Post: Readers Respond

Anticipating the final installment of Don Franklin’s excellent study, “J. S. Bach and Pietism,” it might be noted perhaps that standard biographies skirt the fascinating subject of young Bach’s spiritual nurture except for his well-documented musical environment, the Bible, and Hutter’s Compendium of Lutheran dogmatics. Just what really ignited the divine spark of creative genius?

The record simply notes that he was baptized as an infant. Were there then god-parents, confirmation, first communion — or any later significant conversion experience? Probably so. His creative path may well have subsumed elements of Pietism, Orthodoxy, and Mysticism, thus contributing in part to his encompassing genius and dedication of purpose.

Like an angel of God, Johann Sebastian Bach entered this world, remained awhile almost unnoticed, and departed without great renown — his mortal remains hastily buried in an uncertain location. Indeed a true Pietist in the broadest and very best sense! My thanks to Don Franklin. Raymond Lindstrom, West Hartford, Connecticut.

I thank you for a job well done by one and all. Please do give an extra “Hello” to Tom Carlson and David Hawkinson.

I am enclosing a check for a one year subscription. Sandra Brown, San Anselmo, California.

We eagerly look forward to each issue. Thanks for your work!

Thanks for Zenos’ [Hawkinson] Commencement Address and for “Jacobs Ordination” and, from a former issue, Dick Swanson’s gratitude to and for “A Friend of the Immigrant Church” (Spring, 1993). I have read these to our Morning Devotional Group to their uppbyggelse [edification]. We were with Dick and Helen Swanson just a few days ago for a week at Pilgrim Pines. They were teenagers in my Confirmation Classes in the Ridgway, Pennsylvania Church 70 years ago. His studies at the Pines were penetrating and left us hungering for more.

Things old and Swedish: I have had the good fortune of being given a copy of Dagens Lösen [The Order of the Day], 1993 that claims to be the most widely read devotion book in the world, first published in German in Herrnhut in 1722 under the initiative of Zinzendorf! And now published in 40 languages. A small, pocket edition, nicely bound for a whole year of devotions with perforated corners so that one does not need to hunt for the reading of the day! A scripture from each of the Testaments and suggested readings from each of them also and then a verse of a poem. I love it and have sent for a copy of the English version. They are also a missionary society and support work in several countries. They sent me this year’s edition in Swedish free of charge with a page in front for suggesting sending it to someone else without a word about price. To me it is an amazing thing.

Again, thanks for your delightful and delectable publication. I love the freedom you have and use. May your Tribe and work and your blessing and joy increase. With you in Christ. Stanley A. Benson, Cromwell, Connecticut.

The Glory Road by Bob Bach was of interest to me because I was down in that turf in May. I was also on that highway a lot as a kid, but I was always going west from Minnesota. I usually came back to Minnesota on a Northern route. I don’t remember 66 going into Chicago, but you live and you learn, right? Ricardo Montalban told me the history of old 66 as I drove back through New Mexico.

I don’t remember all the faces that go with the names at the end of the piece. Maybe you can fill me in when next we meet. Dennis Jones, Princeton, Minnesota.

Two weeks ago, I had to go up to Yale University for the funeral of a cousin (first Black tenured female professor — in 1988 — to underscore how little progress in matters of race has been made!) who died abruptly at 52 years. Because of the first-Black-who syndrome, the University requested that she be buried from the university chapel and in their graveyard. As she loved music, it was decided to bring in some samba players to accompany the casket. Imagine the scene when the funeral cortege burst forth from the chapel onto the frightfully staid Yale Common where the fine sons and daughters of Upper America were lounging on the grass or playing frisbee or lacrosse, to the very loud beat of samba drums and the aimless noise of some 70-odd Blacks. Virtually all, once recovered, beat a hasty retreat, more the agasp . . . .

A wake is an integral part of my childhood. Food, booze, talk, and music were the indispensable staple of any death that I knew of. Oh yes, and saying the rosary. Once. If the house was large enough, the body was usually kept in the adjoining room where one went to say a prayer. All that has vanished now; even death has all but disappeared. Our vocabulary on the subject is euphemism: “deceased,” “passed on,” “gone,” etc. One would have difficulty believing that death is our most important act. Robert Thompson, Geneva and New York.