Archive | December, 2016

More than Wealth

24 Dec

I sometimes try to read the news with a Bible near by. I read these two items during the day yesterday, and the psalm was part of my evening devotional reading.

I’ll put these items side-by-side. They speak for themselves. Nevertheless, I will add a brief commentary.

The amount of wealth possessed by Trump’s cabinet members, at least $9.5 billion, is greater than the 43 million least wealthy households in America.–News report.

Donald Trump defended his selection of millionaires and billionaires to join his administration:
“I want people that made a fortune because now they’re negotiating with you,” Trump said.

The amount of wealth possessed by Trump’s cabinet members, at least $9.5 billion, is greater than the 43 million least wealthy households in America.–News report.

Donald Trump defended his selection of millionaires and billionaires to join his administration:
“I want people that made a fortune because now they’re negotiating with you,” Trump said.

Psalm 49.
Why should I fear men who trust in their wealth and boast of the vastness of their riches? For no man can buy his own ransom, or pay a price to God for his life. He cannot buy life without end, nor avoid coming to the grave. He knows that wise men and fools must both perish and leave their wealth to others. Do not fear when a man grows rich, when the glory of his house increases. He takes nothing with him when he dies, his glory does not follow him below. In his riches, man lacks wisdom: he is like the beasts that are destroyed.


The point that wealthy successful people may find ways to improve living standards for rank-and-file Americans might be true, and I hope it is. However, there is more at stake–a worldview that is projected. Material well being can make lives better in many ways, but there is more to life. That “more” is what America needs most at this moment in our history. Christmas is a message of the “more” we need.

(c) Phil Hefner. 12/23/2016

A King’s College Christmas Eve: Rumor of Transcendence

10 Dec

Our daughters, Sarah and Martha, then in high school, count December 24, 1977, as a high point of our year in Cambridge, England, because it was their chance to attend the celebrated King’s College Christmas Eve Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols. King’s College boys’ choir is a musical piece de resistance in Cambridge (although there are those who count the Saint John’s boys’ choir to be superior). The choir is composed three fourths of boys from the choir school (which is a regular private school) and the rest undergraduate men from the college. Everything in King’s College chapel is monumental in size. Its imposing interior contains more square feet of stained glass than any other church in Britain–truly a fitting place for this great service. A huge ebony-colored wooden screen divides the chancel and choir pews from the rest of the chapel. In the center of the choir is a huge lectern, of wrought iron and brass. The reader mounts the step to read the large lectern Bible, which is held in metal brackets, lighted by a candle on either side. The first lesson being finished, the lectern is rotated until it moves a full half circle, and in front of the reader stands another Bible, open to the second lesson.

The Christmas Eve service is a major event in Cambridge. (It is broadcast every year in Chicago on WFMT). Since it is intended to be a community event, only a fraction of the seats are reserved for college dignitaries and their guests. People stand in line (they “queue up” as the English say), to get their seats on a first come, first serve basis. Our daughter’s classmates suggested that they begin queuing at 3:30 a.m. for the 3:30 p.m. service. We bundled them up with sleeping bags, a thermos bottle of hot drink, sandwiches, blankets and other gear for their wait in the 30-degree weather. They had originally intended to ride their bicycles the three miles from our house to King’s Chapel, but a terrible windstorm had arisen during the night, so father had the privilege of driving them into town. At that hour, they were only 15th or 16th in line! At noon the rest of the family drove back to the chapel to bring the girls more to drink and eat, and to collect the sleeping equipment. To my surprise, by that time the college quadrangle was filled with people. Around the periphery of the huge quad, on all four sides, were the people waiting for the doors of the chapel to open. There were others there, however–friends and-relatives who had come, as we had, to bring fresh supplies to the queuers and to chat. My first thought was that this might be a typical tourist gambit, but as I looked around, I saw familiar faces of University dons and other families that I recognized as Cambridge residents. This was a community custom! Even those, like my wife and I, who had no intention of going to the service ourselves, could be part of the festivities. The rituals have changed since we were there–for example, now singers in the quadrangle entertain the queuers while they wait.

