Abel Mutsinzi
What’s something that touched you on a personal level?
One of the highlights for me was the panel discussion on how to approach people who do not share our beliefs, particularly atheists. The panelists emphasized the importance of genuine curiosity and empathetic listening. They encouraged us to ask questions to understand how others arrived at their beliefs, especially if they had been hurt by religion in the past. This approach resonated deeply with me, as it aligns with the Christian call to love our neighbors and meet them where they are.
Another key takeaway was the idea of starting small, like a mustard seed, to grow into something much larger. This metaphor reminded me that meaningful conversations and relationships often begin with simple, sincere efforts. It’s not about winning arguments but about showing love and understanding, which can eventually lead to deeper connections and opportunities to share our faith.
The Veritas Forum Conference in Boston was an enriching experience, filled with thought-provoking plenaries, engaging breakout sessions, and meaningful discussions. One of the highlights for me was the panel discussion on how to approach people who do not share our beliefs, particularly atheists. The panelists emphasized the importance of genuine curiosity and empathetic listening. They encouraged us to ask questions to understand how others arrived at their beliefs, especially if they had been hurt by religion in the past. This approach resonated deeply with me, as it aligns with the Christian call to love our neighbors and meet them where they are.
Another key takeaway was the idea of starting small, like a mustard seed, to grow into something much larger. This metaphor reminded me that meaningful conversations and relationships often begin with simple, sincere efforts. It’s not about winning arguments but about showing love and understanding, which can eventually lead to deeper connections and opportunities to share our faith.
The conference also reinforced the importance of loving the places we are in—our campuses, workplaces, and communities—as a way to love our neighbors better. This holistic approach to faith and life was both challenging and inspiring. Overall, the Veritas Forum was a wonderful opportunity to learn, grow, and connect with other Christian students and professionals. It was a reminder that our faith is not just personal but also communal, and that we are called to engage thoughtfully and lovingly with the world around us.
Andrew Dao
What was your favorite plenary or breakout session? Why? What is something that touched you on a personal level?
It’s a testament to the thoughtfulness of Jeremy Begbie’s talks that I find myself grappling with his ideas long after the Veritas Weekend. I attended his lecture on reductionism and its danger, where he criticized the tendency of our modern society to only see things from one perspective—to reduce a complex thing to one single feature of that thing. He had an especial distaste for the phrase “nothing but,” which seeks to explain a whole in terms of its parts, effacing in the process the complexity of its totality and the unique relations among each of its individual parts. I wholeheartedly agree with him. Contemporary work culture, with its emphasis on productivity and efficiency, ensures that a thing has no meaning outside of its being an instrument for a particular goal—that is, its essence is reduced to its functionality.
Indeed, as Jeremy notes, the appeal of reductionism is that it gives us a sense of control—that it lures us into the false equivalence between reachability and controllability: since we know something about a thing, we must be masters of that thing. “What human beings seek to learn from nature,” Adorno and Horkheimer hauntingly remark all those years ago, “is how to use it to wholly dominate both it and human beings” (Dialectic of Enlightenment, 2002).
Given what you learned this weekend…what is one hope you have now that you took from the conference?
What then must we do? Embrace our Christian worldview, of course. As Christians, we posit the existence of the supernatural, and thus are more resistant to a mechanical view of the universe. According to Jeremy, Christians treat the world as if it’s an artwork, and thus we see infinite significance in everything. I don’t think, however, (and neither did Jeremy, probably) that this is an excuse for us to indulge in fetishization. It’s one thing to admire the complexity of an object, and it’s another to impose onto said object a “transcendental” value. Admittedly, it’s a fine line to walk between contemplating the spiritual side of the world and fighting the temptation to be enthralled by such contemplation, but I believe that we, with the grace of God, can all do it.
Daniel Son
How can the Bible help us rethink our approach to resting and working? What’s a current/modern topic or issue on campus or the world at large that could use some of this reconfiguration?
Revelation and discovery through hard work do not contradict each other. Rather, we must study the order of the universe to understand God.
