One does not live by beard alone.

Yesterday afternoon, in our group's first meeting for the seminary’s introductory education course, one of our three members made an observation:

"We all have beards."

Scott was right. I had noticed the same thing: him, Ioan and me — all presently bearded. Certainly, it was an interesting similarity for a group that was supposed to consist of people from different backgrounds, but I wasn't exactly shocked. There are a lot of beards at Luther Seminary.

I noticed this when I first visited the campus more than a year ago. Among the students, professors and staff members — at least the male ones — there is quite an array of beardage, all the way up to the top with President Richard Bliese. There's some of the classic don't-have-time-to-shave-during-midterms variety that you see at other institutions of higher education. But mostly, there are full-grown, intentional beards.

After my campus visit last year, I figured I should find out in advance whether I would fit in, so I grew my first real beard (it also had to do with the fact that my wife, Tracy, wanted me to try it). In explaining my reasoning to Paul, one of my very wise friends at the Green Bay Press-Gazette (also consistently bearded), we started to ponder why it is that there would be so many beards at a seminary.

Well, I told him, Jesus had a beard, and why not try to emulate Jesus? Certainly, we agreed, there are lots of ministers with beards — at least the Protestant ones (my dad for many years was a case in point). Paul observed that Catholic priests were more often clean-shaven. And then, Paul made one of the most stunning theological arguments I've ever come across: Maybe the Protestants were paying homage to Jesus (beard), but the Catholics were giving their regard to Mary (no beard).

Which brings me to another one of my theological curiosities. What if the reason no one recognized Jesus after his resurrection was because he shaved? And would we recognize him today if he came back without a beard (or with a shorter haircut and wearing something other than a robe)? Apparently I'm not the only one to consider this — my friend, Chris (another often-bearded seminarian), once pointed out to me that he had come across a rather tacky T-Shirt that reads, "Jesus shaves."

Well, now that I have tried it again and have officially made a two-month contribution among the bearded population at Luther Seminary (and snapped a Web-cam photo for evidence as I write this while Tracy drives us down to Green Bay). I'm ending my run today when I get to my folks' house. I mean, it was nice to have the beard during that cold snap, Tracy liked it, and, I’ve got to say, it's grown on me (heh heh). But it's getting warmer, I've made a nervous habit out of rubbing at it, and it's a pain to trim it. Plus I'm going to host tonight's "Survivor" show at my old comedy club for our 28-hour charity marathon, and I really want to commit to character (no matter what every other guy on every one of those islands has ever done, Jeff Probst ain't growing no beard). But I figure it will grow back again if I ever want it to.

And I've warned my group members. They seem OK with it.