Oxford D.Phil. graduates sitting in the Sheldonian Theatre–can you spot me?
Yesterday (June 13, 2009), I graduated from Oxford University with my D.Phil. (Doctor of Philosophy) degree. I had finished my degree requirements last year, but I didn’t have time to actually “walk” in my graduation ceremony until now, due to my teaching duties at Biola University. But actually, June is a perfect time to graduate from Oxford, as the weather has started to warm up, which means the flowers are in bloom, the days are long, and I can go punting on the Cherwell while having Pimm’s with strawberries! (“Punting” is lazily navigating a boat down the river with a long pole, something you can only do in Oxford or Cambridge; the Cherwell is one of the two rivers in Oxford, along with the Thames/Isis; and Pimm’s is the quintessential British summer drink).
A note on nomenclature: Oxford is one of the only universities in the world that abbreviates Doctor of Philosophy as “D.Phil.” instead of the usual “Ph.D.”—but it’s the same thing. It does confuse a lot of people when they see “D.Phil.” (one of my wise-guy best friends likes to call me “Dr. Phil”), but only Oxford, Sussex, and Buckingham universities use the “D.Phil.” abbreviation. [Also, just fyi, a “graduand” is someone who is just about to graduate!]
Oxford’s graduation ceremony takes place in the Sheldonian Theatre, built by England’s most famous architect, Sir Christopher Wren (whose masterpiece is St. Paul’s Cathedral in London, the second-largest cathedral in the world after St. Peter’s in Vatican City; Wren himself is buried in the crypt). Christopher Wren graduated from Oxford several centuries ago, and was commissioned to build the Sheldonian in the style of an ancient Roman amphitheater. Of course, he built it when the university was much smaller, so though the building is aesthetically beautiful, it is functionally not practical as a graduation hall for the entire university so it has often been used for other purposes (e.g. when I was a student at Oxford, I played the violin in the Oxford University Orchestra, and we performed all our concerts in the Sheldonian). To solve this problem of size, Oxford University has conceived of the idea of holding ten graduation ceremonies per year, rather than just one or two large ones as most other universities do. Thus, there is a small graduation ceremony approximately once every month, spread throughout the year. In June, there is also a special graduation in which honorary doctorates are given out. This ceremony is called the Encaenia (from the Greek, a word meaning “festival of dedication”—the same word used in John 10:22—or simply translated “commencement”) and it is worth watching the processional. You can even get tickets to see the ceremony if you’re lucky!
Oxford has 38 colleges, which are like small communities within the larger university. Every student (undergrad and graduate) and professor must belong to a college. Mine was Exeter College, the alma mater of authors J.R.R. Tolkien, Philip Pullman, Martin Amis, Will Self; pre-Raphaelite artists William Morris and Edward Burne-Jones; missiologist Andrew Walls; biblical theologian and Bishop of Durham N.T. Wright; and athlete Roger Bannister (the first runner in history to break the four-minute mile)! Exeter College was founded in 1314 and is the fourth-oldest of the 38 colleges (only University College, Balliol College, and Merton College are older, and all three claim to be the oldest; but Exeter can sit out the fray in undisputed fourth place!).
Here’s an exhaustive blow-by-blow description of the proceedings of the graduation ceremony, from my perspective:
I reported to my college at 9:30am, wearing my Masters gown and carrying my Doctoral gown. I gave my doctoral gown to the college steward who will later deliver it to the Sheldonian. Every college has three common rooms: a JCR (Junior Common Room, for the undergrads); an MCR (Middle Common Room, for the grad students); and an SCR (Senior Common Room, for the Dons/fellows/professors). You are allowed into the common room of your station or below, but not above. However, as a graduand, I was allowed into the SCR this time! The Dean of Degrees (who happened to be the chaplain of our college at this time, Helen Orchard) addressed us all by informing us what to expect of the ceremony. It was a lot of details, but she told us just to relax and follow everyone, we will be appropriately “nudged” if we miss our cues!
At 10:30am, all the Exeter College graduands processed together to the Sheldonian Theatre, led by the Dean of Degrees. Every college gets about ten representatives per graduation ceremony, and for Exeter, this one happened to include eight undergrads, two Masters students, and myself, the sole D.Phil. representative from my college. We process in order of rank, so I led the way as the highest degree. Luckily for us, Exeter is probably the most centrally-located college in the entire University. Our walk to the Sheldonian was not more than 3 minutes (the farthest-flung college in Oxford, by contrast, would have to walk over 20 minutes to get to the Sheldonian; I believe that would be Wolfson College).
