Before she became the first female Presiding Bishop of the U.S. Episcopal Church, Katharine Jefferts Schori was an adjunct professor of religion at Oregon State University (OSU). I'm certain she was a lot of other things before becoming an adjunct professor, but that is the juncture at which our lives intersected.
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| Katharine Jefferts Schori on the cover of Time Magazine, Sept. 18, 2017 |
The year was 1990. I was one of about 20 students in a religious studies course (whose title I don't recall) taught by Dr. Jefferts (her maiden name). I liked Dr. Jefferts a lot; she was smart, kind, insightful, and almost uncannily good-natured. And I found her course, whatever it was called, quite enjoyable.
I rarely spoke up in class, but on one occasion when we were discussing inconsistencies and dubious assertions in the Bible, I decided to insert myself into the conversation. To this day, I question my judgment in doing so.
What did I say that was so questionable? "What if the 'water' that Jesus allegedly walked on was actually just ice? I've read that certain parts of the Sea of Galilee have been known to freeze over on occasion."
Ms. Jefferts' face morphed from smiling to expressionless. It was as if I'd just committed blasphemy. She was flummoxed, literally speechless. So were all my classmates. Because, I guess, everyone knows it would be impossible for ice to form in the Sea of Galilee, situated as it was in northern Israel.
My face and neck were hot. I'm pretty sure I was as red as Judas after he betrayed Jesus with a kiss. It was one of the most uncomfortable moments I'd ever experienced in a college classroom. There was no taking my comment back, no getting past it, no further discussion on the topic whatsoever.
Fortunately, one of my classmates finally broke the silence with an unrelated comment, ending the interminable silence—which in actuality was probably only a few seconds long. And of course I have no recollection what he or she said, I was still so enshrouded in shame.
But the moment passed, and life moved on.
Sixteen years later, in April of 2006, my blasphemy was unexpectedly and scientifically vindicated—by a professor of oceanography at Florida State University (FSU) named Doron Nof, who concluded that Jesus more likely walked on a floating patch of ice than on water. His explanation for the ice? It was caused by "a rare combination of optimal water and atmospheric conditions for development of a unique, localized freezing phenomenon." Nof and the co-authors of the study dubbed the phenomenon "springs ice" [sic].
Nof also was quoted as saying that in today's climate, "the chance of springs ice forming in northern Israel is effectively zero, or about once in more than 10,000 years." Which would explain my professor's and classmates' skepticism about my comment—assuming I had been talking about the Sea of Galilee in today's climate.
Coincidentally, two months after Dr. Nof's study was published, my former professor, who was now Dr. Jefferts Schori (she had married OSU mathematician Dr. Richard Schori), was named the first female leader of the U.S. Episcopal Church. At the time, I was employed as a publications editor and designer at Oregon Sea Grant, which funds, conducts, and publishes the results of marine research.
I decided to swallow my pride and email Dr. Jefferts Schori a brief note of congratulations.
"Dear Dr. Jefferts Schori," my email began, "You probably don't remember me, but in 1990 I was the student in one of your OSU religious studies courses who suggested that maybe Jesus walked on ice, not water. Anyway, I'm just writing to congratulate you on being named the Presiding Bishop of the U.S. Episcopal Church. Also, I thoroughly enjoyed your course. Sincerely, Rick Cooper."
To my utter astonishment, Her Eminence replied to my email. Within an hour.
"Dear Rick," she wrote, "Thank you for your nice note. As a former oceanographer myself, I've always had a particular fondness for Oregon Sea Grant and the work it does. You are in good company. In faith, Katharine."
I don't know what was more surprising to me—that she wrote back, that she still refused to address my Jesus comment, or that she was a former oceanographer…just like the FSU professor whose study vindicated me. I wasn't sure what to make of it.
Not that any of it mattered, ultimately. But I sure would've liked to know how Bishop Jefferts Schori reconciled her scientific training with her religious indoctrination—especially with regard to Biblical claims that Jesus regularly defied the laws of physics.
I forgive Bishop Jefferts Schori. But I still harbor a fantasy of receiving a note from her someday—maybe in the mail, maybe via Facebook Messenger or something—saying, "Rick, I want to apologize for failing to respond to your comment about Jesus walking on ice. Now I realize you may have been right. Regardless, I could have, and should have, said something. I blew it, and I am sincerely sorry. —Katharine."
But I guess even Bishop Jefferts Schori doesn't walk on water, so I should probably stop waiting for...hell to freeze over.
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