Symbolism, art, and festoonings display truth that is uncontainable and inexpressible. The Gospel of John ends with the note that the books cannot contain the words to describe the truth.
“You have wearied the Lord with your words. But you say, ‘How have I wearied Him?’ By saying, ‘Everyone who does evil is good in the sight of the Lord, and he delights in them.’ Or, by saying, ‘Where is the God of justice?’ (Malachi 2:17).
My weekend in Boston stirred up the three identities that I had as a Christian scholar. As a student, the first responsibility I uphold is to study the order of the universe. Creation is beautiful, and the beauty manifests itself in bizarre phenomena and miraculous pieces of algebra that hold themselves together with perfect balance. Yet, the Bible teaches the fear of the Lord and his righteous anger to those who have forsaken his commands.
To live out a life that satisfies all three realms is a challenge. Subtly, each aspect of life speaks against the other if one of them is taken to the extreme. As a consequence of being human, we are commanded by God to work for six days and keep the sabbath day holy. A charge is given to us to partake in the work of creation planned out by God. But yet, work is not supposed to govern our lives. We move our hands and feet and speak to our fellow workers to sow the seeds and plow the ground, yet the work orders descend from God. God speaks through the Psalms to be joyful of his works with our eyes and give praise to his name.
The work of a scholar is to maintain a narrative and direct discourse. A researcher in the natural sciences is compelled to draw boundaries to what is exactly correct. Take, for instance, the principle of proof by contradiction. A hypothesis is stretched to the extremes until an absurdity is detected, by which one rejects the hypothesis. Upon careful inspection of many plausible arguments, most of them are rejected. After this painful process, one enters the realm of abstract reality. Nonetheless, the researcher is confounded when asked about anything that belongs outside the drawn boundary.
A writer from the humanities is aghast at the restrictive view. Rather, the writer will argue on the grounds of common sense and plausibility to tackle the pressing views of life. “What is the purpose of life?” “What is love?” “How do we distinguish good and bad?” For the writer who strives to answer questions of greater importance, one must begin with subjective realities that are not necessarily verifiable.
A student sitting beside both the researcher and the writer is confused. The student would daub one approach and the other, discovering partial beauty but also the inherent brokenness of the entire process. The strife for beauty will keep the student up at night and compel one to make questionable decisions. One’s teachers will speak only about the things that they understand; the researcher about science, the writer about philosophy, the preacher about sin and forgiveness. Meanwhile, the world is filled with chaos and wickedness is overflowing in the world. Time does not seem to wait for a response from the student, but rather requires an answer to the question:
So, how do you want to lead your life?
Harper Treschuk
The plenary session “Attending Together: Christ and the Big Questions in the University” in tandem with the breakout session “Resisting Reductionism: Theological Resources for Intellectual Abundance” spoke to a set of questions that I had posed in my journal two years ago as a prospective psychology and philosophy major discerning my intellectual and practical vocations:
“Right now, I feel called in my Williams education to find the intersections between philosophy and psychology. How can [philosophy], a field that thinks in very abstract terms have concrete impact? And how can a discipline that often focuses on the self [as a unit of analysis]—self-actualization, self-knowledge, introspection—interface with philosophies of religion that teach us to surrender ourselves for others? And can the space between these two disciplines accomplish anything useful or offer any clarity on some of the issues that I see in the world: education lagging behind technological changes, declining measures of mental health among youth populations….?”
Warren Kinghorn, Associate Professor of Psychiatry at Duke University, picked up my question about the intersection between mental health and faith by framing mental health care as “wayfaring.” Evidence-based interventions such as psychotropic medication are often necessary but not sufficient for individuals utilizing mental health care. Reducing mental health care to methods of symptom reduction does not leave space for questions that these people may be asking on the level of their integrated, mind-body-soul selves: “Do I matter? Am I loved? Who am I?” The image that came to me as Professor Kinghorn was speaking is that of Hagar when the angel of the Lord asks Hagar, “Where have you come from and where are you going?’ (Genesis 16:8).
