Saturday, February 28, 2009

Memorare

This lovely word is Latin--an exhortation to remember. I use it to address the Pope, who recently "rehabilitated" three rogue bishops, among them a Holocaust denier. I knew the Church was in trouble when the College of Cardinals elected a former member of the Nazi Youth to the papacy. I'm as naturally suspicious of that as of people from South America with German names. And because of this association embedded in his past, this pope, of all men, should be more conscious that his actions are judged by a finely tuned standard, sensitive to the slightest quiver in the direction of Nazi sympathy.

When questioned, the Vatican explained that the bishops had agreed to adhere to the Church in matters of doctrine and papal authority, and that personal opinions, however reprehensible, are not subject to sanction. Oh really? An institution that asserts its moral authority in virtually every aspect of life cannot take a stand by excluding from its clerical ranks those who deny that the systematic murders of millions of Jews ever happened?

This is exactly the kind of thing that makes me say to people who ask if I've fallen away from the Church, that no, in fact, the Church fell away from me.

But in truth I cannot deny my Catholicism. It's imprinted on me and part of what defines me. Through my family upbringing, my parochial schooling, my seven years in the convent, I have oriented my life to the rhythms of the liturgical calendar. The time--the precious time--that I spent in the convent, and especially in the novitiate, gave me a much deeper understanding of God, the Who Is, and the closer I came to that, the freer I became in matters of rubric and ritual. But I still feel a sense of guilt on behalf of the Church when matters such as this arise.

The Church's troublesome ambivalence in the matter of the Holocaust, the questions surrounding the actions of prelates who may have assisted former Nazis in escaping the post-War dragnet, the role the Church played historically in creating a centuries-old cultural climate of anti-Semitism: all of these issues tug at the collective conscience of Catholics. In his book, "Constantine's Sword: The Church and the Jews," former Jesuit (and writer of some of my favorite fiction) James Carroll writes a searing analysis on this subject. I highly recommend it.

The most consistent message I've heard and read from Jews regarding the Holocaust is that we must never forget that it happened; we must not let time erode the horror, or form a protective scar over the wound. Allowing it to become ancient history will make us less vigilant in the present. Remember, they exhort us: remember.

In turn, I say to Pope Benedict: Memorare, memorare.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

Bill

Twenty years ago today my husband Bill died. I won't write a lot here, because once I start I could go on forever about him.

I just want to acknowledge him today, and to say that I still miss him, sometimes viscerally. I miss the person he was, and the person I was with him, and the person our marriage was. Every day I had with him was the happiest day of my life. I was never so completely myself--my best self--as with him. The only way I can describe the deep contentment I experienced with him was that I felt he knew me the way we think God knows us--all our concupiscence and faults and sins, and all our potential and goodness and virtue. It's freeing beyond description to be known and loved that way. How lucky I was. He made me more gentle and kind, and he would say I made him more socially conscious and responsible, since I was always dragging him out to picket and protest and leaflet against war and nukes and the mistreatment of the poor and disaffected.

When my wonderful friends of more than forty years--Beat, Ellen, Kathy, Sandy, Sharon, and Sue--got together last fall, we talked briefly about him, and my thought that the concept of eternity means that although I am trapped in time, and experience his absence in time, he is in eternity, and therefore doesn't feel the loss: I am always present to him. At Christmas, my sister Margaret gave me an Andrea Bocelli CD, and we cried as she shared a wonderful song she said made her think of Bill and me: "the moment won't last..." but "like stars across the sky, we were meant to shine..."

Bill, of course, had already had this thought about time and eternity. Here is one of his poems, written October 28, 1984:

I think God put us in time
so that He'd always have something
for which to forgive us.

Only in time could a lost opportunity,
a lost friendship, a lost watch,
evoke the same sadness
so long since the loss.

So persistent is time's hegemony
that to break free makes us believe
we could be saints.

And in that, we are.

I kiss you today, Bill, across time and into eternity.

Saturday, February 7, 2009

The Farrell Review of Non-Fiction Read 2008

The River of Doubt: Theodore Roosevelt's Darkest Journey, by Candice Millard
This was the best non-fiction I read in 2008. Packed with adventure, it illuminates the fearless, risk-seeking side of TR's character and, at the same time, his ability to lead: to make decisions that sacrifice personal comfort and friendships for the sake of the enterprise.

In 1912, battered and bruised by the drubbing he'd received as a third-party presidential candidate, Roosevelt accepted an invitation to explore one of the many tributaries of the Amazon. His guide (and someone should write a book about THIS guy) and co-leader of the expedition was Colonel Candido Rondon, born a poor Indian, who joined the Brazilian army and made himself into the country's most celebrated Amazonian explorer. He it was who had so aptly named the uncharted tributary "the river of doubt."

Poorly planned and supplied, the trip soon encountered difficulties, requiring TR and Rondon to split the expedition in two. This meant that some of the men, among them TR's friends, had to miss the opportunity to trace the river to its source. As they progressed, they discovered countless flora and fauna, beautiful, exotic, and some deadly. Their canoes were unworthy of the rough and tricky rapids, they were stalked by cannibals, and Roosevelt came down with a leg infection that nearly killed him.
Yet they soldiered on, overcame numerous near-disasters, found the source of the River of Doubt, and left us with a thrilling tale.

