Well, as many of us in the WTS community know only too well but are loath to mention, we are approaching the one-year anniversary of Al’s death (February 5). In honor of Al (he of blessed memory, as the rabbis say), I would like to offer some reflections of my teacher, colleague, and friend.
First, I’d like to talk a bit about what he meant to me personally. In subsequent posts I’d like to talk more about Al the Biblical Theologian and Al the biblical scholar. I have been planning this for a while, but part of my recent impetus is being a part of his widow Libbie’s gala 50th birthday celebration just last week. It was an evening of skits, some of which defied explanation (you had to be there). It was a WONDERFUL time, and, like everyone there, made me think of Al quite a bit.
So, let me start at the very beginning, a very good place to start.
My first impression of Al was formed in his office when he was “underpaid dean of pretty much everything” in the early to mid-1980s. I was in my early 20s and had already decided that the Christian world was in desperate need of my penetrating insights, and so I began thinking of seminary. My pastor suggested WTS, so I came to visit the campus and wound up in Al’s office.
These are moments in ones life that are hard to recall in detail, and all one is left with is a recollection of one’s mood, how one felt. I felt welcome. That is hard to do, because (1) I am annoying, (2) I don’t always feel comfortable being stuck in a room with someone I don’t know. But this early experience was my introduction to what many, many others who know Al can attest to, far better than I can.
With Al you always felt like you were the most important person in the room. That is a trait of Al’s I could spend pages illustrating. Now, in this case, you might think that would not be hard to do, seeing that there were only two people in the room at the time, but remember: one of them was me, and it is our natural (i.e., sinful) human tendency to draw attention to ourselves, whenever possible, whether overtly or subtly. Al just didn’t do that. Now, Al was not perfect, he had his own struggles with things (I do not engage in hagiographa), but Al was about as good as anyone I have ever met in his capacity to be truly selfless. Al makes me think of C. S. Lewis’s observation that “Humility isn’t thinking less about yourself, but thinking about yourself less.” I always sensed from Al that he was consciously determined to live this way.
This is not to say the first meeting went off without a hitch. I am a NJ born, German blooded, type A+ personality. I think fast and I talk fast. Five minutes early feels like I am late.
Al was not like that.
I remember on that first meeting we were talking about sports (Al likely sensing that was the only topic that would enable me to maintain eye-contact). It was Al who alerted me to something I have come to see only too frequently, that Philadelphia fans are unreasonable (“they would boo the Easter Bunny” Al said). I remember asking Al questions and he would take what I felt was an inordinate length of time pondering before answering. Al simply took longer finishing a sentence than I was accustomed to. He had that delightful laid back New England plus Midwest thing going on, and at one point I almost asked him if it would be possible for him to, well, talk faster, because it was getting dark and I’d like to try to get home before the vernal equinox. I probably started looking at my watch, something Al learned to tolerate about me over the years.
Still, Al’s pace took some getting used to for me, but as time went on I came to appreciate it deeply. Al was never in a hurried state, at least not that I saw. I have a “go away” doormat outside my office door, but Al was never, ever too busy for another human being. Sometimes I felt that Al could have used a few more filters and barriers so that he could get the rest he needed (Al had fibromyalgia during most of his adult life and needed to nap most afternoons) or do some of his own work, but that is not how the Lord wired Al.
It was this trait in Al that helped model for me something I have come to see as more and more important as I try to be not only a teacher, but a husband, a father, and a friend. Isolating is easier than expending energy on others, but the latter is what we are called to do, and Al was a daily reminder to me of that simple fact. Of course, it would have been nice if Al would have written a bit more, but as I liked to tell him “I think together we make a complete person.”
Since I came back to WTS as a professor (in 1994), my relationship with Al naturally changed to one of more familiarity and intimacy. His name for me was “Petros”, the Greek version of my name, which was always sort of nice, but also a daily reminder to both of us that we let our Greek slip more than we would have liked. But he would always be the first to ask me how I was doing.
I guess another way of putting it is that there are two types of people in the world: Those of whom we say “oh no” when we see them coming and those of whom we say “Oh good, here he/she comes.” Al was of the latter group, and I miss him for that.
As I got to know Al better I came to see the gentle and patient way in which he treated those who lived in his own house. Now, I can imagine Libbie or the children saying something like, “Yeah, he was great, but you weren’t here the time when he….” You’re right. I have little authority to speak to the private Al. But an outsider’s perspective can sometimes add much. Working with someone day in and day out for about 13 years (and I’d like to think I have some perceptive powers), not a lot remains hidden. You can tell when someone was faking, and Al wasn’t faking. He wasn’t perfect, and even I saw some of the rust—how much more so would his family see it? But Al was fundamentally a man of peace, love, gentleness, humility (wait a minute, does that sound like the fruit of the Spirit?!).
Al loved sports. He always played left field in the faculty/student softball games, although I (playing shortstop) would always be annoyed at how deep he played. (“Al, move in.”) He also played basketball weekly with students. I played also during my student days and early in my faculty days (until my arthritic knee went on permanent strike). Al was one heck of a basketball player. A Larry Bird type, although shorter and with a smaller nose. Al passed a lot. He loved the activity, but this was clearly also a ministry for him to his students. And there is no better way of really getting to know someone than on the basketball court. For some reason, all social filters dissipate and people act like the savages they are. Basketball is God’s way of saying “You may be a Christian, but you sure don’t act like it.” I have a lot of memories from those games, both of myself and others, but I cannot remember even once Al losing his temper or acting in ways he would have to apologize for later. That is my experience, and others may have a different recollection, but I’ll stand on what I remember.
I also remember that Al sweated like a horse and I always lobbied for his team to be “shirts.” Otherwise, I would not guard him—all that body contact under the boards. I also remember how physically strong he was.
Well, I could go on and on, telling more stories about who Al was. Let me close simply by saying that I miss him, and all who knew him, as well as WTS, have suffered a tremendous loss. Such is the case anytime one passes who models Christ so clearly.
His office has been largely cleared out over the past year, but I still find myself walking down the hall now and then and looking through the window at what remains of the organized mess he lived in. A random glance at a book on the shelf takes me back to some time past. Once I got the master key and let myself in. When my hyperactive mind slows down every once in a while, I realize how much I miss him, and how hard it is to accept that he is gone.
I’m glad Al taught me Hebrew and that his name is on my diploma.
In the next few days, I’ll reflect a bit more on Al as a theologian and biblical scholar.
On a side note, I am currently reading Jim Kugel’s provocative and scintillating book How to Read the Bible. Sometime in the not too distant future, I will do my best to review what is really a convergence of several complex but unavoidable issues, particularly for evangelicals.
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The focus of this website is Biblical Theology and Biblical Studies and how these fields interface with contemporary Christian faith. Although I certainly hope that some of what is expressed here will be persuasive to some readers, my intention is not to debate but to continue conversations on matters that I feel are very important. More specifically, my aim is to edify fellow pilgrims (be they lay readers, students, or fellow academics) on similar journeys, both by challenging and confirming, innovating and perpetuating (i.e., "tearing down and building up," as Ecclesiastes 3:3 puts it) how we understand the faith that is so dear to us. “Tearing down” is not a call to reject all things past, but an affirmation that theological inquiry is an on-going act of balancing past and present, new and old, in service of God’s pilgrim people. Toward that end, posts will include reflections on items of interest in Biblical Theology and Biblical Studies, book reviews, and others matters deemed relevant.
A few days ago I offered some personal reflections on Al, and now I’d like to offer some further reflections on the academic side of things.