musalaha

There is nothing ordinary in Rome. A morning coffee, even if one does overcome the delightful cliché of cappuccino in Italy, is hardly ordinary when sipped in the Piazza Santa Maria Maggiore. Be that as it may, as a pilgrim I found devotion in the Eternal City so … ordinary. That’s not to say it wasn’t also meaningful and needed. So often acts of spiritual devotion are simply meant to be acts done for the sake of being done. This is what makes us devoted to them. We do them because we ought to, and in the process, we draw closer to the Divine. More often than not, there are no tears, no cries of desperate longing, no pain; just ordinary action. Though this came as a surprise to me in the most extraordinary city of Rome, it also came with warmth and welcome, like a warm blanket wrapped securely around you on a chilly Sunday afternoon. Ordinary devotion.

This sense of the ordinary provoked me most as I stood across from Rome’s cathedral, the Holy Steps (Scala Sancta) ascending before me towards the papal Chapel of St. Lawrence (a.k.a. Sancta Sanctorum). These steps, the very ones Christ climbed to meet Pilate in his praetorium, were brought from Jerusalem to Rome in the 4th century. Well-worn planks made of oak now cover the original marble ones which can be seen through small slits in the risers. Occasional panes of glass on various treads reveal drops of blood having purportedly fallen from Christ’s thorn-crowned head. Prayerful pilgrims like me may now climb them too, provided the 28-step ascent is made on their knees.

And so, on a rainy December day as the streets of Rome hummed with commuters on nearby streets, my father and I knelt at the feet of the Holy Steps in silence. To our left and just ahead of us, a young woman knelt and wept. On every step she wept. I sheepishly wondered whether or not I should be doing this as unemotional as I was. Nevertheless, I pressed on in silent prayer, my eyes fixed on the Renaissance mural of a crucified Christ and the heavens above him coming closer with each step. No emotion … it was all so very ordinary. It was devotion for the sake of spiritual devotion. It is what we Christians do; when there is emotion and when there is none, we do it. It is devotion in the ordinary.

This matters really very little until one thinks of it all as ordinary love. In those moments of trauma, it can be easy to set ourselves to needed love and devotion. In the worst of times, we are quick to love and we do it with vigor. But so often, trauma meets us infrequently; what happens to love and devotion then? Are we quick to offer love in the best of times or on an ordinary weekday when an expression of it may not necessarily be required?

In days and weeks gone by, the assurance my partner had of my commitment to her waned. I think we both began to wonder if the research project lying seductively in my study was actually an evil mistress. Through tears, my partner related the lonely isolation that perhaps surpassed my own. I rallied with quick assurance of my deep devotion for her, the most amazing person I know. It was love in the worst of times. It came easy, it came quickly, and it came with vigor. Today there is a skip in her step and a glint in her eye. Life is good, but I will, nevertheless, tell her how much I care for her; how her life makes me human; how my support of her is sure and strong and true. Today, on this ordinary weekday, I will love her in the best of times so that there is no doubt in the worst of times. Today, on this ordinary weekday, my family is cancer-free. I will tell them I love them in this best of times so that should the worst of times return, there will be no doubt with whom my devotion lies. On this ordinary weekday morning I find myself the undeserving companion of special friends. I will assure them of my shoulders in these best of times so that when the worst comes they know with whom their burdens can be shared. This, I think, is love of the most difficult kind, or at least the most difficult to remember, for it is ordinary love and devotion in the best of times.

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As a way of rounding off  the a recent discussion on doctoral work, a few words on the relative merits and demerits of British and American Ph.D.’s:

American doctoral programs (in the humanities) typically require a minimum of 5 years work including 2 years course work (the remaining time for dissertation). Entrance into American programs can be very competitive, but many schools offer generous tuition and stipend packages that can ease the strain of doctoral expenses. Similarly, there is often the opportunity to teach as a doctoral student on the undergraduate level. Finally, because of the length of American programs, greater emphasis is often placed on such things as languages. For example, entrance into an Islamic studies program at many American schools will require research proficiency in Arabic, but also Farsi and often 2-3 other research languages (e.g., German, French, and other research-specific languages [e.g., Turkish or Urdu]). Proficiency in these languages can be expected prior to matriculation, but can also be obtained within the first year of study.

Because of languages, broad course work, and teaching opportunities, doctoral candidates from American schools graduate with skills highly prized by American universities looking to add to their faculties (broad knowledge of subject area and teaching experience).

British doctoral programs are much more concise. They require only a minimum of 3 years of study and focus almost entirely on the writing of one’s thesis (a thesis, not a dissertation, in Britain). Any other relevant needs (languages, course work, teaching experience, etc.) are the responsibility of the student. For international students, Americans in particular, there are much fewer financial resources available.

Personally, having completed 2 masters degrees, I was ready to be done with course work. I also wanted the fresh perspective of a non-American scholarly community (I realized later on how significant/interesting this was in terms of Islamic studies).  Being fairly disciplined, I was also prepared to sink into thesis-work without having  to attend to peripheral “requirements.” It also came naturally to me to participate in seminars that I knew would broaden my knowledge, carve out time in my personal schedule for language study, and seek out opportunities to publish and present my work (though term-length teaching opportunities alluded me). I also enjoyed the emphasis they placed on research. All of this made me greatly prefer the British approach to doctoral work.

Certain American schools looking to add to their faculties may at times be skeptical of a British Ph.D. (is it a rounded degree or just thesis focused, they may wonder) and so it will be, in part, my responsibility to defend the excellence of my degree. Of course, the reputation of my school, its faculty, and alumni go before me as well.

Feel free to add questions or comments.

