. Gregory, a Catholic, who specializes in the history of Christianity. "By any ordinary measure, you'd be crazy to leave Stanford for Notre Dame."
At another Catholic school, Boston College, some administrators would like to hire more people committed to its religious mission, but its faculty has proved "particularly resistant," says a 2004 report by the Association of Jesuit Colleges and Universities. To achieve its goals, the college is contemplating establishing research centers on Catholic intellectual tradition and Catholic education. Georgetown University, also a prominent Catholic school, appointed its first vice president for mission and ministry, a Jesuit priest, in 2003.
About 400 U.S. colleges cite religion as an element in their hiring policies. And many of these colleges, such as Brigham Young, an almost entirely Mormon university, are growing fast. At the 102 evangelical Protestant schools belonging to the Council for Christian Colleges and Universities, full-time faculty rose 36.2% from 1991 to 2003, the latest available data. These schools hire only Christians, mostly Protestants.
Defining evangelical schools isn't easy to do, but in general they are populated by people of various Protestant faiths who share a common religious vision. That includes a commitment to spreading the word of God and a literal interpretation of the Bible.
Many, like Wheaton, bar Catholic and Eastern Orthodox faculty. "We've got a marvelous Greek Orthodox person we'd kill to hire and we can't," says Wheaton sociologist James Mathisen. Mr. Mathisen says he has mixed feelings about the Protestants-only policy. He understands the religious rationale but also feels it deprives Wheaton of quality faculty.
Such hiring policies would be illegal at most universities but the 1964 Civil Rights Act carves out an exemption for religious colleges. Their students qualify for federal financial aid. Partly because of their hiring practices, evangelical Protestant colleges have been denied certain kinds of aid in California and Colorado under laws barring support of "pervasively sectarian" schools.
Phi Beta Kappa, the honors society, hasn't established a chapter at any of the evangelical colleges that make up the Council for Christian Colleges and Universities, including Wheaton. Kelly Gerald, a spokeswoman, says the society wants to uphold what it sees as the values inherent in the liberal arts and sciences, such as tolerance for diverse points of view. The American Economics Association, which operates a Web site for academic job seekers, deletes references to religious preferences in job listings.
Injecting faith into hiring decisions often runs counter to decades of tradition -- even at religious schools -- and as a result has sparked fierce debate. Robert Sloan stepped down last year from his position as president of Baylor, a Baptist university in Waco, Texas. He alienated some faculty by questioning job candidates about how they would infuse religion into teaching and research, and vetoing some who didn't answer satisfactorily.
Mr. Sloan, now the school's chancellor, says the unhappiness was "one of the central factors" in the "turmoil" that led to his resignation. John M. Lilley, the new president, won't interview faculty candidates, says Baylor Provost Randall O'Brien, a high-ranking administrator.
Baylor hires only Christians and Jews. According to Mr. Sloan, Jews were included because a prominent Jewish scholar was on the faculty at the time the policy was formulated. Mr. Sloan says the school gives hiring preference to Baptists first, followed by other Protestant evangelicals, then other Protestants, other Christians, and lastly Jews.
Wheaton College, founded in 1860, is ranked the 55th top liberal arts college by U.S. News and World Report. It has an endowment of $294 million. On the 1600-point SAT scale the average combined verbal and math score of entering freshmen is 1336, similar to the average scores at University of Virginia and Bryn Mawr.
Wheaton has a handful of Catholic students, houses papers of Catholic authors such as J.R.R. Tolkien and welcomes Catholic visiting professors. But it has never hired a Catholic professor full time and tells Catholic applicants it won't consider them for such posts.
In 1993, Wheaton's English department did venture outside Protestant circles, bringing in visiting professor Thomas Howard, whose conversion to Catholicism had cost him a job at an evangelical school in Massachusetts. That same year, Wheaton hired a minister from an evangelical church in Tennessee, Duane Litfin, as its president. One of Mr. Litfin's early acts was to prevent Mr. Howard from giving a speech in the college chapel. Mr. Litfin says his decision was in line with college rules.
Since then, Mr. Litfin has mostly stuck to tradition. An exception in 2003 was easing Wheaton's ban on faculty drinking, which was considered a disadvantage in recruiting.
