Last week, the Classics Department hosted the Charles Beebe Martin Classical Lectures, presented by Argyropoulos Chair of Hellenic Studies at the University of California, Santa Barbara Helen Morales under the title “Art, Activism, and Ancient Fiction.”

Founded in 1927, the Martin Lectures honor former Professor of Classics Charles Beebe Martin, OC 1876. Occurring almost annually since then, they are regarded as one of the most prestigious Classical lecture series in the country. As Chair of Classics Kirk Ormand noted in his introduction to this year’s opening lecture, the series differs from most other endowed classical lectureships in that rather than being funded by a single large gift, it was funded by an extensive collection of small donations from alumni. Each year, the Martin Lectures are given by a guest lecturer on a single topic, serving as an example and learning experience for lecturers in the audience.

This year, Morales’ lectures were held Oct. 30, Oct. 31, Nov. 2, and Nov. 3. Each lecture had a distinct topic and title within the overarching theme and explored several ancient stories including some of Aesop’s fables, “Secundus the Silent Philosopher,” and “Apollonius of Tyre.” 

In the first of four lectures in the series, “Re-encountering Antiquity with Harmonia Rosales,” Morales discussed the art of contemporary Afro-Cuban, Los Angeles-based artist Harmonia Rosales. 

“[Her art] takes Renaissance artworks that feature Greek and Roman myths and history and reimagines them to tell the myths and history of the Yoruba people, who were abducted, enslaved, and trafficked from West Africa to Cuba during the Atlantic slave trade,” Morales said.

Rosales’ artworks include “White Lion,” a re-imagining of Jean François de Troy’s “The Abduction of Europa,” and “Garden of Eve,” a re-interpretation of Lawrence Alma-Tameda’s “The Roses of Heliogabalus.”

In subsequent lectures titled “Aesop, Slavery, and Queer Kinship,” “Riddles of Incest,” and “Heliodorus’ Blackness,” Morales focused on numerous literary, artistic, and political themes. It included  how both ancient and contemporary dehumanizing depictions of Aesop, who was  said to have been an enslaved Greek man in the medieval fictionalized biography The Life of Aesop. That book portrayed  conceptions of family beyond the traditional nuclear family, and images of Apollo — specifically the Apollo Belvedere — were used to support racism and white supremacy.

Morales also explored power imbalances and incest in the ancient story “Secundus the Silent Philosopher.” It’s about a young man who, in order to test whether all women can be bought, arranges to sleep with his own mother and takes a vow of silence so he can never again speak of it. These themes were also brought to light in “Appolonius of Tyre,” in which the King of Antioch rapes his daughter, leaving her only able to speak in riddles. Morales discussed other ideas as well, including ancient notions of race through the lens of Heliodorus’ “Ethiopian Tales.”

Ormand explained the considerations of the Classics department when seeking a Martin Lecturer.

“The Classics department looks for a scholar with an international reputation who is doing cutting-edge and relevant work,” Ormand wrote in an email to the Review. “In recent years we’ve also tended to look for scholars whose work is in some way interdisciplinary.”

For this year’s Classics faculty, it was Morales’ scholarship on an under-studied area of the field and her commitment to working through an activist lens that confirmed their decision.

“We were interested in Professor Morales for several reasons: her work on the ancient Greek novel, which is a genre often overlooked, as well as her general engagement with issues of equity and social justice as they relate to Classical scholarship,” Ormand wrote. 

Mildred C. Jay Professor of Medieval Art History Erik Inglis, OC ’89, who attended three of the lectures, noted the contemporary relevance of the series.

“Professor Morales’ lectures were remarkable to me in … her ability to take texts unfamiliar to me and make them urgent and interesting,” Inglis said. “I was particularly enthralled by her discussion of Heliodorus, which demonstrated that bringing contemporary questions to ancient texts is both historically responsible and intellectually generative. The enthusiastic response of the large audience confirmed Morales’ success.”

Because land acknowledgment is relevant to all branches of Oberlin, the enforcement of respect and visibility toward Indigenous people requires the effort of the entire College. To this end, the College formed the Working Group on Indigenous Matters, consisting of Business Coordinator for the Oberlin Student Cooperative Association Sundance (Muskogee), Director of Admissions Tom Abeyta (Tiwa Isleta Pueblo, Kanaka Hawai’i), me (Kanaka Hawai’i), as well as several other Oberlin students, faculty, and staff. 

Associate Professor of Anthropology and member of the Working Group Amy Margaris, OC ’96, revealed the efforts that individuals and groups at the College have taken to compensate for the institution’s lack of initiative.

“Many, many colleges in the U.S. have already coined land acknowledgments, often prominently displayed on the institution’s website and the bottom of employee emails,” Margaris wrote in an email to the Review. “Oberlin College hasn’t done this. So on one hand, we’re behind the curve. On the other hand, in recent years individuals, departments, programs, and offices have, quite organically, begun devising their own land acknowledgments — starting by researching the admittedly complex story of the Native communities who stewarded this area’s lands and waters before the founders of the Oberlin Institute.”

