Only Online: In Memoriam
James William (Bill) Whedbee, Ph.D.

Nancy B. Lyon Professor of Biblical Studies
September 24, 1938-January 22, 2004

From Denise Bergez '77

My name is Denise Bergez. I was a student of Bill Whedbee’s in the 1970’s.

You would think that, as a former student of Bill’s, I would be here today to speak about the intellectual vistas Bill opened up for me.

And it is true that, sitting in Bill’s Old Testament class, eager to understand my Judeo-Christian heritage, I was inspired by Bill’s love for the peoples of The Book and their great and timeless questions about the meaning of faith, of suffering — of life. And I was excited by the tools of biblical analysis Bill introduced me to.

But that was the only class I took from Bill. Alone, it does not explain why I am here today.

There was the summer I had a work-study job creating an annotated bibliography for Bill of what French Biblical scholars were writing about the minor prophets. Sitting with my stack of books in the Honnold Library those hot afternoons, I was so….BORED! But I didn’t dare admit it to Bill, fearing I’d insult his life’s work. It was only the week before Bill died, when I was visiting with Tamara, that I learned the liberating truth: Bill was bored by that project, too! (I can just see Bill now, bent in laughter over that one.)

Clearly, my academic career does not fully explain my presence here today.

What, then?

Was it Bill’s open-heatedness, his remarkable honesty about his joys and his sorrows? (for he had a such large share of both) — ?

Was it his ability to laugh heartily, even as he winced, at his own foibles?

I did not see Bill more than 8 or 10 times these past 27 years. Yet I came away from each visit enlivened by having laughed – a lot! – and by having shared something that felt very real to me, very true. Bill was like that. Call it his quality of soul.

Then there was Bill’s faithfulness: the scrawled, almost illegible letters arriving every few years. The invitation to his wedding to Tamara. The phone calls out of the blue. Yes, the calls. I will never forget, and I will always be grateful for, his call the night before his surgery last summer. After more than a year of our not being in contact, he called to explain his cancer and the upcoming surgery, and to say what we both knew was an unspoken good-bye, just in case…

Surely, all of this should be more than enough to explain why I am here today to pay tribute to Bill Whedbee. And yet, there is something deeper, something beyond words…

Isn’t it just a little ironic Bill, given your passion to understand — a passion that deeply touched my own — isn’t it ironic that in the end, I am unable to fully explain the unfolding of a friendship that began in embarrassed boredom in Honnold Library, and that has led me to this stage today? I cannot explain it, except to say, as you did during our final meeting, “Somehow, I always knew it was there.”

And I cherish this mystery.

Thank you, Bill. I love you.