Category: General

“That is what our life in community is about. Each of us is like a little stone, but together we reveal the face of God to the world. Nobody can say: ‘I make God visible.’ But others who see us together can say: ‘They make God visible.’  Community is where humility and glory touch.”

– Henri Nouwen

We weren’t meant to be alone. In a season marked by so much loneliness and isolation, what would it look like to choose community?

We are an imperfect community of around 40 Cornell students who commit to live together and grow in our knowledge of God through our studies, relationships, stories, retreats, and mundane rhythms of life together.

Aren’t sure where you want to live next year? As you go through the application process you can ask questions and discern if Chesterton House’s living community is a place you’d want to call home.

Have a group of friends you know you want to live with but haven’t found the perfect place yet? Our beautifully furnished main houses overlook the lake. You could live together in the larger community!

We have begun accepting residents for next year and we have limited occupancy so be sure to apply now!

Email [email protected] to request an application!

Vivek with wife Jeanie and children Kalyani, Kavi, and Leena.

Dear Chesterton House Alumni and Friends,

The Board of Directors of Chesterton House is pleased to announce the ministry’s next Executive Director: Vivek Mathew. As many of you know, Vivek has served as Assistant Director since March, and he will assume the helm from Founding Director Karl Johnson effective November 1st.

Each of us on the board believes that Vivek has come to us as a gift from the Lord, at the right time and with the right capabilities to lead the organization into a future laden with both significant challenges and great possibilities.

Originally from Defiance, Ohio, Vivek completed his undergraduate degree in Computer Science at Princeton, after which he worked for almost ten years on Wall Street with a quantitative trading team at Morgan Stanley. He was an active member of Redeemer Presbyterian Church (Tim Keller’s church), where he met his wife, Jeanie. Vivek completed his M.Div. at Princeton Theological Seminary, followed by a masters in Philosophy (B.Phil) at Oxford University. In 2013, Vivek and Jeanie moved to Ithaca so he could pursue a Ph.D. in Philosophy at Cornell, focusing on metaphysics, philosophy of science, and philosophy of language. He and Jeanie, who now have three young children, are members of Bread of Life Anglican Church in Ithaca. Vivek will complete his dissertation defense this fall.

Vivek first came to our attention when he co-taught a Chesterton House course with Dr. Ryan O’Dowd last year. We began exploring his interest in the Executive Director role early this year, and in his time as Assistant Director he has absorbed a great deal about ministry operations and established relationships with many students. Vivek and I have spent considerable time together in Ithaca, New York City, at my home in Dallas, and most recently at the Consortium of Christian Study Centers Annual Meeting in Chicago. We have discussed at length everything from the complex issues related to student life, how best to continue serving and partnering with the larger Cornell community, and even some new ideas for programming such as the Logos Forum, a new discussion series Vivek will lead exploring the connection between faith and reason.

While Vivek was a strong candidate from the beginning, the Search Committee explored several options. We evaluated candidates from other study centers, as well as Christian leaders from other Ivy League schools and educational ministries. We solicited input from Chesterton House staff and students. Vivek also provided presentations to the Search Committee and later the full Board of Directors. I want to thank the other members of the Search Committee, Dr. David Williamson, Kelly O’Neal ’85 and Rev. Craig Higgins, for working with me through this process. In searching for a person to take on a role that Karl has so ably filled from the inception of this ministry, the Search Committee had its work cut out for us!

Karl will serve as Executive Director through the ministry’s 20th Anniversary and Dedication Weekend on October 3-5, after which he will transition to the part-time role of Founder. He will remain involved in strategy and alumni relations but already has handed over much of the day-to-day responsibilities to Vivek. Most importantly, Karl is truly excited for the vision that Vivek brings to the organization. He clearly possesses strengths in unique areas that can further develop what Karl and the Chesterton House staff have created.

Change is a healthy and important aspect of the growth and progress of any organization. While Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today and forever (Hebrews 13:8), the Lord celebrates change when He proclaims, “See, I am doing a new thing!” (Isaiah 43:19). I am confident that as we trust in the Lord with all of our heart for the future of this ministry, he will make our paths straight.

Thank you for your continued support of Chesterton House.

Gratefully,

Dr. Frederick Barber, DSL (Arts ’87)
Chairman of the Board

PS: Meeting the new director is yet one more great reason to join us for the 20th Anniversary and Dedication Weekend. See the great line-up of events and list of alumni and friends registered to date on the main events page.

I first met Michael Cromartie ten years ago at the Emerging Evangelical Intelligentsia Project Conference hosted by Peter Berger at Boston University. It was a remarkable gathering that included historians George Marsden and Mark Noll, philosophers Alvin Plantinga and Nicholas Wolterstorff, sociologists Nancy Ammerman and Michael Lindsay, and legal scholars Bill Stuntz and David Skeel among many others. When Mike spoke, I was reminded of the old Sesame Street refrain “One of these things is not like the others.” Mike was scholarly but not a professor. He had several published volumes to his name, but as an editor rather than an author. As a speaker, he was insightful and funny.

Cromartie passed away on August 28^th, and initial assessments of his contribution to religion and public life are rightly rolling in from a wide array of folk:

• Carl Cannon at RealClearPolitics;
• Ross Douthat and Sam Roberts at the New York Times;
• Cherie Harder at The Trinity Forum;
• Michael Lindsay at the Gospel Coalition;
• Kathleen Parker at the Washington Post;
• William Saletan at Slate;
• Grant Wacker at Education and Culture; and
• Peter Wehner at Christianity Today.

This summer, my wife Julie and I had the serendipitous privilege of spending ten days with Mike and his wonderful wife Jenny as members of a tour group visiting biblical sites in Greece, including Athens, Corinth, Phillipi, and Thessolonica. Upon arrival it was clear that Mike was frail, his body already ravaged by years of cancer. If he turned sideways in a crowd you could lose him.

But he was still a ball of fire. On the island of Patmos, after visiting the cave where John is believed to have received his revelation recorded in last book of the Christian Scriptures, we headed up to the Monastery of St. John. It was a steep hike, and arguably Mike had no business being there. But he was not one to argue with. Especially for him, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity, and he was not going to miss it. With the companionship and patient encouragement of Jenny—and the tour group’s doctor—he made it up and eventually back down. Although he retired early that evening, the next day he could be seen banana boating!

Stomach cancer apparently does no favors to one’s appetite, and at meals Mike struggled to eat. He was also almost comically uninterested in matters medical. Thank God for Jenny, who was always at his side, answering questions others had about his cancer that he couldn’t answer for himself, all the while encouraging him to get as much protein as possible. Mike’s mouth was so fully engaged in lively conversation that one wonders how he ever made time to eat. Whether the topic was religion and public life or anything to do with basketball, his table was sure to have the liveliest of exchanges.

Mike was opinionated but humble. When I challenged him on his critical assessment of a mutual colleague, he stopped talking for a while and just listened. Later he thanked me—“I needed to hear that,” he said. If one of the hazards of spending a lot of time with really smart people is that you might become like them in their insistence on being correct, Mike was a rare and refreshing exception.

The Faith Angle Forum, which introduced mainstream journalists to religious ideas and scholars they might otherwise be tempted to dismiss or deride, was the brainchild of Mike’s professional life. “A number of religion reporters have told me that Mike was their ‘go-to’ person for perspective and quotable comments on evangelicalism,” Rich Mouw wrote to me. “He had genuine friendships across the political spectrum, and was gifted at bringing together people who disagreed, simply to have a productive conversation. In these engagements, he clearly was not advancing a particular agenda, but rather doing his part to create spaces for mutually respecting civil discourse.” The forums were always fascinating, and included Cornell graduates and Chesterton House advisors Elaine Howard Ecklund and Ard Louis. The byproducts of Mike’s efforts include many interesting pieces such as David Brooks’ feature on John Stott. In a manner that mirrors the ministry of the Holy Spirit, who by nature calls attention to Another, Mike spent his life humbly pointing people to the good work of others.

In addition to the great personal loss to so many friends and family, Mike’s passing raises a question: What is the future of the project to which he devoted his prodigious energy? I refer here not just to the Faith Angle Forum, but to the forum’s mission—the development and promotion of thoughtful Christian faith, which of course is also the mission of Chesterton House.

