Viva voce.
It means “with living voice,” and is the standard term in the UK
to describe what we call a doctoral defence in North America. The
sense of it is that, having considered an extensive piece of your
writing, your examiners can now supplement and refine their
understanding of that work through the author's “living voice.”
A
viva is a scary thing for a student. On a technicality, you can hear
any outcome from your examiners, ranging from, “well done, good and
faithful scholar” to “you're an idiot; go home.” Now, everyone
is well aware that “you're an idiot; go home” is a deeply
unlikely outcome, but it doesn't change the fact that years of work
all come to a point and are judged in this (comparatively) brief
moment.
On
the day of my viva, I hung out for the afternoon in a study carrel in
the library at Bristol Baptist College, where my advisor teaches,
except between 3:00-4:00, as I was told that I was welcome to
participate in their chapel and communion service. And something told
me that perhaps there was no better preparation for the coming events
of that evening than to worship my God, for this reason: worship
re-orients us to the “living voice” that really matters. I'm not
saying that it was wrong of me (or at least unexpected) to obsess
over my viva. The only way to even attempt to prepare for a viva is
to try to anticipate the possible questions and comments that you
might field, and the responses thereto. Such is the lot of every
student on the eve of their viva. But to worship with that community
was such a crucial activity, to join with the people of God and
remember that there is only one living voice whose words hold
ultimate sway over my life: Jesus' voice, not mine. There is only one
whose voice sustains me in trouble: Jesus' voice, not mine. And
whatever sweat and anguish I felt as my examination grew near paled
in comparison to the growing anguish of the man who on the night he
was betrayed took bread and said, “this is my body given for you;
do this in remembrance of me.” That is the living voice that
matters, that gives meaning to my life, that regardless of any
outcome or situation tells me that he orders the universe and directs
my steps, and not I.
As
many people seem to have expected, the outcome of my viva was quite
wonderful. It was an encouraging and affirming experience. Really,
the entirety of that day was filled with beautiful experiences that I
shall carry with me, but none of them more striking than the point
and counterpoint of Christ's living voice, and my own viva. And
perhaps going forward, it shall serve as a reminder to walk in
humility: that as I seek a life of research and study and
communication, a life of words, that my words must only ever point
to, and are only a pale shadow of, the true Living Voice.
