A graduation reflection

Today we witnessed the graduation of the class of 2005 at Redeemer. This was the 20th graduation and the 18th graduation of which I have been part. I am sure I am not the only one of my colleagues to find such occasions rather poignant, as they are times of saying farewell to young people in whom we have invested so much of our energies over four or five years. I myself tend to become (perhaps excessively) fond of my own students, and I still do not find it emotionally easy to let them go, even if the time is right for them to move on. Over the years God has seen fit to grant me the privilege of shaping some extraordinary young people. At the end of the day I cannot say whether they or I have benefitted more from these relationships. Perhaps both.

One of these remarkable young persons, Rob Joustra, has written yet another testimony as to how his experience at Redeemer shaped him over the course of four years. Rather than content myself merely to link to his thoughts, I here reproduce them in their entirety:

Redeemer University's annual commencement ceremony is set for this Saturday, May 28. Commencement has always had a peculiar flavour, in its mixture and tension of emotion. It is, absolutely, a time of celebration. But for those of us for whom our time at Redeemer has been a seminal, life-altering experience, it is also a justifiable time of lamentation. This time will not come again, and it's right at the close of it all to spend some time in meditation on what it has meant.

One of the things that Redeemer and its community has taught me is a radical redefinition of education and truth. Entering Redeemer I was no academic, or even budding intellectual, but all the same I possessed all the pride of one who could have been. I craved long CV's, complex arguments, and impressive displays of academic prowess. Intellect was power: the ability to manipulate in conversation, in definition and imposition. Education was elite. It drew me apart from the person on the street, and made me feel better than my other when I was reduced to conversing with my fellow man. Education was my ticket away from mediocrity. The truth of Christ already embettered me, gave me enlightenment over my secular compatriot, and Christian education could only further that gap. Education even gave me an edge over my brothers and sisters in other traditions. While it was true I would admit to their influence, and incredible gifts, only I could be in a position to truly suture and discern their tradition. I expected to graduate Redeemer with a shiny new gavel firmly in hand.

I was deep in prayer with a wonderful Pentecostal friend of mine this past week when we were struck with a new radical vision. To our collective surprise, we prayed that Christ would grant us towels in our Commencement, not gavels. Suddenly the journey of understanding of education burst open. We had this picture of being handed our diplomas, and of our diplomas being towels that we must wrap around our waists and use to wash feet. How many pieces of paper like that are just gavels, pieces of judgement, of elitism and pride? Contra the world, we graduate to service, not comfort. We graduate to compassion, love, and mercy, not judgement, condemnation and elitism. Jean Vanier writes of this truth we have pressed for in his Drawn into the Mystery of Jesus through the Gospel of John:

Even though truth makes us free, we never possess it.
We are called humbly to contemplate the truth that is given to us,
to search unceasingly in order to be drawn into truth,
to let ourselves be led, in the company of others,
into the unfolding mystery of truth,
to be possessed by truth and to serve truth.

To live truth is to live a relationship of love
with the Word of God made flesh,
who is truth, compassion and forgiveness.
To be true is to let oneself be challenged by others
and to accept all the brokeness in us.
The truth, then, is not something to make us feel superior.
On the contrary, it calls us into humility, to littleness
and to the light of love.
All the light in us comes from light of the Word of God.
The light of truth, then, is a gentle marriage
of what we see and experience,
with what we have received from above and the Word of God,
each one enlightening the other, each one calling us to live in God
and to see things through the loving eyes and loving heart of God.

May the towels we have prepared to receive this Saturday be worthy for such a task...

Incidentally, Mr. Joustra managed to win the coveted Faculty Award, thus making him the second of my protégés to do so in as many years. Congratulations! It seems our department is on a roll. Just wait until next year.