Here is my interview about my chosen author: C. S. Lewis (with a little shout out to Stephen Lawhead, as well).

I am finding that these three categories simply cannot be held apart for long. It was Al the person and biblical scholar that drove him to Biblical Theological reflections and on the nature of the OT in light of Christ. It was his Biblical Theological work that drove him to a deeper relationship with Christ, and therefore with others, as well as giving further impetus for his other academic work.

In this respect, Al was certainly a Westminster product. He combined a mature and open relationship with Christ; as a biblical scholar, he would go without hesitation wherever the text and his work lead; and he brought all of this to bear on the coherence of Scripture as it is summed up in the Messiah.

In other words, Al embodied what the biblical tradition at Westminster has represented among Christian institutions. Now, as I said about Al in a previous post I now say about Westminster: I do not engage in hagiographa (except about the Yankees). But this Biblical Theological (i.e., Redemptive-Historical) approach to the Old Testament, which I feel did not come to maturity until the work of Al’s teachers, Ray Dillard and Edmund Clowney, is an emphasis that makes Westminster unique among Reformed and evangelicals institutions anywhere. There. I said it. Let the criticisms come.

Still, I feel this is true. The particular way of engaging the OT as a redemptive-historical narrative that culminates in Christ’s death and resurrection, and, as importantly, that now demands to be reread in light that central hermeneutical event, is a hallmark of the Westminster hermeneutic. It is legacy that I and others are deeply proud of, and we are so happy to have been taught by and also to have worked with Al, whose teaching and scholarship overflowed with this rich and biblical emphasis.

Part of Al’s Biblical Theological depth was born out of his love for literature in general. As he was fond of saying “there are no free motifs” in the Bible. It is a book rich in intertextuality that is meant to be explored and articulated by the careful reader. Al’s gifts in literary analysis was also seen in his love for movies. His weekly movie discussion nights were quite the hot item. I went once or twice, but any group that can identify movies by who produced it, or what French genre it was representative of, is over my head and I quickly lose interest. If there isn’t at least one explosion every 15 minutes, even today, I think of it as an “Al film” and I turn it off. On a more poignant note, I had the privilege of being at Al’s bedside for most of the day when he died. His bed was in a room lined with shelves, each filled to the brim with movies, and each case was numbered. I distinctly remember seeing numbers well over a 1000, only to find out later “there are more.”

Al’s skills in literary and film analysis helped him see literary (and therefore theological) connections in biblical texts. To put it more strongly, Al looked for connections, themes, etc. He felt it was his job, as a Biblical Theologian to explore Scripture rather than accept mundane observations. He and I spoke on and off about the overlap between such an attitude toward biblical interpretation and Jewish Midrashim, a thought that had not escaped his alert gaze, nor one that caused him any chagrin.

I could continue at length, but perhaps it is fitting to stop here with one final observation. The legacy that Al represented was passed on well to many, many students, and to many of his colleagues over the years. He was a hybrid of a second and third generation Westminster student (i.e., taught by both some 1st generation and 2nd generation faculty). Al was privy to many of the nuances of the long Westminster legacy that few today can claim. And he did it with a grace that few can match. Our loss has been great, but we honor his memory and the Lord he served.

One thing worth mentioning is that it is very artificial for me to separate the two, because so many of our interactions involved some type of academic issue, whether teaching, grading, writing, scheduling classes, why I wasn’t doing what I was told, etc.

Back in the mid-80’s Al was already hard at work in an office specially set up for him. I was new to WTS, taking Hebrew, and was friends with a PhD student, John Marcott, who was helping Al in some project. I remember it having to do with something like “tagging” the Hebrew text, computers, a lot of big, noisy machines, and stacks of books and papers.

I am probably the last person at the seminary qualified to explain what Al did, exactly. Several colleagues have tried to explain it to me, but it is like explaining PCA politics to a newly converted homeless person. I do remember John taking a stab at it, and, apparently reacting to my blank stare, just saying, “Al is a smart cookie.” But I already knew that.

It wasn’t until I joined the faculty that someone (I can’t remember who) boiled it down for me in a way that even I could understand: “Whenever you open up your computer and see Hebrew, Al did that.” Of course, some of you under-enthusiastic Hebrew students may not be very happy with that, but remember this includes not just the text but the parsing aids, dictionaries, etc. See, Al was watching out for you. (I would have said, in Soup Nazi fashion, “No parsing aid for you.”)

I don’t think that means Al did absolutely everything, but it does mean that he got it started and a lot of people who sell Bible software with the Hebrew text of the Old Testament, in one way or another, owe it all to Al, who, in the early 80’s, realized that (1) he has an engineering degree, (2) he reads Hebrew, (3) computers are likely going to get more popular rather than less popular. To this day I don’t quite understand why Al did not become a billionaire, with several houses, robot servants, and part ownership in the Boston Celtics. (Actually, I know something about that story, but it is complex and beside the point here.)

All kidding aside, Al had a truly international reputation as a result of his work in Hebrew and computing. In fact, Al’s reputation was stronger in Europe than it was here. One need only hang around with Al at the national SBL conference (a yearly conference for biblical scholars, also known as the “Sea of Tweed” conference). A lot of people would be there looking for Al, coveting his time to query him on matters related to Hebrew computing. He ran special sessions at SBL where he would teach the teachers.

Al never received his PhD, but that was because he was too busy changing the face of the study of the Hebrew Bible.

Now—and this is where the professional and personal merge—it is simply startling to me to know how much time Al could put into other matters and still be able to pull off what he did academically. He was a committed and patient teacher; he was well-read in numerous fields of study, including Deuteronomy, the Deuteronomistic Historian and Isaiah (which included an intimate control of the Hebrew text); he supervised more than his share of doctoral and ThM dissertations, and Al’s level of supervision was above and beyond the call of duty; he spent loads and loads of time with students and colleagues; he was the department head from the time Tremper Longman left Westminster until he took up is duties as VP for Academic Affairs—the latter adding a considerable burden to his already full plate. And amid all this, he battled cancer for just over a year.

In all these things, I know that Al occasionally struggled with the lack of recognition he received in his own back yard, but that concern was raised only rarely and privately. His demeanor was consistently humble, self-effacing, directed towards servanthood rather than power, as lesser people in his position might have sought after.

Al had enough to do, but I still wish he could have written more. But, alas, you can’t do everything. But you know, the Lord does not call us to do everything, just to do what we do in his name faithfully and for his honor. In that respect, Al’s list of accomplishments could fill my thumb drive.

May we honor and remember Al Groves, he of blessed memory, for his long and faithful service to the risen Lord.

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.