DESERT HARVEST—Spring 2002
Vol. 10, No. 1

The view through the round window
by Professor Susan C. Karant-Nunn

   The Renaissance transformed the European schoolroom. One of the ways in which we teachers truly follow in the footsteps of the great educators of the late medieval and Reformation era is in the way we relate to students. Reviving the ancient Greek ideal of educating the whole man (and it was males who were the objects of training), great fifteenth-century Italian teachers like Guarino of Verona and Vittorino Ramboldoni da Faltre closely interacted with the boys in their charge. They wanted to form their intellects, to be sure, but also their character and moral life; and they even encouraged dancing, swimming, and throwing snowballs as a means toward physical vigor. The sound mind could indeed only exist within a healthy body.
    These teachers, apart from introducing the Ciceronian study of humanity, the studia humanitatis, tried to attract their pupils toward the life of the mind by embodying the pleasures of learning. Those who taught interacted with their students as individuals. The bundle of wooden switches in the corner and the dunce’s stool were probably still in evidence, but in the new setting they were very reluctantly used.
    These ideals have shaped the American philosophy of education. This field is one of many in which Western culture must seek its proximate roots within late medieval and early modern Europe. The Division for Late Medieval and Reformation Studies provides one of those rare settings where it is still possible to live out this individual approach to higher learning. We respect our students as individuals even as we guide them, and desire to convey our pleasure in encountering new ideas. The attraction that they already feel toward advanced thought can make our joint study all the more stimulating, even exciting.
    I hope that our doctoral students, who as teaching assistants teach undergraduates, carry the philosophy and practice of our Renaissance forebears into the University of Arizona classroom, and later into the classrooms of the universities where they establish their careers as scholars. Some principles are fine enough to endure.
    The Division Seminars of the next academic year will take up, in the fall the subject of charity in early modern Spain (taught by Professor Helen Nader), and in the spring Anabaptism (taught by me). We would be delighted if you cared to visit and witness our somewhat modified Renaissance. After all, women are now present!

Annual Lecture 2002
Professor Elaine Pagels illuminates the gospel of Thomas
by CynthiaAnn Gonzales, doctoral student, History Department

"What makes you tick as an historian?"
Professor Elaine Pagels, Princeton University
by Amy Martin, doctoral student, English Department

   Elaine Pagels, a scholar widely known for her investigation of complex themes in early Christianity, was in Tucson on March 21 to present a lecture on the Gospel of Thomas to the Tucson and University of Arizona communities. In addition to her insightful and thought-provoking public lecture, Pagels’ visit to Tucson afforded Division students the opportunity to engage her with questions during their weekly seminar. Pagels met with students for two hours the morning after her lecture to discuss her development as a historian and her interests as a scholar.
    Pagels explained that seeds of her scholarly interests were germinated in her youth. She described her attraction to evangelical Christianity when she was in high school. The passion she observed at her church through the poetry, the liturgy, and the music was attractive to her. It projected a sense of conviction and emotion about religion that she was not introduced to at home.
    She continued her study of religion in graduate school. Although she began her studies under Professor Heiko A. Oberman at Harvard University, she turned her attention from Reformers to patristics because of her love of Greek. This language led to an interest in early Christianity. In a sense, she said she was also looking for a type of golden age in Christianity. She assumed that her research would lead her to a period where the Christian faith was not multifaceted or debated. Pagels did not begin her examination of these issues with the idea that early Christianity would be complex. On the contrary, Pagels anticipated that studies in early Christianity would reveal a simple religion; what she has found, and continues to discover, is an intricate faith. Her most recent scholarship has explored the gnostic gospels to discover “what they show about the range of the early Christian movement.”
    The discussion of Pagels’ development and her interests as a scholar led to discussion of her recent work. She addressed the intersection of gnostic ideas with ideas from other cultures and traditions, such as Jewish mysticism or Buddhism, acknowledging the possibility of overlapping theological and cultural strains. She suggested that this line of inquiry would produce fruitful answers if scholars from various fields collaborated.
    She also addressed questions about Irenaeus’ reasons for suppressing the gospel of Thomas, a topic tangential to the kinds of questions she raises in her study of the gnostic gospels. The debates about the orthodoxy and heterodoxy of sects of Christianity produced situations in which some texts gained in authority, while others were marginalized. Pagels suggested that Irenaeus, like others, was afraid of heresy. His actions indicate that he wanted to establish a clear, spiritual authority and also  to emphasize the continuity of the Christian faith.
    It was a pleasure both personally and academically to interact with Professor Pagels. We benefitted from her insight and willingness to discuss her research, and look forward to reviewing her future research on early Christianity.

