This commentary was published in the latest edition of “Phronesis in Pieces” at billschmitt.substack.com.

The gently pensive Christmas carol, “I Wonder as I Wander,” offers a few “epiphanies,” so to speak, about our secular politics and culture.

American folklorist John Jacob Niles wrote the song in 1933, drawing upon a tune sung at a gathering of evangelical Christians he attended in Murphy, N.C. He explained later that local police had ordered the group to get out of town.

A young girl performed fragments of old Appalachian lyrics. These gave Niles what he called “a magnificent idea,” according to Wikipedia.

The song that resulted was a wistful reflection on the paradox of the Christmas story—how God was born in “a cow’s stall,” how “Jesus the Savior did come for to die / for poor ordinary people like you and like I.”

The singer spoke volumes when she started, “I wonder.”

In today’s arena of torrential factoids, strategic gameplans and media pundits sparking emotions with pre-digested solutions, it takes a lot to quiet us down enough to do any serious pondering.

Those in the 1933 meeting had the time and inclination for wonder, defined as the curiosity to know something cloaked in mystery.

The invitation to such wide-ranging, open-ended musing is rare in the public square nowadays. As 20^th century sage G.K. Chesterton wrote, “The world will never starve for want of wonders, but only for want of wonder.”

Universities typically have instilled the thrill of deeper discoveries. They’re intended to cultivate informed, integrative and imaginative perspectives which generate fresh, constructive insights.

While students can tickle the imagination and simulate wonder through popular entertainment, learning on a clearheaded campus should sharpen their sensibilities—and boost their appreciation of what they haven’t figured out yet. This does not always work.

In light of the October 7 terror assault in Israel or the housing-bubble collapse which triggered the Great Recession in 2008, we should still be haunted by the “general finding” of the National Commission on Terrorist Attacks Upon the United States that assessed causes of the 9/11 horrors in 2001.

“The most important failure was one of imagination,” the commission concluded. “We do not believe leaders understood the gravity of the threat.”

A second potent lyric in our Christmas song is the idea of wandering. Americans excel at this trait, defined as moving without a fixed course or aim.

Without a sense of purpose, accomplishment or accountability, our civic life suffers from disenchantment—observed as “quiet quitting.” Minds wander. Our news is full of sound and fury, signifying numbing.

No wonder many voters crave a more powerful, activist government. Some try to “do something” personally to solve obvious problems but swerve toward resentment or violence. Where shall we set limitations?

That leads to a third highlight in the lyrics. The song’s references to wondering and wandering imply reaching wise conclusions, in our minds as well as in our actions. One supposes those hill-folk in Murphy wanted to wander toward a new home, so they craved understanding despite uncertainty, empowerment amid vulnerability.

Their words prompted Niles to write a “carol,” a tune that shares a joyful message with others. The message is, in secular terms, the power of paradox.

For Christians, the happiest puzzle is Jesus, born in a manger, growing up to save humanity. For all of us, other good paradoxes include hoping against hope; sacrificing for a greater goal; respecting inherent dignity even in our opponents, and simply taking one step at a time to make a journey.

Again quoting Chesterton, paradox means “truth standing on her head to get attention.”

Our modern insistence that everything must immediately make sense and be perfected runs alongside our post-modern credo that “nothing really matters” and repair requires deconstruction. We reject the power of paradox to focus us while patiently opening up space for a bigger picture.

The tempo and tenor of our times short-circuit purposeful wondering and encourage meaningless wandering.

We resort instead to what has been called a “cult of cognition,” with “experts” prescribing all-encompassing but abstract theories and specifically assigned steps, often for fame or profit. Advocates of causes insist that doubters be re-educated. Out-of-favor ideas must be canceled.

That small cadre in Murphy might have figured a power game was afoot. It was natural, even liberating, for them to embrace a higher power, one which allowed them to wonder and wander with hope.

Our politics and culture need fewer dour orchestrators and more joyous carolers. Isolated spectators and combative tribes must give way to bold visionaries and collaborative communities who gradually emerge with surprising wisdom.

As Rabbi Jonathan Sacks wrote in a 2021 book, “The choice with which humankind is faced is between the idea of power and the power of ideas.”

We can gain bold confidence in our aspirations from a humble little Christmas tune. Hey, we just wandered into another happy paradox!

Image from ClipSafari.com, a collection of Creative Commons designs.

Merry Christmas to you all! Please consider exchanging messages with me at billgerards@gmail.com.