When I received the news that Tony Campolo had passed away, I immediately thought of the last time I had spent some good time with him. It was a couple of years ago, at Ron Sider’s retirement lecture, and I remember Tony, Ron, and Jim Wallis chatting and hanging out.
I first encountered Tony, as many others did, as he preached from a big stage in front of a large crowd. I remember his candor and his humor, but also the way that he took Jesus’ words seriously. (I also remember the umbrellas opening in the front row—an on-going joke that Tony gets so passionate when he speaks that the audience gets a bit of a spit.)
A few years later, I connected with one of his organizations, Evangelical Association for the Promotion of Education (EAPE), as he worked to build an umbrella organization for others trying to live out their Christian faith justly in their neighborhoods. I served on a board alongside his son, Bart Campolo. My favorite memories are of Bart sharing stories about his family. In those stories, I saw Tony’s deep and consistent convictions seeping into his family life, as well as his foibles and humanness. Honestly, it endeared me more to know that this prophet was also a guy trying his best to be a good parent to his kids—even if it meant pulling them out of school in the middle of the day in order to impart some truth about life before heading on the next trip.
On my first day working with Christians for Social Action, I arrived at the office on the campus at Eastern University and was shocked to see Tony there, greeting me in the lobby. Not the actual Tony Campolo, but a brass bust. I said hello, rubbed his nose for luck, and started my day.
But over the years, our paths would cross. Not often, especially as his health faded. But even through fading health, Tony continued his work with a fire and a passion. He was at times prophetic—calling out basic truths of Jesus with a clarity and conviction that comes from a long journey. Folks in my generation and younger wanted to come to him for advice. I remember a gathering in Chicago, on the 45th anniversary of the Chicago Declaration where original signers and a younger generation of Christian leaders gathered. But in these group meetings, he didn’t settle into the role of elder well—he wasn’t the type to pat us on our head and wisely, gently urge us to move. He might sit and listen for a bit, but he would call out the urgent actions needed. He would ask, “Why are we doing this? We just need to….!” He continued as the prophet, no softening of the edges.
I will miss Tony. I didn’t have a very close relationship with him, but I had a lot of proximity to him, his team, and one of his communities. I’m respectful of those who are deeply mourning a person they knew well and held closely, but I’m also one of the many who were influenced and shaped by him, and I, too, will miss his voice and his presence.
To be honest, this goodbye brings up the sadness of other goodbyes. I think of Ron Sider again, and other giants of the faith who have left us, and I feel the emptiness created. They are a cloud of witnesses, and I could use their wisdom now. I have a lot of questions, so many ponderings. I’d be grateful even for a pat on the head and the reassurance that things will be okay.
But perhaps, even in Tony’s death, as in his life, I can access his prophetic truth and call to action. Absent in the body, but present in the spirit, he can still be that reluctant elder, always carrying his prophetic truth first, and calling us to a faith that grows through action. Thank you, Tony. You will be missed.
Nikki Toyama-Szeto is the Executive Director of Christians for Social Action, where she helps Christians have a faith-fueled engagement with the world’s most challenging issues. Her work has been profiled on NPR’s On Point, Outreach Magazine’s Leadership Issue (Sept. 2017, Cover), Religion and Politics (Aug. 2018), Christianity Today’s “Who’s Next?” and Rejuvenate Magazine’s “40 under 40.” Before coming to CSA in 2017, she served in leadership positions at International Justice Mission, the Urbana Conference and InterVarsity Christian Fellowship.