In a 2004 book titled "Conceiving the Christian College," Mr. Litfin argued that hiring Catholics would start Wheaton down a slippery slope. Wouldn't having Catholic faculty, he asked rhetorically, "lead to a gradual sacrificing of Wheaton's distinctives?"
In an interview, Mr. Litfin acknowledges that a ban on Catholic faculty "narrows the pool that you can draw from." But he says that the school's niche is also a key to its success. "If you look at the caliber of our faculty, this is an amazing place. It's thriving. Why do genetic engineering on it? Why muck up its DNA?"
As president, Mr. Litfin was forced to tackle that question, which came unexpectedly from a young professor traveling a roundabout spiritual journey.
Joshua Hochschild grew up in Plainfield, Vt. His father, who died when Joshua was 9, was Jewish; his mother came from a Lutheran family. Neither was observant. Josh edited the student newspaper and was valedictorian at his public high school before enrolling at Yale.
There, for the first time, he made friends who took religion seriously. Studying philosophy, he came to believe that many important philosophical questions ultimately lead back to religious ones. Evangelized by an Episcopalian friend, he converted as a sophomore and was later baptized. Of Protestant denominations, Episcopalianism is closest in doctrine, liturgy and hierarchy to Catholicism.
Mr. Hochschild's brother Adam, a St. Louis lawyer, says he was appalled by his brother's religious turn at the time. "I just thought he had been lost to the dark side," he jokingly recalls. Eventually, Adam also became a Catholic -- on the same day as his brother.
Mr. Hochschild pursued his philosophy studies in graduate school at Notre Dame. "I had friends who thought, 'You're going to Notre Dame, you'll convert,' " recalls Mr. Hochschild, who says he gave the matter little thought. His Ph.D. dissertation analyzed the 15th-century writings of a Vatican cardinal, who was later sent to urge Martin Luther, the founding father of Protestantism, to recant.
When he got his doctorate, Mr. Hochschild was offered jobs by Wheaton and a Catholic school -- Mount St. Mary's University in Emmitsburg, Md. Says Carol Hinds, a former Mount St. Mary's provost: "He was a Protestant, but he was a faithful person. He could contribute to the mission." Feeling "in between" the two schools' spiritual traditions, Mr. Hochschild chose Wheaton.
He signed Wheaton's faith statement, which asserts that the Bible is "inerrant," meaning without error, and "of supreme and final authority." Wheaton President Mr. Litfin asked in a job interview how Mr. Hochschild understood that passage, according to their later correspondence. Mr. Hochschild said he agreed, but added that the Bible should be read in light of "authoritative traditions," an example of which would be church councils. Although that view is closer to Catholicism than evangelical Protestantism, the president approved the appointment.
Mr. Hochschild got on well with colleagues and students, and University of Notre Dame Press agreed to publish his revised dissertation. "He was excellent on every score," says Wheaton's philosophy department chairman, Robert O'Connor.
Yet a question nagged Mr. Hochschild: Why am I not a Catholic? As he saw it, evangelical Protestantism was vaguely defined and had a weak scholarly tradition, which sharpened his admiration for Catholicism's self-assurance and intellectual history. "I even had students who asked me why I wasn't Catholic," he says. "I didn't have a decent answer."
His wife, Paige, said her husband's distaste for the "evangelical suspicion of philosophy" at the school might have contributed to his ultimate conversion. The Hochschilds say some evangelicals worry that learning about philosophy undermines students' religious convictions.
During a 2003 academic conference at Notre Dame, Mr. Hochschild revealed his anguish to another attendee, a priest. The priest replied that Mr. Hochschild seemed, in his heart, to have already embraced Catholicism. Although he had taken Communion in the Episcopalian church, Mr. Hochschild realized after the conversation that he longed to "obey the Gospel commands to eat the flesh of Christ [as a Catholic]." Returning home, he signed up for a Catholic initiation class.
Aware of Wheaton's Protestants-only policy, Mr. Hochschild recalls thinking he would probably lose his job. In September 2003, he told the philosophy chairman, Mr. O'Connor, of his intention to convert. Hoping Mr. Hochschild could stay, Mr. O'Connor notified the administration.
