Friday, November 2, 2012

"Hey, Whoa, Man:" A Eulogy for John Reist

          I never had to say, “John Reist is here.”
         John always announced his own presence, even if he were still some distance away.  At any moment of any day, you might step outside the faculty office building into the quad and hear someone whistling a tune, and you’d think, “It’s Reist.”
         It was.
         As the song got louder and John himself appeared, he’d tell you a joke, maybe three.  John had a joke for every conceivable occasion, and even a few for occasions not conceivable.
         Then he’d complain.  Something always was wrong.  Something or someone always needed to be addressed.
         Forgive me if I assume you might not see the connection between the song, the joke, and the complaint, but too many folks did not.
         John had a song, a joke, and a complaint precisely because, more than anyone else I ever knew, he tried to live a thoroughly and authentically theological existence.  He knew and he professed the lordship of Christ.  He was committed in faith to the God Who became a man, Who suffered and writhed in agony on the cross for the sins of the world, Who died, was buried, and rose from the dead.  John understood that in the death and resurrection of Christ the sorry and tragic history of human life, as well as its destiny, had been redeemed and renewed, that the Devil and his works were doomed, and that the final chapter in the lives of all believers was not just a happy ending, but the happiest.
         John knew that sin had been declawed, that death’s sting had been removed, and that Christ was Lord of all things.  For John, as for all conscientious Christians, that meant we have a reason to sing, a reason to laugh, and a reason to work.
         So he went about his life whistling, laughing, and putting wrongs right.  He especially liked putting right arrogant and self-congratulatory piosity wherever he found it.  He delighted in popping the bubbles of pretense.  He found them everywhere.  If he caught you primping, preening, posing, or posturing, he’d do you the favor none of your other friends would do:  He’d do you the enormous favor of popping your bubble.  In a religion like Christianity, based as it is so fully on God’s grace and not on human virtue, nothing better could happen to you.
         So he whistled, he joked, and he popped.
         On the day I shut the door that closes this life and open the one that leads me into the next, I expect to hear somebody whistling in the distance, and then saying to me with a chuckle, “Who would have guessed?  They let in Baptists!”
         As always, even in Heaven, I won’t have to say “Reist is here.”  He’ll already have announced his presence.  Then he’ll remind me that “Christ has died, Christ has risen, and Christ is coming again.”
         In light of that stupendous truth, the only sensible response I can offer here is to say, “Somebody sing a song.  Somebody tell a joke.  Somebody pop a bubble.”   

18 comments:

Lucas Miller said...

Thank you, Dr. Bauman. Right on target.

Lucy Moye said...

Absolutely spot on, Mike. And I expect to hear him say, "Whoa, they let Catholics in here?" and then grin and give me the V for Victory....

Luca DAnselmi said...

Thanks, Professor.

Ben Kauffman said...

I didn't know him, but now I wish I had. Thanks to God for making people like him.

Ben said...

Yes, Lucy!! The good ol' V for victory!

Well put, Mike. I am so thankful for his influence on my life.

Debbie Vogan said...

Never got to spend much time w/ my Uncle John...but am so thankful for his impact on so many people. Thanks for writing this.

Dr. Michael Bauman said...

Debbie,
You are more than welcome. As you can easily see from the things people say, John was a terrific person.

Best to to you.

Anonymous said...

Thanks for this, Dr. Bauman. I only had a few encounters with Dr. Reist, but boy were they momentous occasions. I doubt there ever was a non-momentous encounter with Dr. Reist. Thanks for shedding light on the bubble popping as the favor it really was.

Robert Artinian said...

Thank you for these fine words, Dr. Bauman. And, Debbie, for whatever it's worth and just speaking personally, I can tell you that no one at Hillsdale or grad-school afterward ended up affecting me as much or as deeply as your uncle. His words and example have never left me; and in terms of mentors and the like, I never met anyone so ennobling and yet unpretentious.

In my book, your uncle Dr. Reist was the best of men--and I have never met anyone else like him, nor do I expect to hereafter. I am very sad he is gone; for I had hoped to see him again, catch up, and ask him some questions, esp. the ones I'd ask no one else. But I guess I will have to wait.... In the meantime, I (like everyone else I know) am just grateful I had the chance to know him. - sincerely, RGA

Terry Bobzien said...

Thanks much for this insightful look at the life of a remarkable man. I'll miss him.

Debbie Vogan said...

Powerful words from both of you...that brought tears to my eyes. I am proud to be related to someone with such a legacy. It sure gives me something to strive for...although I am sure I will never attain it! Thanks again for your kind and well-written words.

Brent Weeks said...

Most men shrink as they recede in the distance of time, but some few grow. Dr Reist was one of the latter. I think he was a man that many of his students came to appreciate only as they themselves matured. Despite an impressive mastery of literature--could you find a time when he didn't have the perfectly appropriate quote at his command?--he understood that Art exists to support Life, not the other way around. Though I had no expectation that I would see him again on this earth, I miss him, his goofy laugh, his quirks, his keen mind, his joy. Thank you for this beautiful post, Dr. Bauman.
-a former student

Josh Peterson said...

Thank you, Dr. Bauman.

Debbie, your uncle was a great man. It was an honor to know him.

Anonymous said...

What a wonderful memorial to Dr. Reist.

Thank you!

Sam Olson said...

As apples of gold in pictures of silver are words fitly spoken. Dr. Bauman, these are words fitly spoken indeed. Thank you for an encouraging tribute to a tremendous man.

Dan Bisher said...

John and I shared many moments together over the period of about 25 years. I admired and respected this man of God for many reasons. Obviously, humor is one of those reasons. He made me laugh, sometimes he made me laugh so hard I'd bend over with tears in my eyes. There are few people in our lives that can make us laugh hardily. I also respected his intellect. He could throw out quotes that were most appropriate for our varied conversations. Me being an old Marine, and he being an old soldier, we got along well together. When we parted he would give me the victory sign and say, "Semper Fi, Marine." I always appreciated that. Those latin words are exceedingly special to Marines. Dr. John Reist was special to many people, and I'm so glad I can count myself as being one of those who was privileged and blessed to have been touched by his life.

Tim Murphy said...

Wow. It was to him I wrote a letter of recommendation for you when you applied for the job at Hillsdale. Lets us hope that his role in the communion of saints allows him to return the favor regarding our applications.
-Tim Murphy

Daniel Guagenti said...

Thank you, Dr. Bauman, for your graceful words. Since my years at Hillsdale, I have grown in appreciation for the generosity of time the professors gave to their students. For me, Dr. Reist was foremost among many, many who excelled in that generosity. He opened many vistas of wisdom for me in art, theology, and education. To the professors who remain, certainly including you, Dr. Bauman, thank you, thank you, thank you for all you gave and give. God bless the saints who continue to toil at Hillsdale.