Although Oberlin has not yet formally included land acknowledgments, Margaris discussed the conversations and plans of action that have taken place within the College community regarding this issue.

“And now many of us have come together to form a working group whose most immediate charge is to thoughtfully research, discuss, debate, and devise a land acknowledgment for Oberlin College,” Margaris wrote. “The draft that we’ll be submitting for faculty approval is up-front about the continued arc of past dispossessions, but also acknowledges Oberlin’s present day Indigenous residents.”

Members involved in this movement have also raised questions about ways to better serve those who resided on this land before the College did.

“Indigenous students, employees, and community members — how do we make Oberlin a more welcoming space for them?” Margaris wrote. “What specific actions can ‘Oberlin’ (individuals, offices, the whole institution) take to make the future better than the past?”

Curator of Academic Programs at the Allen Memorial Art Museum Hannah Wirta Kinney, another member of the Working Group, discussed why it is of specific interest to Oberlin to include a land acknowledgment. 

“I think it is particularly important for Oberlin to have a land acknowledgment because there are no federally recognized tribes in Ohio,” Kinney wrote in an email to the Review. “I think this has led to misinformation and confusion. When we started this project, we brought together many different land acknowledgments and discovered that they named many different tribes and nations. The new land acknowledgment will help clarify this and also allow members of the community to better understand the acts of dispossession that led to the founding of Oberlin.” 

Efforts to include a land acknowledgment reflect the College’s values of cultivating students’ sense of belonging and community, as Director of Admissions Tom Abeyta wrote in an email to the Review.

“Adopting a land acknowledgment aligns with Oberlin’s mission to create a diverse and inclusive learning environment for our students,” Abeyta wrote. “As the current steward of this land, we also see it as an expression of our commitment to a sustainable society.”

Campus Energy & Resource Manager Joel Baetens, who also participates in the Working Group, emphasized the importance of shifting perspectives surrounding land acquisition.

“What this means to Oberlin, like any other college or town on Turtle Island (North America), is that acknowledging that this land was never honestly acquired is the first step towards reconciliation that is long overdue,” Baetens wrote in an email to the Review.

Sundance expanded upon the initial steps that are necessary to creating positive change at Oberlin. 

“I think that land acknowledgments are, in general, important first steps,” Sundance wrote in an email to the Review. “I am mindful that restorative justice cannot occur unless Settlers are willing to take a long and uncomfortable look at the realities of the past and how those historical realities intersect with and define contemporary realities of privilege and oppression. As an educator and a leader of a national liberation organization, my role is to advocate for any mechanism which will ultimately result in the liberation of Indigenous peoples; I use land acknowledgments as a foray into those difficult issues.”

Each of the members on the Working Group comes from a different background, bringing their own perspective and expertise into the conversation over land acknowledgment. They demonstrate the aforementioned sentiment that the College’s land acknowledgment would be valued by many different groups at Oberlin. 

“The Admissions Office welcomes thousands of visitors each year,” Abeyta said. “When we open our events with a land acknowledgment, it demonstrates our willingness to engage in dialogue about our complex history and hopefully spur on tangible ways to reconcile with our past.” 

Kinney revealed the ways in which this initiative has impacted other areas of her life and career.

“Working on the land acknowledgment for Oberlin and learning through Indigenous people and other Oberlin colleagues has been transformative to my work as a museum professional,” Kinney wrote in an email to the Review. “It has allowed me to see with new eyes the way in which museums often reinforce settler colonial values and, importantly, envision ways of changing and challenging those systems.”

Although Oberlin boasts its image as a progressive institution, it has yet to officially acknowledge the historic significance of the land it dwells upon.

“For Oberlin College, a land acknowledgment presents an opportunity to refute the narrative of white supremacy that is rife throughout Ohio, namely that Native peoples consented in the transfer of Ohio into the hands of Americans through a ‘cooperative’ process … which naturally included coercion and capitulation,” Sundance wrote. “Until such time as the College adopts a land acknowledgment to illuminate these historic injustices, it is hypocritical for it to assert its stance as a supporter of a just society.”

Making the College a safer space for indigeneity starts with righting the wrongs of the past. Creating opportunities and support for Indigenous students, as well as enrolling more Indigenous students, all start with addressing the past. Moving forward is about leading with intention and trying to better understand Indigenous ways of thinking, especially about land. Mending relationships with indigeneity requires nurturing a different mindset than that of colonial figures. It is about respecting and giving visibility to Indigenous people and truly understanding what has been lost. That is why land acknowledgment is only the first step. The most important thing now is to ask what members of the College can do next for indigeneity at Oberlin.

The Free Store at Oberlin offers goods including clothes, kitchenware, and school supplies at no cost. It is open to both students and community members. Founded in 2007, it operates in the basement of Asia House and is run by the Resource Conservation Team, a student group focused on decreasing Oberlin’s ecological footprint through various initiatives.

