2019 Martin E. Marty Award Forum: Wade Clark Roof

AAR 2019 Annual Meeting Playlist


May 14, 2020


Wade Clark Roof was the 2019 winner of the Martin E. Marty Award for the Public Understanding of Religion. Having passed away suddenly on August 24, 2019, he received the award posthumously at the 2019 Marty Award Forum.

Roof was Distinguished Emeritus Professor of Religious Studies at the University of California, Santa Barbara, where he founded and directed the Walter H. Capps Center for the Study of Ethics, Religion and Public Life. Trained as a sociologist of religion, and the author of fourteen books, he was widely known for his scholarship on the cultural, civic, and political effects of religious pluralism in the United States, and in particular on the spiritual lives of the baby boomer generation. Under his leadership, the Capps Center consistently brought together multiple publics—scholars, students, Santa Barbara residents, journalists, scientists, elected officials, and more—for extended conversations about key matters of common concern. The Marty Award recognizes Professor Roof’s many contributions as a public scholar, institution builder, and advocate for religious studies and the humanities.

In this year’s Marty Award Forum, E.J. Dionne (University Professor in the Foundations of Democracy and Culture at Georgetown University, W. Averell Harriman Chair and Senior Fellow of Governance Studies at the Brookings Institution, and syndicated columnist for the Washington Post) will join Roof's former colleague Kathleen Moore (chair of the Religious Studies department at UCSB and interim director of the Capps Center) and two former students, Julie Ingersoll (University of North Florida) and J. Shawn Landres (Jumpstart Labs) for an extended public discussion of Roof’s life and work. Contributions from the audience will be welcomed as well.

Erik Owens, Boston College, Presiding


  • E.J. Dionne, Brookings Institute, Washington Post
  • Julie J. Ingersoll , University of North Florida
  • J. Shawn Landres , University of California, Los Angeles
  • Kathleen Moore, University of California, Santa Barbara

This session was recorded at the 2019 Annual Meeting of the American Academy of Religion in San Diego, California, on November 24.

Eric Owens:

Welcome to all of you. My name is Eric Owens, and I have the honor of serving as the chair of the American Academy of Religions Committee on the Public Understanding of Religion which, among other things, serves as the jury for the AAR's Annual Martin Marty Award for the Public Understanding of Religion. It's my great pleasure to welcome you to this year's Marty forum. We gather today to honor the many contributions of Wade Clark Roof to the public understanding of religion over the course of his extraordinary career. This award was announced a year ago, and Professor Roof expressed his great appreciation and his eagerness to join us for the Marty Forum today. To our great sadness, however, professor Ruth passed away three months ago, and we are forced to honor him posthumously today. The moving obituaries published upon his death, including those from Catherine Albanese at UCSB and Jack Jenkins at Religious News Service, among many others, testify to his great influence as a scholar, a mentor, an institution builder, a colleague, and a friend.

You will hear much more analysis and reflection from our panelists in a few minutes who knew him well and will speak to his impact on the public understanding of religion. But a very short word of introduction will help to begin our conversation and set this award in historical context. The Martin Marty award for the Public Understanding of Religion, established in 1996, recognizes extraordinary contributions to the public understanding of religion. The award goes to those whose work has a relevance and eloquence that speaks, not just to scholars, but to other publics as well. Their work can be undertaken in any medium; books, films, radio, podcasts, et cetera, or any venue; academia, public service, journalism, et cetera, so long as it is based upon scholarship in religion. Winners need not be AAR members or professional academics, and nominations, including self-nominations for future Martin Marty awards, are invited from every AAR member. They're due by January 25th each year using a form on the AAR site, and are compiled for review by the Committee on the Public Understanding of Religion for review at our annual Spring Meeting. Nominations are considered for two consecutive years, so please consider submitting a nomination in the coming months for the 2020 Martin Marty award.

This year's Marty award winner, Wade Clark Roof, was most recently distinguished Ameritas Professor of Religious Studies at the University of California Santa Barbara, where he helped to found the Walter H. Capps Center for the Study of Ethics, Religion, and Public Life and would serve as its director for 15 years. A sociologist of religion and the author of fourteen books, he was widely known for a scholarship on the cultural, civic and political effects of religious pluralism in the United States, and in particular, on the spiritual lives of the Baby Boomer Generation. Under his leadership, the Capps Center consistently brought together multiple publics, scholars, students, Santa Barbara residents, journalists, scientists, elected officials, and many more, for extended conversations about key matters of common concern. The Capps Center was named for Walter Capps, a professor for nearly thirty-five years at UCSB, who was elected to Congress in 1996, but passed away unexpectedly just ten months into his term in October 1997. I note wistfully that Walter Capps' death came just one month before he was set to receive the 1997 Martin Marty Award for the Public Understanding of Religion at the American Academy of Religion’s Annual Meeting in San Francisco. Representative Walter Capps was succeeded in congress by his wife, Lois Capps, who won a special election to fill the seat in 1998 and held it for twenty years until her retirement in 2017. We're honored to have Lois Capps with us today. Thank you for coming. You honor us, your husband, and Clark Roof by your presence today. Thank you.

This historical connection and continuity in the tradition of the Marty Award is enhanced by the many students and colleagues who are with us as well on the panel and in the audience. So, for this important work and much more, the AAR's Committee on the Public Understanding of Religion is delighted to honor Wade Clark Roof with the 2019 Martin Marty Award, which will be accepted by as longtime colleague, Kathleen Moore, currently serving as the Interim Director of the Capps Center. Congratulations. And, Professor Roof's family has directed the honorarium that accompanies this award to the Sara Miller McCune internship program at the Capps Center. It was a very generous act of them, so thank you very much.

At this point, I'd like to turn things over to Professor Moore, who will introduce our panelists and get our conversation started. We have much to talk about and there are many honors to give, and thank you all so much for being a part of this today.

Kathleen Moore:

Thank you very much, Eric, and thank you to the Committee on Public Understanding of Religion for the Martin Marty award. It is a difficult responsibility today. I am missing my colleague, Clark, dearly, and mourning his loss. It is all of our losses, actually, of a towering figure in the field and a wonderful colleague. So, it's an honor to moderate this session and to receive this award on Clark's behalf.

Good afternoon. I grieve the loss of our colleague as we celebrate his work, and I'd like to say a few words about him in the context of the public understanding of religion before I introduce panelists. Not only was Clark a colleague in the Religious Studies Department at UCSB, he was also a role model whom I admired for a long time and more than I can say. I was first acquainted with Clark and his wife, Terry, at the University of Massachusetts Amherst in the late 1980s. Yikes! That was when I was a graduate student and Clark was a professor of sociology. Many years later, I was privileged when Clark asked me to join him as the co-academic director of the Summer Institute that he had founded in the early 2000s, right after 9/11.

