Winter 2024 - Issue 3
Wisdom and Learning
GOOD MORNING, CLASS!
Each issue of the Et Cetera has a theme to help prompt conversation. This issue’s theme is Wisdom and Learning, with some reflections on how we’ve been learning as well as what we’ve been learning.
If you’re wondering what kind of content we accept: Most kinds of prose (fiction and non-fiction), poetry, or visual art is welcome. Prose pieces should be 1,000 words or less. These can include anecdotes, book reviews, movie reviews, thoughts spurred by your academic studies (no actual assignments, please), things you’d like to talk about with the community...et cetera! Visual art must be submitted in a digital format; printing will be in black and white, so do keep that in mind. Priority is given to students, staff, and faculty of Regent College.
All submissions must be sent to etcetera@regent-college.edu. Publication is not guaranteed. All submissions are subject to proofreading edits and may be returned for more substantial revision. Views expressed in the Et Cetera do not necessarily represent the views of Regent College, the RCSA Council, or the Et Cetera staff.
We can’t wait to read what you write!
Steven Gomez, senior editor
Tess Fuller, associate editor
Love Letter to the Zoom Students
by Tess Fuller
I was sitting in Theo I, minding my own business and not expecting an Encounter, when I was abruptly struck by the enormity of the miracle that is online education. How is it even possible that I can see someone all the way on the other side of the world, that I can talk to that person and grow to care about them, that we can learn about God together? We take it so much for granted, this astonishing capacity to reach people who could not be here otherwise. So many of our siblings could not be here if they had to uproot their whole families, or take time away from their ministries, or apply for study permits that would be inevitably rejected. But with technology we don’t have to be bound by space anymore.
I fully recognize that this is a gift the college did not want. Nothing short of a pandemic could have forced us to accept it, so God sent a pandemic. We talk a lot about Incarnation here, and Zoom is sometimes treated as the antithesis of Incarnation. Sometimes I worry that the way people talk around here it seems that they don't truly believe that the people on the screen are real. If you actually believed them to be physical people, would you say that online learning is unincarnate? I remember when I was an online student. I remember the physicality of the experience, the smell of home and the discomfort of my office lawn chair. I remember the scratchiness of the rug when I turned off the camera and lay on the floor to listen to the lecture. Aren’t all the faces on Zoom equally Incarnate in their own places all around the world? I can’t smell them or see where they really are (I can tell some of those offices are cafés, though). I do know that somewhere in the world each of them is just as present as I am in Room 13. That realization is part of what nearly knocked me out of my chair during the lecture last week.
We were talking about the Holy Spirit in that lecture, how the Spirit binds the Body together and lives in each of us in a way we can see. The Spirit is alive in each of those people. The ones who are sick and who care about others too much to risk infecting them. Those who are so devoted to their communities that they couldn’t possibly leave them. The brothers and sisters who are so committed to learning that they will get up at 2am just for the chance to be together in the community. The little postage-stamp face on the screen is the face of Christ, sitting there in another country before dawn, blatantly still in her pyjamas but fully there and ready to talk theology.
I love these people. They are such a tremendous gift to this school, and it would not be the same without their presence. That was the final thing that bowled me over in class. The fact that we did not previously have Zoom students, and yet never knew what we were missing. The colossal loss if we were to shut off our online students. Each of them is so precious, each with their own story and a life that continues after the call ends. They are so beautiful, even when we can’t see them, even though it feels hard to know them with the screen in the way. May we never be ungrateful to God for the gifts he makes us receive.
Waiting For Our Saviour
by Mo Hickman
My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
Why are you so far from saving the world you created?
My God, I cry out, but you do not answer.
How long, O Lord, to restore this disaster?
You are the one Israel praises.
The one who raises the dead.
Are you the Messiah, the Son of God?
Who’s naked and bleeding and mocked,
Hanging on a cross?
How long did they watch without seeing
the darkness in the sky and their hearts and their eyes?
If only they knew.
If only they could see what you were about to do,
they wouldn’t mock.
