[225] Art & Culture of Rome, 5 October 2010

How does art happen?

Art happens when a problem needs solved, when a question needs answered.  Art uses ingenuity and research to respond to the times.  In Rome, art happens when someone or some institution has enough money to commission it.  I am an unpaid artist, but my art is still a solution.

Art in Rome: Show Me the Money

Typically, the money in Rome flows from the pockets of the papacy.  The Roman Catholic Church was the largest benefactor of artworks during the Renaissance and throughout most of modern times.  By commissioning masters like Michelangelo, Bernini and Raphael, the Church allowed art to happen.  But, the Church did not make art happen, that was left up to the artists.

Within the times when the Church was just flexing its organizational and unification muscles, it hired artists to craft art that communicated power.  The signs of the times being communicated by the Church were God is larger than us all and his power is manifest in this institution.  That is why the cathedrals were towering, part awe inspiring, part power-play.  One must remember that Christianity was persecuted before the rule of Constantine, so being able to commission artworks, the Church not only wanted to answer the question: who are the Catholics?, but, also wanted to express the religion that could not publicly exist for hundreds of years.  God answered prayers, and the Church used architectural and classical art as a solution to express that.

Answering Civic Questions

Artworks in Rome transcend religious works.  Michelangelo not only crafted the Sistine Chapel, but the Coronata, a set of stairs that made Capitoline Hill easily accessible by horseback.  Stairs are a common solution needed during the times of Rome’s expansion.  The Spanish Steps are another piece of art that solved the problem of connecting the church to Piazza di Spagna.  Then there is the architectural solution for making twin churches on asymmetrical plots of land.  Artist’s work can found in Piazza del Popolo.  These artistic feats of ingenuity answer questions of city planning and function.

Modern Questions

This is the art of the past which has brought us to new social commentary, answered not by stairs or fountains, but by more questions, posed by definitive words and pictures.  I have been consistently frustrated with Rome’s ancient art.  It is humbling to stand in front of a sculpture that is from hundreds of centuries before the Common Era, but I miss art that not only represents the time it came from, but challenges the power that Roman art has been commission to represent.  Today, some art forges solution for city planning, whilst others forge ahead to tackle questions of oppression, dogma and what it means to be human today.

Spanish Art Has My Heart

To me, art happens when man expresses himself, and by doing so, puts his neck on the line.  I love the art movements of the past century, including artists who spear-headed them like Pablo Picasso and Salvador Dali.  A beautiful picture means nothing to me, give me a Picasso sketch that looks like a child drew it, and let me explore his revolutionary statements contained in the lead his pencil.  I love to see how Dali bends reality, stretches us to the limit, and then leaves us to deal with the recoil.  Art happens when it is prompted, and, in my opinion, the best art happens when money isn’t the impetus.  Picasso, as an aging millionaire, was putting oil to canvas the night before he died.  That is art happening.  That is when the line between living and creating has been erased by broken pencils, turpentine and splattering paints.

How Art Happens for Me

For me, art happens from a prompt.  Sometimes I ruminate on the artists before me, especially some of my favorites noted above, other times I must seek an answer to a question I have posed, or others have posed to me.  Other times, art happens when I am internally prompted, it’s not quantifiable question, it’s just an innate need to pick up a pen and write down answers, and more questions.  I like to plan, but I also like spontaneity in my creative pieces.  Art happens depending on the time, the moment when it begins.  This journal is art to me.  The computer I type it on is a piece of art.  Some may even say the fingers that tick away on the keys are works of art.  I do have a flair for the revolutionary, but I must admit that I see art in everything.  I get frustrated with Roman art, but I still see that it happened and that it continues propels art forward.  I have gone to the Coliseum and seen students with cameras capturing an artistic angle, I have been to the Uffizi and seen a young woman sketching the view out the window, and I have sat on the train and written about the ruins on the Roman aqua ducts that line our journey into Termini Station.

Art is a solution.  Art happens when one is needed.  Luckily, the world is full of endless questions.

[Salvador Dali]

[314] Rome & Jerusalem, 23 Set 2010

North Africans, Jews, Gypsies & Mexicans…

This prompt asked us to respond to what these four groups have in common, and explain what we have learned throughout the semester. The connection I found was immigration and oppression. To oppress is to stifle the growth of another by imposing strictures that deprive one of their right to a truly human life. Through the lens of the oppressor, I set out to explain how the walls that we build up between ourselves oppress the individuals on both sides.