I joined him in this extraordinary project of the Summer Institute for the last five years of the institute's life until the 2016 Election. I will say more on this in a minute because I think it shows how global Clark's impact is on shaping the public understanding of religion. First, though, I want to emphasize how important his interventions have been in promoting the public understanding of religion, alongside his impressive scholarship, his body of work on American religions, religiosity and spirituality. As Eric mentioned, he's authored or edited fourteen volumes. And, as Eric also mentioned, Clark had many publics that he spoke to, not just the Academy. He founded the UCSB Walter H. Capps Center for the Study of Ethics, Religion, and Public Life in 2002 in order to honor Walter Capps, who was himself, an esteemed colleague, former chair of the department, and a very well-known public figure and elected official. It was to honor Walter Capp's role in advancing the study of religion in public life and advocating for public humanities.

So, Clark served as the founding director of the center until the time of his retirement, bringing to campus a host of distinguished and influential speakers from around the world to engage, not just our campus community of students and scholars, but also the surrounding community of Santa Barbara residents and officials, and engaging us in conversations around ethics, religion, and many of the most pressing issues of our time, such as health care, climate change and political elections. Among the long list of distinguished speakers is one who has joined us here on the stage this afternoon. I want to depart from these examples for a moment, these examples of Clark's accomplishments, to say something about how genuine Clark was as a human being. It is that genuine quality and his of spirit, his empathy that characterize how he advanced the public understanding of religion and why he was so effective at it.

In the summer of 2015, Clark and I were co-teaching at the Summer Institute that I had mentioned and, in June of 2015, the news broke of a horrible mass shooting in Charleston, South Carolina. So, I mentioned, this is during the time that we taught Summer Institute and Clark, like the rest of us, was stunned by the news, but he was also visibly shaken. A young white man had killed nine African Americans as they prayed and read the Bible. Astonishingly, this young man had engaged in Bible study with his victims for an hour before he fatally shot them. The shooter's name was Dylan Roof. Clark, being from South Carolina himself, was a deeply chagrined to learn, in the following days, that he was indeed distantly related to the shooter. He wrote about this awful legacy of white racism in the San Francisco Chronicle in an op-ed piece called, "The Charleston Connection in Name Only." I would encourage you to Google that and read it.

More to the point, Clark and I were teaching several foreign scholars of religion who were participants in the Summer Institute for the Study of the United States and the Study of Religious Pluralism and Religion's Public Presence. So, Clark was addressing an audience of foreign religious scholars, and he didn't simply dismiss his emotions about the shooting and his distant connection. Instead, he shared his sadness with our visiting scholars and took the opportunity to talk with these foreign scholars about the intersections of white supremacy, demagoguery, and racist violence in America. I don't think anyone will ever forget his candor and vulnerability in that moment.

Now, about the Institute for the Study of Religious Pluralism, Clark founded this institute with funding from the State Department in 2002. It was an important undertaking, which brought religious scholars from around the world to study religion in America for six weeks, first at UCSB, and then going on field trips to Los Angeles, Salt Lake City, Atlanta, and Washington, D.C. This was an extraordinary opportunity and it operated for over fifteen years. With 18 participants each year, that means that the total was well over two-hundred alumni of this Summer Institute, and those people are scattered across the globe, now teaching about religious pluralism in their countries and spreading the news of the public understanding of religion. That is Clark's legacy. I also want to say that many of his students will attest to Clark's generosity of spirit, and I want to thank his former student alumnus, PhD Dusty Hostly, for making the nomination for this award.

Now, I'd like to turn to our panelists and introduce each one of them now, and then they will take in turn, the podium to make some comments before we open the floor for comments from the floor, at which time—you can see there are some microphones in the aisles—we'd like you to use the microphone because this is being recorded, so it's important to get your voice on the recording. So, on my right, my immediate right, is E.J. Dionne, who actually needs no introduction, but I'm going to take a stab at it anyway. E.J. Dionne, Jr. earned his PhD at Oxford where he was a Rhodes Scholar. He is senior fellow at the Brookings Institution, a syndicated columnist for politics for the Washington Post, and the university professor in the Foundations of Democracy and Culture at Georgetown University, and visiting professor in Religion and Political Culture at Harvard's Divinity and Kennedy Schools. He is a nationally known and respected commentator on politics and appears regularly on National Public Radio and MSNBC. Dionne began his career with the New York Times, where he spent fourteen years reporting on state and local government, national politics, and from around the world, including stints in Paris, Rome, and Beirut. His bestselling book, Why Americans Hate Politics, was published by Simon and Schuster in 1993. The book, which News Day called, "a classic in American political history," won the L.A. Times Book Prize and it was a National Book Award nominee. He is also author and editor or co-editor of several other books, including, They Only Look Dead: Why Progressives Will Dominate the Next Political Era. Keeping my fingers crossed on that one. And his latest book is titled, One Nation After Trump: A Guide for the Perplexed, the Disillusioned, the Desperate, and the Not Yet Deported, which he authored with Thomas Mann and Norman Orenstein, and was published in 2017 by Saint Martin's Press.

On the far end, we have Professor Julie Ingersoll, who is professor of Religious Studies and Religious Studies Program Director at the University of North Florida. She earned a PhD at UC Santa Barbara under the direction of Clark Roof, as well as Walter Capps, Kathy Albanese, and Phil Hammond. Her dissertation was published by NYU Press as, "Evangelical Christian Women: War Stories in the Gender Battles.” In that project, she explored ethnographically, the stories of women leaders in evangelical institutions where the legitimacy of their roles is contested. Her most recent book is with Oxford University Press and is titled, Building God's Kingdom Inside the World of Christian Reconstruction. Professor Ingersoll is currently working on two projects. One is the rise of the ex-vangelical movement, and the other is reimagining and repurposing of martyrdom and persecution narratives in contemporary politics.

Next to Professor Ingersoll is Dr. Shawn Landres, who earned his PhD in religious studies from UC Santa Barbara, under the direction of Clark Roof. He co-founded the nonprofit consultancy Jumpstart Labs and is a senior fellow at UCLA Luskin. Shawn's current research and publications cover religion and charitable giving, civic leadership, and public sector innovation. While a graduate student, Shawn co-authored with Clark a book chapter on leaving religion, and was his lead student assistant on what became the book Bridging Divided Worlds. Shawn served as a project co-director during the first few years of the UCSB study of the United States Summer Institute on Religious Pluralism. Today, he is a municipal commissioner for the county of Los Angeles and the city of Santa Monica. But what Clark really would want you to know about Shawn is that Bill Clinton's 1992 campaign theme song, "Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow," was Shawn's idea. Thank you very much for that, Shawn.

So, first of all, I would like to introduce, to welcome to the podium, professor E.J. Dionne.