In general, Catholics believe the Pope is the final authority on religious matters. Protestants reject that authority and generally profess a direct relationship between the individual and the Almighty.
A months-long debate followed between President Litfin and Mr. Hochschild. They argued over whether the professor could subscribe to Wheaton's faith statement, which faculty must reaffirm annually. Like most evangelical colleges, Wheaton bases its employment practices on such a document.
Wheaton's 12-point statement doesn't explicitly exclude Catholics. But its emphasis on Scripture as the "supreme and final authority" and its aligning of Wheaton with "evangelical Christianity" were unmistakably Protestant, Mr. Litfin wrote to Mr. Hochschild in late 2003. Because Catholics regard the Bible and the pope as equally authoritative, a Catholic "cannot faithfully affirm" the Wheaton statement, he continued.
Mr. Hochschild disagreed. The Bible, he wrote, is indeed the supreme authority for Catholics, who turn to the Church hierarchy only as Protestants consult their ministers. While acknowledging the college's right to exclude Catholics -- and knowing his position was endangered -- he replied that as a matter of principle, "I see no reason why I should be dismissed from the College upon joining the Roman Catholic Church."
Mr. Hochschild was "quibbling," the president retorted four days later. "Perhaps Wheaton College has come to a point where, because of challenges such as yours, it must revise its documents to make more explicit its non-Catholic identity."
Mr. Litfin said the college would terminate Mr. Hochschild's employment at the end of the 2003-2004 school year. He later agreed to let Mr. Hochschild stay another year to find a job. On the eve of Easter 2004, Mr. Hochschild was received into the Catholic church.
President Litfin's office is across the street from the Billy Graham Center, named for the famed preacher and Wheaton alumnus who has sought to reconcile Protestants and Catholics. The president says he has also been "a part of this rapprochement." But, he maintains, the core doctrinal issues separating Protestants and Catholics "have by no means gone away."
The president wouldn't discuss the specifics of Mr. Hochschild's case, which he calls a personnel matter. He did say, "Josh is a terrific young guy. We would have loved to keep him."
The decision disappointed some at the college. Describing his ex-colleague's conversion as "a real act of intellectual and spiritual courage," philosophy professor W. Jay Wood says Wheaton could enhance its quality by "expanding the extent to which it draws on evangelicals within the major Christian traditions -- Catholic, Orthodox and Protestant." Indeed, not all evangelical schools are so strict. Messiah College, in Grantham, Pa., counts a dozen Catholics among 170 faculty.
Josh Carlton, a 2004 Wheaton graduate, says Mr. Hochschild excelled at guiding discussion. "I'm thinking about graduate school, and I don't know if I would be doing that if I hadn't had him," says the philosophy major, who complained to trustees about the dismissal. Mr. Litfin says the majority of faculty, students and alumni support the Protestant-only hiring policy.
At home, Mr. Hochschild encountered doubts within his family. His wife, a Canadian native, remains Episcopalian. "I hoped she would convert to Catholicism," Mr. Hochschild says. "I tried for a while to press it, but that's not the kind of thing you can force."
Mrs. Hochschild, who recently finished her dissertation in theology at the United Kingdom's Durham University, says she sometimes wishes her husband would have "waited for the rest of the family to be on board." But, she says, she trusts his reasoning and convictions. The Hochschilds are raising their three children, ages 11 months to 5 years, as Catholics.
His brother Adam says Mr. Hochschild "knew he was supposed to be doing what he was doing" and was calm about the decision, even though he was his family's sole breadwinner.
In what was at best a lateral move, Mr. Hochschild accepted a lower-paying assistant professorship at Mount St. Mary's, the college he once spurned. Mr. Hochschild applied to both secular and Catholic colleges, but only the latter invited him for interviews.
Mount St. Mary's has a lower average freshman SAT score -- 1094 -- than Wheaton and a much smaller endowment of $33 million. The transition delayed his opportunity for tenure by two years, increased his teaching load and uprooted the Hochschilds from their home in an affluent Chicago suburb. They now live in a smaller, rented house on the Maryland-Pennsylvania border.