They’d cry.
What King dies for his Kingdom,
stands silent in the face of humiliation,
hangs exposed for all to see?
Is that really the Saviour of humanity?
How can it be,
that God felt the weight of separation,
faced discrimination,
stood up against oppression,
entered our mess
and made a way when we couldn’t?
Our world is in distress,
And I confess,
We still can’t save it on our own.
So here we wait.
Waiting for our Saviour.
Our Saviour that died.
Crucified, dead, and buried.
“What Are You Passionate About?”
Jean Pierre Nikuze, first year representative on the RCSA Council, has been asking first-year students this very question these last two terms. The Et Cetera will continue publishing some of their answers here and in the next issue. Welcome, first-years! We’re delighted to get to know you better!
Laura:
The thing I'm most passionate about is people. I'm passionate about meeting people, building relationships with people and making them feel seen and known and heard and loved. I've sort of seen that, throughout my whole life, my relationships with those around me have been my motivation for many things. In jobs which I've had, I have thrived in the aspect of interacting with people, and it has never felt like a chore; if anything, it has always been a joy and a privilege to make people feel seen and known and heard and loved.
I try to make people feel their worth any way I can, whether that's through spending time with them, having coffee with friends or just trying to engage with people on the street in ministry. I have done all of these in the past and enjoyed every bit of it. I was a primary school teacher for five years before coming to Regent, which had been a dream job of mine since I was a child. I loved the structure of a classroom. I loved the organization. I loved teaching but when I finally got into the role, I actually realized the part I loved most was meeting and building relationships with individual pupils, especially pupils who have a hard time building relationships, whether it's because they come from broken families or they have special educational needs. In my teaching job, I found the most joy in trying to get to know the children more intentionally.
One of my students had been through the foster care system for a while and she and I built a very strong relationship over the 5 years I taught, and this was a source of great joy for me. And of course, the hardest part about leaving home for Vancouver was leaving behind that relationship. As teachers, I believe it's important that we learn to focus on the individuals in the classroom, and not just the class as a whole. When dealing with a difficult child, we should not be content with the cold facts, but actually get to know the story behind why the child is the way they are. The goal should always be to make them feel seen and known and heard and loved. All the more if they are being disruptive and very difficult.
I felt really burnt out quickly in another previous role I had as a youth worker. This was because the majority of this role was based on programmes. But my favourite part of the job was hanging out and getting to know young people and spending time really building relationships with them. I think that from my short time at Regent, I have become passionate about relationships built around community. But whether one-on-one or in community, I know for sure building relationships is going to feature in what I end up doing in the future. I will also be working towards ensuring I have a space where my passion can work hand-in-hand with the job I seek. This is so important for me, and the joy I get from making people feel seen, known, heard, and loved is life-giving.
Dimo:
I'm passionate about cats.
And black tea.
And cigars
And C.S. Lewis
And mental health
I'm passionate about cats. Because a cat was my trusted companion during a very difficult time of my life. I now have two cats, and they both have been a joy to me and I see Jesus through them.
I'm passionate about black tea. Because it's pretty much all I drink. And It makes me feel at home and safe and comfortable.
I enjoy sitting and smoking cigars or sharing a drink with my father. And though we don’t talk much during the fellowship, it’s a special bonding time for me.
There are three people who have been able to keep me within the fold on days and in moments where I've wanted nothing to do with faith and Christianity. I don’t think I’ve ever gone a day in the past six years without one of these three, who have profoundly impacted my character, crossing my mind. The first is C.S. Lewis. I see in Lewis's writing parts of my own heart that I can't see on my own. He forces me to confront parts of me that are easy to ignore. He challenges me. He silences me at every turn, and I see in him the mentor I've always longed to have. My favourite books by Lewis have been A Grief Observed, The Great Divorce, and Mere Christianity. I also like his work on medieval literature.
My grandmother is second on the list, but she would require far more than this short interview for me to share about her. And the third is Dr. Carolyn Weber, my English professor during my undergrad. Hers is a story of a most unlikely and even (to borrow from Lewis) reluctant convert. She is, for me, one of the truest models of Jesus I have ever encountered.
