A Christmas Visitor

It's not my holiday, but I've always enjoyed it. I actually like the bustle of Christmas shopping, especially when there are Salvation Army Santas ringing their bells. At school in the fifties, carols were part of our curriculum and I remember the words to them all. Once my class went caroling near my house where homes were lavishly adorned with lights, statuettes, and even a creche scene in a garage with live animals. The holiday movies are a treat, especially It's a Wonderful Life and George C. Scott's Ebenezer Scrooge. And Handel's Messiah never ceases to surprise me with its charm and grandeur.

As long as I can remember, the faithful have deplored the demise of spirituality at Christmastime. The truth is that this holiday, which before Dickens was just an occasion for drunkeness and violence, is more spiritual than ever. For those of us who find inspiration in aesthetics, Christmas is the world's best blend of art and faith. And if we do not believe in a saviour, we can find holiness in childhood, which is what Christmas honors for us all.

Granduca Madonna by Raphael, 1504. Click on the picture for a closer look.

Feasting on Light

Two thousand years ago in Jerusalem, there lived two scholars whose rivalry still reverberates. The patient, liberal, humanitarian Hillel is fondly remembered, while the strict, misanthropic, even racist, Shammai is reviled.

In one famous anecdote, a Roman soldier came to Shammai asking him to teach him the Torah (or the essence of it, assuming the soldier was an Aristotelean) while he stood on one foot. Shammai dismissed him as a fool, so the man went to Hillel with the same challenge. Hillel answered by coining the Golden Rule: "What is hateful to yourself, do not do to others. That is the entire Torah; all the rest is commentary. Now, go forth and learn."

Shammai was Douglas to Hillel's Lincoln, Berger to his Perry Mason, Draco Malfoy to his Harry Potter.

In another famous exchange, Shammai taught that all eight lights of the Hanukkah menorah should be kindled on the first night and then diminished, one by one, each night thereafter. Hillel taught the reverse: start with one and then add. Hillel reasoned that it is our mission to bring light to the world, enhance it, and heal the world, rather than to witness its extinction.

Happy Hanukkah.

The Golden Rule by Norman Rockwell. Click on the picture for a closer look.

Falling From Grace

If ever a week had a theme, it was this one. Tiger Woods lost his dignified image as a focused and gentlemanly athlete. Serena Williams was fined and placed on probation for her outbursts at the U.S. Open. The emirate of Dubai was revealed to be a kingdom built on sand. The Secret Service was tarnished by two gatecrashers who bluffed their way into the president's first state dinner. Mike Huckabee became the target of formerly adoring conservative bloggers because he was responsible for the release of the man who murdered four Tacoma police officers. And most important of all, Barack Obama gave a tepid speech in support of his escalation of our efforts in Afghanistan, drawing only qualified approval from those who support the war, and alienating him from a large part of his base.

I, for one, take no pleasure in any of these developments, and can only hope that the reputations of all will eventually be restored...well, maybe not Huckabee's.

Satan by Gustave Dore; an engraving for a 19th Century edition of Paradise Lost. Click on the picture for a closer look.

Tradition

Thanksgiving may be the last unspoiled national holiday. Christmas is a wreck. Veterans Day, Memorial Day, and Labor Day are only distinguishable, in the popular perception, from Arbor Day and Flag Day by the fact that they give us a day off. Presidents Day is itself a compromise, and that says it all. Martin Luther King's birthday, like Columbus Day, creates more controversy than concord. New Years never meant anything and never will. And Fourth of July scares the bejesus out of my dog.

But Thanksgiving, in every segment of America, still retains its original meaning and unembellished observance. It's still a time for friends and families to gather and eat, and it still gives us cause to reflect on what life has bestowed upon us.

Enjoy!

Wild Turkey, John James Audubon. Click on the picture for a closer look.

Running Fence

In the summer of 1976, I was acting in stock in the Napa Valley while the artists Christo and Jeanne-Claude were draping the neighboring hills of Sonoma and Marin with their Running Fence. It was twenty four and a half miles long, eighteen feet high, and crossed fifty nine ranches. It remains in my memory as one of the most stunning sights I have ever seen.

For those who have never driven through the hills of Northern California, they are truly gentle and rolling. Martin Luther King, in his "I Have a Dream" speech, called them "curvaceous"--a Playboy neologism, but so what? Running Fence drew a luminous white line along the slopes and rises. The fabric shimmered in the sunlight and glowed in the dusk. In short, the fence derived all its beauty from its surroundings, and thereby showed how truly selfless art can be.

1976 was America's Bicentennial Year and it was also the year of my father's final illness. When Jeanne-Claude died this week, I was newly in mourning for my mother. For me, the artist's passing reprises her fence, and reminds me that the beauty of my parents' lives was derived by the humble way with which they graced their surroundings.

Click on the picture for a closer look.

Good and Great

Watching the health care debate, I feel humbled. Each of the many sides presents articulate and compelling arguments. I'm critical of Dennis Kucinich and Eric Massa for voting against the House bill, but I grant that I'm touched by their objections. Same with the Republicans and the Blue-dog Democrats whose concerns about the cost of the program are not to be scoffed at.

As a moderate, I am grateful for those who stand to my left and to my right. The former give voice to the compassion and indignation we feel when the humanity of the poor is assaulted. The latter demand that we not forget what the years have taught us about human culpability.

Bertold Brecht, a Marxist, grappled with the dilemma of charity versus prudence in his farce The Good Person of Szechwan. In it, a woman protects her small business, while serving her charitable impulses, by appearing alternately as her compassionate self and her strictly frugal cousin.

Willy-nilly, the insurance companies play this dual role today. Sometimes they are heartless; sometimes they serve us almost too well. But for those who believe the real problem lies in the fee-for-service structure of the health care industry, insurance companies potentially can be an ally in effecting change. The trick is first to get everyone covered.

I place my hopes on long term development rather than sweeping re-invention. It will take time. The House bill is a start.

No posting this week

I am again on the road, this time for a bereavement, and will not be able to post. Please come back next week.