EJ Dionne:

Now, there's no way I can top that achievement, Shawn. That's amazing. I can't tell you what an honor it is to be able to participate in this tribute, but I'm going to try to explain why it is such a great honor for me, and sometimes, you just have to begin by stating the obvious. Clark, as you all know, discovered the religious seekers in our country and their importance because he was a seeker himself: a seeker of friendship, a seeker of wisdom, a seeker of transcendence, and a seeker opportunities to engage with others and to teach and to learn and to love. He was also a seeker of justice. Here is my favorite thing that Clark ever told me about himself. Before I got to know him well, I mistakenly referred to him as, "Wade," and he didn't want anything to do with that, and he explained why. It turns out that he was named after the redeemer governor of his native South Carolina, a man named Wade Hampton. As many of you know, the word “redeemer” in Reconstructionist history is not about liberation from sin. It is the opposite of liberation. Hampton was the governor of South Carolina who ended Reconstruction and ruthlessly re-imposed white supremacy on Wade's—see, I did it—on Clark's home state. Clark wanted to have nothing to do with this legacy, nothing to do with white supremacy, and nothing to do with Wade Hampton, and that is why we have all come to know him as Clark. His commitment to racial justice was by no means theoretical. He was an ordained Methodist minister and was in a church in Spartanburg, South Carolina. Clark's problem, if you'll forgive me for putting it this way, is that he may have been too Christian for his time. Julie tells the story, and I'm grateful I spoke before you because you might have told this story yourself. To quote Julie, "He wanted to integrate the church, and the elders just wouldn't have it. He was invited to leave, so he decided to go to grad school." Imagine that, grad school as sanctuary. But it worked for Clark and even more for the study of religion. It was the big winner out of Clark's decision and we were all the big winners because of that decision. There's a great story that appeared in many of the tributes to Clark after he died that should warm the hearts of every scholar and every student in this room who has a problem with quantitative methods. When he applied to UNC's great sociology department, he said in a conversation... He said, "I had no idea I would have to take four courses in statistics and methods for which I was ill prepared." He sat down with Tad Blaylock who was head of the department or an important figure to find out more about the program. "He mentioned these courses," Clark went on, "but didn't say they were required. And I stupidly said, ‘Well, I doubt I'll be taking those courses.’ ‘I've often wondered,’ he added, ‘how I got accepted.’" We can thank God that the department let that go by. He hated that for many sociology departments, for some time, religion was, as he put it, "little more than a dependent variable." Fortunately, that changed and it's a blessing that he could say toward the end of his life, three years ago, in a blog that, "This is the most exciting time to teach and conduct research on religion, politics, and culture in my 46 years of teaching." We can only wish that he could have had ten or even twenty more.

Unlike so many of you, I came relatively late to my friendship with Clark. I got to know him after he became the Founding Director of the Capps Center at UC Santa Barbara, and there could not have been a better match. Before he was elected to Congress, Walter Capps was a legendary professor of Religious Studies at Santa Barbara, where he offered a legendary class. It was a class on the Vietnam War and its impact on American values and religious views. The guests at that class were just an astonishing list of important Americans, but they were many important Americans who are not famous Americans; all sorts of people who were involved in the war in one way or another were visitors to that class, and a gentleman named Jim Kay, who was a Vietnam-era conscientious objector described Capps, Walter Capps, really well. He said, I quote him, "Walter wasn't just a scholar of the humanities, he was a practitioner of the humanities. His view was as big as the universe." That described Clark very well too. So, he was the perfect person to head up this center. And I should say that it's such a joy that a former Congresswoman Lois Capps is with us today. As Eric mentioned, she succeeded her husband in Congress, and she is the author of a great book called Keeping Faith in Congress, in which she reflects on how public officials should struggle with the balance, with the need for conviction, and also the obligation to have an open heart and an open mind. She called for and described what she referred to as servant leadership, which at this time in our history is a truly radical idea. In a very cynical time, Lois Capps is the exact opposite of the cynic, which is one reason why she appreciated Clark. You could say that Clark was a servant leader at the Capps Center, where he proved himself to be a builder, as well as a scholar. He created an extraordinary institution that, as Eric suggested earlier, has deeply embedded itself in the Santa Barbara community. This too was very Clark-like, he never stopped being a minister and a pastor. His congregation just became the whole university and the whole city of Santa Barbara. We are instructed by scripture to welcome the stranger and no one was more welcoming than Clark. I was among the many who love visiting the Capps Center, both to honor the extraordinary Capps family, and also because it was such a joy to be with Clark and the extraordinary group of scholars, neighbors, and friends he would gather around those he invited as guests. Hospitality is a biblical virtue and Clark practiced it. Martin Marty after whom this award is named described how hospitality involves more than making sure a guest has a great meal—although Clark always did that; hospitality, Marty said, is a word used to describe a human behavior that has the potential to bring about real understanding among people who do not share a common faith or culture. It's hard to think of a better description of Clark's mission.

It's also appropriate I think that we speak about Clark the day after a session on Laurie Patton's important new book, Who Owns Religion. And, by the way, if you hang around Washington a lot—as I do—the words “President Patton” have a really nice ring to them. I know I am vastly over simplifying her extensive research and her rich argument, but I do think it's fair to say that she proposes what I'd call a small democratic view of the interaction between scholars and believers rooted in respect for both the academic critical enterprise and the lived experience of the faithful. She wants to highlight the possibility at least of being deeply critical and caring at the same time. What gave Clark’s scholarship such power is that he was constantly in search of understanding human beings, where they were, where they are. As his own courage showed, he knew that religious institutions could fail and so could people, but he didn't look down on the struggles and confusions and uncertainties of those seekers whom he introduced to the world. As I've said, he identified with them in many ways. I have always admired Father David Hollenbach’s call for intellectual solidarity, which requires of us engagement and careful listening and even, God forbid, a willingness to change our minds. I think intellectual solidarity is what Clark was all about. I’d like to close with his words. And again, I so wish he were around today so we could ask him to tell us more. A decade ago, Clark wrote this in the immanent frame:

Might it be possible, even within this sensitive realm of belief and non-belief, that we could come to appreciate the other, maybe even discover that in engaging the other, we come to know ourselves better? That our lives achieve fullness, not separately, but together. That the veil between belief and non-belief in everyday life is far more porous than the rhetoric of each suggests. For sure, in exploring this common complementarity, we learn again what it means to be an American and possibly have a better sense of how to describe and celebrate the transcendence that really holds us together. It says something about the moment we are in that appreciating the other is almost a revolutionary act.

We can pay tribute to Clark by celebrating the idea that, in engaging the other, we can come to know ourselves better and perhaps even bring our country back together. We certainly have to try. Thank you.