I’ve had several people inquire about the process of doing a Ph.D. recently and so I thought I would post a few brief notes here.

Initial considerations:

1. A Ph.D. will be one of the most difficult things you do. It will require intellect as well as research, thinking, and writing skills. But more than these, it will require intense discipline and focus. You will be spending countless hours by yourself and several years consumed with one, relatively narrow topic. There will be deadlines and numerous sources of pressure. If you aren’t naturally disciplined, then make sure you implement this trait/skill well before you embark upon doctoral work.
2. A Ph.D. will take a tremendous emotional toll on you, but it will do the same for your spouse/family. Is your family prepared for this emotional toll? Are you in a situation that will allow you/them to bear it?
3. A Ph.D. is a tremendous financial investment. Can you shoulder the expenses or do you have resources (sholarships, funding ) that will?
4. Do you need – absolutely need – a Ph.D. to carry on your vocation? If it isn’t absolutely necessary, then don’t do it. Being admitted  to a doctoral program is highly competitive and the job market for those with Ph.D.’s is more so; if you don’t really need a Ph.D., then help the rest of us out by not doing it.

Best way to prepare:

1. Tailor your M.A. work to fit your Ph.D. work.  If you know you’ll need certain languages to get into a doctoral program/complete a research topic, try and fit those into your M.A.
2. Many doctoral supervisors want to be assured of your research and writing skills. So, insofar as it is possible, complete a major writing project as a part of your M.A. work.
3. Courting strong references in your M.A. program is important, but try and get to know a potential Ph.D. advisor (even if by email) for help in the best way to prepare. This will bolster your ability to get into your doctoral program of choice as well.

Steps along the way (in order of importance):

1. As you complete your initial post-graduate work, settle on a topic that you feel has strong doctoral potential (is it researchable? does it make a unique scholarly contribution?). This topic doesn’t have to be a watershed topic, just something that is worthy of doctoral-level consideration. Don’t rush this process; let it come as a natural out-growth of what you’re working on presently.
2. Having settled on a topic, find the top scholars in that field and do what you can to complete your doctoral work under one of those persons. This is vastly more important than the school you wish to attend.
3. Find out where those scholars are and begin to make a decision on where to apply/attend. In the end, go where the best scholar is, even if the institution is not as presitigious as another, but make sure practical considerations are attended to as well.

Example: You are attracted to the prestige of Harvard where there is a good scholar in your field, but find that the top scholar is at UCLA where they also have better resources for your topic. Insofar as it is practically possible, go to UCLA.

But let’s say that your family lives in Massachuesetts and the scholarship/stipends at both schools are comparable. Your family is settled where they are and your children are in a good school. Perhaps settling for Harvard in this case is the best choice.

For me, the best scholars in my field were in Britain, the Netherlands, and Sweden (there were some in the States, but I wanted to do my doctoral work in Britain/Europe – a topic for another post). Each of these schools and scholars would shape the trajectory of my scholarly career in slightly different ways. To be honest, the schools in Leiden and Lund were arguably more prestigious than the school I chose in Britain, but the scholar where I chose to go was best for my topic and the direction I wanted to take in the long-term. Additionally, the school I chose in Britain had developed a strong reputation as a centre in my field and had attracted some of the strongest scholars and resources in recent time. Finally, my wife planned to complete her M.A. wherever we ended up. Since neither of us knew Dutch or Swedish very well (the languages for M.A.’s in Leiden and Lund), this “sealed the deal” for our choice to go to Britain. Of course, looking back these choices were very much providentially guided, but these are just some of the scholarly and practical concerns that go into choosing a place to study. In the end, I was accepted into a very fine program and supervised by the finest scholar in my field, and for this reason, I am quite happy with my choice.

To summarize: 1) weigh the cost; 2) pick a topic; 3) find the best scholar. Of course, there are other matters to consider, but these are some major ones. If any of them provoke questions, feel free to leave a comment and I’ll be sure to respond.

Strahov Monastery Library, Prague

Bibliophile that I am,  I relished in the bevy of books I received for my birthday this year. So, I will occasionally step away from viva preparation to read:

• A Muslim View of Christianity: Essays on Dialogue by Mahmoud Ayoub, ed. Irfan A. Omar. Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2007.
• The Art of Pilgrimage: The Seeker’s Guide to Making Travel Sacred, Phil Cousineau. Berkeley: Conari Press, 1998.
• The Ethical Soundscape: Casette Sermons and Islamic Counterpublics, Charles Hirschkind. New York: Columbia University Press, 2006.
• Radical Hospitality: Benedict’s Way of Love, Fr. Daniel Homan and Lonni Collins Pratt. Brewster: Paraclete Press, 2008.
• Evangelical is not Enough, Thomas Howard. San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1984.
• A Faithful Sea: The Religious Cultures of the Mediterranean, 1200-1700, ed. Adnan E. Husain. Oxford: Oneworld, 2007.
• City of Wrong: A Friday in Jerusalem, M. Kamel Hussein. Oxford: Oneworld Press, 1994.
• Sharing Food: Christian Practices for Enjoyment, L. Shannon Jung. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2006.
• Saint Francis and the Sultan: The Curious History of a Christian-Muslim Encounter, John Tolan. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009.
• An Architecture of Immanence: Architecture for Worship and Ministry Today, Mark A. Torgerson. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2007.
• The End of Memory: Remembering Rightly in A Violent World, Miroslav Volf. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2006.

Unrelated to my birthday, I also found an incredibly cheap copy of Kritzeck’s Peter the Venerable and Islam (Princeton, 1964). And there may or may not be one or two more books on the way!

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