Fleming Rutledge is a preacher and teacher known throughout the mainline Protestant denominations of the US, Canada and parts of the UK. She is the author of seven books and has received a grant from the Louisville Foundation to complete a book about the meaning of the Crucifixion.
One of the first women to be ordained to the priesthood of the Episcopal Church, she served for fourteen years on the clergy staff at Grace Church on Lower Broadway at Tenth Street, New York City.
Fleming and her husband celebrated their 50th anniversary in 2009 and have two daughters and two grandchildren. She is a native of Franklin, Virginia.
What is generous orthodoxy? A statement of purpose
The word ortho-doxy (Greek for "right doctrine") has both positive and negative connotations. In a culture that prizes what is iconoclastic and transgressive, orthodoxy has come to sound constricted and unimaginative at best, oppressive and tyrannical at worst.
The position taken on this website is that we cannot do without orthodoxy, for everything else must be tested against it, but that orthodox (traditional, classical) Christian faith should by definition always be generous as our God is generous; lavish in his creation, binding himself in an unconditional covenant, revealing himself in the calling of a people, self-sacrificing in the death of his Son, prodigal in the gifts of the Spirit, justifying the ungodly and indeed, offending the "righteous" by the indiscriminate nature of his favor. True Christian orthodoxy therefore cannot be narrow, pinched, or defensive but always spacious, adventurous and unafraid.
Posted: Thursday, March 5, 2015
Fleming's book The Crucifixion: Understanding the Death of Jesus Christ will be coming out from Eerdmans in August. This book is the product of almost 20 years of work, is designed for pastors and preachers, inquiring lay people, and perhaps seminary students. It is not an academic book, despite its academic pretensions! As the time of publication approaches, I will offer information as to how it might be used in congregations.
Posted: Wednesday, March 4, 2015
Fleming Rutledge will be a principal preacher at the yearly Karl Barth conference in June at Princeton Theological Seminary, June 21-24. These events always draw an impressive attendance of scholars. The theme this year is “Karl Barth and the Gospels: Interpreting Gospel Texts.” For information, and to register, click on this link: http://www.ptsem.edu/library/barthconference/default.aspx?id=25769806802
The first-ever 2015 Barth pastors’ conference will also take place at Princeton Theological Seminary, June 24-26, immediately following the 2015 annual Barth conference. It is entitled “Karl Barth and the Mission of the Church.” Fleming Rutledge will be leading a workshop on Barth and preaching. This Barth pastors’ conference is tailored specifically to meet the needs and concerns of pastors and/or those training for ministry. For more information and to register, please visit this link: http://ptsem.edu/pastorsconference/
A lament for Sweet Briar College
Tuesday, May 26, 2015This blog post will be a very personal account of my relationship to Sweet Briar, from which I graduated with the class of '59. Other former students will have different memories and will rank them differently in order of importance. Close to the top of virtually everyone's list would be lasting friendships, and that is certainly true for me also. However, since that will be emphasized by almost everyone, I am going to write about something else.
I have tried not to think about Sweet Briar during these past months. I have had work to do, and every time I read something about the college I had to fight down my emotions. During the past week, however, as I have read more and have glimpsed pictures of the campus, I have tried (unsuccessfully) to come to terms with what has happened. As I looked at the photographs, unbidden tears repeatedly came, and unwanted lumps in the throat. It is hard for me to write this little memoir without deep pain.
I doubt if there are any living alumnae who have had a longer or deeper relationship with Sweet Briar. My beloved aunt Mary Virginia Parker was in the second graduating class, and she talked with the greatest affection about Sweet Briar all of her long life. I particularly remember her devotion to, and indeed reverence for Miss Benedict, the first president. (In the tradition of the University of Virginia, no presidents or faculty members were called "Dr." in those days at Sweet Briar. It was assumed--rightly--that all faculty were "Doctors" in the sense that they all had PhDs, so no one had to draw attention to it. In my day the president was "Mrs. Pannell," and professors were "Miss Muncy" and "Miss Barton." Why some of the men--not all--were called "Dr.," I do not know.) Because of my aunt, Miss Benedict became part of my mental furniture; therefore it was with the utmost interest that I read of her quite heroic tenure as the founding president in The Story of Sweet Briar College by Martha Lou Lemmon Stohlman (magna cum laude, '34). Mrs. Stohlman's book is an exemplary history, very well told with an acute mind behind the writing, and I highly recommend it to all alumnae and interested persons.
My mother, Alice Dabney Parker, graduated in the class of 1932, and my chief impressions from her memories were two. The first is that all English majors were required to study the Anglo-Saxon language. That would have disqualified me from the outset! The second is that some of my mother's classmates were exceptionally brainy and well-read. They often visited us in later years; the level of conversation and wit among these women of the early thirties at SBC is worthy of note; they would have shone at any of the "northern" Seven-Sister colleges.
I myself was in the class of '59, and my sister, Betsy Parker McColl, who was president of "Judish" (the Judicial Board), was class of '63. (In addition, my mother-in-law, Evelyn Pretlow Rutledge, was class of '25 and very loyal to the college though she did not graduate.) I therefore have deep and wide connections to Sweet Briar.
