A History Lesson

Obvious to all but the most simpleminded, history is nothing more than a series of stories, woven together in such a way to explain, entertain, and inform. Understandably, some are better at storytelling than others. I do not pretend to have been a master history teacher or storyteller, but I do admit to having enjoyed myself immensely. If you are one of those people who hated history in school, you might as well stop reading right now. If you choose to continue, you have no one to blame but yourself.

A good history lesson is one that connects, in concrete terms, the past with the present. For example, someone invented the fork because the hand needed to be replaced as a feeding utensil. Please note the resemblance between the hand and the fork. Or, Alexander the Great’s mother claimed that his father was really a god and she a virgin. I think you can see where I am going with that one.

Anyway, when Tim and I were in Italy, we visited places that I taught about for years. I came home with a new appreciation for the people who, so long ago, began creating the civilization which would one day culminate in America.

At Paestum, we walked among the ruins of the ancient Greek settlement. Three enormous temples stand in tribute to gods, powerful and popular at that time. The temples reminded me of the mega-churches springing up all around our country. It is more difficult to trivialize long ago expressions of religion when faced with massive columns and elaborate stonework.

In Rome, civilization’s journey is a pedestrian road map.  At the Forum, one can almost hear democracy crying for attention while, just down the street, the Coliseum makes one shudder at the brutality of man. Then, there is Vatican City, home of the Roman Catholic Church, sitting between the ancient and the modern.

In the quiet of the Vatican’s Sistine Chapel, I realized it was simply a twist of fate that resulted in my family’s long association with the Methodist church rather than the Roman Catholic. Martin Luther did not mean to start a reformation; he just objected to a few of the RCC’s practices, most notably the selling of indulgences. In this scheme, families of the recently departed paid the clergy to assure that their loved ones received a quick trip to Heaven (think TV evangelists selling blessed prayer cloths). As they say, the rest is history.

Like Paestum, the Vatican is a monument to man’s search for god. No where is this more beautifully depicted than the Sistine Chapel. Michelangelo did not want to paint the chapel’s ceiling, because he knew that the project would take years—years that could be devoted to his real love, sculpting. So he pouted, screamed, and stormed off. Eventually, the gifted artist returned to Rome to paint a story.

In the center of the masterpiece, Michelangelo captured perfectly the irony of this most meaningful of all relationships. God reaches out in strength and determination, and man’s response, weak and tepid, falls short.   

 

            

Next week, Americans gather for Thanksgiving. Among the items on our list of blessings will certainly appear the usual suspects—family, friends, freedom, and food. After we make our historical connection to the Pilgrims through turkey and pumpkin pie, perhaps we can also recognize our spiritual connection to mankind, past and present, as we bow our heads. We really haven’t changed as much as we may think.