EXCERPT: Arriving in New York City in September, 1968 for the flight to begin my junior year abroad, my father and I accepted a lunch invitation from John Sexton, a Fordham lay theologian and Brooklyn high school debate coach I had met on the high school debate circuit. During lunch he gifted me with a copy of A New Catechism, a work commissioned by the Dutch hierarchy to communicate Catholic beliefs in light of Vatican Council II.
That book traveled with me to France, and became an inspiration to me that ultimately convinced me to drop my political science studies and pursue theology. At the time, I had no idea that Schillebeeckx was principal author – indeed, I did not even know his name.
But I knew it two years later, beginning my master’s degree in theology at Harvard, when I learned that Schillebeeckx would arrive in spring term as Erasmus Lecturer in Dutch Culture, In addition to the lecture series, he announced a Divinity School course in “Dutch Theology and Church Life.” I quickly signed up for what turned out to be a graduate seminar with only six students.
Schillebeeckx expressed mild shock at the lengthy reading assignments typical in American universities. Giving us a short six-book list, he asked: “How can anyone do justice to so many books in a few weeks?”
When he announced that each student would be responsible for an in-class presentation on one book, we realized he was giving us a special role: half the lectures in this world renowned theologian’s course would be student lectures! To this day, I have a vivid memory of my own lecture and the way our lively post-lecture discussion was facilitated by Schillebeeckx himself, and ended with his quiet, sincere praise for my work.
Early on, we students began cultivating this gentle man outside class. Fr. Schillebeeckx proved himself a charming guest, eager to absorb any experience of American culture and church life, open-minded in his outlook, unfailingly modest in his opinions. During one Divinity Hall dinner, we pressed him for some wisdom about reconciling Catholic tradition with the tougher challenges of a secular age. He back-pedaled for a while, and when pressed finally declared it was up to us, the next generation, to work out the answer. His one lament about Harvard: among the faculty, only Harvey Cox showed interest in him!
At semester’s end, we finished our last class with a photo session. I still have the picture of a middle-aged Schillebeeckx surrounded by six eager young theologians. He was nearly 60 already, but would live and work for nearly 40 more years, dying December 23 at 95.
He left Harvard with two of my things. The first was my own personal copy of the (then new) album Jesus Christ Superstar, which we gave him as a farewell gift—and which he regarded as an emblem of modern culture’s take on Christianity. The second was my final paper, delivered too late for him to read before leaving. Midway through July he returned it to me by mail; I still have it, with his margin notes and his generous evaluation on the last page.
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