“The mission of the Free Store is promoting a circular economy,” College fourth-year and RCT member Lanie Cheatham said. “It’s a nice way to support the community and serve as a resource for people who might not be able to buy clothes or kitchen supplies, or whatever else we have with the Free Store, and also taking things that would be discarded and providing them a new home.”

Although predominantly frequented by students, the Free Store is open to community members as well. However, because the building requires tap-in access, those without an Oberlin ID have to call to be let in. According to Cheatham, the RCT is trying to address this barrier by seeking to move the Free Store to a more accessible location.

While the Free Store is a popular place to get free things, it is also an ideal place to drop off unwanted ones. Bins Day was prompted by an overabundance of clothes and other items.

“We had so many extra clothes from Big Swap last year, we were just actually swamped with clothes,” Double-degree second-year and RCT member Reyah Doshi said. “Our storage room [didn’t have] a clear pathway that we could walk through, so we had to organize the clothes and get rid of them the quickest way we could.” 

Bins Day drew a large crowd. Although there was no record of how many people attended, the previously overflowing bins were half empty by the end of the event.

College second-year Reed Wang arrived early with friends to find an already packed room.

“There were a lot of really cool finds,” Wang said. “I got some new sweaters and shirts that I love a lot, but it was hard to navigate around all the people and dig through the bins.” 

College third-year Sola Stacey, who also went to Bins Day, agreed. 

“This event was an awesome opportunity to go through items that other people aren’t loving anymore, take them home and try them on, and either keep them or bring them back without having to spend a ton of money or effort on returns,” Stacey said. “The event itself was hectic, with a ton of people crowded into a small, hot room, but after I got in the groove of it, I didn’t mind as much.”

“Obiewood is the name of the alumni group that is ‘Obies in Hollywood,’” Kyle Farris, assistant director for career readiness, said. “It’s a loose kind of alumni association for folks who are involved in or looking to break into the entertainment industry.”

Obiewood primarily functions in Los Angeles, where panels, mixers, and other events allow alumni of all years to create connections and foster relationships that can lead to job opportunities.

“The whole idea of it is to provide graduates with a community that could provide support and connect people to other resources,” Farris said. “It’s primarily focused on the alumni side of things, which is why I’m really happy that they were kind enough to come in and talk to the current students. But I know that folks out there will sometimes try to arrange mixers, or networking events, or just help each other out one-on-one.”

Farris, who also serves as an advisor to the arts, communications, and creative professions career community at Oberlin, is the driving force behind the panel. They said that when students looking to go into entertainment come to him, he follows a less traditional route to prepare them for the job hunt.

“I make sure that they are very well educated about the industry, because it is a very difficult industry,” they said. “It’s very rare that someone graduates college and goes straight into a job, to be honest. There’s usually a period where you’re hitting the pavement, looking for work, doing freelance, assembling some gigs.”

Farris said he tried to represent a diversity of experiences in the panel, because there are so many ways in which careers in entertainment can manifest.

“We’re lucky because we have folks coming in from a variety of different spaces,” they said. “We’ve got someone who has experiences as a writer, that’s Liam Oznowich; Kendra James has been more on the journalism/reporting side for a lot of entertainment stuff; Fiona Brennan has documentary experience and other kinds of pieces of production experience, and Sarah Goodstein has got production experience as a camera assistant. We tried to assemble folks who weren’t just from one portion of the industry but who can speak to what it’s like in a variety of different areas.”

Oznowich, a panelist who currently works as the personal assistant to Ed Helms, OC ’96, met Helms multiple times through Obiewood networking events before coming to work for him.

“It wouldn’t have happened if Obiewood didn’t exist, so I’m very thankful to that group for putting on these events and creating spaces — not only for recent graduates moving out to LA or New York for the first time, but also providing a space for people who have already been out there,” Oznowich said. “I’m so thankful to Obiewood, and there’s hopefully going to be more movement to create more resources for current students, graduates, and people who’ve lived out here for a while to create a real community. I’m really excited for what Obiewood is doing and how they will expand in the future.”

Farris notes that the most difficult obstacle in getting into film and television can be the industry’s emphasis on connections and networking, a hurdle Obiewood hopes to help bridge for Oberlin alumni.

“More than any other field that I have encountered so far, film and entertainment is a who-you-know industry,” Farris said. “You know, they’ll post internships and jobs, but to be honest, it’s a connections-based kind of thing. That’s where a lot of the workforce is moving, but it’s much more intense with film. You need a resume, but it’s all networking. That’s a big reason why I wanted to do this — so a lot of people could meet some folks.”

Sarah Goodstein, OC ’21, another panelist who works in various positions on camera departments on sets in Los Angeles, agrees with the sentiment that lack of connections and competition can make success in the industry difficult.

“The main thing about the industry is, it’s about who you know,” she said. “The other thing is the sheer number of people trying to do what I’m trying to do. There are maybe a million people right now, who are in exactly the same place, doing the exact same job, and there are not a million jobs. It’s been very difficult, and I’ve had to do quite a bit of my own research, marketing, and networking, and absolutely nothing I did at Oberlin prepared me for this.”