Julie Ingersoll:

Good afternoon. Thank you for being here with us for this event. How to comment on a life so well lived? I'm both grateful at having been asked to do so, and daunted at the utter impossibility of doing it well enough. I started and restarted this more times than you can imagine. As news of Clark's death spread on social media, former grad students shared many stories and much affection, calling him colleague and friend, mentor and friend, teacher and friend. More than a few commented on the holistic way in which he mentored his students. I've re-read the remembrances written by Jack Jenkins at Religious News Service and by Cathy Albanese, Clark's colleague at UC Santa Barbara, and they were both lovely tributes. Rather than trying to detail Clark's many accomplishments here, I encourage you to read them if you haven't.

But today is about the way that Clark contributed to the public understanding of religion. I see this as fitting in that, while there were many awards throughout his life, there is none that seems more appropriate as a crowning achievement, not one that better recognizes the central themes in all of his work, not one that better recognizes the relationship between who he was as a scholar and who he was as a person. This award is named for Martin Marty, long time professor of religion at the University of Chicago. I've known several of Marty's students and met him myself a time or two over the years. And it occurs to me that the two of them were actually quite similar, in the ways they engage their students and the broader public, despite their disciplinary differences. Clark was trained as a quantitative sociologist and his earliest work was decidedly in that style. His American mainline religion remains the standard on that topic. Likewise, nothing has surpassed a generation of seekers which, given the changes in boomer culture and knowing how he liked to keep up to date on popular culture, I like to think he might revise as, “Okay Boomer.” Clark was part of a generation of scholars who led what we've called ‘the ethnographic turn in the study of religion.’ He saw the value of bringing people to life in his work; the idea that not everything that counts can be counted. He was never the kind of scholar to withdraw to the proverbial ivory tower, often describing himself as just an old country boy. He'd rather be chatting it up at a barbecue joint. He was humble and I don't mean a feigned humility. His humility was real. He was an effective interviewer because, when he asked questions, he really did assume that the person he was asking knew something that he did not. From my point of view as a graduate student, at a research assistant, this was his best quality as a teacher. He took on students in whom he had confidence and whom he knew and whom he thought knew about things he didn't. He gave us instructions and he set us free.

[Choking up] Sorry. I factored in time for that.

More than anything, I remember all the wonderful times spent with him and Terry in their home: from the American Religions meetings that rotated between their home and Kathy Albanese's and Phil Hammons’, to the long dinners [at] Clark and Terry's dining room table; when a visiting scholar was in town and I was lucky enough to be included—which was often because I lived in a rented little cottage in their backyard—Clark was a storyteller who loved other people's stories, so those long dinners were full of them. He had this wide-eyed impish grin at the suggestion of something transgressive. I'll tell you a secret: he was a gossip. But it was never the malicious kind of gossip. He really took joy in people crossing boundaries, violating rules, and doing the unexpected. I can just picture him saying with a giggle and a whisper, which he did one night at dinner with a table full of guests, "You know, Gordon Melton is studying vampires." [Laughter from audience]. This is why he's so readily helped change the sociology of religion to recognize personal narrative as important. It's why he was always ready to work with the media, why he so readily gave non-academic lectures. It's why he began working with young scholars from across the globe through the Fulbright Program. They came to learn from him, but I promise you, for him it was about hearing their stories. And it's why his work has been so influential beyond the Academy.

On social media, after his death, so many of us noted that we learned more from him outside the classroom than inside. And certainly, this is key to a significant part of his legacy in the public understanding of religion. From those of us whom he mentored in doctoral programs, to scholars he connected with around the globe, and various colleagues he worked with throughout his life, Clark influenced all of us to think about scholarship as something that belongs out in the world.

My dear friend, Diana Butler Bass, to whom Clark introduced me nearly thirty years ago, ended her recent book on gratitude with this exhortation: "Give thanks, live in gratitude. There is a place for you at the table." So, this afternoon I offer thanks to Clark and Terry from all of us who have, at one time or another, either literally or metaphorically been at their table. Thanks again for being here.

Shawn Landres:

I too struggle with how to begin, and the way I want to begin looking around this room is to ask everyone who studied with Clark, if you are able to stand up, if you took a class from him, if you learned from him in some way. Look around this room. This is a legacy. And I hope we'll hear from so many of you in a few minutes, but I want to acknowledge that this is the community, this is family for Clark and for Terry.

Roberto Collazo asks, "How did it all begin?" so I will go back to that question in a couple of ways. Looking at this room—and I kind of think Clark would get a kick out of having accomplished getting two of his graduate students on the AAR main stage, I think he would have really enjoyed that—I am reminded of a story that he liked to tell. As an undergraduate at Wofford college, he was part of the Welcoming Committee for John F. Kennedy's early campaign for president. This was in 1960. And when the team showed up, the number of students who were available to fill a room was somewhat fewer than the number of you here. And the room in Clark's retelling got bigger and bigger and bigger. I think it may have been twice the size of this one by the time he was finished telling the story. What they did was to take all of the students and pack them into the end of a very narrow hallway. I don't remember if this was Clark's innovation or Ted Sorensen's or someone else's, but at the end of the day, it looked like Jack Kennedy had a huge crowd at Wofford college, and there was no stopping the campaign from that day forward. He loved telling this story.

He was mentioned by President Clinton in a State of the Union Address. That is to say, the work he did in Generation of Seekers. He loved politics. He loved—we spent hours talking about politics. We spent hours speculating about whether Walter would win or whether Walter would win again, when he tried again in 1996, and we were so happy when he did and crushed when we lost him just ten months later. And I was also Walter's last graduate student, and so I stand here thinking about Walter Capps and Clark Roof and Phil Hammond and Ninian Smart and Jerry Larson and Ninez Talamantes, and so many others whom we've lost over the last number of years. And remembering Ninian again, how do we begin? I have a memory at the Grand Ole Opry with Clark and Martin Marty watching country music at the SSSR in other moments of transcendent piercing of the veil between categories.

It's striking to me that when Julie and Diana and I spoke to Jack Jenkins after Clark's death, we all, without having spoken to each other, said the same three things. When I read the story, I thought that it was really striking. We talked about: of course, his work on generations, which really was work on pluralism, whether it was intergenerational or temporal pluralism or religious and ethnic pluralism; his commitment to a much more sophisticated dialogue about race; and, fundamentally, the linking of quantitative methods and ethnographic methods to advance a truly narrative approach to the study of religion. So, what I'd like to do though, is focus not on my memories—I have a couple of comments—but on the memories of the students, the scholars to whom Cathy alluded, who are participants in the religion in the United States Summer Institute. Those students were from all over the world. Many of them, perhaps the slight majority, were from Muslim-majority countries. And Holly Grether and I were Clark's co-directors that first summer, and we were working on this program the summer after 9/11, and we were moving people around the country. We went from Santa Barbara to Los Angeles, to Salt Lake, to Indianapolis, to Atlanta, to Washington DC. We learned a lot. We learned a lot about the TSA and religion that summer. We also learned that we needed to understand that the number of documents required to rent a fifteen-passenger van is directly proportional to that car rental agency’s southernly distance from the Mason Dixon Line. But what we also learned in the years to come, whether we'd gone to a megachurch and a movie theater, or a conference center, or the Arlington National Cemetery, or the Carter Center or Ebenezer Baptist Church, was that what this was about for Clark was about catalyzing new knowledge and relationships in the service of greater understanding of the complex social worlds of faith.

