What is this Place?
Convocation
August 27, 2003

Here we are, you and I, all of us come together at this place called Eastern Mennonite University. We come excited; we come wary. We come eager; we come tired. We come unsure whether we want to be at this place; we come sure we are called to this place.

What is this place--Eastern Mennonite University? Place is important for place has purpose and this place has a particular purpose.

Place is important because every place has a story. To be at a place is to learn and become a part of its story.

Places have buildings and landscapes that have their own stories. You will go in and out of these buildings and cross its landscapes innumerable times. As you do so, will you step nonchalantly into these spaces with no knowledge of the stories that made them or will you stop to wonder and perhaps remember?

At EMU a few of these spaces have names. Who are these people whose names adorn our chapel, our library, our science center, the garden south of the campus center? Do you know them? Have you heard their stories?

Today I will provide a few glimpses into this place, its purposes over time, its stories, its named buildings and landscapes. There is much more to tell. Perhaps others will continue the saga in the coming year.

It was 1917, a year the world went to war in Europe. Readers of the Mennonite periodical Gospel Herald read this: "Announcement is herewith made that the Eastern Mennonite School at Assembly Park near Harrisonburg, Va., will be ready, the Lord willing, for students to matriculate for the opening exercises on October 9, 1917, ---" (Pellman, p. 15).

Why did some men in Virginia decide we needed a school in the East and how did it end up at this place in the Shenandoah Valley? A read of Professor Emeritus Hubert Pellman's 1967 history confirms the suspicion that a major thrust of the founders was to create a center of orthodoxy that would defend young Mennonites from more liberal influences felt to be far too prevalent at that older Mennonite school in Indiana.

You may be surprised to learn that this eastern school almost did not end up in the Shenandoah Valley. We nearly became a suburb of our nation's capitol when the founders tried to buy a mansion in Alexandria. But when purchase of this site became impossible, the men looked elsewhere, ending up in what we now know as Park Woods here on our property. It was called Assembly Park then and was the site of large religious gatherings with well-known evangelists such as Billy Sunday. The big White House, tabernacle and horseracing track, all here in 1917, are long since gone. But the woods remain, and many of you will find solitude there at one time or another. Perhaps the ghosts of convicted souls of evangelistic crusades will haunt you there.

So the school began and taught Bible, vocational studies to develop skills for teaching and agriculture, and other courses to broaden students' outlook on life. Those early students sang just as we did today because music, from the very beginning, was deemed essential (Pellman, pp. 44, 53). With an emphasis on biblical teaching and music, we aren't surprised to learn that this chapel auditorium we now sit in was one of EMU's early buildings. We call this building the C.K. Lehman Auditorium in honor of an early faculty member who taught Bible and directed choral groups. He later became the first Dean, like Dean Marie Morris. Next time you enter here think of this white-haired gentleman conducting a men's chorus or leading a hymn, like Ken Nafziger today.

In the 1920's and 30's the Aim and Purpose statement in the catalogs continually identified the college purpose as "an education in its broadest sense under distinctly Christian influence" (Pellman, p. 88). An early teacher, D. Ralph Hostetter, for whom our museum is named and a Harvard man no less, wrote that education provides for a richer, more livable life. With a broad education, he said, "The mountain to the north is no longer just a barrier to cross, but a huge volume of geological history;---the ---rain coat is no longer just a piece of apparel, but a product of chemical science known as plastics" (Pellman, p. 94).

In the D. Ralph Hostetter Museum in our science center you will find a wealth of artifacts collected by this man who loved nature, especially birds. He took his students on field trips all over Virginia and Maryland so we could find our own fossils to admire. I took his course as a new faculty member here in the early 70's. It is said that D. Ralph never drove a car. His wife did all the driving so that he could watch out the window, safely. Next to the museum is the M.T. Brackbill Planetarium. This renaiisance professor taught more than 60 subjects at EMU ranging from creative writing and music to physics. Many a student learned to appreciate the heavens under Brackbill's tutelege. You will find the museum and planetarium in the Daniel B. Suter Science Center. Many of you are aware that EMU is known for its strong pre-med program. Do you know Dr. Daniel Suter who is credited for building this program over three decades beginning in the 1950s? Dr. Suter spent his sabbaticals doing neurological research at major universities. He still lives in this community when he is not seeking warmer weather in Florida in the winter. Next time you go into the science center stop and breathe a word of thanks for three giant educators from the past.

Perhaps you will spend more time in the campus center than in the science center if you are an English major. Then you might want to stop and admire the flowers in the Anna B. Frey Garden south of the Campus Center. Anna brought literature to life in her classes in the 1970s. I remember a very sad day when she collapsed and died, too early.

