God and Nature Winter 2020
across the pond |
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A Column By Mike Clifford
"Wise Men"
I’m writing this piece on the last working day before the Christmas holidays. The University is wonderfully quiet now, with a distinct lack of students. However, even allowing for twelve days of Christmas, I’m aware that by the time you get to read this, the decorations will have been taken down, unwanted presents will have found their way to charity shops, and most of the needles from the Christmas tree will have been vacuumed up.
Traditionally we think of the wise men arriving at Bethlehem after the hub-bub of angels and shepherds had long subsided; perhaps even two years later. Their tardiness doesn’t dissuade me from selecting "Three Kings (from Persian Lands Afar)" by Peter Cornelius as my favourite carol, preferably sung on Christmas Eve from Kings College, Cambridge.
I’m fascinated by the little we know about the Magi—were they astrologers, rulers, soothsayers? Where did they come from? They remind me of absent-minded professors, getting lost, turning up late, and bringing the most impractical gifts with them too.
Of course, some of you will have sniffed at the idea of “Three Kings” being a Christmas carol – it’s really an epiphany hymn, rather like “O Worship the Lord in the Beauty of Holiness” by J.S.B. Monsell, which tends to fly under the radar somewhat. Note the mention of “gold of obedience and incense of lowliness” and other subtle references to the Magi throughout the wonderful poetry.
O worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness;
bow down before him, his glory proclaim;
with gold of obedience, and incense of lowliness,
kneel and adore him: the Lord is his name.
Low at his feet lay thy burden of carefulness:
high on his heart he will bear it for thee,
comfort thy sorrows, and answer thy prayerfulness,
guiding thy steps as may best for thee be.
Fear not to enter his courts in the slenderness
of the poor wealth thou wouldst reckon as thine:
truth in its beauty, and love in its tenderness,
these are the offerings to lay on his shrine.
These, though we bring them in trembling and fearfulness,
he will accept for the name that is dear;
mornings of joy give for evenings of tearfulness,
trust for our trembling and hope for our fear.
O worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness;
bow down before him, his glory proclaim;
with gold of obedience, and incense of lowliness,
kneel and adore him: the Lord is his name.
My favourite lines are in the third verse: “truth in its beauty, and love in its tenderness, these are the offerings to lay on his shrine.” Whilst love is almost always tender, I’ve often pondered whether truth is beautiful; after all, sometimes we talk about truth being “plain” or even downright ugly. Maybe it’s a question of perspective: speaking truth to power may look ugly to the powerful, but beautiful to the powerless.
I’m writing this piece on the last working day before the Christmas holidays. The University is wonderfully quiet now, with a distinct lack of students. However, even allowing for twelve days of Christmas, I’m aware that by the time you get to read this, the decorations will have been taken down, unwanted presents will have found their way to charity shops, and most of the needles from the Christmas tree will have been vacuumed up.
Traditionally we think of the wise men arriving at Bethlehem after the hub-bub of angels and shepherds had long subsided; perhaps even two years later. Their tardiness doesn’t dissuade me from selecting "Three Kings (from Persian Lands Afar)" by Peter Cornelius as my favourite carol, preferably sung on Christmas Eve from Kings College, Cambridge.
I’m fascinated by the little we know about the Magi—were they astrologers, rulers, soothsayers? Where did they come from? They remind me of absent-minded professors, getting lost, turning up late, and bringing the most impractical gifts with them too.
Of course, some of you will have sniffed at the idea of “Three Kings” being a Christmas carol – it’s really an epiphany hymn, rather like “O Worship the Lord in the Beauty of Holiness” by J.S.B. Monsell, which tends to fly under the radar somewhat. Note the mention of “gold of obedience and incense of lowliness” and other subtle references to the Magi throughout the wonderful poetry.
O worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness;
bow down before him, his glory proclaim;
with gold of obedience, and incense of lowliness,
kneel and adore him: the Lord is his name.
Low at his feet lay thy burden of carefulness:
high on his heart he will bear it for thee,
comfort thy sorrows, and answer thy prayerfulness,
guiding thy steps as may best for thee be.
Fear not to enter his courts in the slenderness
of the poor wealth thou wouldst reckon as thine:
truth in its beauty, and love in its tenderness,
these are the offerings to lay on his shrine.
These, though we bring them in trembling and fearfulness,
he will accept for the name that is dear;
mornings of joy give for evenings of tearfulness,
trust for our trembling and hope for our fear.
O worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness;
bow down before him, his glory proclaim;
with gold of obedience, and incense of lowliness,
kneel and adore him: the Lord is his name.
My favourite lines are in the third verse: “truth in its beauty, and love in its tenderness, these are the offerings to lay on his shrine.” Whilst love is almost always tender, I’ve often pondered whether truth is beautiful; after all, sometimes we talk about truth being “plain” or even downright ugly. Maybe it’s a question of perspective: speaking truth to power may look ugly to the powerful, but beautiful to the powerless.
Today a colleague reminded me of an event six years ago. In the run up to Christmas, Faculty Management Board were concerned with the large number of personal parcels arriving at work. Instead of politely asking people not to have their mail delivered to the office, Management decided to charge staff £5 for each personal parcel received, whether this was something ordered online or a gift sent to the University. Perhaps unwisely, I decided to challenge this decision and committed the unforgivable e-sin of hitting “reply all” to the officious email which had announced the new policy. In my reply I bemoaned the “Institutional Meanness” which had seen several privileges removed, including free parking, the latest of which was charging for receiving personal mail. What next? Would we have to pay to use the toilets? The response to my rant was interesting to say the least! I received many supportive messages from colleagues via email and in person, and the next morning I arrived at work to find my photograph turned into an Obama-esque poster on my office door. Best of all, and to my surprise, management backed down with a face-saving compromise. The fourth verse of “O worship the Lord” seemed very apt indeed.
These, though we bring them in trembling and fearfulness,
he will accept for the name that is dear;
mornings of joy give for evenings of tearfulness,
trust for our trembling and hope for our fear.
Here’s an arrangement of the hymn set to a new tune I composed.
Mike Clifford is an Associate Professor in the Faculty of Engineering at the University of Nottingham. His research interests are in combustion, biomass briquetting, cookstove design, and other appropriate technologies. He has published over 80 refereed conference and journal publications and has contributed chapters to books on composites processing and on appropriate and sustainable technologies.