Professor Kinghorn’s perspective during the plenary session dovetailed nicely with Professor Begbie’s diagnosis of reductionism. Jeremy Begbie, Thomas A. Langford Distinguished Professor in Theology at Duke Divinity School, explained that reductionism has its limits in describing the parts of capturing the slices of reality that are “beyond our control.” Psychology uses the reductionist frame of mind when, in Kinghorn’s words, mental health treatment is a “practice of symptom reduction.” This is a useful model. But the reductionist level of explanation may lead to intellectual arrogance, in thinking we can grasp a system that is greater than the sum of its parts.
In my coursework on clinical psychology while at Williams, I have observed that there is often a delicate tension between acceptance and motivation to change for individuals utilizing mental health care, as expressed in the Serenity Prayer. This acceptance of where one is, alongside committed action to where one can go, is a crucial realization in wayfaring. I am grateful for the opportunity to learn from Professors Kinghorn and Begbie at the Veritas Weekend, as I discern the habit of mind (or lens, as it is) to bring to the intersection of psychology and philosophy in my studies and future career.
Jason Rivera
Where is the brokenness of campus and where are the traces of God’s glory worth fanning into? What do you think God has to give you to share with campus?
Perhaps the biggest idol in my life has been work. Well, work as I thought it was. In reality, wanting to be a hard worker was my justification for pursuing success at all costs. Well, not even success but recognition. I wanted to be the best and for others to know that I was the best. And it was fun: for the most part, I did succeed.
This game that I have been playing started in the fourth grade when my friend and I started competing in everything. We consistently placed first and second in math competitions and instrumental solo competitions, and were always awarded with the “Most Likely to Succeed” class superlative. This transient and seemingly benign pleasure did not prepare me for the pain that it would cause later in my life as it destroyed my conception of work. Flash forward ten years later, and I’m up at night freshman year of college, anxious about the possibility of receiving an A- in one of my classes.
God has been challenging me to stop worshipping this idol for quite some time now. It has been a struggle, but I definitely have become more willing to accept “failure.” However, I still lacked a conceptual understanding of what my work was, if not to garner accolades, and how to approach it. This is why I was so impacted by the Sunday morning plenary session titled “Resting Together: Sabbath, Play, Uselessness, and Other Gifts for the University,” specifically when Andy Crouch, a partner for theology and culture at Praxis, described rest as “joyful contemplation of work well done.”
After all of my self-serving toiling, I finally realized that there can be joy in the work itself, and not just in its outcomes, because it has a purpose to God. I can joyfully rest in His validation of my work as useful to His kingdom, even if it does not make me “the best.” This concept also connects to Justin Hawkins’ breakout session, “Augustine and the Healing of Attention.” In this session, he stressed that attention can be framed in the context of the beatific vision, in which we will gaze upon the Lord for all eternity, constantly discovering new things about Him which we can praise. In this way, I can attend to my work by trying to see the Lord inside of it and how it connects to His beauty. If I can’t, then I know that I am trying to see myself inside of my work and I know that I have once again put my success as the object of my worship.
These new conceptions have really helped me to be at peace with the amount of work that I am doing here at Williams, and to make sure that I am resting by joyfully contemplating what I have accomplished for the Lord each day.
Jessica Kim
What was your favorite plenary or breakout session? Why? What was something that touched you on a personal level?
I appreciated Professor Begbie’s plenary session with violinist Sarita Kwok. At first, I was slightly put off by his methods of audience engagement—harmonizing with hundreds of other students outside of a choir context felt odd. But as he soon revealed, it was more an exercise in listening than anything. Professor Begbie’s talk completely shifted the way I think about listening to music and to other people. What resonated most strongly with me was his argument that the advent of recorded music has completely shifted how we approach listening to songs. Live music used to be a medium for artists to communicate their feelings, worship, and create a shared experience for everyone present. Today, recorded music has made song into a commodity like everything we consume—something that we lean on to affirm our own thoughts or chase a feeling that we desire. He urged us to all consider the implications of this shift on our own lives and to consider approaching conversations and music with a posture of listening rather than asserting.
