Episcopal Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori, Jesus, and me

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.

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.

Gary "The Glove" Payton and me

I first met basketball Hall-of-Famer Gary Payton in the spring of 1988 when I was an eighth-grade English and U.S. history teacher at Highland View Middle School in Corvallis, OR. At the time, Payton was a sophomore hoopster at Oregon State University (OSU). I had arranged with OSU Athletics' academic compliance officer, Michael Beachley, to have Payton and an OSU football player talk to my classes about "The Language of Sports," one of a series of such talks I had implemented to help pique my students' interest in language and its connections to a variety of vocations and avocations.

Gary Payton

True confession: At the time, I had no idea who Payton was, other than that he was rumored to be a pretty good basketball player. My students, on the other hand, knew exactly who he was—and rather quickly made that fact clear to me. Before Beachley had a chance to introduce us, my students, along with several students from neighboring classrooms, swarmed Payton, shaking his hand, slapping him on the back, and asking for his autograph. Payton graciously engaged with them and complied with their requests, using a borrowed permanent marker to sign his name on T-shirts, sneakers, and Pee-Chees. 

After the tardy bell rang and students scrambled back to their classrooms, Beachley finally had a chance to introduce Payton and me. Weirdly, as Payton stuck out his hand, he turned his face the other way, avoiding eye contact. His handshake was equally unimpressive—flaccid, like a dead fish. I couldn't discern whether his body language was a product of shyness, indifference, contempt, or simply a lack of socialization. Not that it really mattered, in the grand scheme, but in the petite moment I was just a bit put off.

Back in the classroom, my students were still abuzz from the excitement and it took me a minute to get them to settle down. They were, however, in their seats, all eyes forward, more attentive and receptive than I had seen them all year. Hmmm...maybe inviting semi-famous guest speakers was a good thing? 

After everyone finally stopped buzzing, I introduced Mr. Payton and told the class that he was there to talk about the language of sports. But of course it wouldn't have mattered if Payton was there to talk about the threat of the tussock moth; my students were enthralled, ready to hang ten on any and every word that emerged from Payton's lips. Naturally, I had provided my students with something to do besides sit and listen; they were to answer, in writing, three questions about the language of sports on a worksheet I had provided them.

Unfortunately, what emerged from Payton's lips was about what one would expect from a teenager who had grown up in the rough part of Oakland, CA, and knew a lot more about sports than he did about language: a lot of "ums" and "uhs," "y'knows," "I dunnos," and just general mumbling and fumbling. 

In other words, his speech was pretty much an example of…how not to speak.

So much for the "language" part.

But all was far from lost. My students were absolutely charmed by this totally real person, just a few years older than they were, who was a bonafide basketball phenomenon but an English language rookie. And my students seemed to understand that, despite his language challenges, Gary Payton was in college, trying to get an education, because he understood on some level that basketball might not be enough for him—or that it ultimately might not work out for him, due to injuries perhaps. In fact, the only lucid comment I remember Payton uttering during his "speech" was "Stay in school. Get an education." And my students were actually listening when he said it—because of who was saying it.

So, definitely a win.

Speaking of wins, Payton went on to achieve the following (a partial list):

• Consensus All-American, a three-time All-Pac-10 selection, and both the Pac-10 Defensive Player of the Year and conference Freshman of the Year in 1987.
• Featured in the cover story of Sports Illustrated on March 5, 1989, as the nation's best college basketball player 
• MVP of the Far West Classic tournament three times, the Pac-10 Player of the Week nine times, and named to the Pac-10's All-Decade Team
• At the time of his graduation, Payton held the school record for points, field goals, three-point field goals, assists, and steals—all of which he still holds today except for career points and three-point field goals
• During his career at OSU, the Beavers made three NCAA tournament appearances and one NIT appearance
• Second overall pick in the 1990 NBA draft by the Seattle SuperSonics
• Made the All-NBA First-Team in 1998 and 2000; All-NBA Second Team in 1995, 1996, 1997, 1999, and 2002; and All-NBA Third Team in 1994 and 2001
• Selected to the NBA All-Defensive First Team a record nine consecutive seasons (1994–2002), and won the NBA Defensive Player of the Year Award in 1996, the first point guard to win the aw
• Selected to the NBA All-Star Team nine times
• Member of the gold medal-winning 1996 and 2000 U.S. Men's Olympic Basketball Teams
• In 1996, Payton and the SuperSonics reached the NBA Finals after winning a franchise record 64 games—and lost in six games to Michael Jordan's Chicago Bulls
• Elected into OSU's Sports Hall of Fame in 1996
• Nicknamed "The Glove" in reference to his defensive skills
• Set up The Gary Payton Foundation in 1996 to provide safe places for recreational activity, and to help underprivileged youth in his hometown of Oakland…stay in school

I had the privilege of getting to see just how good Payton was one night in February 1990, when my housemate and I attended an OSU vs. USC basketball game. Payton scored 58 points in that game, mostly by juke-jiving through heavy traffic directly to the hoop. OSU won the game in overtime, 98-94.

Payton was, needless to say, incredible. And I was, needless to say, honored and proud that I not only "knew him when" but had invited him to give one of the most memorable speeches ever, to a classroom full of the most riveted eighth-grade students ever. 

Most of whom, I'm happy to say, stayed in school.

After I posted this story on my Facebook page, Larry Bafia, a former employee of Will Vinton Studios (with whom I also used to work) commented that he had directed this video featuring a clay-animated Gary Payton: