When I think of Dad working on his dissertation, I see myself romping around a sandy field in Xocampeche,Yucatan, and asking Dad to translate every Spanish sentence I heard. He finally told me that he had to get his work done, and couldn\u2019t be my every-minute translator. I remember him sitting across a small desk from a Mayan man. I didn\u2019t understand what was happening, but I now know that Dad was learning Mayan by sharing Bible stories with this Indian. That was in 1963. In 1998, Dad gave a devotional at Brigham Young University.\u00a0 He introduced a familiar story in these words: \u201cMy beloved teacher, Manuel Tun, told the parable of the prodigal son in his own words in the Maya language of Yucat\u00e1n.\u201d<\/p>\n Yes, that was the man.\u00a0 Manuel Tun.\u00a0 It was Manuel who tutored Dad, not the other way around. There were details Manuel had added to the story in Luke 15.\u00a0 The prodigal, for one thing, had long hair after his years away from home.\u00a0 In Yucatec Mayan culture, long hair on a man is a sign of extreme poverty or depravity.\u00a0 And there was more. The scriptures say that when the son was \u201cstill a great way off, his father saw him and had compassion, and ran and fell on his neck and kissed him.\u201d Dad and Manuel embellished that portion:<\/p>\n Now Johnny came within sight of his father\u2019s house. His father was standing on a hill from where he could look down on the road. Every day he had stood there, hoping to see if by chance his lost son might be coming up the road. And that day, as always, he was there hoping and praying. Suddenly he saw the figure of a young man approaching. His heart jumped. The boy\u2019s clothes weren\u2019t recognizable. They were tattered and dirty. The boy was limping. His hair was long and disheveled. But the father recognized his son, and his heart filled with compassion. Johnny had come home! He ran joyously to meet his son and threw himself on his neck and kissed him. \u201cJohnny, my son, you\u2019ve come back!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n The sentences are short and simple.\u00a0 This is not just a story but an avenue to a new world.\u00a0 This is the foundation of language learning. If you could see the entire story, you would see particular phrases repeated over and over.\u00a0 \u201cThe boy\u201d; \u201cthe father\u201d; \u201chis son\u201d; \u201cmy son\u201d; \u201cI have sinned\u201d; \u201cI know\u201d; \u201chouse\u201d; \u201croad\u201d; \u201clost\u201d; \u201chis heart\u201d.\u00a0 The learner will recognize a word and begin to understand the context, just as a baby does\u2014especially if gestures accompany it.\u00a0 \u201cIs this your hair?\u00a0 Pretty hair.\u00a0 Long hair.\u00a0 Is this my hair?\u00a0 Can you comb my hair?\u00a0 Like this.\u201d\u00a0 Within less than two years, the child is forming basic sentences.\u00a0 As the vocabulary expands, so does the capacity for abstract thought and the synthesis of ideas.<\/p>\n At its most basic, scholarship is relational. Scholars relate to ideas, to fellow students, to teachers, eventually to their own students.\u00a0 Yes, there are some who find the solipsism of the ivory tower inviting and protective; who find very big Latinate\u00a0words as effective as crocodile-filled motes; who find philosophy a way to divide rather than reconcile humanity. But I think they\u2019re rather rare.<\/p>\n The world has changed since Dad finished his dissertation.\u00a0 Yucatec Mayan is dying, and Dad is\u00a0eighty-two years old.\u00a0 He has dialysis three times a week, a torment he has endured for nearly six years.\u00a0 There was a time when his blood sugar was out of control and affected his mind.\u00a0 I came into the dialysis center and found him and my mother in tears.\u00a0 He tried to form my name, but couldn\u2019t.\u00a0 \u201cMar,\u201d he said, his lips quivering.\u00a0 And again: \u201cMar.\u201d\u00a0 I was suddenly a child and the only word I knew was \u201cDaddy.\u201d He tried to speak several times, and finally managed, \u201cSyntax wrong.\u201d\u00a0 Certainly.\u00a0 He couldn\u2019t get his words in the right order.<\/p>\n He recovered a few days later, and I asked him, \u201cDad, do you remember the title of your dissertation?\u201d<\/p>\n He shook his head.<\/p>\n \u201cYucatec Maya Noun and Verb Morpho-Syntax,\u201d <\/em>I said.<\/p>\n He frowned.\u00a0 \u201cWhat on earth does that mean?\u201d For Christmas I gave him a newspaper article from 1968, talking about Dr. Robert Blair and two Mayan Indians who helped him with translation: Daniel Mich and Manuel Tay.\u00a0 Both are dead now, and the article reminded him not of his own accomplishments but of how much he loved his illiterate \u201cteachers.\u201d<\/p>\n As we approach the end of his time on Earth, we, his family, have some sense of what he has done with his scholarship.\u00a0 He has used it to serve.\u00a0 He always called his Indiana University doctoral robes a \u201cmonkey suit,\u201d and was like the LDS scholar Hugh Nibley in his regard for his academic credentials.\u00a0 Nibley was asked to pray at a Brigham Young University commencement and started it thus: \u201cWe have met here today clothed in the black robes of the false priesthood to heap upon ourselves the honors of men.\u201d<\/a><\/p>\n In the Mormon church<\/a>, we describe ourselves as seeking \u201cgreater light and knowledge.\u201d \u00a0In the most splendid light, we will surely see others as our own teachers, all of us engaged in personal pilgrimages and often bearing burdens others can\u2019t imagine. \u00a0We teach best when we abandon the encumbrance of jargon and go to the heart.\u00a0As I tell my students, \u201cWe write to communicate, not to impress.\u201d<\/p>\n I think of Edward Blum, co-author with Paul Harvey of the wonderful Color of Christ<\/a>. But it\u2019s his essay about his first son <\/a>which shows Edward in the most resplendent light. I think of my husband, who does wear his crimson robes for every commencement, but who is also a Mormon bishop.\u00a0 He keeps his academic credentials hidden from our congregation. \u00a0No one should feel intimidated by him when they come for help or seeking his wisdom. \u00a0He is a shepherd (pastor), not someone defined by a bloated biography. I think of our department chairman, a humorous and brilliant man, who stood by his wife\u2019s coffin in a mortuary as a political rival said, \u201cI wondered if I should come. \u00a0We don\u2019t always get along.\u201d\u00a0 Our chair put his arm around the \u201crival\u201d and said, \u201cOh, that\u2019s in another world. \u00a0Thank you for being here.\u201d <\/em><\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/313\/2013\/01\/margaret-and-dell-in-Xocampeche.jpg\" "\\"margaret")
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