Millard has researched this story meticulously, and tells it clearly, with a keen sense of its dramatic elements. Well done.

Revolutionary Characters: What Made the Founders Different, by Gordon S. Wood
This is a fascinating study of the amazing men who founded our country. We all know the basic outlines of their stories, but those of us who can't stop reading about them also know that each new book reveals something new, or discovers a lode not yet fully mined, or treats the subject from a slightly different perspective. Wood gives us the usual suspects, but his approach is to analyze each of their characters with a view to understanding how their personal gifts and foibles gave rise to their prominence in the forming of the new nation.

We frequently hear that Washington's refusal to run again after his second term was a turning point that set the nation on the course of true adherence to the rule of law and not of men, but Wood makes the same case for an earlier moment: when Washington handed his sword to Congress after the war. This act was virtually unprecedented--it was more or less accepted that a winning general would seize his country's leadership. Wood explores this kind of thing with each of the country's founders.

An important concept I grasped while reading this book is the organic nature of our republic. We tend to think that there was a period in the country's infancy--a few years, or the first few administrations--when it was as perfect an institution as possible. What didn't exist then, in that ideal moment, was the erosion that has set in over the years--the sniping between the parties, the pork, the reliance on polls over principles. In fact it's never been perfect, and shameful moments have been succeeded by shining ones. The glory of America is that we have that ideal always before us, that we are forever trying to achieve a "more perfect union." Our ambition is so bold because of the civility and intelligence of the founders.

This is not an academic treatise--Wood's writing is clear, concise, and accessible. Thet's not to say the book isn't educational in the best sense of the word: it explains big ideas, provokes further thought and reading, and inspires intellectual curiosity.

Jane Boleyn: The True Story of the Infamous Lady Rochford, by Julia Fox
I don't know whether it's Shakespeare, or George Bernard Shaw, or Winston Churchill, or Peter O'Toole and Richard Burton in "Beckett," or Peter O'Toole and Katharine Hepburn in "The Lion in Winter," or the countless historical mysteries I devour, but I love British history. And one of the richest periods in terms of dramatic events and compelling characters is the one Julia Fox writes about here.

Jane Boleyn was not Anne Boleyn's sister, but her sister-in-law, married to Anne's brother. Her life is an abject lesson in the perils of proximity to power. Born into the aristocracy herself, the daughter of a lord, Jane was familiar with the world of the privileged and with the stresses that accompanied it. She was expected to marry well, and she did--the progeny of Thomas Boleyn were considered good matches because of his closeness to the King. Women of the highest rank were brought into the royal household to serve as ladies-in-waiting to the Queen, and Jane was already ensconced there serving Catherine of Aragon when the fireworks started over her flirtatious sister-in-law.

Despite her relation to the mercurial Anne, Jane came through the controversy basically unscathed, with her head still attached. Though banished for a brief period, she came back to serve as lady-in-waiting to the next two queens, Jane Seymour and Anne of Cleves. It was her misfortune to be there when the immature Kathryn Howard married the King.

What could Jane do when asked to serve as go-between for Kathryn and her young lover? If she refused, she could be dismissed and disgraced on a trumped up charge. If she assented and was caught, she would be put to death as a traitor. Jane made her choice, passed letters arranging trysts, and paid with her life.

I like this book because it tells a well-known story from the point of view of someone who is usually relegated to minor status, and gives insight into the real dangers lying in wait for those in the royal household.

Fox has done her research, and her knowledge and love of the period shine through this gripping tale of intrigue and betrayal.

The Radioactive Boy Scout, by Ken Silverstein
The terrifying sub-title of this book is "The True Story of a Boy and His Backyard Nuclear Reactor." Yes. In 1995, a 17-year-old in Michigan built a nuclear reactor that had to be dismantled by a federal EPA crew in hazmat suits, after they had evacuated the neighborhood.

David Hahn was a troubled boy, emotionally neglected by his divorced parents. His closest relationship was with his grandfather, who gave him, when he was in elementary school, the "Golden Book of Chemistry Experiments." A spark was ignited, and his curiosity led over the years to more and more complicated experiments. He was intelligent in an unconventional way--he did poorly in school except in science, and consequently his teachers ignored him rather than fostering or channeling his obvious enthusiasm for all aspects of the subject in which he excelled. They should have been suspicious: he had already earned an Atomic Energy boy scout badge, and his classmates called him "Glow Boy."

Shifting back and forth between his parents' households, he was able to hide a lot of his dubious activity. Perhaps the most amazing and frightening part of his obsession was the ease with which he conned scientists and corporations into sending him samples of dangerous materials. By the time his home-made breeder reactor was discovered, his parents' homes and he himself were highly radioactive.

Hahn graduated from high school and enlisted in the Navy, but when he got out he continued experimenting and was arrested in 2007 for stealing and hoarding smoke detectors, a source of americium. Look up his mug shot on the internet and see the effects long-term exposure has had on his face.

Silverstein tells this story at a brisk pace, and along the way manages to teach the reader quite a bit about the history and science of atomic and nuclear energy. This is a really fascinating book, but worrisome. Parents, teachers, and the corporate and scientific communities demonstrated a cluelessness and an irresponsibly casual attitude toward David Hahn's atomic fixation.

What, really, are those kids next door to YOU up to?