I received comments from a number of people. I received comments from a former Dean of the Faculty of Islamic Studies in Sarajevo, Enes Karić, who says that his academic manners reminded him of a methodology followed by Muslim Sufi Sheikhs, that when we talk about anything from the position of faith, it would remind us that everything [that] walks on dust will become dust, and that all religions speak about the Great Coming and [at] the same time the Great Leaving, and that somewhere there between the two, we will overcome our disappearance and dust. I heard from a friend who is associate professor at Notre Dame University in Lebanon who, at the time that he participated in the program, could not go home because there was a war and the airport in Beirut was blocked for many weeks, and Clark was someone who became a rock for him, even though he couldn't get back to his family. That Clark knew how to open spaces so we can talk and debate for hours and hours without being scared or being judged or rejected. That thirteen years later, Clark allowed him—many of his colleagues—to form relationships with many of his colleagues and to help him become a firm believer in bridge-building, trying to use all the opportunities he has to promote the dignity of being different, and guiding his students for a better understanding of religious pluralism. From Turkey, a similar comment from Reje Bostimor who pointed out that, for many Muslim scholars in Muslim majority countries, the study of religion happens in departments of the theology and that through Clark, he and his colleagues learned how to do it differently.

But the words that I want to share in the end come from a professor named Hajer Ben Hadj Salem, whom we met in 2002. And I want to read directly from her words because I think they speak so beautifully to everything that's been said and will be said today. She writes—and Hajer is an assistant professor now at the High Institute of Humanities in Tunis and she's teaching in Muscat as well—she says:

He struck me as an epitome of academic modesty in generosity. I was an outstanding student, but I could not find a specialist in American religious pluralism in my country to supervise my research project on religious pluralism and American Muslim strategies of integration after 9/11. I wanted to break new research ground in my country, but the academic environment thwarted my academic dreams and crippled every move forward. It was only after I met Professor Roof that I was catapulted from the quagmire of the impossible to an academic realm where everything was possible. She returned following the Fulbright Summer Institute as a Fulbright Scholar. Upon my arrival to Santa Barbara in September, he welcomed me at the airport. I stayed at his place for almost a week until I found an apartment within walking distance from his house. Of all the candidates, predominantly WASPs, the American landlady chose me as a housemate because my supervisor, Clark, went with me and highly recommended me to her, even though I came from that part of the world a few months after 9/11. In reality, I never felt that professor Roof had any prejudices against us or treated me as a second-class student because I am a Muslim. On the contrary, he respected our beliefs and was aware of the diversity within Islam. He enjoyed eating the food I used to cook, and I remember how much he loved my mother's homemade sweets and how much he wanted to visit her in my hometown during his academic visit to Tunis in 2005.

Clark assisted Hajer. She came to the AAR and presented at the AAR, and she writes that doors were open because he opened them for her and for her colleagues. Reading again, "After I went back to my country and submitted my PhD dissertation, they kept me waiting for almost two years to schedule a defense date for me on the grounds that they did not have experts in that field. I remember that, in one of his emails, Professor Roof told me, ‘This is outrageous. I can come to Tunisia and be on your committee.’”

So, a few months after she finally defended her PhD, she traveled to Santa Barbara with her husband in 2010. I quote, "Professor Roof insisted that I should come to Santa Barbara to share my research findings with authorities on the field. To my great surprise, he invited Professor Albanese and distinguished professors of religious pluralism to his house. It was a real defense. After the presentation and the discussion, we were invited to a buffet in the living room. I really felt flattered that day. Pointing to a variety of Santa Barbara-made Middle Eastern sweets, Professor Roof told me smiling, ‘These are the best sweets I could find here. I know that your mother’s are by far better.'" With the loss of Professor Roof, she writes, "I lost the man who helped me shape who I am, a man who changed my life for the better, a man who helped me achieve my dreams. I lost a role model whose legacy will live on. May Allah continue to shower his blessings on his soul."

Twenty-five years ago, my lifelong friendship with Clark, but also with Julie and Diana Butler Bass started around a kitchen counter when a flight traveling back from Indiana to Chicago crashed, and there were no cell phones, and Clark didn't quite manage to pick up the phone and call and let Terry know that he was okay. We spent four hours in that living room with Terry waiting for Clark to walk in the front door, which he did at eleven o'clock. Nearly twenty-five years later, we've now lost him, but we have gained an extraordinary legacy and we've gained an extraordinary gift of carrying who he was forward in the world. So, I close, as his funeral did, with—following Professor Patton last night—a poem from a song, just one verse; if we perhaps could pierce the veil from night to dawn, this was Clark's favorite hymn: "Morning has broken, like the first morning. Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird. Praise for the singing, praise for the morning. Praise for them springing, fresh from the world.” Thank you, Clark.

Eric Owens:

Now we're going to open the floor for comments, but it's my great pleasure and honor to offer the first informal remarks to my friend, our former Congresswoman from Santa Barbara, Lois Capps. Lois, would you mind? There's a mic, I think, right here, if you would say a few words.

Lois Capps:

Thank you very much each one of you for bringing back so many memories for me, but also for this kind of bittersweet honoring of Clark. Up until just a few days—or not that long ago—he should be here in person to receive it and to hear our accolades, but I'm also triggered by other kinds of memories, because this is the Martin Marty Award, and I remember when Martin Marty came to lecture early on at UC Santa Barbara. That takes me back to when, in 1964, way back, my husband was finishing his PhD at Yale University and he saw an opportunity for a position at the University of California in Santa Barbara and a brand new department had just been organized, I think the year before. Now this is just memory, so I may not be absolutely correct, by a sociology professor who thought there should be a separate, a distinct department of Religious Studies. And what got to Walter, and I'm sure to Clark as well, was the notion that this was a public institution, that the study of religion would be not connected with any particular advocacy of any particular community. So, he joined Robert Michelson, who was the first person hired, and was very involved with the AAR as well, early on. I don't quite remember the year, but it was early on that Clark and Terry came, and eventually—there are other neighbors here—we lived within a few blocks of each other in downtown Santa Barbara, and I have shared often at that bountiful table at their generous gatherings. And Terry herself worked in the community in a similar way; we didn't do the same kind of work exactly, but we were connected as well. They made a wonderful team together for all those years of hospitality, of generosity, of spirit, of openness, of that impish grin with the twinkle of the eye, and an extended hand to all. It's such an honor to see so many people here whose life was touched by and connected with his. So thank you for carrying this tradition forward. I remember asking Sean after his death, I said, "You were going to do this to honor his life. Now it will be to honor his memory and his legacy." And it is, as you said, for us to carry it forward. Thank you.