As for mental health, I would say that I’m very in tune with myself, my emotions, and my mind; I feel things quite deeply although sometimes I wish I didn’t. Struggling with my own mind has opened up a world of nuance for me. It has brought colour to my once dull faith. I’ve also learned over the last year that healing isn’t linear. That there’s no quick fix for melancholy. That there aren’t enough pills or bottles or strategies or therapy sessions that will “fix” you. It takes time. And a lot of pain. And more rock-bottoms than you could have ever imagined. But I’ve noticed that the darker the pain, the weightier the light on the few sunny days that do come.
Shaping My Soul
by Steven Gomez
I have been feeling weary. This weariness is not because of the end-of-term crunch. Nor is it from the approaching end of an academic year. This weariness has been with me longer than that, and it comes from deeper burdens.
Many of you know I am on my second Regent degree. I started studying here in the fall of 2017 and aside from the gap between my MA and MDiv, it’s been a constant rhythm of papers, readings, weekly assignments, lectures, and probably sitting at every library table. While this is enough to bring on tiredness, my weariness seems to go deeper.
Education is meant to be soul-forming, character-shaping—or at least in my mind that feels like an ideal goal. But the flowing river that is Western education (from kindergarten through elementary, middle, and high schools, into college and graduate studies and doctorates) is not conducive to this. What kind of character is shaped by my need to achieve certain grades and GPAs, by the often-minimal feedback on my assignments, by the reduction of my hours of work to nothing more than a single letter? I don’t blame Regent for this; we probably feel the pressure to navigate the river we’re in.
In theory, the work I’m doing now ought to be preparing me for a life in ministry. But much of it feels disconnected from that purpose, too abstract to be of help or use.
I hope I’m not developing too big a chip on my shoulder. Perhaps I’m expecting too much of education. But I don’t believe I am. My soul both needs and wants to be formed, shaped, and—most important of all—cared for. And I am learning that spiritual companionship (more commonly if mistakenly called spiritual direction) is one of the most important, soul-forming things that is preparing me to be a pastor and priest.
School moves too quickly, leaping ahead to the next term while I’m still trying to absorb the material from this one. The stress simultaneously exhausts me and gives me insomnia. The passion to follow my calling fades into a small, tired ember. My two spiritual companions, both Jesus and the caregiver I meet with monthly, help me care for that ember, the desire that initially propelled me onto the path I am now. We breathe on it together to help it regrow into a low flame.
‘Theology’ is too often an academic exercise for us. We imagine it as studying God (as though He were lying on the dissecting tray) or as systematic reason; faith becomes mathematics, leading us to make rather bold claims about things we can’t fully grasp. But theology is probably better thought of as not simply speaking about God, but rather with Him as a living conversation partner. Surely this is what it means to have a relationship with Him. I find that mystics and prophets, people who directly encounter their Creator, have more to say to me about Him than ‘professional’ theologians.
And so we pray. To pray is to turn towards and directly relate to God. It feels like a more honest theology. I pray and my soul is cared for. I am shaped. I am taught.
We still have to do our papers, I suppose, and our readings and tutorials, at least while we’re here. But whatever your own educational journey is, and what value you find in it, I know you need to pray. It is with God that we remember what our work is (hopefully) for. Will you pray with me?
Almighty God, You are the strength of the weary
and the peace of the overworked.
Do not abandon us now that our limits are revealed,
now that we need to run beyond our capacity.
In the midst of our pressing deadlines
and overwhelming responsibilities,
speak to us, O Lord.
Let us hear Your voice above the noise.
Remind us that we are not alone;
teach us rhythms of healthy work and rest;
call us to surrender perfection for the sake of being human,
so that the weight of glory may be heavier on us
than the many burdens we are trying to carry.
Walk with us in our labour,
meet with us on the Sabbath,
and reveal how much You love us
no matter what we do.
In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit: Amen.