On Sundays, the family worships at a Catholic church, St. Anthony's Shrine, though Mrs. Hochschild sometimes slips out early to an Episcopal one. Mr. Hochschild wishes the service, which features modern hymns, was more traditional.
For Mount St. Mary's, Mr. Hochschild's newfound Catholicism was a bonus because the school was just starting to reassert its own religious mission. The Rev. J. Wilfrid Parent, the school's executive director for Catholic identity, says he will be involved in hiring new faculty, asking candidates about their faith and tracking the proportion of Catholics.
Meanwhile, Wheaton hasn't replaced Mr. Hochschild. One obstacle: Most scholars of medieval philosophy are Catholics.
Sunday, January 15, 2006
Wheaton Alum Opens Bar
Us DC T6ers seem to be doing alright these days. Brett has started a side job as a SAT prep teacher. Dave's social life has taken a twist, and I've been enjoying the break in between semesters for grad school classes, as I'm still doing stuff to prep for applying for a PhD program. So I currently have all sorts of free time, as I have no business committing to anymore activities, but much of what I have committed to has not started yet.
I'm enjoying the time off and doing stuff such as turning my place into a sports bar for the NFL football playoffs. (If the Bears bomb out this evening, I'm not going to be happy.) I've been getting about 7 people per game on average. If only hospitality was always as easy as having a kitchen stocked with lots of beer and junk food.
I'm enjoying the time off and doing stuff such as turning my place into a sports bar for the NFL football playoffs. (If the Bears bomb out this evening, I'm not going to be happy.) I've been getting about 7 people per game on average. If only hospitality was always as easy as having a kitchen stocked with lots of beer and junk food.
Monday, January 09, 2006
Daily Grace
Today’s New York Times contains this astonishing (for you), alarming (for me) article on diabetes in the United States
It’s difficult to convey my emotions on reading this article. It reminds me of painful realities that are easy to forget about within the day to day bustle of life. My life will probably be shorter than yours. I have much better odds of getting heart disease and stroke, of going blind, having nerve damage, or even losing my leg than you do. It may be that I will not be able to provide for my wife and (future) family the way I’d hoped. These are hard things to understand at any age, but especially at 25 when possibilities are supposed to be opening up instead of closing down.
Sunday, January 08, 2006
A Post
A post:
A thing that holds symbols, not signs or things. Not a tree (though it may hold life, represent judgment, give food of sorts, and point toward the king of the universe); made of zeros and ones encoded decoded and encoded once again.
Why am I writing this? I don't know. Just sat down at my computer and thought to myself: it is high time for a post. A post: a thing that holds symbols. . .
I have a laptop on my lap top, just to the left of which sits my wife on whose lap top sits my son. She just asked him, "what are you trying to see, honey" (he is looking intently at something to his right), he grunts back something unasperated or consonated, as if he is trying to pick up something heavy. I cannot write fast enough to keep up with his motion. He is in a hunderd differnt positions as my fingers fly across these crazy keys.
Sarah just asked me to speak what I'm writing because she sees me smiling at this screen. I have read all but this paragraph to her; to her, and not to andrew because he cannot recognize as many words as appear in these sentences.
Our guests are coming now. That means that, unless I want to be absolutely rude (in any culture) I must stop this post.
A thing that holds symbols, not signs or things. Not a tree (though it may hold life, represent judgment, give food of sorts, and point toward the king of the universe); made of zeros and ones encoded decoded and encoded once again.
Why am I writing this? I don't know. Just sat down at my computer and thought to myself: it is high time for a post. A post: a thing that holds symbols. . .
I have a laptop on my lap top, just to the left of which sits my wife on whose lap top sits my son. She just asked him, "what are you trying to see, honey" (he is looking intently at something to his right), he grunts back something unasperated or consonated, as if he is trying to pick up something heavy. I cannot write fast enough to keep up with his motion. He is in a hunderd differnt positions as my fingers fly across these crazy keys.
Sarah just asked me to speak what I'm writing because she sees me smiling at this screen. I have read all but this paragraph to her; to her, and not to andrew because he cannot recognize as many words as appear in these sentences.
Our guests are coming now. That means that, unless I want to be absolutely rude (in any culture) I must stop this post.
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