Kathleen Moore:

If anyone else would like to share anything, please step to the microphone. While we're waiting for somebody, I would like to ask any of you, if you have any responses to what you heard from the speakers here today, did that trigger any other memories?

Speaker 1:

I just want to say how moved I was by both of you. It was a beautiful tribute, and I would love you to say more on this idea that he asked questions of others because he actually felt he could learn from them and how it was humility that fed a certain self-confidence about his own mission, so there was no arrogance about him, but he had a self-confidence about his mission that almost was rooted in this humility. I'd just love to hear you talk about that a little more.


Attention, please. May I have your attention, please? The fire alarm has been cleared by the center security. Please continue with your planned activities. Thank you for your cooperation.

[Laughter from audience]

Attention, please. May I have your attention, please? The fire alarm has been cleared by the center security. Please continue with your planned activities. Thank you for your cooperation.

Speaker 2:

If you mention humility at an academic conference, the fire alarm goes off.

Speaker 3:

You stole my moment for a joke because I was going to suggest I had planned that so I had a minute to think. Well, I'm not sure what to add to that, and maybe some other people in the room actually can do that better than I, but I just find so often that people ask questions that they think they know the answer to and they're looking for someone to confirm what they're saying or disconfirm it so that they can argue with them. People often have an agenda with a question and, even at its best, I think the agenda might just be to better understand something. But usually I think we generally think that we know a good bit about what we're asking about and he just didn't. He just really thought that if he asked you a question it's because he wanted to know, and he didn't think he knew. I'm sorry, I can't elaborate much, but maybe somebody else in the room can. I'm sure there's so many people here who study with Clark. I'm sure that's not unique.

Speaker 4:

While you're walking over, I'll just offer one example, which is that I always personally, I mean I wear the academic title and wear the academic title loosely, and Clark always knew that. I mean, after all of the twenty-five years he knew me, I was a graduate student for nineteen of them.

[Laughter from audience]

Speaker 5:

A good gig if you can get.

Speaker 6:

That's right. But I was working outside the Academy on a couple of occasions, and in one in particular when I was working with an organization that was interested in synagogue revitalization, I had organized a retreat and invited Clark to be one of the panelists. And he very clearly came with this attitude of curiosity. It wasn't that this was research for him. It was, he was, genuinely interested. He could have walked in and been the expert, but he walked in and he was– this was another opportunity to learn. All of our conversations about politics, all of our conversations about the different things that I was doing outside of the Academy, he always– there is always an opportunity to have a more interesting conversation over food, always, and a good drink. But that was this position of radical curiosity that, for him, was a hallmark of who he was.

Kerry Mitchell:

I'm Kerry Mitchell, Indiana University. I started studying with Clark in 1996. One of the things that he said that really stuck with me is that we tend to think that the most religious people are the people who believe the strongest and who express their strong beliefs the most clearly. He said he didn't think that was the case. He said it didn't make sense, that in fact, people who doubt, who aren't sure about what they believe, who's maybe the strength of their belief isn't as strong as those of others, there's no reason to think they're any less religious than anyone else. That struck me as both intellectually insightful about the nature of what we were studying, but I think it also implicitly showed an appreciation for human vulnerability and for really the full humanity, and that's what I remember really strongly from him is that he wanted to engage people, not necessarily always in their brightest, shining moments, but also in their sometimes duller, grayer, uncertain moments as well. I felt that that grew out of an appreciation for a full humanity, the fullness of humanity. But, in addition, it was a great implicit message for an aspiring scholar, which was that you don't have always have to know exactly what you're doing. You don't always have to have the strongest clearest belief, that we all are searching here, fumbling around in the dark a little bit, because that's what we need to understand, not just the bright, shining jewels that we find. We need to embrace our own journeys in their more uncertain moments as well, so I felt wonderfully supported in a very full way by that message.

Speaker 6:

Thank you. I heard a joke last week—actually, it's apparently a very old joke, but it so much sounded like, just in appreciation for what you said, a Clark joke—the joke is to say that sitting in church makes you religious is like saying that sitting in a garage makes you a car. It's really interesting. I think he would have liked that joke, but you guys would correct.

Kerry Mitchell:

There would have been a “Ha!” Kind of a guffaw.

Eric Owens?

There was one thing, Kerry—as you're saying this—that occurred to me. There was something he was fierce about. He was fierce about his students. If you were his doctoral student, if he was your committee chair, he didn't make you negotiate your drafts with the other members of the committee. They had to submit their comments to him and he would decide which comments would get to you. I say that because we talk a lot at the AAR about the formation of new scholars and the training of graduate students, and as encouraging as he was of all of us to get into the field quickly, some before we'd even grown up, and he brought us on as coauthors of papers and research assistants who would get writing credit and contributors to his edited project. He was very clear and a fierce advocate for his students and making sure that that their success was as possible as they could make it.

Speaker 7:

Hey, thank you all for terrific reflections and memories. Sorry, this mic is a little loud from here at least. I'm just wondering if you could elaborate a little bit, especially as colleagues from UCSB, about the local connections that you've mentioned in your talks, the town, relationships with community members and religious leaders and government officials in Santa Barbara, and how that helped shape his understanding of publics, and of religions, and of the job of the scholar, as public scholar, and as engaged citizen.

Eric Owens?

Anybody? Anybody?

Speaker 8:

Well, Clark and Terry were members for years of Trinity Episcopal Church. They held meetings in their home in the late 90s, early 2000s, moving the church toward a full inclusion of LGBTQ+ members. That was a deep commitment for them. It was a national conversation, but it was well before even a progressive community like Trinity was becoming a leader in that conversation. So, the living room, then the church, then the country. Terry's work with young juveniles involved in the justice system and coming out of the justice system, I think profoundly affected both of them. It was a humane way of being in the world. He told this story, I remember he got on jury duty and most people would try to figure out a way to not stay on the jury. We probably shouldn't do that, right? We need to be on juries. We need to have those voices present. But he knew that if he said, "Well, I'm Professor Wade Clark Roof, and I teach Religious Studies at the university up the…," you know, he was not going to get kept on that jury. He told me the story. He'd come back. He really wanted to be on the jury, so when the lawyers asked him what he did, he said, "Well, I just said, ‘Aw shucks, I work up at the university up the road.’”

He stayed on the jury. But that was Clark. He could turn on the accent when he wanted to, or not, but it was because his life was all of it. It wasn't the ivory tower and the town. And I think—I'll bring this to a close because I'm so glad to see somebody else wanting to say something—but I think in the formation of the Capps Center too, I had the chance to spend time with him, with Lois and Laura and members of the community, and they were really trying to think about ways to bring the community and the university in conversation with one another. The Capps Center, at its very core, was premised on the very public understanding of religion. Without it, it didn't mean anything. I think it's interesting to see the iterations of the Capps Center and now the Lois and Walter Capps Project, which is a new, independent effort, all of which are rooted in this idea of public engagement. To quote Lois quoting Walter yesterday afternoon in another session, "Because democracy, after all, is born and reborn in conversation."