"What makes you tick as an historian?"
Professor Thomas A. Brady, Jr., University of California, Berkeley
by James Blakeley

   In October 2001, the Division had the honor of hosting University of California at Berkeley Professor Thomas A. Brady, Jr., and his wife and colleague, Katherine Gingrich Brady. Professor and Mrs. Brady are longtime supporters of the Division students. It was a poignant evening as we gathered once again at Mrs. Oberman's home: all felt Professor Oberman’s absence from the table.
    The subject of the fall seminar was the Reformation in Strasbourg. Brady is one of the world’s leading experts on this city, having written the magisterial Ruling Class, Regime, and Reformation at Strasbourg (Brill, 1978). Along with Professor Miriam Usher Chrisman, who also visited the seminar in the fall, Brady has examined the personal and economic networks of the city fathers. Brady is also the author of Turning Swiss: Cities and Empire, 1450-1550 and Protestant Politics: Jacob Sturm (1489-1553) and the German Reformation . His collected essays have appeared recently in Communities, Politics, and Reformation in Early Modern Europe (Brill, 1998), which is dedicated to Heiko A. Oberman.
    Brady revealed to students that his biography of Jacob Sturm was a return to his scholarly roots. Although he had written his dissertation on Sturm’s political career, he realized that he had only made a beginning and waited until many years later to bring out his book-length study. Spending this year at the Humanities Center in North Carolina, Brady is one of North America’s most prominent early modernists.

"What makes you tick as an historian?"
Professor Anne Jacobson Schutte, University of Virginia
by Brandon Hartley

   Professor Anne Jacobson Schutte was our esteemed guest at the Divison Seminar in February, and I can safely say that her research was thoroughly engaging. Of course, it is difficult to see how the life of a hermaphroditic nun (her current research), or case studies of those brought before the Inquisition for “feigning holiness” (from her book Aspiring Saints: Pretense of Holiness, Inquisition, and Gender in the Republic of Venice, 1618-1750 ) could be anything but stimulating.  
    Schutte absolutely brims with energy. When I went to meet with her individually, we nearly collided as she came bounding through the doorway for more coffee. Her genuine interest in my own project was flattering, but our conversation did not linger there long--I simply couldn’t wait to ask about hers. 
    We had all read Aspiring Saints. The book surveys the lives and Inquisition trials of sixteen Italian men and women, “fake saints” as she affectionately calls them, and it is clear that the individuals themselves and the complexity of their particular circumstances interest her far more than any grandiose statements about history. But isn't “theory-sculpting” what historians do--interpreting themes and drawing conclusions about the past? Not necessarily, she would argue, and certainly not when these broad strokes of interpretation get in the way of accurately portraying the marvelous complexity of human society. Then what does Schutte say about the experiences of, for example, Caterina Rossi, who claimed to live for twelve years on communion alone, or Andrea Scolari, framed for seducing nuns with the promise that sex with a saint would catapult them to a higher state of holiness? Other than bashing the Protestant “black legend” of the Inquisition (which she calls the fairest and most advanced legal system of its day), she observes that inquisitors usually punished men more severely than women, and that persons of meaner economic status had a greater chance of appearing before the court.
    But, on the whole, Schutte is content to accurately depict their experiences and leave it at that. This impulse draws no small amount of criticism from colleagues, but it is the same impulse that has compelled her to translate close to a dozen primary sources for the public, including two transcripts from Cecilia Ferrazzi’s trial. Schutte encourages historians and casual readers to explore the lives, and listen to the voices, of historical figures and draw their own conclusions. For that, I applaud her.