The Emerging Evangelical Intelligentsia Project seems to have fizzled without much to show for it, and many of the aforementioned scholars—whom James Turner once called the “evangelical mafia”—are now retired. Wheaton’s Institute for the Study of American Evangelicals closed in 2014, and Books & Culture, the flagship publication of the movement, has just folded. Patronage for these sorts of projects also seems to have dried up. Later this month some of the folks associated with the movement will gather for a conference entitled “The State of the Evangelical Mind: Reflections upon the Past, Prospects for the Future.” The not so subtle subtext of the conference is “Is there a future?” Simply put, the trends are not encouraging.

All of which brings me back to Patmos. The trends in John’s time also were not encouraging. He wrote from prison to his fellow believers who were victims of real persecution, including at times death by burning, crucifixion, or worse. And yet the Book of Revelation is a manifesto for hope.

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more.  And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband.  And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God.  He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”  And he who was seated on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new.” Also he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.”  And he said to me, “It is done! I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. To the thirsty I will give from the spring of the water of life without payment.  The one who conquers will have this heritage, and I will be his God and he will be my son. (Rev. 21: 1-7)

Even and perhaps especially when there is little reason for optimism, we have plenty of reason for hope. The resurrection of Jesus, as wonderful as it was, anticipated an even greater restoration of all things that is yet to come!

Mike understood all this. He was not discouraged. His laugh endured even when his appetite did not. He knew of the New Jerusalem. In his final days, Jenny reports, he was reading (and highlighting!) an essay by Jonathan Edwards on heaven—a place where there will be no more crying or pain, where Jenny’s tears will be wiped away, and where, at a banquet table, he again will eat and drink with fullness of appetite.

In a memorable Op-Ed piece (“The Moral Bucket List”), David Brooks ruminated on what he calls ‘the eulogy virtues,’ which he contrasts with ‘the resume virtues.’

“About once a month I run across a person who radiates an inner light. These people can be in any walk of life. They seem deeply good. They listen well. They make you feel funny and valued. You often catch them looking after other people and as they do so their laugh is musical and their manner is infused with gratitude. They are not thinking about what wonderful work they are doing. They are not thinking about themselves at all.” 

I used this column to address our graduating seniors one year ago (“Embrace Place”), and President David Skorton used it in last month’s Cornell commencement address. I found myself turning back to it this week because of Louie.

Louie Rudin, Chesterton House Property Manager in residence, passed away unexpectedly on Sunday, June 7th, not long after his 63rd birthday. He was found in his room by some of the other Chesterton House residents on their way to church.

– – – – – 

Louie was a lively presence, exuding contagious joy and laughter. He served on Young Life staff since graduating from Cornell almost 40 years ago, and though Young Life was the perfect vehicle for his skills and interests, his service to others was never merely a function of his job. He simply loved young people. And he modeled a way of being young at heart that marveled people half his age. 

Louie led many young people to faith in Christ, and discipled and encouraged many more. In addition to his impact on youth, Louie was also a fixture on the Cornell and Ithaca College campuses for over a generation. To say he had a positive impact on a lot of people would be a gross understatement. He was always available, always interruptible. He touched many, many, many lives, and he will continue to serve as an inspiration for all who were privileged to know him. 

– – – – – 

Louie had a vast repertoire of stories from his many kooky capers. I have a story of my own about Louie—one that speaks volumes about his character. 

When Louie applied to be a chaplain at Cornell (which is not a job, but an affiliation granted to many persons from all religions), his application was denied. I served on the committee that made the determination. I didn’t agree with the decision but got outvoted. Although the stated reason for the determination was that Young Life is focused on high school youth rather than college students, it was also abundantly clear that the committee chair did not appreciate Louie’s desire to introduce people to God. You’d think it’s the sort of thing that might be in a chaplain’s job description! But no—this faculty member thought that young people should be “free” to create or discover their own conception of God. (Never mind that, according to recent scholarship, “proselytizing” is the single most important variable in the emergence of liberal democracy and is arguably also “the single largest factor in ensuring the health of nations.” This scholar apparently couldn’t be bothered with scholarship.) 

Here’s the thing: Louie was disappointed but not bitter. He expressed frustration to me in the immediate aftermath, and then he never raised the matter again. Ever. That, I would suggest, is part of the lesson of Louie’s life. It’s not just that we could all be a bit more joyful (though we could), but we would do well to let disappointments roll off of us and not drag us down. Come to think of it, those two things are surely related. 

