Some Theological Thoughts on Henley’s “Invictus”

 Invictus 

By William Ernest Henley

 

Out of the night that covers me,

      Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

      For my unconquerable soul.

 

In the fell clutch of circumstance

      I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

      My head is bloody, but unbowed.

 

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

      Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

      Finds and shall find me unafraid.

 

It matters not how strait the gate,

      How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate,

      I am the captain of my soul.

 

 Most spiritual traditions have a way of describing two ends of a spectrum and various points in between. In my tradition, most use the terms “Free Will” and “Determinism” to label the ends of that spectrum. At one extreme, life is generally chaotic, unpredictable, and uncontrollable…with no means of ensuring any outcomes or consequences. At the other, every detail is controlled, prescribed, and…well, determined for us, with no responsibility for outcomes and consequences.

 But even at the extremes, whether one believes that everything is inevitable or that anything is impossible, and certainly anywhere in between those extremes – whether our abilities are merely an illusion or whether our impotence is merely an excuse – we each have a sense of purpose, a convergence of our passions, gifts, and experiences that define not just what we are called to do, but effects decisions that affect every facet of who we are. And that is where our lives are, and where life is—in the decisions we make and actions we take, whatever our options may be or may only seem to be.

 So, let me ask you to read that again.

 

 Invictus 

By William Ernest Henley

 

Out of the night that covers me,

      Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

      For my unconquerable soul.

 

In the fell clutch of circumstance

      I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

      My head is bloody, but unbowed.

 

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

      Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

      Finds and shall find me unafraid.

 

It matters not how strait the gate,

      How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate,

      I am the captain of my soul.