The Sunday after the Oklahoma City bombing on April 19, 1995, I preached at an old friend's church. Just after Easter, the sermon should have proclaimed the news of our highest holy day; but I was, like many in the congregation, seething. Departing from the standard list of biblical readings for that day, I chose Psalm 137 as my text, in part, because it expressed my eye-for-an-eye feelings toward the yet-to-be-identified bomber(s): Happy is the one who seizes your children and dashes them to pieces on the rock (v. 9, paraphrase of my own translation). Fourteen years and three careers later, I am earning a Ph.D. in a field that, until three years ago, I did not know existed. In doing so, I join a large contingent of former religious workers who now call themselves adult educators. Given the field's eclectic interests and welcoming spirit--attend the annual AAACE conference to experience this first hand--this migration of ministers and missionaries is not surprising. The two professions have a lot in common. Both are deeply concerned about people, and both intend to change the world. Meeting People Where They Are There may be other reasons the theologically minded find their way to adult education. In my case, I am realizing that I have some contributions to offer the field. The first is a commitment to meeting people where they are. In April 1995, I could not have preached an upbeat, Glory! Hallelujah! type of sermon. Our hearts, our heads, our hopes, and our happiness were all buried with those 168 innocents in a pile of Oklahoma rubble. My sermon had to start there and acknowledge, with the author of Psalm 137, the anger, hurt, and helplessness the congregation was feeling. Only then were we ready to hear some good news. I once had a supervisor who did not understand the principle of meeting people where they are. He scolded me occasionally for coddling my supervisees, but I knew that those employees could not do all they were expected to do if personal concerns were weighing them down. I listened. I helped when I could, and my unit enjoyed a level of productivity that impressed others and kept the boss happy. This is, of course, a principle that many adult educators already practice. They understand that sometimes there are more important things to do than completing a worksheet, writing a paper, or studying for the GED. Students' families, jobs, and mental health are higher priorities. Adult educators listen to the overwhelmed, help when they can, and accommodate learners' needs with gracious flexibility. Living Exegesis The second trait I bring to adult education results from all that seminary training in biblical exegesis. The Bible, we were taught, operates on many levels of meaning simultaneously. In the case of Psalm 137, existence is itself meaningful. In other words, there must have been a reason that those who compiled the psalter included this hate-filled, violence-espousing song of mourning. The historical events to which the psalm refers (the fall of Jerusalem and Israel's sojourn in Babylon) constitute another meaning layer. Other meaning layers in Psalm 137 include the words chosen, literary devices used, genre features incorporated and modified, previous interpretations given by two-and-a-half millennia of Jewish and Christian scholars, and worship elements mentioned. Had this psalm not be so loaded with meaning--had it only been about vengeance--my Oklahoma City sermon would simply have been a rant. Most texts--and even life situations--are similarly loaded with meaning. The exegete views them from every conceivable angle and through every possible lens--micro and macro--while asking, What is really going on here? The resulting impressions are synthesized to form a single, tentative understanding. Though a premium is placed on precision, conclusions are never truly conclusive. The exegete knows new, more definitive meanings can always emerge and is ready to continue the interpretative process--to begin again at the beginning--in order to gain a more thorough understanding. …