Remember Fitz

LETTER FROM FITZ - 2001

​

"I dearly love my country,

but why should my love stop at the borders?"

(Pablo Casals)

​

Christmas 2001

​

Dear Friends:

​

I stumbled on the above words years ago and have cherished them ever since. They've been bouncing around in my head and heart in 

recent weeks. (The greatest cellist of the 20th century paid a high price for his love of country, living most of his life in exile from the fascist 

excesses of Franco's Spain.) With our country once again at war, and all of us still unnerved and feeling vulnerable in ways we hadn't imagined before the 11th of September, it's so easy to slide into that us vs. them mentality that is the undoing of community and culture. Now, more than ever, we need to remind ourselves that we is the operative word.

​

God knows the forces of us vs. them are much in the public eye and ear these days. (As Tobias in Sondheim's SWEENEY TODD sings, "Demons are prowling everywhere nowadays.'')  Some are determined to avenge what they see as the West's corruption of society. 

Others plunge deeper into the ages-old, bloody obsession with "the enemy" in Israel and Palestine.

Others dig in for a last ditch effort to subvert the peace process in Northern Ireland. Closer to home we have our own version of The Taliban, the Jerry Falwells and Pat Robertsons, using a national tragedy to promote their familiar agenda of hatred. 

And how can one speak dispassionately about those many members of Congress so determined to take advantage of a season of crisis and line the pockets of their fat cat friends, even at the expense of our most vulnerable citizens?

 

Thank God that is not the whole picture as 2001 heads into the record books! There have been so many wonderful stories of courage and compassion in response to the 9-11 attacks. For the first time in a long while we seemed to stop focusing on our differences

in this country and to experience a strong surge of solidarity with ALL our fellow citizens! (And why should that stop at the borders?)

​

In this holy season of Ramadan, Hanukkah, Solstice and Christmas, when we recall the words of John the Evangelist, reminding us that "that light still shines in the darkness and the darkness has never managed to put it out", I hope you'll indulge me as

I share some recent, personal glimpses of that light.

 

Two nights after the attacks I joined thousands of other San Franciscans  (including a startling number of young people) at an interfaith prayer service at Grace cathedral on Nob Hill. The rituals began with an Islamic cleric calling us to prayer, and included a woman cantor from a local synagogue singing a ravishingly beautiful Dvorak setting of Psalm 23. The hunger for God's loving and healing presence in our world was intense that autumn evening.

​

On the first Saturday of December, at the Newman Center in Berkeley, we had our monthly Loaves & Fishes celebration for our poor and homeless neighbors. It was a very chilly and rainy day, so all of our guests arrived cold and wet. As we were cleaning up at the end of the day, I was chatting with a young man who had just volunteered with us for the first

time. {As it turns out, an All-American athlete for the U. of California.) Another volunteer approached me in distress - one of our friends 

from the streets, a blind woman, was about to go out into the night rain with no coat. Without a moment of hesitation, or a thought to 

his own need for protection, the young man removed his jacket and insisted that the volunteer give it to our guest.

​

Every day I am graced by the remarkable courage and hope and good humor of the people who come for lunch at St. Anthony's Dining Room. These are folks who have been beaten up by life and who, long before September 11th, knew what it was like to feel vulnerable, disoriented and at risk. Their resilience and charm continue to be an inspiration to me. I pray that you experience similar soulfulness during this holy season, and in the new year about to dawn.

​

With love,

-Fitz