Remembering the Professor

  He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God. 

Micah 6:8 

I frequently peruse the obituary section of my local paper. Don't ask me why–it's always been a habit of mine. If I ever come across my name in there, I'll let you know. A few weeks ago I came across the obituary of someone whose face was vaguely familiar. I looked at the name, and something jostled in my memory. I toggled the recesses of my mind and stared into his warm brown face with the gentle brown eyes, and it came to me. This was my Honors Political Science professor from college. I hadn't seen him since my first semester of school, when I walked into his class as a young teenager.

The memories of his class came flooding back. Not so much all of the lessons, though I shocked myself into receiving better grades than I ever had in my high school Government class. This class–this soft-spoken professor–had piqued my curiosity and I found a place in me that began to grow in knowledge, not just regurgitate useless information from an old textbook. He loved students and teaching, and it showed in his eagerness to share his wealth of information.  I had struggled with learning at different times throughout school, but had discovered my learning style and my confidence in college and it showed in the new grades I had been earning. I mentioned that the class was honors because I found that the smaller class and more hands-on, conversational and focused learning was what helped me to excel. 

This class also happened to take place during my first year as a registered voter, and I had not really paid attention to or cared much for political topics before, other than Jimmy Carter (and daughter Amy) was my favorite and he liked peanuts!  Sure, I heard my parents talking and I knew where they stood on candidates, but I had my own mind, and I was new to the world in many ways, having just stepped into college as a fresh adult.  I really wanted to honor that part of myself that was curious–about people, about issues, about the world, and where my place was in all of it. If I was going to vote, it would be my vote–not just what my parents believed (unless I agreed, of course!). 

When my professor spoke on the upcoming election, I began to learn something very important about him, and it's something I've never forgotten my whole life. He said at the beginning of our August term, in his low, soft Spanish accent, that we would never learn what his "political leaning" was. We would learn instead about more important things. And he stuck to it. Not once could we detect a favoring of one side or another, nor did he judge, cheer, or sneer toward any student who did. Not so much as a blink or sniffle when strong opinions came flying from the back of the classroom! We all joked, trying to figure it out, but we never did! I came to find a true comfort in this kind of presence and indulged myself in it, knowing that this was the way people should conduct themselves when wanting others to learn, and more importantly, to listen. I was so young, yet I look back now and I know that his example colored everything I believe today about getting along with others when it comes to the delicate subjects in life. (I didn't say I was successful at it...yet)

They will be celebrating his life later this month. As I read further in his obituary, I learned more about this man who was responsible for shaping my political mindset. This is just one paragraph of several that described him:

"This look at --'s life would not be complete, though, without mentioning his dedication and passion for self-governance and the assurance of due process. It didn't matter to him who was right or wrong, on the same side as he was or not—ensuring due process was the critical procedure for sorting it out. Justice and fairness throughout everything from life at the college to life in the United States had to include due process. He taught it, and he practiced it whenever he could. This dedication was absolutely the lawyer, the professor, and the humanitarian rolled into one ethic." 

His long career was marked by several awards and positions, however, he will never know the impact he had on each one of his young students like me. 

It's another election year, and I'm long past my teenage years. I'm remembering the past few elections and how tumultuous they've been, and how I haven't always been able to "professor" my way through them with a gentle presence. We are facing yet another difficult election year, and continue to be a divided land in many ways. I'm curious about how he handled the things America has faced, and what he would have said from an American's just and fair point of view. I can only search out this definition for myself with the application of his legacy, and combine it with the practice of God's application of love and grace. My mentor, Norm, reminds me of this every time I get upended over something going on in the world. Psalm 118:8 It is better to trust in the Lord than to put confidence in man.  We can't control the actions and reactions of others, and we certainly can't control what happens in the world, but we can control ourselves and we can trust God. 

When I think about this in a "big picture" sense, I think about what is most important. When someone reads my obituary one day, what do I want to be remembered by? Is it how I influenced people to vote, or is it how I influenced people to love or live in harmony with one another? And if it's the latter, how can I apply love and peace to everything and everyone, every single day until the day I die? Colossians 3:12-14 Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them together in perfect unity.