In God’s providence, this rejection actually may have released Louie to continue doing what he did best without institutional restraint. He was not an Organization Man. Even at Chesterton House, as long as the plumbing worked, I never required him to attend staff meetings. One of the last emails I received from him began “A special thanks to your sensitivity to my crazy schedule and the lack of necessity for my attendance at multiple meetings.” Yep. Some of us are called to build or work within institutions. Louie wasn’t. (Kudos to Young Life for accommodating his unique genius for so many years.)

– – – – – 

Speaking of the Louie-ness of Louie, one thing that has stood out to me more than ever during the long days since his death is the appropriateness of his name. To me, there’s something about “Louie” that sounds like a grade-school-aged kid you might not want your child to play with (an impression based not so loosely on my own childhood next-door neighbor). And there was that element to him—not just youthful, but utterly unpredictable…not governed by the rules of polite society. But I’m also struck how the single, first name was always sufficient for recognition. He was like a Brazilian soccer star: Nobody ever seemed to say, “Louie Who?”

–  – – – – 

At Chesterton House, Louie fixed leaky roofs, built bunk beds, and inspired all around him to lead lives of faithful service to God in Christ—all at the same time. And he made people laugh—did we mention that? 

When Louie first arrived at Chesterton House, I steered him toward the caretaker cottage. It’s cozy and cute and a stand-alone structure that affords some privacy. He might want to stay there, I thought, because—well—that’s where I would want to stay. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “I’m kind of an extrovert.” (Ya think?) “I’ll just live in the house.” A single then, Louie? “No, no, I’d actually prefer a double.” And so at the ripe young age of 62, Louie entered fully in, yet again, to the life of undergraduate students. 

When Louie told me last month he was ready to move into a single, I told him he could have the largest single in the house. “Actually,” he responded, “I’d like Room 6.” Ah, yes, the famous Room 6—that would be the smallest room in the entire house. It’s basically a closet with a window. So he whipped up a loft and made use of the entire place…all 87 square feet.

– – – – –

Louie lived simply, with one notable exception. When I generated an employment contract that provided for one parking space, I might as well have been poking my finger in a leaking dam. Pulling into the driveway of Chesterton House this week, the first thing that catches your eye is his Volvo wagon…and his cargo van…and above all his 1966 Ford Ranch wagon. Three times the allotted number—not bad, for Louie. We recently found “Louie’s Lifetime Automobile Registry”: Over 50 cars, mostly from the ‘50s, ‘60s & 70s. Mostly Fords. What abourt Volvos, you ask? Well, the list is over 15 years old!

I expect Louie will be missed not only on campus but also at Hunts’ Auto, AutoZone, and Ithaca Foreign Car Service. Despite being a Cornell alumnus, he was more at home in a car shop than on campus. Ironically, his cars seemed to be in the shop so much you would see him walking all over town, traversing the hill that connects town to gown. He carried nothing with him. No books, no knapsack. Just his tattered baseball cap.

Speaking of which, Louie was the only sixty-something person I knew who could get away with wearing a baseball cap backwards and not look like a complete dork—or, better, not look like he was trying to be someone that he wasn’t.

– – – – –

I never spoke to Louie about Peter Pan. I don’t know that he ever gave Peter Pan a moment’s thought. And yet it’s hard not to ponder the connection. Despite the fact that he had visibly aged in recent years, there remained something almost preternaturally youthful about Louie—a resistance to aging for which Peter Pan is our common cultural referent.

Although Peter Pan is commonly associated with irresponsibility, Cornell history department chair Barry Strauss tells us we have misunderstood him. Peter Pan is a paradox, he says, and he is at least half Christian (named for St. Peter). Pan author J.M. Barrie “never preached eternal adolescence”—he adored childhood but “came down on the side of adult responsibility.” Peter Pan, Strauss says, is best understood as “untamed but upright.” That’s Louie, no?

David Brooks says that the people he most admires laugh musically while looking out for others. Barry Strauss says that Peter Pan simultaneously makes us long for childlikeness while sending us on our way toward adulthood and responsibility. These are the images that frame my memories of Louie.