Oznowich noted that Obiewood can help bridge the gap in connections for Oberlin alumni struggling to find work in the industry, as established older alumni can give newer graduates a leg up.

“Because this is a business that’s so focused on relationships, who you know, and personal recommendations, just having the Oberlin label is a huge boon to knowing someone — knowing that they’re capable and smart,” Oznowich said. “The virtues of a liberal arts education are really noticeable now, especially as I get older, because I feel like Oberlin students know how to write. They know how to be creative, and they have out-of-the-box ideas and interesting things to say.”

Oznowich is hopeful about the opportunities of connection and community Obiewood and Oberlin career communities can offer.

“I didn’t really know about Obiewood when I first moved out here, and I think that’s because it was nascent,” he said. “When I graduated there, we didn’t have career communities; We didn’t have any of the resources that they have now; they were just starting an early version of Oberlink. To see those services expand and more alumni connections that can be built will be really exciting, because ultimately we want to give back and help people get jobs. Every single job I’ve had except for the agency was through word of mouth. To create those kinds of networks amongst Oberlin alumni, older Oberlin alumni, younger Oberlin alumni, students — that’s the real takeaway — cross-generational connections and networking opportunities that are so crucial to this business. I think Oberlink makes that easier, and also future Obiewood events, just a place for people to gather and meet people.”

Some Oberlin students remember other midwestern trick-or-treating traditions. In cities like Des Moines, Iowa, and St. Louis, Missouri, the only thing stopping kids from getting candy placed in their pillow case, pumpkin basket, or other make-shift candy collector is a clever joke. College second-year Zahra Stevick recalls her experience with trick-or-treating in St. Louis as normal except for one aspect: the obligatory jokes.

“It’s like normal trick-or-treating, but when you get to the door, they will ask you for a joke,” Stevick said. “And once you give the joke, they’ll give you candy. And sometimes, they’ll give you more candy if your joke was funnier, but most of the time, they give [it out] pretty [evenly].”

This tradition started around the Great Depression as a way to “curb hooliganism,” according to NPR in a story from 2011 about St. Louis’s relatively unknown tradition. What’s commonplace for one midwesterner may not be commonplace for another. College first-year Asa Rosen-Jones grew up in Oberlin trick-or-treating on Prospect Street, near his house. 

“Around my neighborhood there’s this [image in my head] of all these streets being filled up with kids, the leaves are half on the ground and all changing colors,” Rosen-Jones said. “It’s really cool to me [and] it’s really pretty.”

Not only do many find the southwest quarter of town, around Prospect Street and Reamer Place, beautiful during this time, but the candy jackpot also lays here, according to Oberlin native and College first-year Nate Malakar. 

“[I would] always go to the same neighborhood near Prospect [Street to trick-or-treat] because there’s a lot of houses, [which means] a lot of candy,” Malakar said. “It’s a more well-off area. A lot of professors live around there.”

Having a well-off quarter of town is typical. Kids gravitate toward these neighborhoods because the size of the candy typically increases. While Oberlin has this, the community is small enough to create a classically cozy trick-or-treating experience. 

“One nice thing about living in Oberlin is that it’s a really sweet community,” Assistant Professor of Politics Jennifer Garcia said. “And when we trick-or-treated with our kids, we saw other professors trick-or-treating, or we went to their houses. It’s just fun to see people in a different light [whereas when you] see them more in their institutional role.”

Along with the hour and a half allotted to trick-or-treating on Oct 31, another town tradition presents itself: Track-or-Treat. Track-or-Treat began in 2013, and Oberlin Athletics has hosted this event every year since, except in 2020, accounting for inclement weather. This event is for children and their families to walk around the Oberlin track, visit the different stations that are set up, and receive candy alongside their community. 

College second-year Ryley Steggall grew up in Oberlin and now runs for the College on the track and field team. She grew up attending Track-or-Treat and now hands out candy to the kids in attendance. 

“Track-or-Treat is super cool,” Steggall said. “All of the sports teams on campus have a little booth around the outside track, and all the little kids come and trick-or-treat. I had a conversation with my coach last year [where] I was like, ‘Oh my god, it’s a full circle moment because I used to do Track-or-Treat, and now I’m giving the [kids] the candy at Track-or-Treat.”

Garcia experienced last year’s Track-or-Treat with her 4-year-old son Benjamin. 

“[At Track-or-Treat they had a GoGo squeeZ that] had dinosaurs on it,” Garcia said. “[It was] great because it has vegetables in it, and I was able to convince my son that that’s a treat now. I’ll buy them and he’ll be like ‘Yeah, I’ll have a dinosaur applesauce.’ So I really appreciated that.” 