I am deeply grateful for the opportunity to have attended Veritas Weekend—it was an eye-opening experience that gave me space to introspect, build community with students from other college campuses, and wrestle with hard questions that are easy to avoid in the busyness of college life. Two speakers’ messages resonated with me most deeply: that of Professors Seth Freeman of New York University and Jeremy Begbie of Duke Divinity School.
Professor Freeman challenged us to engage in conversations about topics traditionally considered more controversial or difficult to navigate. In providing us with a framework to guide our interactions with others, Professor Freeman empowered us to confidently approach tough discussions with an empathetic heart and open mind. Throughout the workshop, we practiced his Paraphrase, Praise, and Probe protocol with other students. Although it was certainly a learning curve, we all felt much more comfortable with the framework by the end of the workshop. In today’s world, where reactionary attitudes sometimes seem all too prevalent, I am grateful to have had this opportunity to learn how to respectfully and warmly dialogue with my peers about challenging or uncomfortable topics.
I also appreciated Professor Begbie’s plenary session with violinist Sarita Kwok. At first, I was slightly put off by his methods of audience engagement—harmonizing with hundreds of other students outside of a choir context felt odd. But as he soon revealed, it was more an exercise in listening than anything. Professor Begbie’s talk completely shifted the way I think about listening to music and to other people. What resonated most strongly with me was his argument that the advent of recorded music has completely shifted how we approach listening to songs. Live music used to be a medium for artists to communicate their feelings, worship, and create a shared experience for everyone present. Today, recorded music has made song into a commodity like everything we consume—something that we lean on to reflect our own thoughts or chase a feeling that we desire. He urged us to all consider the implications of this shift on our own lives and to consider how we might approach conversations and music with a posture of listening rather than asserting our own perspectives. While there is certainly a time and place for both, it was a timely reminder that I much appreciated.
Many thanks to the Telos and Veritas teams for organizing such a wonderful conference.
Tegra Illunga
What was your favorite plenary or breakout session? Why? What was something that touched you on a personal level?
One particular breakout session that struck me was by Seth Freeman, a Professor at Columbia University, titled “How to Talk about God, Christ, and Other Easy Topics.” I emerged from the session more adept at articulating my thoughts and sharing my faith with a close person without necessarily entering conflict and debate mode. The technique shared by Seth was straightforward—when approached by a friend who critiques your religion or faith as a Christian, you need only to “paraphrase.” Here, you do not challenge them violently. Next, you “praise” them and finally “probe.” This now becomes an opportunity to share your reasons. However, if you find yourself in a situation where you do not have much information or the talk escalates into an argument, you can simply change the subject abruptly. As followers of Christ and persons encouraged to make disciples for Him, one particular lesson I took away from this session with Seth was that one needs to “seek the heart to be able to win one’s mind.”
The Veritas Forum Conference in Boston was a weekend well spent, through the plenaries, breakout sessions, small discussion groups, and trying the many Boston cuisines, among other activities. It was wonderful to see a community of Christian students come together, and I learned a lot from both them and the other professionals—the panel presenters. One particular breakout session that struck me was by Seth Freeman, a Professor at Columbia University, titled “How to Talk about God, Christ, and Other Easy Topics.”I emerged from the session more adept at articulating my thoughts and sharing my faith with a close person without necessarily entering conflict and debate mode. The technique shared by Seth was straightforward—when approached by a friend who critiques your religion or faith as a Christian, you need only to “paraphrase.” Here, you do not challenge them violently. Next, you “praise” them and finally “probe.” This now becomes an opportunity to share your reasons. However, if you find yourself in a situation where you do not have much information or the talk escalates into an argument, you can simply change the subject abruptly. As followers of Christ and persons encouraged to make disciples for Him, one particular lesson I took away from this session with Seth was that one needs to “seek the heart to be able to win one’s mind.” Overall, the forum was a blast, and it was just so nice reconnecting with friends we met at different earlier Christian conferences or forming new ones through high school mates. The world is surely small for people to constantly run into each other!
