Beside the Oak Tree

A reflection on "Anchored in the Current: Discovering Howard Thurman as Educator, Activist, Guide and Prophet"

When I was introduced to Howard Thurman in this course, it wasn't a new name — I just hadn't done much research on him myself. My social location led me to resist reading further into male perspectives with a fixed gaze on racial disparities, perspectives that use women as a body count without fully seeing our experiences at the hands of men of all races. Thurman felt that Christianity is at its weakest when it comes to the color bar. I'd say it's at its weakest when it comes to the gender bar, when we don't see and acknowledge the experiences of all of Jesus's disciples. Seminary has revealed to me just how bombarded I've felt, over the years, by men's voices and opinions on all of this.

After watching the documentary Backs Against the Wall, I finally met this spiritual revolutionary — and found someone I resonate with, on a macro level. Howard Thurman was a nonviolent revolutionary. Nonviolence requires a commitment, because it is the ultimate example of Jesus's commitment to grace and mercy. Reading the accounts of people who encountered him was the icing on the cake — what a creative way to describe a humbly confident man. That was the consensus across every story in the book: people from all different walks of life, changed by the way he did church. "Jesus speaks to those who have their backs against the wall." (Thurman, Backs Against the Wall)

There were quite a few attributes that describe Thurman. Both the documentary and the book show him as an overachiever — ambitious, bold, fearless, and peaceful, all at once. He snuck out to teach Black maids and servants what he was learning in seminary, because he believed everyone deserved the same access to that information he was getting for free. He made space for the arts in Chapel worship. He preached in white churches while the KKK stood guard outside. This was a man who was bold, and who was not afraid to push the envelope.

The part of his journey that resonated with me most was his relationship to Christianity itself, and the way he practiced critique and experimentation within his own vocation. Challenging the way Christianity shows up is one thing. But to digest that challenge in a way that lets your listeners see Christ differently — as a revolutionary, as one "who wasn't looking to be praised, but to be followed" — tells you who Thurman understood himself to be. He came into the philosophy and discipline of nonviolence after his trip to India, and if I were writing Howard Thurman's story in the Baptist tradition, I'd frame that trip as his salvation testimony. By engaging with the figure of Jesus and changing his physical location, Thurman was converted into seeing the world differently, seeing his work differently, seeing religion differently — and he constructed a theology that welcomed everyone, including those who never subscribed to the westernized depictions of Jesus the Christ.

I appreciate that he saw the need for interfaith community. That, alongside his commitment to nonviolence, is evidence of a man who understood following Jesus as a call to serve the disinherited. And that call, alongside the work of the women he married, gave me a new lens through which to see him. He wasn't conventionally attractive, and he achieved a great deal while still fairly young and largely alone — details that make it easy to believe he was genuinely delighted by the intellect of the women in his life, and by the way they articulated the plight of women in education, leadership, religion, and politics. Their partnership shaped him as much as any book he read.

"Thurman was a Mystic, instead of a Moses," one interviewee said in Backs Against the Wall. He explains it as Thurman creating his own role entirely — not the one history hands a leader, but the one he was actually built for. To name him as someone who helped shape the twenty-first century was powerful on its own. His work alongside Martin Luther King Jr. was monumental, and it's hard not to wonder how different the world might be without him in it. His commitment to nonviolence turned out to be more theological, more spiritual, than I'd realized going in. The Nonviolence Institute in Chicago still uses Dr. King as their reference point for the principles of nonviolence and the commitment to beloved community. Thurman's own commitment to nonviolence as a form of resistance reads like a contemporary Samuel — and it's inspiring, because it makes me think about the lives that will change because of the people I lead, advise, encourage, and teach today.

Processing Howard Thurman looks a lot like a young Thurman sitting beside the oak tree, intending to be in relationship — with the tree, and with the world surrounding them both. Thurman offered a lifetime highlight reel pointing toward our interconnectedness. He was known for helping to awaken people's faith, and so many of the white writers documenting his life were captivated by his impact on a global scale. He reminds me of my dad. My dad's philosophy has always sounded a lot like Thurman's: don't let other people's noise disrupt your peace — we're stronger than our environment. Thurman seemed unassuming, and many people didn't realize how important he was until later, some not until after he'd passed. He found his value in the work, not in celebrity. As a result, people enjoyed him while he was here, and appreciated the fullness of his work once it was all that was left of him.

I'm inspired by so many voices who shape how I approach this work. Howard Thurman and Rev. Dr. James Cone are among the authors who resonate with me spiritually. I'm inspired by Stephen Preskill and Stephen Brookfield's concepts of leadership within vocation — the language of education has given me a different angle on leadership altogether. When Preskill and Brookfield write about what it means to support the growth of others, their practices are ones I'm actively looking to implement: listening, staying curious about others, asking constructive questions, learning people's stories, and championing their goals. (61–65) I love that most great leaders return to these same fundamentals. Educationally, I stand on the shoulders of womanist scholars and midwives — Dr. Wilda Gafney, Dr. Cheryl Anderson, Dr. Melva Sampson, Rev. Dr. Emilie Townes, and Dr. Melanie Harris are among the few womanists and ecowomanists who have had a direct impact on how I engage vocation, activism, and spirituality.

Howard Thurman is an incredible voice — not only to the Black liberation narrative, but to theology and the Christian walk of faith as a whole. I can see myself using his work in conversation with the other voices I've named here, building toward a fuller perspective on what a better relationship looks like. His teaching on nonviolence, his ability to connect across background and community of faith, and his creativity and ingenuity all made him an invaluable chapel to freedom fighters and revolutionaries alike.

This is exactly the cloth I can only pray to be cut from.