Speaker 9:

Could I just say something real quick? I was so struck in my visits out there. You guys knew him with an intimacy that I never did, although he made you feel like you were his intimate friend very, very quickly, so I kind of still felt that way. But I was struck by his deep practicality about how the Capps Center would succeed, and it couldn't succeed if its only base was within the university, and that it could only be successful financially, as well as in every other way, if a large number of people in the community were invested in it. So, he organized events, dinners, and the like, with a really sharp eye on “who from the community can I bring in? Whom from the community can I bring in that will help this institution endure?” I found it, on the one hand, it was very much part of his deeply open and gregarious nature to do that. But it was also part of his immense practicality about how, in a very difficult time in academia, particularly a public university—think about what was happening to public universities in the period when he was running the Capps Center—he knew what he had to do to make this work, and I really respected that. Thank you.

Tricia Bruce:

Tricia Bruce, a student of Clark's, finished my PhD in Santa Barbara in 2006. One thing that I especially appreciate about Clark, both as a student of his, but also regarding his impact on our entire field, is the way in which he carved out a space for religion in sociology, which is a harder task than it should be. The first encounter that I had with Clark was actually when I was an undergraduate student at Southwestern University in Georgetown, Texas. It so happened that Clark was doing a speaking tour of sorts for his latest book and came to my institution, my college, and I thought, "Wow, what is this thing ‘sociology of religion’? What is he talking about?" After that time, I went to my sociology professors and said, "Hey, can I take a class in sociology of religion?" To which they said, "No, we don't have one." And so we created a readings course, and I read one of Clark's books in that readings course, and then sent him a letter in Santa Barbara talking about his work and in gratitude for that, and then beginning a conversation that would ultimately lead me to the graduate program in Santa Barbara. I was, of course, in the sociology department, so that meant that I physically left the department to go find Clark in Religious Studies to have a mentor in the sociology of religion because we really didn't have a lot of conversations about religion in the sociology department. He modeled in that way, carving out room for religion in sociology and for sociology in religion, and he was able to do that in a way that respected multiple methodologies, of quantitative and qualitative, that respected this kind of listening that we've already heard. And that said that, "Hey, these two areas have a union that needs to be explored, instigated, and respected because if we're not doing that, we're not studying society right. We're not doing sociology quite right.” I am forever grateful to him for that impact.

Speaker 10:

Thank you. Could I say one other thing? Oh, is there somebody else? Go ahead.

Robbie Jones:

That's right. This is Robbie Jones. I was not a student of Clark's, but I was the beneficiary of his deep generosity. I just want to say a deep word of gratitude. This year we're celebrating the tenth anniversary of Public Religion Research Institute that we started. And when I first started the organization, I was looking for the best thought leaders out there and immediately thought of Clark Roof, but I didn't know him. And I got an introduction to him through Diana Butler bass and reached out to him. He generously agreed and was one of the founding board members of PRRI, and stayed on the board for six years, and just played a huge role in helping us get off the ground. I thought I'd be remiss today if I didn't say a deep, deep, thank you. As an example of him, he had no axe to grind. He had made his name it was, it was just really generous, generosity of spirit and willing to help something else get off the ground while he was still running the Capps Center out on the West Coast and helping something get started in D.C. Just very, very generous and I'm deeply grateful to have had that experience with him.

Speaker 11:

If I could say, just for a moment though, I know how important PRRI was to him and he spoke very affectionately of it and being able to go to Washington and speak at the events at PRRI. And that's, I think an example of what you were asking about before, can we describe how he connected to government officials and people beyond the Academy to engage in these kinds of conversations? And a lot of it was that he was listening, and he was open to people in the field who were doing a survey research and, and as well as government officials.

Speaker 12:

And I should say really quickly on that, it meant a great deal to him. Walter Capps meant a great deal to Bill and Hillary Clinton. And, in the height of the nineties, when Walter was running and won and they were campaigning for President Clinton's re-election, there were opportunities that they had to meet and talk, and there were other opportunities as well, but that was incredibly, I think, important to Clark, not because he was the president—I mean, it was really cool that he was the president—I think there was a sort of a Southern-boy-made-good moment there that they connected in some way. And because, of course, Bill Clinton was the first "boomer" president, so it was this achievement of a particular generational moment. And of course, when we lost Walter, they came back and campaigned for, I remember that, I think it was Hillary Clinton came and campaigned for Lois in the special and that was also a very meaningful opportunity for them as well.

Speaker 13:

Can I just say that my personal debt to the Capps family is actually very significant because Laura Capps, the daughter of Walter and Lois Capps, gave me my most important life's ambition because of her love for her father. I got to know Laura when she was working for George Stephanopoulos in the White House, and our first child, our son, was born about two weeks after the 1992 Election. And whenever I went in the White House to talk to George Stephanopoulos, I had often– fortunately he couldn't come right away, which I was happy about because I could talk to Laura outside his office and I heard Laura describe her dad—and I told her this, when he died—I heard Laura describe her dad with such love and respect and affection that I told her later that she gave me the most important ambition I had in my life, which was to have my kids someday talk about me the way she talked about her dad, but there was just– if you want to know who Walter Capps was, just think about a daughter describing a father with that kind of love and respect and admiration. So, thank you to the Capps family.


Hi, I'm Barry, a student of Clark's. Graduated from Santa Barbara in 2008. Clark was a great storyteller and a few people have mentioned his proclivity for telling funny stories and there's one in which I just can't, I'd be remiss to not remind us of a story that he's probably told all of us on multiple occasions. He told the same stories, some, so he—and this is actually about a previous winner of the Marty Award, Robert Wuthnow—one of the things he said he didn't like about the West Coast is they would wake up in the morning and he would go to shave and look in the mirror and think, "Dang, Robert Wuthnow has three hours ahead of me. He's already been writing for three hours!" Right? And so he would sometimes build on that story and say that if Terry was ever out of town, he would just not shave cause he had to look at himself in the mirror and didn't want to have that thought. So once, apparently, she was out of town for a few days and he went to the Blue Dolphin for breakfast, if anybody remembers that place, and that he sat down, hadn't shaved in days, enjoys his breakfast and gets up to leave. And one of the waitresses says, "Oh it's fine, honey, the man who just left paid for your meal." He was a great storyteller, and it's that kind of outside-the-classic classroom humor that I think that really put in an impression on students.

Speaker 14:

We'll never read Robert Wuthnow work the same way again.