The music was grand. Sarah and Martha confess that they dozed only a few times. That might be a good measure for judging any choir: Can it keep its audience awake, when they have been standing (lying down, sleeping) in line for 12 hours?

(c) Phil Hefner. 12/10/2016
(Based on my diary )

Photo: King’s College quad, Cambridge

The truth is. . . Poetry explained

2 Dec

My last blog included three poems on the theme, “The Truth Is. . .,” which in turn was inspired by a news item reporting a survey taken during last summer’s political conventions in which people were asked to complete that sentence about what is truth.

I received more response than usual, and I delight in the widely differing interpretations from readers. Some readers are wondering just what the three poems are up to, so I’m taking an unusual step to clarify, briefly, what was in my mind.

What is truth? My starting-point was my own religious tradition, which I think has meaning beyond its own boundaries. Truth is in words, the theme of the first poem–sacred scriptures are vessels of truth for many religions: Judaism, Islam, Hinduism, Mormonism, as well as Christianity. There are many non-religious approaches to truth as words, as well: our American constitution and constitutions in other countries, laws, contracts and legal traditions, literature, especially poetry. One thing all these hold in common is that they often need interpreters. Rabbis, biblical scholars, and lawyers. Words cannot exist without interpreters, even though the words are the base, the “scriptures.” The question arises whether we find truth in the original words or in the interpreters. And of course, this means which interpreter persuades us. My relation to the words of truth is triangular–me, the words, and the interpreter.

Truth is also associated with places, sometimes called sacred space. Jews refer to the Holy Land; Yahweh dwells in Jerusalem. A Catholic theologian once said, “However you think of the Church, for Catholics, it passes through Rome.” The Desert Fathers and Mothers, from the third century onwards, considered the desert to be a place where the Holy is present. As I write, Native American Indians are defending with their lives what they consider to be the sacred lands of North Dakota–against intrusion by an oil pipe line. For Hindus, the Ganges River in India is sacred and hence the place for their bodies to be cremated after death. The list goes on and on.

In the second poem, I reveal the land of my own spiritual home–the Great Western Plains and the mesas of New Mexico. This is the only truly personal disclosure in the poems.

The third poem takes note of truth embodied in individual persons. Many religious figures come to mind: Gautama Buddha, Moses, Mohammed, Jesus Christ. Other persons have elicited a kind of religious status, because they embody truth–think of Che Guevara, Mother Teresa (and indeed all saints), Vladimir Lenin, Abraham Lincoln. My own particular Lutheran tradition emphasizes that God’s Word of truth is Jesus Christ. The dogma known as the Two Natures of Christ and the tradition of the theology of the “communication of attributes” (in plainer English, “the co-existence of divinity and humanity”) are centuries-long discussions of how Jesus can be God’s truth.

I wrote the first draft of the poem with a male “person”–you’ll note the names I listed above are mostly male). However, the “Christa” tradition was also in my mind–the effort of some artists to represent Christ as a woman–Edwina Sandys’ 1975 painting is an example (See above). So, I decided to add this nuance.

I asked for comments as to whether the poem’s gender would make a difference. Interestingly, readers were not clear on this, but several suggested it was a personal matter for me. 

My relation to all three sources of truth–not just words–may be dependent on interpreters and tradition. There are dozens–perhaps hundreds–of interpretations of Jesus, for example. Even if living persons, or direct acquaintances are treated as truth-bearers, there is often–though not always–interpretation through media, staged performances, and the like. Similarly, people have to be taught about the community’s holy places. There are personal holy places, like mine, that we have direct experience of. Perhaps that is why I expressed my personal experience only in the second poem.

There is a profound and complex relation between what we experience as truth and what we are taught about truth. One reader asked, “What about the situations in which we ourselves feel prompted to speak ” truth”? We are the truth-bearers?

“The truth is . . .” Each of us has to complete the sentence for ourselves. And the same with my poems–what I had in mind as I wrote them is not necessarily the “correct” interpretation. As Paul Ricoeur wrote, they mean whatever they can mean–in anyone’s mind.

(c) Phil Hefner 12/2/2016