Mr. Rasmussen

I went upstairs thinking I'd find my high school yearbook from senior year on the shelf on the landing by the attic. It's not there. One of the annual shiftings and migrations of the household book collection must have moved it to a box in the attic. I'm sure it's there — but too many layers down to look for in the fading daylight.

I wanted the yearbook so that I could read the dedication page again--the one where we dedicated the book to Mr. Rasmussen—Wayne Rasmussen, who died on Sunday after a long career as teacher, coach, pastor and general all-around inspirational figure.

The photo on that page (which I remember well, because as editor I exerted a strong voice in its selection) is a photo of him in the front of his classroom, a man in action, knees bent, arms extended--more like the alert, defensive stance of a basketball player than the posture of a world history lecturer. But that was the thing — you never knew when the ball — er, the question — was coming to you. Whether it was the date for William the Conqueror's conquest of England (1066) or the Glorious Revolution (1688) or the democratic uprisings in Europe (1848), he made sure that you left his class knowing these important events, and not just the dates, but what they meant for western Christendom. Maybe even what you thought about them. And certainly something about how power works in the world — a lesson reinforced by several class periods spent building armies and attacking across frontiers in games of Risk. (Please know, that while these dates are indeed engraved upon my memory, I did Google them all just now, just to be sure, so as not to disrespect Mr. Rasmussen's memory.)

Mr. Rasmussen taught world history, Latin and religion at Walther High School in Melrose Park during the years I was there (1968-72) and several years before and after. People took Latin just to have him as a teacher (though not me--destined as a musician to study German). I think I also had him for comparative religion, a subject that would also have been steeped in world history. I had a sense that he was thoroughly, probably conservatively, grounded in Lutheran theology, but what I remember most was being asked to think. Something stronger than just being asked--jolted, startled, awakened. The kind of thinking that makes growing up exciting.

He signed my yearbook —- on that dedication page, sending me off from high school breathless with an affirmation of my abilities and of God's goodness and power in my life — in Gwen's very specific life. And I am but one of many who he encouraged and fired up. Their names have been showing up in Facebook comments all day.

The Facebook page for the church Rasmussen served reports:

Pastor Rasmussen selected Ephesians 2:9 - 10 as the verses he wished to be used for his funeral: "For by grace you have been saved not a result of works, so that no one may boast. For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them." (ESV)

Grace. Of course. That explains everything.