"What makes you tick as an historian?"
Professor Miriam Usher Chrisman, University of Massachusetts, Amherst
by Joshua Rosenthal

   The year 1894 saw Elizabeth Deering Hanscom become the first American woman to receive a Ph.D. from Yale University.  She carefully packed up the doctoral gown that she wore at her graduation and went on to a professorship at Smith College. Sixty-eight years later, in 1962, while John F. Kennedy was President and a young instructor named Heiko A. Oberman was earning praise that would soon lead to his first professorship, Hanscom lent the hood of her doctoral gown to another young instructor, her friend, Miriam Usher Chrisman.  A year after her graduation ceremony, in 1963, Chrisman won a professorship at the University of Massachusetts, Amherst.  She remained at that institution until her retirement in 1986.  
    On November 15, 2001, the Division’s Thursday-night seminar welcomed a true icon of early modern studies, Miriam Usher Chrisman.  Of course, when Professor Chrisman began her scholarly career, the field was not known as “early modern European studies,” but more commonly as “Renaissance and Reformation studies” or “church history.” Historical inquiry tended to center around the thought of specific ecclesiastical reformers.  Professor Chrisman’s pioneering work is partially responsible for the academic movement towards the social history of the Reformation.  Rather than focusing on what Martin Bucer, a reformer in the city of Strasbourg, thought about a given issue, Chrisman opted for a different route.  In her first book, Strasbourg and the Reform: A Study in the Process of Change , she examined how the ideas of Bucer, and others, “move from the realm of theory to the pragmatic world of everyday life.”  
    Strasbourg and the Reform was received with acclaim. The question of the transmission, reception, and the impact of ideas would continue to play a significant role in Professor Chrisman’s work.  Her book, Lay Culture, Learned Culture: Books and Social Change in Strasbourg, 1480-1599, examined the relationship between two cultures: a lay, vernacular culture and a learned, largely ecclesiastical, Latin culture.  This book was based on all discernable Strasbourg imprints between 1480 and 1599, a massive archival undertaking the fruit of which appeared as a meticulously classified bibliography and served as a companion volume to Lay Culture, Learned Culture.  The ensuing discussion about these volumes provided an opportunity for a bit of reflection on the evolution of research methods and tools.  In order to analyze the thousands of imprints, Professor Chrisman had to organize and manipulate them according to a wide range of variables, and, while computers had begun to find their way into universities by the late 1970s, they were less than commonplace among historians.  She explained, to a wide-eyed audience, how researchers solved the problem with paper cards (military “B-cards”) and string.
    Professor Chrisman’s visit was thoroughly educational for all.  She demonstrated a graciousness in meeting with students and drawing upon her vast scholarly experience in order to advise them about their respective research interests.  Her candor both enlightened and enlivened an energetic seminar, and her friendship with Professor Karant-Nunn, who now holds Chrisman’s former editorial post on the Archive for Reformation History, was obvious to, and enjoyed by all.