Once there, we were assigned seating. The grad students sat on one side while the undergrads sat on the other. They separated me from my college at that point, seating me in the doctoral section next to the D.Phil. graduands from all the other colleges. The graduation ceremony began at 11:00am at which time the organ began playing a processional, the back doors of the Sheldonian were opened, and the Vice-Chancellor (V-C, the equivalent of what we call a university President in the U.S.) led the way down the aisle along with other important University officials including the Proctor. The V-C stood up and gave a speech—in English—about the nature of this ancient ceremony. The graduation is all in Latin except for the V-C’s introductory speech. He humorously explained that, in the nature of “live” performances, things can definitely go wrong, but that’s the advantage of having it all in Latin—very few people can tell if anyone screws up! (One note about the language: although Oxford loves to advertise itself as “the oldest university in the English-speaking world,” that’s true only to a certain extent. When the University was founded some 800 years ago, nobody spoke English—only Latin was used, as it was the language of scholars at the time! English gradually came into use later, but the medieval graduation ceremony retained its form and language with the Latin).
Sir Christopher Wren’s Sheldonian Theatre
At this point, the formal part of the ceremony commenced. The Vice-Chancellor says: “Causa huius Congregationis est ut Gratiae concedantur, ut gradus conferantur, necnon ut alia peragantur, quae ad hanc Venerabilem Domum spectant.” (“The reason for this Congregation is that Graces be granted and Degrees be conferred, and that other business which concerns this Venerable House be transacted.”) The Registrar replies: “Ego Registraria Adjutrix testor omnibus candidatis, quorum nomina vel Venerabili Domui a Procuratoribus statim submittentur vel in schedulis a Registraria rite publicata erant, gratias a Collegiis vel Societatibus suis pro gradibus quaesitis concessas fuisse, et easdem mihi satisfecisse.” (“I, the Registrar, certify that all the candidates, whose names either will be immediately submitted to the Venerable House by the Proctors or have been published by the Registrar, have been granted Graces by their colleges or societies for the degrees asked, and that they have satisfied me.”)
The proctors stand and read out the names of the graduands from each degree class, in order of seniority, so again the doctors went first. They announced my name thus: “Allen Yeh, Doctorem Philosophiae, Colegio Exoniensi” (“Allen Yeh, Doctor of Philosophy, Exeter College”). We were informed by the Dean of Degrees that we were not to stand when our names were called, otherwise we would look very silly indeed! We just sat there and listened to all the names of the graduands announced in order, concluded with the V-C’s assertion: “Hae Gratiae concessae sunt et sic pronuntiamus concessas.” (“These Graces have been granted and we so pronounce them granted.”)
Then it was our time to stand and be presented to the University officers. We queued in the aisles, holding the hand of our respective Dean of Degrees, and when we approached the three thrones upon which the Vice-Chancellor and two Proctors sat, we had to bow to each of them in turn: center, then left, then right, while our Dean of Degrees said: “Insignissime Vice-Cancellarie, vosque egregii Procuratores, praesento vobis hos meos scholares in facultate Artium, ut admittantur ad Gradum Doctoris in Philosophia.” (“Most Distinguished Vice-Chancellor, and you, most excellent Proctors, I present to you these my scholars in the faculty of Arts, that they may be admitted to the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy.”)
After we have been presented and have done our requisite bowing, the graduands approach the Vice-Chancellor once again (in small groups, lined up in rows of four), who says: “Domini Doctores, vos dabitis fidem ad observandum statuta, privilegia, consuetudines et libertates istius Universitatis. Item quod quum admissi fueritis in domum Congregationis et in domum Convocationis, in iisdem bene et fideliter, ad honorem et profectum Universitatis, vos geretis. Et specialiter quod in negotiis quae ad Gratias et Gradus spectant, non impedietis dignos, nec indignos promovebitis. Item quod in electionibus habendis unum tantum semel et non amplius in singulis scrutiniis scribetis et nominabitis; et quod neminem nominabitis nisi quem habilem et idoneum certo sciveritis vel firmiter credideritis.” (“Doctors, you shall swear to observe the statutes, privileges, customs and liberties of this University. Also when you shall have been admitted to the House of Congregation and to the House of Convocation you shall bear yourselves in them well and faithfully to the honour and profit of the University. And especially in those matters which concern Degrees and Graces you shall not impede the worthy or put forward the unworthy. Also at elections you shall record and nominate one only at one time and no more in each scrutiny, and nominate no one unless you know of a certainty or firmly believe that he is fit and proper.”) At this point, this is where we say our one line in Latin, and we all heartily affirmed in a group: “Do fidem!” (“I swear!”) We then processed out the side door and around to the Divinity School which is the building behind the Sheldonian. There, I met the steward of my college who was waiting with my doctoral gown. I took off my Masters gown and hood, and the steward helped me change into my doctoral gown.
One aside about British academic dress: British gowns are different from American ones in that they are open in the front; as such, we have to dress properly underneath, unlike American doctoral recipients who could be wearing their pajamas underneath for all we know! The standard uniform (for men) under the Oxford D.Phil. gown is a black suit, white shirt, and white bow tie—in Oxford this is called ‘sub-fusc’ from some ancient Latin etymology (I have never been able to figure out what that means, nor has anyone ever been able to explain it to me!). The Oxford D.Phil. gown is unmistakable, being of navy blue silk and scarlet wool, what I like to jokingly refer to as a “Superman” gown. The Cambridge gown, in contrast, is much more subdued—all black, with red panels on the front worn only on special occasions. One other distinction about the D.Phil. gown: it is the only doctoral gown that is traditionally worn without a hood (there is a matching blue-and-red hood, but it is usually only worn with a black dress gown).