Martha Lou Stohlman, whom I came to know later in Princeton, gives a fine account of the early days of the college when it had to be built all at once in its rural location. The cluster of buildings which still forms the center of the campus is widely recognized as perhaps the very best collegiate Georgian architecture in the United States. I want to put special emphasis on these buildings in my reminiscences. They were designed by Ralph Adams Cram of Cram, Goodhue, & Ferguson of Boston, and their beauty is only enhanced by age and patina. Most of the photographs online fail to do justice to them, having been taken largely with an eye to the ravishing natural setting, but there was one photo of a student approaching Benedict (formerly known simply as "Academic") that took my breath away.
It is often noted that of all the arts, architecture affects the most people--more often than not without their realization. It is remarkable that Sweet Briar is only an hour away from the universally admired Lawn and Rotunda at Thomas Jefferson's University of Virginia. Having spent, or rather misspent, almost all my time in Charlottesville in the St. Anthony Hall fraternity house, I saw very little of The Lawn in those days, and similarly paid little attention to the elegance and dignity of the Sweet Briar buildings. In my later years I have spent much time on The Lawn, absorbing its unique atmosphere; it is of course one of the architectural wonders of the world. I now realize, all too late, that Cram's designs at Sweet Briar had a powerful and lasting effect on me without my recognizing it. Cram's buildings have a presence, a calming effect, and a meticulous attention to detail that I now understand is crucial in architecture. (I remember that there were scornful voices heard when the Dew dormitory was built in 1956, deploring its inferior design--imitative without being the least bit complementary--but I paid no attention to these discerning comments at the time.) Twenty-one of the school's 30 buildings, including the stunning Italianate villa-style Sweet Briar House, are now listed on the National Register of Historic Places.
As I walked to and from my classes in my junior and senior years, I would repeatedly pass the often-open window of the first-floor office of Miss Barton, professor of the history of art. She never looked up from her desk; whatever work she was doing was completely absorbing to her. I found that inspiring. I still think about it. Unfortunately I did not absorb the lesson, being all-too-easily distracted myself, but I have always aspired to that level of commitment to scholarship.
In that image of Miss Barton in "the academic building" later named for Miss Benedict, the architectural and intellectual experiences of Sweet Briar meet and mingle for me. I don't know that the majority of alumnae would place the highest value on those factors -- at least two well-known, high-achieving alumnae have been disdainful of Sweet Briar -- but for me it was incalculable. I arrived at Sweet Briar as a very cocky freshman immediately assigned to advance placement in English literature. I had never received a grade lower than A- in any subject other than math in my entire experience as a student. One of the formative events of my life was receiving my first essay back from Miss Sarah Ramage. She gave me a D-. I can still feel the shock! It was a turning point. Miss Ramage saw clearly that I was accustomed to coasting and trading on my native intelligence. God bless her...she made me into a serious scholar at one stroke.
A recent article in The New York Times Sunday Review section, "What's the Point of a Professor?" by Mark Bauerlein, has received a lot of attention (NYT Sunday Review, May 10, 2015). "Mr. Bauerlein" is professor of English at Emory. Here's a link to his piece:
His description of what a professor used to be is, to me, entirely reminiscent of the way it was at Sweet Briar, only more so. When you not only see your professor during office hours but all over campus, it is a unique privilege. Virtually all the faculty lived in their own houses on the Sweet Briar grounds. We babysat for them, we had tea with them, we met for honors seminars in their homes. Not only so, we saw them being friends and colleagues of one another before our very eyes, in the halls and on the walkways. One of my cherished photographs is of four women faculty, all favorites of mine, holding cups of tea and sharing a joke. They look genuinely mirthful. One of them went on eventually to the faculty at Wellesley (Miss Barton) and the other to Boston University (Miss Hosken), but each of them gave their all to Sweet Briar while they were there. I must admit that I feel resentful that Sweet Briar's closing was announced by a man. Unlike the Seven Sisters, Sweet Briar had women presidents from day one (with one anomaly, in the 70s). Smith did not have a female president until 1975!
I don't mean to idealize the Sweet Briar faculty. One of them, and one of the chief administrative officers, ended up running off with students, and there were rumors of student-faculty affairs. Yet to me, the spirit of academia at Sweet Briar is illustrated by a little story. When hearing the news of the aforesaid professor who abandoned his wife for an academically accomplished student, an outraged longtime female member of the faculty said, "She [the student] lied to me on the eve of the Phi Beta Kappa initiation!" I still think of that affectionately as an illustration of the older idea of honor along with intellectual distinction.
