|
|
Heiko Augustinus Oberman, a personal
recollection
by Susan C. Karant-Nunn, American Cusanus Society Newsletter
18, no. 1, June 2001
Like Einhard in relation
to Charlemagne, I knew Heiko only after his hair (and mine) had turned white.
Although I met him at a conference at the German Historical Institute in
London in 1978, when my locks were still merely grey, I did not encounter
him again until 1990. In the meantime, he had turned out another eleven
books not counting translations—and I a mere three. He was the world-renowned
master of late medieval and Reformation theology and I an archival seeker
of social and cultural patterns. I did not dream that ever our professional
paths should seriously cross, nor, sure did he.
Owing to his continual reassessment of his own work within
the context of evolving Reformation and early modern historiography—in itself
an uncommon virtue—Heiko determined in 1997 that the Division for Late Medieval
and Reformation Studies at The University of Arizona, of which he was the
founder, needed the balance of a colleague who approached the Reformation
from a perspective that he was aware of but did not always share.
By this time, and indeed, as he thought, some years before, he had taken
up the quest for the "social history of ideas." Heiko was not a humble
man and considered himself perfectly capable of conveying to students late
medieval thinkers' interaction with their earthly milieu. Yet, to do
so was not his first interest. In addition, he was a paramount academic
strategist: as he grew older and considered the Division's profile and future,
he thought well of having a colleague with a different speciality join him.
He persuaded the dean and the Department of History of this.
With some apprehension, I joined the Division and the History
Department in January 1999. To work closely with a brilliant, self-confident
person is not always easy, and I was uncertain of the outcome. Our
cooperation turned out to be fully an exchange. Heiko enjoined me to
express my opinions in all our consultations. He was invariably solicitous
of my views, listening carefully. Often after hearing me, he modified
the position or the approach that he had intended to take. And I, who
had had occasion to see him tower forcefully over others, gained an awareness
of the gentler, more flexible persona of the man.
Heiko demanded concerted effort from his students. Among
much else, they had to develop real expertise in Latin. In return,
he dedicated many hours every week to conferring with each individual, often
outside on a blue bench, where he could smoke. He regularly held early-morning
translation sessions in his office. The volume of paper that flowed
across his desk, from his pen as well merely under his gaze, was legendary:
he said that he read "obliquely." Doctoral students quickly received
their papers back with interlinear spaces and margins densely annotated.
Heiko said that the true scholar did not take vacations. I encouraged
our students to pay him no mind but to get away from time to time.
Every summer, Heiko held one of his famous Ekeby seminars
at his family home in Holten, The Netherlands. Every student engaged
in dissertation research in Europe gathered there for two or three memorable
days of intense scrutiny. Still there was time for soccer. If
Toetie Oberman was not present, Heiko himself did the cooking—which, by
general agreement, left something to be desired.
Heiko Oberman was more than an energetic, creative thinker.
His original expressions, influenced by his native Dutch, dug the furrows
of the English language deeply, turning up unsuspected turf. His personal
charisma attracted friends and riveted audiences wherever he went.
Surely his devotion to his students enabled him, just four days before his
death, to preside at a dissertation defense. Only after that could
he give up his spirit, without regret, gladly.
 |
NEW GIFT MATCH!
Anonymous Donor Will Match All Gifts Made to the Oberman
Library/Chair before December 31, 2010, to an aggregate maximum
of $300,000.
☼
Make a Matched Gift Now
|
|