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Roland E. Murphy, O. Carm., feminist mentor: rightly did the maidens love him
Biblical Theology Bulletin, Fall, 2003 by Carole R. Fontaine
All this, I think now--all this!--because Roland's family was poor, he was tall, and the Carmelite brothers in Chicago had a basketball hoop! Like the blessings God heaped on proto-Israel by turning Joseph's career in Egypt into a salvific event for both "Own and Other," Roland came to us at Duke as a "missionary" or an exile: distanced perhaps from his own people's academic setting, but here among a different people whom he "fed" from his fund of personal commitment, lifetime of experience, and humble faith. I bless the Carmelite Brothers' hoops, and their interest and encouragement of a tall, thin young man with a great mind and not many economic resources. What a gift Roland's early life later turned out to be to the rest of us!
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A defining encounter around Murphy's quest to be accessible occurred one day in the Divinity School Library. Roland was a voracious reader throughout his life, and a familiar fixture at the New Book cart. Unlike others, he did not seem to abhor student questions when engaged in such activities; so he was always in conversation. One day when we were both at the card catalogues (remember them?), out of nowhere (from my point of view) he asked me abruptly, "Honey, why aren't you afraid of me?" Taken aback, I blurted out my first response: "I didn't know I was supposed to be." "Well, all the men are!" he went on to say, and asked me if I had any idea why. I really couldn't say, but as we talked, I ventured: "Maybe its your size? My husband is as tall as you and he often finds that if he sits when he is in the company of shorter people, it seems to put other men more at ease." (Six feet, seven inches! My husband is only 65", but he and Roland shared similar height challenges.) "Hmm," he returned, "Well, I'll try that--but it doesn't bother you!" I reminded him that based on my experience, he was just the right size, but that being tall really did spook some people. I don't know if sitting down worked for him, but I went away with my first insight into the situation of those placed in authority or acknowledged to be "the" expert: obviously, things looked different from the other side of the desk! Famous people needed normal interactions, too! My very tall husband also remembers his kinship with Roland in fond ways: among a gaggle of snooty humanists, Roland always welcomed the scientist with respect and interest. Roland often hitched a ride to the airport with my fella who was on his way to Raleigh to feed the lab rats, and he never missed a connection for his pick-up or delivery! Standing there in his "monk-suit" (the affectionate Dukie term for those cheap, shiny suits that he wore with such dignity and disregard), with the tiniest carry-on imaginable (reminiscent of those Gospel disciples advised by the NT to travel light), he was always where he was supposed to be, though perhaps hiding his cigarette from open view.
There are so many wonderful oral stories to tell about Roland that one could go on and on: Roland after seeing his first color episode of The Muppets (a big favorite of his apparently, but he had not known "It's not easy being green"); Roland in class the day after seeing Star Wars; Roland with his yellow pads, one page per line, working on commentaries over the years and bringing them into class to teach from; Roland considering Camp's invitation to bug out of the SBL panel on Ricoeur in order to go to the Bruce Springsteen concert with us instead; Roland driving all night to sit beside Pat Skehan's death-bed, or bemused, going off to an IRS audit which wound up with the government having to pay him! (Quite a substantial amount, too: "They have learned not to audit me, I think," he said of it later).
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