All the doctors lined up outside the back door of the Sheldonian Theatre, and it was quite a brilliantly colorful contrast to the black robes that we previously wore (and that all the Bachelors and Masters degree students wear). At this point, the doors of the Sheldonian were flung open and we all marched in to loud applause, individually greeting the Vice-Chancellor with a bow and a handshake, who offered his personal congratulations (only doctors get to be individually greeted by the V-C; all other degree recipients meet him in a group). All us newly-minted doctors also had the privilege of sitting right behind the V-C (a note about the architecture of the Sheldonian Theatre: it is built like an ancient Roman theatre, semicircular in shape, and so we occupied the first tier behind the V-C).
Now the doctors were done, and the same ritual happened with the Masters and Bachelors graduands. One notable exception: the Masters degree candidates, and only them, have a unique ceremony. They kneel before the V-C in groups of four, and he takes a New Testament and taps each one on the head, pronouncing: “Ad honorem Domini nostri Jesu Christi, et ad profectum Sacrosanctae Matris Ecclesiae et studii, ego auctoritate mea et totius Universitatis do vobis licentiam incipiendi in Facultate Artium (vel facultate Chirurgiae, Medicinae, Juris, Sacra Theologiae) legendi, disputandi, et caetera omnia faciendi, quae ad statum Magistri in cadem facultate pertinent, cum ea completa sin quae per statuta requiruntur: in nomine Domini, Patris, Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.” (“To the honour of our Lord Jesus Christ, and for the profit of our holy Mother Church, and of learning, I, by my own authority and that of the whole University, give you licence to incept [begin to teach] in the Faculty of Arts (or Faculty of Surgery, Medicine, Law or Theology) to lecture, to dispute and to do all the other things that pertain to the rank of Master in the same Faculty when those things are completed which the Statutes require, in the name of the Lord, of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.”) Graduands who object to the Trinitarian formula, or to being bonked on the head with a New Testament, could opt out and receive a secular formula pronouncement instead, and it just so happened that two Masters students did this.
Then, when all the graduands had gone through the same ritual, the organ played again and we all recessed out the back door of the theatre where we took pictures in the quadrangle framed by the Clarendon Building, the Bridge of Sighs, the Bodleian Library, and the Sheldonian Theatre. The whole ceremony took about 1½ hours.
Afterwards, at 12:30pm, we went back to our colleges, and entered the Rector’s lodgings (every college has a ‘head’ called the Rector, or Master, or Principal). The Rector of Exeter College is Frances Cairncross, who was the former Management Editor of The Economist magazine before she came to take up the Rectorship of Exeter. Frances Cairncross invited all the graduates and their guests to the gardens of her lodgings in the college where we had champagne. She addressed us with a speech reminding us that we are not leaving Oxford or Exeter College, we are merely entering into a new kind of relationship with these institutions—but we will always be ‘old members’ (the British term for ‘alumni/ae’). Then she presented us with our diplomas, and they had a photographer on hand to snap formal portraits of us. After this, we were treated to a nice lunch in the dining hall.
A note on the diploma: in some sense, it’s a little disappointing. It is tiny—the size of a piece of A4 paper (that’s roughly the dimensions of an American 8 ½ x 11” paper), but we can also specially order a hand-written calligraphy version of our diploma on parchment in Latin. The diploma that we receive, however, says: “This is to certify that [Name], [College], having submitted a thesis entitled: [Thesis Title], on [Date] and, having satisfied all the conditions prescribed by the Statutes of the University, was on [Date] admitted to the Degree of [Degree rank]” and signed by the Registrar bearing the seal of the University with the motto “Dominus Illuminatius Mea” (“The Lord is my light…”) taken from Psalm 27. But I don’t care that it’s small, I worked hard for this and I will treasure it because its modest proportions belie a much greater thing which it represents!
So that’s it! That’s an insider’s perspective on what goes on at an Oxford graduation ceremony. Quite elaborate, but I’m grateful for the tradition. (One other tradition that Oxford students do is that we show up to exams dressed in ‘sub-fusc’ with our academic gowns and a carnation pinned to our lapels—Oxford and Cambridge both voted whether to keep this formal attire in order to sit examinations, and Oxford said yes to keeping it, and Cambridge voted to discard it—which is really Cambridge’s loss!). Without tradition, it just wouldn’t be Oxford, would it? I hope that in another 800 years (if the Lord should tarry), the Oxford graduation ceremony will not have changed a bit!
Now I’m off to go punting, with Pimm’s in hand!