I was always very proud of Sweet Briar's academic excellence. Thanks to the exceptional energy and high standards of President Martha Lucas ("Miss Lucas"), we had a Phi Beta Kappa chapter before our neighboring rival Hollins did. Miss Benedict fought with all her strength to keep Sweet Briar from bending its academic standards in the early days, and I always liked to think of her influence still pervading the college. Sweet Briar was never a "finishing school." It never had a "riding major." It was never just about the May Day extravaganza. I am among those who believe that if Sweet Briar had been named "Fletcher College" (after the founder's maiden name, "Williams" having already been taken) it would have had a better chance. In fact, according to Martha Lou Stohlman, Miss Benedict was not enthusiastic about Sweet Briar as a name, preferring Fletcher. She (Miss Benedict) recounted the reaction of another college president, who scoffed, "What a name! I would as soon have a diploma from Lily-of-the-Valley College!" (Stohlman, p. 88)
The other person from the earliest days of the college whose reputation made a deep impression on me at second hand was "Miss Connie Guion," later the celebrated Dr. Constance Myers Guion who was the first woman in the United States to be named a professor of clinical medicine, and the first woman to receive the Cornell Medical School award of distinction. Lured by Miss Benedict, she came from an instructorship at Vassar to teach chemistry at Sweet Briar in 1908, and stayed until 1913 when she left to enter medical school. To this day, I have on my wall a photo of "Miss Guion," later "Dr. Connie," inscribed to my aunt Mary Virginia, class of 1912. As every Sweet Briar alumna knows, the college science building is named for Dr. Connie. Who will care about these things when Sweet Briar is sold?
Martha Lou Stohlman, as I came to know her, was a woman of charm, but also of rigorous intellectual standards. She is too polite to say anything directly critical of the college in her invaluable history, but there is one little zinger. When she describes, in some detail, the design of the Sweet Briar college shield with its unassailable Latin motto Rosam quae meriut ferat (left untranslated by the knowing Mrs. Stohlman, but it means "she who merits the rose may bear it"), she can't help slipping in the comment that the Sweet Briar shield was designed in red and blue because "pink is not a proper heraldic tint" (p. 47). I myself began to feel a bit alienated from Sweet Briar when pink became the dominant color on its website; I don't remember pink from my day.
These assorted reminiscences and reflections are very personal. I don't expect others to see Sweet Briar in the same way. Other alumnae will have other contributions to make. These, however, are precious to me in ways that I could not have put into words before I knew that the college may disappear forever. I am taken by surprise to realize, at this late date, how very much I love her--Alma Mater.
Pope Francis and Oscar Romero
Sunday, May 24, 2015The news that Pope Francis has enthusiastically promoted the beatification of Oscar Romero, the heroic martyred Archbishop of El Salvador, is thrilling. I have written before about the film, Romero, which by all accounts very successfully depicts the transformation of an essentially conservative priest favored by the Salvadoran elite into a courageous champion of the poor. My Protestant convictions rebel against the idea of "saints" authenticated by supposed miracles, but if there are going to be saints of this sort (as opposed to the universal sainthood of all believers), Romero should be one of them. My blog post contains a lot of information about Romero:
My previous posts about Pope Francis have expressed serious reservations about him based on his record as Jorge Maria Bergoglio, Archbishop of Buenos Aires during the Argentine "Dirty War," when, by all accounts including his own, he failed to stand against the military regime as they killed or "disappeared" their political opponents. I personally find it impossible to forget that he was therefore indirectly responsible for the torture-murder of Elizabeth Käsemann, daughter of the revered New Testament scholar Ernst Käsemann. The Archbishop of Chile during the Pinochet years presents an instructive contrast, because he urged his priests to speak up against the cruel regime.
A lot of the adulation of Francis is either sentimental or superficial or both. However, there are several initiatives he has recently taken, of which the Romero elevation is the most recent, that deserve both praise and support: 1) his moves to enter the discussion about environmental degradation; 2) his efforts to reform the Curia; 3) his outspoken defense of the poor, and his consequent steps to support some of the tenets of liberation theology; 4) his wish to conduct a more open discussion of cultural trends; 5) his outreach to American nuns who were under suspicion. When these factors are combined with his evident allegiance to the magisterium (despite the hopes and wishes of the anti-Catholic liberal commentariat), there is reason for cautious rejoicing.
The front-page story of the Romero beatification in The New York Times strikes me as very good. Unlike a lot of secular liberal journalism, including that of the Times, it does not simply cast John Paul II and Benedict XVI as villains over against the warm and inclusive Francis, but takes care to explain the context:
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American Christianity in decline: Wisdom from the Inklings
Wednesday, May 13, 2015There will be much wringing of hands about the new poll showing that the number of people calling themselves Christians in America is in steep decline, especially among young adults. Here is the link to a Times article:
This is indeed cause for concern. But not despair. Philip Zeigler, professor of theology at Aberdeen, just sent me this wonderful article about the Inklings (C. S. Lewis, Tolkien, etc.) in which there is a quotation from Lewis that strikes me as precisely the thing we need to know and remember:
Lewis himself warned against making too much of Oxford’s Christian revival, pointing out in a 1946 article for The Cherwell that it could not be counted on to last: "Sooner or later it must lose the public ear; in a place like Oxford such changes are extraordinarily rapid. … Whatever in our present success mere Fashion has given us, mere Fashion will presently withdraw. The real conversions will remain: but nothing else will."The whole article, from The Chronicle of Higher Education, is well worth reading in toto: