Osler's Razor

Last November, I posted a story about one of my most important teachers, Dr. Joanne Braxton of William and Mary.  A few months later, I was surprised and very happy to get a message from Prof. Braxton, who had stumbled across the post.  We began to correspond, and last March I traveled back to Williamsburg.  Professor Braxton had invited me to speak to her class and give a sermon in William and Mary's historic Wren Chapel.

It was a remarkable trip.  Prof. Braxton was a powerful formative influence on me in a variety of ways, and the idea of teaching and preaching with her was thrilling and a little intimidating.

I needn't have worried.

On Sunday, I met her before the service, and the connection was recast.  She explained the liturgy, but I had no idea of what was to come.


The Wren Chapel, miraculously, held a variety of people from different points in my life-- Prof. Braxton, Tom Stanton from Waco, Laurie Smith Dowdesdell, Craig Anderson, George Greenia, and others.  It was the single most moving service I have been a part of, and my sermon was only a small part of it.  Collaborating with Prof. Braxton was one of the greatest honors of my life.  Remembering that morning still makes me smile with joy.

The next day, I was to speak to her advanced writing class.  Prior to the beginning of the class, we met briefly in her office.  She carefully pulled something out of a drawer and with the tips of her fingers pushed it to me as if it were a jewel.  It was a book, a slim volume:  Ernest J. Gaines's "A Lesson Before Dying."  It was just that, only that, a paperback book, but that was everything; because to the people who know me, there is no gift quite like the exactly right book.

Gaines's story revolves around a man condemned to die and the teacher who somewhat reluctantly reaches out to him on death row.

Why was this the exactly right book?  In part, because of its darkness.  It is all tragedy, every bit of it, and my students know well that this is precisely how I describe the enterprise of criminal law. I have never before found a story that embodies that belief of mine as completely as this one.  The stark lines of race that too often divide us (not only physically and politically, but even in terms of how we see the same event) were also clearly drawn, much as they have been in my own life.

Also, though, it was exactly right because of the hope it conveyed.  In a broad arc, yes, the hope that people can change, even those who are most oppressed and seemingly hopeless.  In a sharper way, there is also hope that societies can change, and that people like me can sometimes cross over from one side to the other, painful as that is, to challenge systems that cause harm.

Finally, too, there was faith.  The teacher Gaines imagined into being was challenged in his faith the way I sometimes am, as the brokenness and unfairnesses of the world create doubt that a loving God exists.

When I was done with the book, I sat quietly and held it in my hand, this precious gift, chosen so well and carefully.   I was thankful, as I too rarely am.  Teachers, the best ones, can move us that way.