Hailing from California, Garcia found the window of time on Halloween evening set for trick-or-treating unsurprising given that Oberlin is a relatively small town. Regardless, it was quite different. This window doesn’t diminish the fun of Halloween, it only shows how tight-knit the community of Oberlin is. Growing up, she, along with many others, would knock on doors or ring the doorbell and wait for someone to come to the door to bombard them with the words “trick or treat.” In Oberlin, it seems that the culture is a little different.

“It seems like there’s a norm here to sit outside of your house while handing out candy,” Garcia said. “It’s actually kind of nice. There’s a little bit more of a community feel.”

This article has been edited for length and clarity.

College second-year Celia Vaughn:

I think everywhere here is haunted. Especially East Hall.

College fourth-year Eliza Greenbaum:

It was my second year when my friends and I decided to walk to a playground at night, close to that Halloween time of year. It was about a fifteen-minute walk away from campus. I don’t really believe in ghosts, but there was just something about that area that seemed off. There was this one machine — if you press a button and speak into it, it will repeat back what you say. I tried playing that game and one of my friends pulled me aside and said, “Do not do that, this place feels haunted.” We continued to stay there but eventually one of my friends tapped me and went, “We need to leave. I can feel a presence.” There’s a weird thing about playgrounds at night that feels wrong.

College second-year Aidan Champagnie-Ellington:

There’s this special place in the Arboretum: a little cove where all that exists is a chair. I think that a ghost named Chester lives there because there’s always a bunch of chestnuts on the ground. Sometimes when I’m walking to the Arboretum, I take my headphones off and start talking to my pal Chester because he needs to know what’s going on in my life. I don’t know if Chester’s real, but I like to assume he’s real. If you need to go to the Arboretum, meet Chester.

College third-year Cecily Miles:

I have spaces I would like to be haunted. I think Tank Hall needs a little orphan girl ghost.

College second-year Leo Powers:

There’s a basement in Noah Hall. You walk down about twelve too many stairs to get down there. You pass the laundry room, and the laundry room is nice. Then there’s a whole room next to the laundry room that no one ever uses. It’s way too big and open and a ghost definitely haunts there. Then there’s the rest of that basement, which is so much scarier. There’s a bathroom that stands alone in the middle of the basement which is just wrong. Somebody did that wrong. Also, there’s a cage down there. I don’t know what goes on in the cage. It’s a scary place.

College first-year Brynne Spaeth:

I feel like the bats in Warner Center make it haunted. They don’t act like normal bats.

College second-year Elijah Morton:

North of Bailey Field, there is a lot called the Boneyard filled with all sorts of materials that the College never used in construction: excess materials, stuff that they tore down, different kinds of signage. I just think if it’s called a boneyard, it’s gotta have some bones in it. And if it has bones in it, it definitely has a ghost in it.

“I think it’s important because it brings to light the idea that banning books is current,’’ Weir said. 

The 13 most challenged books this year, which include Gender Queer by Maia Kobabe, Looking for Alaska by John Green, and The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky, have many common themes.

“This year, if you look at the books that were banned, it’s mostly over sex, sexual identity and homosexuality,” Weir said. 

Despite bans, many of these books have worked their way into the hearts of  students. Students have a wide range of favorite banned books and are impassioned about why continuing to read banned books is important.

“One of my favorite banned books is Of Mice and Men [by John Steinbeck],” College first-year Olivia Pickens said. “It is such an impactful story and it has incredible themes that challenged concepts of that time, such as the impossibility of the American dream and how humans are often predatory. People should still be reading banned books because many of them carry impactful themes, have weight as a profound novel, and challenge ideals of the time they were written in. It is important to be exposed to sensitive content because these types of books often shift our view the most.”

Other favorites mentioned by students include 1984 by George Orwell, Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison, Ace of Spades by Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé, and The Color Purple by Alice Walker. 

College first-year Camille Coker believes that books are banned only in an attempt to censor media in order to promote biased rhetorics.

“Banning books is done out of fear of knowledge, whether that be knowledge of political, religious, racial, sexual, or other ideas that a group doesn’t believe should be accessible, typically to children,” Coker said. “The problem with book bans is that [it’s] a form of censorship, not out of a desire for public safety but with the goal of eliminating opposing opinions, which prevents open and honest discourse with varied perspectives.”

Others agreed with that sentiment.

“It’s important to read banned books to understand whose voices are getting silenced and the ideas those in power are afraid of,” College first-year Frances Freais said. 

This year, for Oberlin’s effort to highlight Banned Books Week, Weir created the display on the first floor of Mudd Center. The display is based on real scenes from Florida school libraries.

“We decided to put books on a bookcase and put caution tape over it,” Weir said. “That idea came because when we were looking up information about what was going on this year, there were several pictures from the state of Florida where that was the case. Lots of school libraries had books [that] had to be reviewed before they could be used.” 

This year has been a record in recent history for the number of titles challenged, particularly because since 2020, 90 percent of book banning attempts have targeted multiple books at once, and 40 percent have targeted over 100 titles at once. This is an issue particularly in local libraries and schools, proving that banning books is still a current issue that threatens freedom of speech. 

