Eulogy for Harold C. Bohn, March 1, 1982

Eulogy  for Harold C.  Bohn

It  is  death  that has  brought us here.    The  death of a good and gentle man.   We are here  today,  all  of us,  because  this  good and gentle man  found his way  into our hearts, and somehow,  in ways  unique  to  each of us,  ennobled us with  the gift of his  life.   We dare not  let  this moment pass,  even in our grief,  without  trying  to  find  the words  to express  our sense of  loss  and  to remind ourselves  that while he was  with us we knew ourselves  to be graced by  that mystery of humane otherness without which our  own  lives  are diminished,  even starved.    Indeed,  we  dare not  let  this moment pass,  even  in our grief, without  trying  to  find  the words  to celebrate,  with deep  thanksgiving,  this  truly human life  that was  lived out among us,  that  touched us  deeply and,  in touching us,  brought us  a  little closer  to  the heart of  things.

I  knew Harold Bohn only briefly.   Yet,  in Ms  openness  I  came  to  know him well.    It  did not  take me  long  to  realize  that he was  a man of exceptional gifts  and achievements.    I came  quickly  to appreciate how deeply and passionately he was  committed  to  the struggle for  excellence.    He believed  in the  finer  things  of  life,  as he would sometimes  say,  and he held up  for himself and  those who were drawn  to him as  scholar-teacher  the highest standards  of civilized  learning.    In  that regard,  I'm sure,  it was  not  easy  for  some  to be  in his  presence.    For  those who are willing  to  settle  for  the unexamined  life,  the dull and commonplace  life,  the  life  that  lacks  the depth of spirit,  Harold  Bohn would not have pleased  them.    But I  dare  say,  there are many here  today who were  called  to greater  things  because  of  the  inspiration of his  personhood.    Because he  dared  to  speak and act  in  the name  of  intellectual and spiritual  excellence,  and because he placed himself under  the  discipline of  that calling and bore  the weight of  it with- grace and dignity,  we must express  our gratitude.   And with his  death,  we  cannot help  but ask whether future generations  of students will be so  fortunate as  to be  taught by men and women of Harold Bohn's  stature.

Harold Bohn was  also a man of  faith.    It was  no  simple,  naive  faith  that he embodied. It was  a  searching  faith,  a profound  faith and his  faith sustained him as  perhaps no other aspect of his  life.    There are many here whose  faith has  been deepened by  their knowing him.    In a  culture which has  increasingly rejected  the quest  for  faith,  living instead "as  if questions" of ultimate reality can be  safely  evaded,  Harold Bohn was  something of an anomaly   a man of  intellect who was  also a man of  faith.    He was  pained by the  loss  of  faith in our  time.    Perhaps with his  death we have been brought closer  to the  end of an Age,  the  end of  the Christian  era  in  the intellectual,  social,  political and spiritual  life  of America.    Perhaps  our  culture will not  soon produce  the  likes  of Harold Bohn again.    The  thought makes me  tremble.   And yet,  does not his  death  inspire us  to return to  the ultimate questions  again,  to  take up  the search again with renewed vigor  for  that ultimate mystery  that  surrounds  us  and makes us  fully human?

Many of you were privileged  to know Harold Bohn's  friendship much longer than I  did.    I can only  imagine how great  is your  loss  as  you stand before his  death at this moment. But I would ask you  to remember,  if you can,  that his  gift  of  friendship to you has not been annihilated by his  death.    The beauty,  the  spirit,  the sensitivity, the deep  concern he  shared with you  is  now a part  of  the  fabric  of your very  lives. Draw upon these things  he  left you and  they will  serve you well.

Harold Bohn gave unselfishly of himself.    He helped  to build  the good community.   And yet, one of  the  things  that he prized most  in his  life was his  own  family.   No  doubt he was torn at  times  between  the claims  of  the  larger world and his  commitment  to his marriage and  fatherhood and grandfatherhood.    Our  effort  to honor him now would not  be  complete, however,  without reminding our selves  that  just as he nurtured so many of us,  so he nurtured his  own  family,  and we would say to you who knew him as  father and grandfather: thank you  for sharing him with us.   We are with you in your  loss.

In Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice,  Jessica says  to Lorenzo:  "I am never merry when I hear sweet music."   And Lorenzo replies:
The reason is,  your spirits  are attentive:
For  do but note a wild and wanton herd,
Or race of youthful  and unhandled colts,
Fetching mad bounds,  bellowing and neighing  loud,
Which is  the hot  condition of  their blood;
If  they but hear perchance a  trumpet  sound,
Or any air of music  touch their ears,
You  shall  perceive  them make a mutual  stand,
Their  savage  eyes  turn'd  to a modest gaze
By  the sweet power of music:  therefore  the poet
Did  feign  that Orpheus  drew trees',  stories  and  floods;
Since nought  so stockish,  hard and  full  of rage,
But music  for  the  time doth change his nature.
The man  that hath no music  in himself,
Nor  is  not moved with concord of  sweet  sounds,
Is  fit  for  treasons,  stratagems  and  spoils;
The motions of his spirit are dull as night,
And his  affections  dark as  Erebus;
Let no  such man be  trusted.   Mark the music.

Harold  Bohn had  the music  in him.   And  that's  why we  loved him;  that's why we  trusted him,  and  that's why we  feel his  loss  so profoundly at  this moment.
We hear your music,  Harold and your song will not  soon disappear  from our  lips.
Amen.
March  1,  1982
Dr.  Donard R.  Ferrell First Congregational Church

[bohn0009]