The persons I've named all brought a passionate faith to their work at EMU. Their commitment to deepening faith, broadening awareness and developing skills is still true of faculty and staff at EMU. Our EMU vision, mission and values still proclaim these goals. We still urge you to choose a broad education because we believe your life will be enriched if you develop an appreciation for Renoir, Shakespeare and Bach. You will do less damage to the world we live in and hopefully some of you will become savers of the world if you develop an appreciation for science, for this ecosystem we live in. You also will be in a better position to be a source of healing and hope if you tap into what we know about human psychology and the societies in which we live.

From the beginning some in the school recognized the potential for conflict among the several purposes of the school. Those first few men only wanted to establish a school "if safeguards could be set up to keep it orthodox." But in 1946 we find Professor D. Ralph Hostetter requesting to use a textbook that included unaccepted beliefs. He argued that students were being exposed to these ideas elsewhere and therefore it would be better to discuss them in class where he could share his contrary beliefs (Pellman, p. 171).

In 1965 new president Myron Augsburger verbalized the conflict when he insisted that opposing views from students need to be given voice in an atmosphere of respect. At the same time, he said, professors need to honestly confess their Christian views (Pellman, p.238). Dean Ira Miller also called for daring to present all sides of an issue while sharing commitment to a preferred one (Pellman, p. 250).

Dr. Pellman's history ends in 1967 with comments about academic freedom, noting the increasing tension between the emphasis on free inquiry and indoctrination. Last year at this place this issue took front seat when our Board of Trustees dared to say that employees who publicly advocate positions contrary to certain documents of the institution and the Mennonite Church may find their employment in jeopardy.

Let it be said that EMU is a place where learners of every age can ask questions, consider a variety of answers and freely choose where to stand. At the same time we continue to be a school of the church where faculty and staff have chosen to be here because we espouse a particular worldview and are free to share particular understandings about God, about the created world, about morality. I would be naïve to think that faculty and staff will always agree on these understandings. Tensions are inherent in this place. As faculty and staff, we must continue to struggle with the tension of living within our commitments while being open to different points of view.

This problem is not new. The first president of this place, J.B. Smith, a music lover said to have perfect pitch, abruptly resigned in the 1920s when a church leader disapproved of the second-hand piano he had bought for his home. Use of musical instruments was a test of faith in those days.

So what do we hope to develop in EMU students? I believe we want you to become inquirers who are open to change and growth but who also make particular commitments. Doers who follow their passions but who are never the less humble servants and peacebuilders. Creators who are also healers, never losing sight of how our inventions change the fragile systems within which our world lives. Persons who are ready to become part of a people, of communities that care for each other and work together to accomplish things we can't do alone.

There's an EMU story that illustrates many of these qualities in action. It's the story behind the bell that hangs next to the library. It's the story of the Sadie Hartzler Library that sits a few yards east of the chapel where you now sit. The building is named for EMU's first librarian, lover of books.

Many of you know the story, adapted now from the words of Ruth Hoover Seitz in EMU's 75th anniversary book The Way We Are. It was Thursday, December 4,1969. Another war was waging; this time it was Vietnam. This campus needed a new library. But a lack of funds to the tune of $111,000 threatened the planned project. Receiving a nearly $400,000 federal grant hinged on matching it by December 11. That Thursday night the deep faith, creativity, determination and passion for a shared cause of a campus pastor and several students said this dream cannot be lost.

At the end of Friday chapel on that December 5 the student government president called the students to action and announced that already 2,400 meals were being skipped to redirect meal money to the cause. This kick-off lit the students' fire and many headed home to ask for money from parents, churches and friends. Others started baking. Music groups sang downtown for contributions. Students charged admission to the bathroom, and faculty raided their attics for treasures to donate to the big auction to be held on Monday night. National news picked up the story and money came in from people who had never before heard of this small college in the Shenandoah Valley.

On Monday evening 4,000 people gathered in the old gym just across the way to bid on the 2,000 donated items the students had gathered and tagged for the auction. Students bid competitively for their friends' possessions and pooled their money to buy an 1893 cello donated by Professor John Horst. Imagine John's surprise when the students turned around and gave the cello back to him. For eight hours they bid and rang the dinner bell that marked each new $1,000 added to the fund. At 2 a.m. EMC president Myron Augsburger put the bell on the auction block. Student leader Everett Ressler did the bidding for the students, taking the price to $800 to reach the $111,000 goal. When the president cried, "Sold!" the walls almost came down with frenzied cheers.

What is this place? A place of giant educators from the past who live on in our buildings and grounds and in those educators who have followed. A place to deepen faith, learn skills and broaden awareness. A place that invites inquiry, stirs passion, releases creativity and practices community. A place where a dream almost lost can be revived because faculty, staff and students choose to become partners together with God to achieve the impossible. A place of invitation to a commitment-to do justice, love mercy and walk humbly with God. Welcome to this place.