Tales from the job hunt
by Michael Bruening

   It was time. After years of graduate school, seminars, research trips, conferences, and papers, it was finally time to take the final step towards which I had been working all these years: it was time to find a job. And so in August, like a squirrel gathering nuts, I began to prepare for what would undoubtedly be a long, anxiety-ridden winter. I took out a subscription to the Chronicle of Higher Education and joined the American Historical Association and the American Academy of Religion. I ordered transcripts, photocopied teaching evaluations, booked flights and accommodation for the American Historical Association conference in San Francisco, and bought printer cartridges, inkjet labels, and packages of résumé paper.
    Having thus armed myself at Office Max and Kinko’s, I scoured the Chronicle and the internet for any job openings that might even remotely fit my areas of expertise. In the end, I applied for forty-three full-time, replacement, or post-doctoral positions. To give some sense of this year’s competition, one of my rejection letters stated that over one hundred sixty people had applied for the position; in other words, only about one in four people applying for jobs in medieval and early modern European history would successfully find employment this year.
    Despite these relatively poor odds, especially for someone like me who has not yet completed his dissertation, each application had to be specifically tailored to each department’s needs. Some schools wanted someone who could teach world history, others desired expertise in gender history, some in cultural history, others in intellectual history, etc. I had to try to convey in my letters that I was the perfect person for the position. Once the applications are sent, the waiting game begins. Rejection letters start arriving, yet hope springs eternal for that one phone call that might result in gainful employment.
    I got “the call” (actually an e-mail) in early February. Concordia University, Irvine, a Lutheran university in Irvine, California, wanted to bring me out for a campus interview. Needless to say, I jumped at the opportunity. I arrived in Irvine on a Sunday afternoon, and the interview process began that evening at dinner with the university provost. That was just the tip of the iceberg, though. The next day was an exhausting stream of interviews and introductions. In addition, I lectured to a group of undergraduates in a constitutional law class. I count myself lucky that I had to endure only one day of interviews. I returned to my hotel room in the evening feeling wiped out but pleased about the prospect of teaching at Concordia. 
    Then the second waiting game began. Did I perform well enough at the campus interview? After nearly a month, I was finally notified that the search committee had, in fact, selected me as their preferred candidate to fill the position of assistant professor of history. Even now, the process is not completely over; the search committee’s recommendation still has to be approved by the university’s board of regents, but I have been assured that the regents have never overturned a search committee’s recommendations.
    And so, pending final approval by Concordia’s board of regents, I will be off to southern California in the fall to embark on the career I started preparing for ten years ago. At that time, when applying for graduate studies, I was accepted after my B.A. by exactly one school, the University of Virginia, and again after my M.A., by exactly one school, the University of Arizona. In this year’s job application process, exactly one school has shown any interest in me and now wants to hire me. Luck? Perhaps. But I will leave Arizona secure in the knowledge that my training in the Division has well prepared me to teach anywhere my career takes me. And in the end, as my academic experience has shown again and again, it only takes one.

Tales from the job hunt
by Jonathan Reid

   At my house and among family and friends, there was much rejoicing when East Carolina University offered me a job; not just “a job” but a post written expressly for a “Renaissance and Reformation” historian. As one of the fortunate ones—in the last decade half of those receiving Ph.D.s in our field have not secured a post—my first reaction is “PHEW!” I seem to be one of the lemmings that have had a soft landing.
    Next to tenure reviews, the job hunt may be one of the most bilious topics in all of academia. The reason is simple: there is a “job crisis—now thirty years old.” Some observers have been telling me that this is a relatively good year. As Lynn Hunt, president of the American Historical Association, notes, the job crunch has led to an unprecedented careerism. Graduate students and untenured faculty increasingly tailor their programs to build job—and tenure—worthy CVs. Hunt laments the declining sense of vocation, intellectual curiosity, and sheer enjoyment of being a historian.
    My “soft landing” at East Carolina was largely prepared by my study in the Division.   The History Department’s much-regretted colleague, Bodo Nischan, a well-known specialist in Renaissance and Reformation history who retired last year and sadly died at the end of the summer, had spoken often and highly of Professors Oberman and Karant-Nunn as well as the Division.  He saw in them the qualities that he held dear as a historian. This connection was certainly crucial in my being selected for an on-campus interview. To the wider faculty I emphasized that I had learned a culture of scholarship in the Division, which informs my approach to teaching and research.  They evidently were receptive to the elements I discussed: the necessary integration of late-medieval, Renaissance, and Reformation history; the importance of the “social history of ideas” as an approach to this field; the ideal of communal learning—student peers and teachers together focusing on a core of primary sources; an emphasis on mastering foreign languages; and the benefits of having students communicate in a variety of oral and written forms.
    I am delighted to be going to a department that values the sense of vocation, intellectual curiosity, and sheer enjoyment of being a historian that the Division embodies. It seems to have maintained the perspective that those careerist benchmarks—publications, scholarships, and the like—as important as they may be professionally, are the natural by-product of a vital scholarly life, not its goal.  I deeply regret that Professors Oberman and Nischan are not here to mentor further the development they prepared from Tucson to Greenville, N.C.  Equally, I am most thankful that I will continue to participate in the wider communities of scholars they nurtured.  That legacy is truly a living one.

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