Catherine McCylmond:

Yeah, never again! That was great. I'm Catherine McClymond that graduated from UC Santa Barbara in 1999. And I've been sitting here thinking that I was never a student of Clark's, but I was, and that's what really was amazing. I studied with other people, but somewhere along the line, and I can't even remember where, he just brought me in and including me in this research and for over ten years, I was the point person in Atlanta for his Summer Institute tour. And every time he came through, we took time to go and eat ribs at the rib shack, and get a beer or bourbon somewhere, and just tell stories. And I'm just sitting here thinking how that was classic Clark, that he just figured out a way to bring you in and include you and embrace you and what you were doing.

Speaker 15:

Real quickly—just jumping off that cause it keeps coming to mind—the sort of flip side of that is, I know we haven't really talked about this, but he was extraordinarily adept at pushing his grad students out and making sure we met everybody that we should meet and dragging us up to SSSR and introducing us to everybody. And one of the things that happened on social media when he died was there was a bunch of people who had been Nancy Ammerman's graduate students at the same time [that] we were all Clark's grad students. And, of course, he and Nancy were close friends. And through those years at SSSR, we became really close friends with Nancy's grad students who are all at Emory. So, he had this way of building these communities everywhere, which was really beneficial to all of us, I think.

Cheryl Townsend Gilkes:

Hi, my name's Cheryl Townsend Gilkes and I was not a student of Clark's, but when you had asked his students to stand, and then you said, “and who has learned from him,” I almost stood up. But I met Clark in the context of his administrative excellence as the Executive Officer of SSSR. And I'm so glad you've mentioned SSSR, cause I was afraid we wouldn't hear the name here, Society for the Scientific Study of Religion, where I had the benefit—I was not trained in the sociology of religion, and I sort of backed into the field and sister Maria Gusta-Neil was President and I was her Program Chair 1983 and once you get the program together, you have to get it to the Executive Officer so that it can go to the printer. And this was in the days before the computer, so we used 3x5 cards and things to make sure we didn't schedule people against one another, and he always teased me because I was so afraid to put it in the mail. I got on the bus and rode out to Amhurst and he and Terry met me at the bus station and we had such a good time. But as you talk about his storytelling, when he gave papers, when he gave lectures, he said things in such memorable ways that you find yourself repeating them when you're lecturing to your students. And I just want to say, I did learn from him and loved him so much.

Dusty Hosely:

I'm Dusty Hosely and currently at the University of Southern Mississippi, and Clark's last graduate student. I just graduated last year, and it was the honor of my life to have him on the stage with me putting the hood over me. And I don't have a lot of photographs in my place, but that photograph is right on my desk. It was such an honor to start working with Clark, to prepare the materials to nominate him for this award, to go through his CV again, finding some items that he had not had on his CV, he'd forgotten to publish them or something. Anyway, building a CV, reaching out to all of the people that he had touched. Reaching out to scholars in Europe, scholars across America, reached out to Lois, to Robbie, reached out to Mr. Hamdani, and Sarah Miller McCune, local business leaders in the Santa Barbara area. The Mayor, Helene Schneider wrote. I reached out to eminent public figures like E.J. and Bill Moyers and Jim Fallows. All of these people committed to either signing onto the draft letter that we created, or wrote their own letters and submitted them in support. Over two dozen people, easily, supported this nomination, and he was so touched. He never imagined he would get this award. He never imagined he would get it on the first time that he got nominated for this award. And happily, in addition to this award, he also won from the Association for the Sociology of Religion, their Lifetime Achievement Award. We nominated him for that as well, also on the first try. I am so grateful for all of you for being here. I'm so grateful for AAR and the Public Understanding of Religion Committee to give him this award. I know that he was so, so incredibly grateful to have won these two awards, to have the public recognition of his work, of his person, of his humanity, and I know how much he was looking forward to being here and how sad we all are that he's not able to share this day with us. Thank you.

Speaker 16:

Thank you for doing all the work, for putting this together. For those of you who don't know, Dusty coordinated this application, this nomination.

Speaker 17:

I'm struck. I'm seeing folks around the room. I see colleagues. I see José. I see Barbara. I see students. And what struck me was that not everyone, not every student who stood up and said that Clark was their teacher, had Clark as their doctoral supervisor, or even on their committee, and they're here. And I think that says something. Clark was, for many years, Chair of the Department, and I think that that says something about the kind of culture that he helped build in the institution of UCSB. Professor Gilkes, you mentioned your work with him, he was administratively brilliant as Chair of the Department. He was excellent. He inherited a department that was not in good shape financially. He left a department that was in good shape financially, still struggling in the context of broader, higher education, but he turned it around and he created in doing so. He created a culture. We who came through the department, we were taught to engage with one another. I was Clark's T.A. once, and Barbara's T.A. the next quarter. And that was—I saw Tom Carlson here earlier—I mean, to think of the disciplinary breadth, right? And the increased sense of inclusion, that we were all students and learners at the same table, engaged in this enterprise of Religious Studies, even though he was a sociologist, right. That was his field. He was curious about everything and he inspired that in all of us.

Steve Prathrow:

Hi, I'm Steve Prathrow. I'm sorry I haven't been here for the whole event, but it seems like the tribute time. So, I was invited to come out many years ago. Sean might remember when it was, but to be a Capps fellow in the Center, and Clark was just a wonderful host to me and to my family. And I'm struck, given this award in the Public Understanding of Religion, that it was really at a time in my career when I was thinking about ways that I could not write books for forty people and write them for a broader audience. And I think my time at Santa Barbara and, really because of Clark, was really instrumental in transforming my own career, so I'm very grateful for my time there, and also for having known Clark.

Speaker 18:

Every time you brought out a new book, we would know about it, because—Steve, seriously—he looked to you, as well, as someone who was committed to that same enterprise of making, making the difficult to understand, somehow comprehensible, and not being afraid to shy away from saying hard things. It's not necessarily that he would have agreed with everything. He didn't agree with everything anywhere, but to see—you know, I think you, for him, have been an example of what that work looks like in the wake of, I think, the foundation that he was trying to build and the foundations that you've built alongside.

Speaker 19:

Well, it seems like we've heard from many– we've heard from a lot of precincts, and it's been an honor and a pleasure to be up here on the stage with all of you. I would encourage everybody to join us at nine o’clock. Between nine and eleven, there's a UCSB reception, where we will continue to share our memories about Clark, and also Ines Talamantes and Jerry Larson, two other of our colleagues who have passed on. This is in the Hilton.

Speaker 20:

Bayfront Indigo, 202B. It's not in the program book, it's only in the app. Hilton Bayfront Indigo 202B. And I think, I also, in my litany of people who've passed, may have not mentioned Phil Hammond, and I also think that as we, as we recall, the extraordinary Americanist legacy at UCSB that Clark was a part of, to think about the work that he and Phil Hammond, in particular, did to help put Santa Barbara on the map and to create this extraordinary legacy of colleagues and friends.

Speaker 19:

Thank you everybody.