– – – – –

I can’t say I have known anyone else quite like him. And isn’t that the beauty of God’s creation? Seven billion people, and none quite like Louie.

Louie is now in the unveiled presence of our Lord Jesus Christ. He has fought the good fight and finished the race. Today we join with others in the community and around the world giving thanks to God for Louie. “Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his saints.” (Ps 116:15)

We also ask for your prayers. The men of Chesterton House draw close to one another, and Louie drew close to many. His absence hangs heavily. The house is very quiet—quieter than it ever would be when he was there. The silence is loud. His absence will be felt to the same degree that his presence was felt. Which is to say, a lot. 

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Obituary: Ithaca Journal

Memorial Service: Vineyard Church of Ithaca, 23 Cinema Drive, Saturday, June 13 at 2pm 

Reception following the service will be at Chesterton House

Memorial Donations: At the request of alumni, and with permission of the family, a Louie Rudin Memorial Gift Fund has been set up at Chesterton House. You may donate online via Cornell and designate your gift in memory of Louie. Memorial Donations may also be made to Young Life. 

This piece is contributed by Gary Villa, Spiritual Director of the Chesterton House.

On a shelf in my bedroom sits a broken pastel blue-and-yellow-colored egg shell , the remnants of the first gift I ever gave my wife, Kira. Shortly after she came to faith, we colored Easter eggs together at her kitchen table. I made a small gift to her of my “art”, an egg with crudely drawn sun, moon and stars. It was kept whole for years, through 3 apartment changes and into our current home. Finally broken by the curious hands of our first son, we keep what remains as a tangible reminder of that early date and the beginning of our love.

As I sometimes lead post-dinner conversations in the Chesterton House residential communities, I often look for ways to provoke the students to tell each other more of their own stories, who they are and what brought them here to this place. One of my favorite ways of doing this is inviting them to bring an object of their own to the table as a kind of show-and-tell. Somehow it is easier to talk about yourself when you’re holding a purple plush eggplant or a camera or a favorite pen. The items are as varied and different as our residents.

In the lovely first chapter of John’s gospel, the apostle describes Jesus as the creator of all things. But he uses an unusual term: the “Word” or put another way, the self-expression of God. John says that all things (!) were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made (John 1:3, ESV). How beautiful! There is nothing you can find that is not in some way tinged with the marks of God’s self-expression to us. His nature, his character, his power are somehow woven into the stuff of our lives, even in this sin-broken world.

Because of this we can have not just permission, but freedom and joy as we work in whatever field we find ourselves in. If “all that is” is somehow the product of God’s self-expression, we can be confident that something of Him can be known in any field of study or work. All our work – mathematics, art, science, engineering – becomes a theological endeavor. We learn of God as we learn of his world. And, what’s more, all of our work also then becomes doxological for us as well – an act of worship. We can with joy respond to God in worship as our knowledge of him grows and deepens through our vocation. The cosmos is God’s show-and-tell to us.

Of course, like the egg shell I gave my wife, the cosmos is broken. The earth that was given to us to rule and care for was just as broken by Adam’s sin as we are. It, too, is tainted everywhere by sin’s rule and effects. But Paul tells us that the gospel is good news not just for humanity, but for all of creation. The same Jesus who created all things for himself (Colossians 1:16) reconciled all things to himself by the blood of his cross (1:20). The redemptive sweep of the gospel is cosmic, not just personal.

The vision is compelling: the earth, the universe – all that God has made exists not merely as a backdrop for humanity but as a good thing in itself. God declared it to be good at creation and reconciled it to Himself at the cross. For this reason, we are free to declare vocations of every kind not only good, but Christian. Science, education, agriculture, engineering, health – these are all Christian vocations. These are things that God cares about. It is our privilege to work – wherever God has called us – to His glory and as a demonstration of His intentions for the world.

Gary Villa, a staff member of New Life Presbyterian Church, serves part time as the Spiritual Director of Chesterton House. Gary earned his BA in International Ministries from the Moody Bible Institute in 1996, and later obtained his MA in Interdisciplinary Studies (church history/spiritual formation) from Wheaton College in 2006. His interests include baseball, poetry, jazz, and gluten-free baked goods. Gary and his wife Kira, a doctoral student in Applied Economics at Cornell, have one son, Aidan.