“Any kind of banning takes away choices from everyone,” Weir said. “So you may see a book that you want to ban or don’t want to read. And if you’re successful in banning it, that takes away a choice from somebody else. But I might also have a book that I’d really like nobody to read. And if I do the same thing, it might be the book you want to read. So in other words, banning books takes away choice. We should all have the right to choose what we want to read.”

Though large-scale issues such as book banning can often leave one feeling hopeless, there are concrete ways to take action.

“It’s very important to pay attention to what’s happening in your local community, because censorship usually is happening at the school level, or your local library.” Weir said. “And if there [are] people active and trying to ban books, [you should] attend public meetings, write letters, et cetera.”

“The whole high holiday season is ramping up into this at the end — like, ‘We did it, and now we’re here!’” Conservatory fifth-year and Chabad Student Leadership Board member Jason McCauley said. “There’s this electric feeling about Simchat Torah that I really, really like. Simchat Torah to me is just this wonderful exaltation of joy.”

In the Ashkenazi tradition, a congregation’s Torah scrolls are removed from their ark and paraded around the synagogue seven times, and all are invited to join in festive song and dance. Children run around eating candy that seems to shower from the sky. 

“One would think that the holiday would be celebrated by study of Torah, but it’s not,” Director of Chabad at Oberlin Rabbi Shlomo Elkan said. “It’s celebrated by dancing, and anybody can dance. … It shows that Torah is meant to be accessible to everybody at whatever level they’re at — it’s meant to be accessible to every single Jewish person.”

This year’s Simchat Torah with Chabad at Oberlin will be unlike any that came before. The celebration will feature a guest of honor, one that hasn’t emerged from Oberlin’s Special Collections on the fourth floor of Mary Church Terrell Main Library for nearly 40 years: a Torah scroll of North African origin, written in the 14th century. University of Virginia Religious Studies Professor Greg Schmidt Goering placed the scroll in historical context.

“Besides the [Dead Sea Scrolls], the oldest Hebrew manuscripts we have are from the 10th and 11th centuries,” Goering wrote in a 2004 correspondence to Ed Vermue, special collections and preservation librarian of Oberlin College Libraries. “Thus, the Torah scroll that Oberlin possesses is really only about 400 years younger than the principle manuscripts that serve as the basis for modern study of the Hebrew Bible.” 

The scroll was donated to the College in 1912 by Rev. William Barton, who acquired it on a trip to Palestine in 1902, and — based on existing archives — probably didn’t grasp the sheer antiquity of the manuscript. The scroll was presumed to be a “commonplace 19th-century artifact” with no particular historical significance until its appraisal in 1984 by expert Jewish scribe Tuvia Mechaber, whose assessment was later corroborated by experts at the Jewish Theological Seminary. Mechaber identified the scroll as “redacted in the thirteen hundreds in Africa in one of the communities of Morocco,” then brought to Spain and later expelled with the Spanish Inquisition. 

“From there it wandered along with the Spanish exiles to the Balkans or Turkey or Palestine, and the hand of Providence brought the scroll to where it is at present,” Mechaber wrote. 

Mechaber’s investigation of the scroll owes itself to the curiosity and entrepreneurial spirit of Roberta Milston, OC ’86, a Religion student who brought the Torah home with her to New York and entrusted it to Mechaber for restoration.

Then-Director  of  Libraries William Moffett, who expressed in a 1985 staff memo that he had not been sufficiently consulted during the process of greenlighting the transportation and restoration of the ancient text, wrote to Mechaber requesting insight into his conclusions about the scroll’s origins. The scribe politely declined.

“I am not prepared to mention the particulars (lit: reveal the secrets) of the vocation in which my expertise lies,” Mechaber wrote back to Moffett. 

However, Mechaber had pointed earlier to several unique features of the manuscript that indicated where and by whom it was redacted, including the Sephardic practice of writing on the exterior side of the leather — a rare material for Torah scrolls — and supralineal text. 

“What sets this Torah apart from all others executed in recent centuries, according to the experts who have seen it, is its inclusion of supralineal words, corrections in the text penned above the lines,” an article published in a 1985 issue of the Oberlin Alumni Magazine reads. “Such practice was acceptable in the 14th century, but is not acceptable today under Jewish traditional law.”

Mechaber’s duty in restoring the Torah was not just to preserve it by patching wormholes and repairing worn stitches but also to make it kosher for public reading, which meant re-tracing faded letters and occasionally correcting mistakes made by the original scribe by scraping off the top layer of leather and penning in a new word. According to contemporary Jewish law, the wrongful deletion of even a single letter disqualifies a Torah from use. 

“The scrolls are subject to an entire corpus of laws and traditions regarding the formation of the letters, which are believed to have an independent existence, a sacredness, and a power of their own,” the label for the Torah scroll reads.

