Carolyn Pressler

In many ways, Pat Miller was a giant. His massive intellect is readily visible in his books, articles, presentations and class lectures, and in publications that were as meticulous and profound as they were prolific. My students rather quickly learn that their ideas got a good hearing if they quote Patrick Miller in support of their argument. Indeed, a classmate once poked fun at how much I trusted Pat’s opinions. “O, Carolyn,” he said, “If Dr. Miller declared the grass was purple, you would believe it.” “No,” I replied, “but I would go out and see if some odd atmospheric condition was making it appear so.” His insights were trust-worthy.

As a teacher and mentor, Pat was magnificent—a giant. While doing my PhD at Princeton, I was blessed to take a course from him each of my four semesters of classwork, and to serve as one of the teaching assistants for the introductory O.T. class that he co-taught with Kathie Sakenfeld. While his massive intellect and rigorous expectations could be frightening to those who, like me, are intimidated not by bullies, but by brilliance, he was also consistently fair and consistently kind. And his teaching was laced with an enlivening humor so dry that I once told him “Dr. Miller, I know you are kidding a good part of the time; I just can’t figure out which part.” As we moved on from Princeton to start our teaching careers, he was wonderfully supportive. Pat shared his lecture notes me and told me to use them however I wanted with no need for attribution. That was his general practice, as I learned when a former classmate allowed me to read her lectures. The overlap between my course and hers showed the presence of a shared source, “P”-- not “priestly” but “Pat.” He was also generous with his time and feedback with our early research efforts, and with invitations to publish and introductions to editors at various presses. Both commentaries that I wrote were at Pat’s invitation.

In his commitment to justice, Pat loomed very large. He acted for gender equality in everyday ways. He once explained that my role was to help him notice sexism that his maleness might keep him from seeing, and his role, in turn, was to point it out to certain male students. He also, as we all know, acted for gender and racial justice in large, risky enterprises such as his work on the Inclusive Language Lectionary, which he did despite threats on his life and the life of his family. (Pat commented that the letters threatening him were sometimes ironically signed “love in Christ.”) He and Mary Ann were among those at Princeton who advocated for LGBT rights when that wasn’t popular. They were among the first people with whom I felt safe to come out. The next day, at an AOTC board dinner, Pat told a story about Ellen DeGeneres that, without mentioning me or glancing my way, spoke volumes about his support of and gladness for my newfound love. During our last visit with him at Black Mountain, Pat gave us glimpses into how deeply rooted, and practically expressed his commitment to racial justice had always been. Ever the consummate story-teller, he shared that as a young pastor with a wife and infant son, he wrote a letter to the editor in support of the civil rights marchers. After it was published, a pick-up truck driven by a man in overalls, carrying a couple of scruffy appearing passengers, pulled up into his driveway. He sent Mary Ann, holding baby Jonathan, into a back bedroom while he went out to meet them. Pat said the one thing he knew was that he was not going to let them into the house. He changed his mind when they told him they were Quakers, come to thank him for that letter (the one Mary has posted on this page.)

There are so many ways in which Pat was a giant; I will name just one more, his humble graciousness. In his teaching, his scholarship and above all, his friendship, Pat was as gracious as anyone I know. That, along with his wit, genius, church leadership and generous support, is why I love him so dearly. Alas! Giants leave huge holes in the universe when they leave us; I will miss Pat a lot, even as I am forever grateful for the rich and loving ways he has and continues to bless my life.