Lennon’s Poor Eyesight and My Blindness

 Originally published December 14, 2020. Edited July 25, 2023

 I set the blog aside about a year and a half ago to cut down on the growing internet cacophony during the run-up to the presidential election. I assumed the rhetoric would die down a bit after the election. So much for that. During the interim, I realized semi-retirement was not all it's cracked up to be and started looking for teaching opportunities. As a result, I’m now enjoying teaching 10^th grade English at a nearby public high school. Great students, great colleagues. Here's a story...

It was a couple of weeks ago. My students had just finished one unit and were about to start another. But it was a Friday and, after pushing them pretty hard for the week, I could sense they were restless. They needed a break. Instead of starting something new, I dusted off an online trivia contest I had prepared weeks earlier for just such a day. Twenty-five questions to fill 45 minutes.

The answer to one of the questions was the Beatles, the band John Lennon was a member of. And no, not all the students got it right! It was one of the questions that came with a story to make sure 25 questions could actually fill a 45-minute class.

Each year, fewer and fewer
nativity scenes are appearing
in front of homes as they
compete with snowmen and
reindeer.

I told the story to two classes. Paul McCartney had recalled it in an interview the severity of Lennon’s poor eyesight. When they were in high school, Lennon would hang at the McCartney's many nights - sometimes to write songs, sometimes to just chill. On one of those nights in December, Lennon mentioned that, as he walked home the previous evening, he was amazed to see two men sitting in front of a house, in the snow, hunched over and the and playing chess. The next day, McCartney walked by that same house and saw the same scene. When he saw Lennon later that night, McCartney told him, “Those two blokes weren’t playing chess. It was a nativity display!”

The students' reaction? Dead Silence.

Two classes of high school kids had no idea what a nativity scene is.

I can’t blame the kids, or anyone else for that matter, for not knowing what they don’t know. We don’t know what we are not taught. But you would think that even people who are not religious know what a nativity scene is simply because it’s a part of our culture.

And that’s the issue.

A most treasured heirloom - 
the Casella family's nativity
scene including the stable Tony
built and Connie decorated
right after they were married
in 1947.

As a devout Catholic, I assumed most people understood the substance of the faith symbols of Christmas – or at least that they have substance. I was blind to the fact that culture had given the Magi, the Star of Bethlehem and, yes, the nativity scene, the same meaning as Santa Claus, Rudolph and the Grinch. The Holy Family has the same significance as the grandma after her encounter with a reindeer - just another artifact of the secular culture.

No, this is not a rant against the manufactured, politically motivated “War on Christmas.” This is a recognition that Jesus is merely a nice, reassuring religious symbol, not a living presence who truly resides in all of us. And maybe that’s one of the reasons our culture increasingly values “me” over “we.”

Culture is hard to change. But it is possible to open eyes and change hearts one person at a time. We all need to find our own ways to make sure the meaning behind the nativity scene doesn’t stay frozen and buried under the snow.

Have a warm, wonderful, blessed, and very merry Christmas!

Adding “Passion” to the Passion Story

In the weeks leading up to Easter, cable networks roll out new and rerun shows, specials, and mini-series on Jesus and Christianity. This year’s best new feature is “Jesus: His Life,” an eight-part mini-series on the History Channel. It’s... ok. Like most other video depictions of Bible stories, it sanitizes events. Most of us don’t notice because those are the versions we’ve learned and accepted. The Passion Story with no passion. 

John Legend played the title role in the latest production of
“Jesus Christ Superstar,” that aired live on NBC last
Easter Sunday.

Most of us have heard Bible stories over and over again from the time we were in the cradle. They are so familiar, we accept them very matter-of-factly. Me, too. That’s why we don’t always realize these real-life events happened to real-life people no different from you and me. 

In 1970, at 14 years old, an elderly visiting priest warned all parents during a Sunday homily to forbid their kids from ever listening to a note of the sacrilegious record “Jesus Christ Superstar.” After that, of course, most of us couldn’t wait to get our hands on it. 

The groundbreaking rock opera was a revelation. By the end of the 39 lashes, I was stunned, barely able to breathe. Each crack of the whip created a connection I had never before made in my sterile understanding of Biblical times: even though he was God – God! – this was real torture and Jesus felt real, excruciating pain. 

Mary and Martha, in the History Channel production of
“Jesus: His Life,” comfort their dying brother Lazarus as
they await a visit from Jesus.

Bible stories are stories about real people, stories alive with blood-and-guts passion, hitting every stop on the emotional spectrum. But most video depictions of Jesus’ life and death this side of Mel Gibson’s “The Passion of the Christ” are populated with even-tempered, pious animatrons framed by gauzy halos.

One example from this year’s “Jesus: His Life” was the death of Lazarus. In it, Jesus deliberately waits until Lazarus is dead before beginning the long journey to Bethany. When he finally shows up – so late that Lazarus is already dead and buried – Martha, with big doe eyes, runs up to Jesus and pointedly states, “My brother would be alive if you had been here.” Then sister Mary flatly says the same thing. That, of course, causes Jesus to weep, seemingly prompted only by the narrator.

Time for a reality check. Sisters Mary and Martha and their brother Lazarus were dear friends of Jesus, the guy healing every blind man and cripple in sight. Instead of hurrying to his friend’s side to at least hold his hand, comfort him or say good-bye if necessary, Jesus blows him off until Lazarus is stinking in the tomb, leaving the two sisters without a male protector to fend for themselves in a society perilous for women. 

Do you really think Martha and Mary greeted Jesus with a benign, “Golly gee, wish you were here?” More likely, at least one would have grabbed his robe and screamed in his face, “Where were you?” And then beat her fists on Jesus’ chest, bawled, and charged accusingly, “My brother would be alive if you had been here.”

Maybe that’s why, seeing the pain he caused his dear friends, “Jesus wept.”

“Christ at Simon the Pharisee” (1618-1620) by Flemish-Baroque
artist Peter Paul Reubens depicts a penitent woman, possibly
Mary of Bethany, anointing Jesus feet with her hair.

Take full advantage of some of the movies and mini-series out this Easter season. “Jesus: His Life” actually has some very good expert commentary. The Mark Burnett/Roma Downey-produced “The Bible” from 2013 was very good. My favorite is Franco Zeffirelli’s mini-series “Jesus of Nazareth” from 1977.

Better yet, go to the source. Read the stories written under the bylines Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. Then put yourself there. Imagine being in a house jammed shoulder-to-shoulder with people when, all of a sudden, a hole opens in the thatched roof so three guys can lower their paralyzed friend down to Jesus. Or can you envision the bedlam when a wildly angry Jesus ripped through the temple market, scattering merchants, livestock and stacks of coins in a cacophony of shouts, screams, feathers and dust? Maybe you’ll feel the confused awe when Mary wipes the fragrant burial oil off the dirty feet of the itinerant preacher with her hair. 

In other words, read a story in black and white, close your eyes, and add the color to make it come alive – rising from your imagination like Lazarus rose from the grave. Happy Easter!