Associate Professor of Jewish Studies and Religion Shari Rabin recently brought students in her Introduction to Jewish Studies class to view the ancient Torah. Students examined the scroll in the context of a broader discussion about the Cairo Genizah, the largest known trove of sacred Jewish manuscripts, ranging from writings of Maimonides to erroneous marriage certificates, all of which contained the name of God and therefore couldn’t simply be thrown out but instead required ceremonial burial. The Genizah served as a place for documents to await their eventual entombment — a sort of morgue.

“I think what the Genizah speaks to is this real reverence for textuality in general Hebrew language, and the name of God in particular,” Rabin said. “They’re seen as having such import that when they can no longer be used, they have to be treated with proper respect.”

After restoration of the scroll was completed, Oberlin College Libraries staff hoped that it would be “made available to Oberlin’s Jewish community for selected religious services,” as written in the 1985 Oberlin Alumni Magazine article. However, according to Vermue, Sunday’s Simchat Torah celebration will mark the first time the Torah has been used ritually perhaps since its acquisition by the College in 1912.

“I’m pretty pleased about it,” Vermue said, regarding the Torah’s imminent role in holiday festivities. “That’s exciting, that our special collections are not just the dead bones of the past — biblically speaking — but they’re vital, living things that still have this performative, ritualistic dimension that allows them to be used.”

Vermue was careful to note that library staff will simply loan the Torah to Chabad at Oberlin, not host the event themselves, which could potentially compromise the Libraries’ status as a “secular, egalitarian institution.”

The  delicacy  of  the 14th-century Torah scroll determined the venue for this year’s Simchat Torah celebration. Since it cannot leave Mudd Center, the 700-year-old scroll will lead a procession downstairs from Special Collections to the basement-level Moffett Auditorium, joined by its two-year-old counterpart: a scroll commissioned for Chabad at Oberlin in 2021 and paid for by donations from Mark and Chava Finkel, OC ’76. Once in Moffett, the two scrolls will be used in festive song, prayer, and dance. 

“Judaism isn’t something that’s meant to be behind the glass case,” Elkan said. “It’s meant to be lived and breathed and engaged with, including our holy texts. It’s not a relic of the past — it’s very much ancient wisdom informing modern times. So, I think the message of taking it out of its case in an archive, quite literally, and engaging with it on our terms, is particularly poignant.”

The Torah scroll will be chaperoned by Vermue himself, who will oversee its proper handling and ensure it has a good time. 

“There’s an inherent risk involved in all teaching that we do,” Vermue said. “We take as much care as we can, but you don’t want to be protective to the point where your items can’t achieve their purpose.”

Elkan can’t be certain that the old Torah is kosher for public reading — after all, the last time it was inspected by a scribe was in 1985, and letters may have cracked with disuse. However, it’s customary to dance with every Torah scroll on Simchat Torah. Even the non-kosher scrolls are removed from the ark to mingle with members of the congregation. 

“In terms of Hasidic learning, the Torah is the will and wisdom of Hashem — of God,” McCauley said. “And that’s a very nonphysical thing. But then also, when it’s being brought down into a physical form, it’s an object imbued with something spiritual, a literal piece of God. That’s what we are — a physical thing being imbued with a literal piece of God.”

On the day of the festival, Asia House residents gathered in the lobby. College second-year Elyssa Torrence, a resident of Asia House, brought mooncakes and hot tea for everyone to share. Residents arrived throughout the event and chatted in a large group. People discovered similarities in identity with their housemates and shared their experiences with others. Long family heritage stories were accompanied with paper folding. The event strengthened the spirit of the theme housing. 

 Asia House had more guests the next day, Sept. 30. The KSA held their first ever public event celebrating Chuseok, the Korean Mid-Autumn festival. 

“We hosted this event for people to gather and celebrate Korean culture together,” College second-year Max Rho, co-chair of KSA, said. “This event aimed to build a big community for people who love Korean culture.”

The lobby was filled with chatter and laughs, as well as the distinct scent of kimchi. KSA members prepared fresh, homemade kimchi fried rice and kimchi jeon, or pancakes. They also ordered traditional Korean rice cakes, called songpyeon. 

“It’s kind of the equivalent of a Korean Thanksgiving, so we kept aspects of it with the food, rice cakes (equivalent significance of mooncakes for Mid-Autumn Festival), and a ‘make a wish’ wall,” College second-year Erin Koh, co-chair of KSA, said. “In spirit and in intention we kept it quite traditional. It’s really just a time for people to come together and celebrate and appreciate life.” 

Students of diverse backgrounds came and enjoyed the buffet. This inclusive gathering gave individuals opportunities to make new friends and have conversations about their common interests. 

The third event was hosted by the CSA and the East Asian Studies  department. Every year, these two groups collaborate on a showcase to show appreciation for the full moon. This year, the showcase was presented at the Cat in the Cream on Oct 1. According to Co-Chair of CSA, College third-year Coco Song, the event is always organized around the theme of nostalgia. CSA decorated the Cat with a Chinese-style curtain, bouquets, a moon lamp, and a golden lantern. 

Reflecting the completion of the moon phase, the EAST department brought round shaped mooncakes to share. The Chinese characters printed on the cakes represent a variety of flavors such as the sweet lotus seed filling, red bean paste covering salted egg yolk, mixed nuts, and dried fruit filling. The desserts sat on golden, Chinese-style plates like little moons, waiting to brighten the mood with their sweetness. 

Once the moon was becoming visible, Dominic Toscano, assistant professor of Chinese, told the origin tale of the festival. Following his introduction, the hosts officially started the show. Hanyuan Zhu presented the classical “Valse de I’opéra Faust,” on piano, creating a harmonious mood. Following the graceful solo, the Chinese 401 and Chinese 201 classes sang two traditional Chinese songs; “Water Melody” and “The Moon Represents My Heart”. 

Shifting the night’s mood, a newly-established band of Asian students —  Double-degree second-year Heyu Wang, Conservatory second-year Evan Hou, and College second-years Kisa Biely, Yoyo Ji, and Brock Wang — performed an R&B Chinese song “Don’t Ask.” Ryan Zhang continued this mellow ambience with a Japanese jazz piano piece titled “Place To Be.” Bringing back the showcase’s traditional theme, the Chinese 101 and Chinese 301 classes sang “Listen to Mom Telling Stories of the Past” and recited poems “Thoughts on a Tranquil Night” and “Drinking Alone under the Moon.” Finally, the stage welcomed the student band again to share a reminder and appreciation for family by presenting “Mercury Record” and “Rice Field.”  The audience engaged in the light melody, sharing the happy moment together. 

The Mid-Autumn Festival is a time for the full moon and, in a lot of Asian cultures, reunion. Oberlin students who cherish this event came together through hard work to promote their culture and organize celebrations, building a bigger family and accompanying their Obie identity. The full moon rises; a breath apart, our hearts share with each other.

“Faculty from the Practicing Arts in the College — Theater, Dance, Studio Art, Cinema Studies, and Creative Writing —  have been in conversation about a fifth year double-degree program since around 2020,” Christensen wrote in an email to the Review. “In the spring of 2023, the conversation really began to gain momentum. I have been spearheading the initiative, but there is full collaboration and participation from [other] departments.”

 During each semester of the first four years, students would take a practicing arts class while completing a BA in any field they choose. The fifth year would diverge from tradition —- in terms of environment, opportunities, and focus, and allow graduates to earn a dual BA/BFA degree. As the program is currently exploring living on the Park Arts campus in Cleveland, students would access connections unique to the program including mentorships, internships, and an abundance of resources for their craft.

“We are eager to plug our students into that landscape as a practical bridge out of Oberlin into the world, with hands-on experience in the arts,” Christensen wrote.

After exposure to the practicing arts during their four years in Oberlin, students would propose a project that they would complete throughout an intensive arts year in Cleveland. With the possibility of being located in the Park Arts campus in the historic Mendelsohn Synagogue site in Cleveland Heights, students would experience a change of scenery from small town Oberlin. Over the course of their fifth year, students would have the opportunity to be mentored by internationally recognized artists, filmmakers, performers, and writers. By the end of the year, they would have earned enough credits to graduate with both the BA and BFA.

“There is the focused time to pursue and realize a creative vision, to share work that expands upon and extends into new areas beyond what students have learned during their four years at Oberlin,” Chanda Feldman, associate professor and department chair of Creative Writing, wrote in an email to the Review. “All around it’s an exceptional launching point for creative pursuits and careers.”

Surrounded by a vibrant arts-focused community, students would collaborate with each other in an interdisciplinary cohort, working towards a variety of careers. Choices in professional disciplines range from writers to dancers to muralists to any other practice students may discover and cultivate throughout their time in the five-year program. To fully immerse themselves in their craft, students would live in an Oberlin-specific apartment complex on the Cleveland campus, with access to resources such as an on-site studio. These studios would support and reflect diverse passions — theaters for actors to rehearse and perform in, digital media studios and movie screens for filmmakers to craft and premiere their projects, and studios for artists practicing the fine arts to produce their works from start to finish. 

For students who wish to continue their connection with Oberlin resources and community during their year in Cleveland, a shuttle would provide transportation between Oberlin and the Park campus.

The BA/BFA program places an emphasis on a community-based, public-facing path. This means exploring the wide range of opportunities, internships, and jobs across Cleveland in internationally renowned organizations.

“For Theater students, that might be an internship at one of the many excellent theaters in the region,” Matthew Wright, professor and chair of Theater, wrote in an email to the Review. “Our faculty is well connected to the professional theater in Cleveland, and we’re certain that those close relationships will yield multiple opportunities for students working and living in the BFA community.”

As the one-of-a-kind BA/BFA program is still in the exploratory stage, the faculty of Oberlin involved in this project are on the lookout for student momentum.

“Once we’ve gained enough feedback and validated student interest, we would present the curriculum,” Christensen wrote. “The faculty from across the College practicing arts are super excited about the curricular possibilities here, and we have a pretty good feeling that students will be too.”