Immigration is not just an Italian problem, or solely a European phenomenon, but a global issue. But, a truly Italian notion is bella figura, the beautiful image. This innate need to project beauty keeps oppressive structures in place. This image keeps us blind. So what do we do with the sight of Gypsies begging and North Africans hawking goods? What do we do with the remnants of Jewish ghettos and the modern ghettos the Gypsies call home? Sight oppresses us just as much as blindness, but offers us the chance at liberation.

Oppression is born of fear: fear of our own weaknesses, fear of becoming oppressed, fear of the unknown. At the root of it, we fear the loss of our naïve, yet beautiful image of the world. We react in many ways, including stereotyping. Oh yes, we, as in all of us. We oppress to allow our realities to remain unmarred by the image of the world. By upholding this image, we are contributing to oppression, which proves our weakness.

Oppression has been made manifest in the world culture upon many groups of peoples, including North Africans, Jews, Gypsies and Mexicans. For the purposes of this paper, I am going to discuss the situation of North Africans, Jews and Gypsies in Italy, and the situation of the Mexicans in America. But, these groups are not only found in the locations that I will discuss. North Africans and Gypsies flee to America as well, and oppression is not far behind them.

Gypsies, North Africans and Jews faced, and face, oppression of ghettos. Starting in the 1500s, Jews were quarantined behind walls, allowed to live but not thrive. They were misunderstood as bearers of bad luck and were feared as businessmen. Liberation came in the form of a unified Italy at the end of the 1800s, but less than century later, Jews found themselves ghettoed again, but the Nazi party. The work of the Nazis was to systematically destroy the life of those outside the Aryan ideal. Gypsies fell into this category too. Close to half a million Gypsies perished during the Holocaust, one of the largest ethnic genocides in history.

Today, the term Gypsy encompasses a lifestyle, not just the Medieval Indian caste that set left the oppression of the caste system to make lives for themselves. North African immigrants who live in camps and work illegally are also Gypsies. The Gypsies in Italy live in modern day ghettos, authorized by the government, that have police at every entrance. As you can deduct, not much has changed. Even America, a nation of immigrants, has not learned to stop the cycle. Mexicans are more than just the butt of jokes, they have become both the backbone and vain of our existence.

The walls that divide us - be them the walls of ghettos, or the metaphorical walls that are erected by stereotypes - oppress both sides of humanity. As the oppressors fester with misinformation and fear, those that are oppressed learn to hate the other population, disdain them for the pain that has been inflicted upon them. Who can blame them? If we, as a society, can make sweeping generalities about them, what stops them from doing the same? Us and them … that is the crux of the matter. The oppressed have been relegated to the “other” status. How can one deny the humanity of another human being?

I want to shout, “The dominant image of my culture is not me!”

And I am sure that sentiment is shared by those who face the oppression I symbolize. This is the mantra of both sides of the border of oppression; the mantra of misunderstanding. Here is where image overrides reality; where the beautiful image points not to progress, but to oppression. This image is smoke in mirrors, it’s photoshopping, it’s a mask … it’s not real. So what is real? Knowledge is real. I think it is even fitting to let you know that knowledge is power. And with knowledge comes responsibility. Instead of dressing up your reflection with makeup, keeping that beautiful image, and compelling the decay, look in the mirror and critique your reflection.

By oppressing these people we are stifling the growth of our minds and the development of the world. One must know history to know self, and know self to know the future. I believe that the true beautiful image is yet to be…

[325] Rome & Jerusalem, 21 Set 2010

The Pope’s address on Easter and Christmas always begins, “Urbi et Orbi” – “To the City of Rome and to the World.” The term “Roman Catholic” also suggests that there is something “roman” and something “universal” about the Church. In what sense is the Church “roman” and in what sense is it “global?”

In response to the question of the Roman and universal characteristics of the Catholic Church, and to the article “Full communion a very distant goal1,” I offer this journal entry …

Last weekend, Pope Benedict XVI was in Great Britain. During his time there, he participated in an ecumenical service at London’s Westminster Abbey, the headquarters of the Church of England. His visit to Great Britain marked the first visit of the papacy to this land since the Reformation. The Reformation’s roots came from disagreement on papal authority and Benedict explained the purpose for his visit was not to “dwell on differences which we all know exist,” but to “set our sights on the ultimate goal of all ecumenical activity: the restoration of full ecclesial communion.”

Ecumenical means universal, and so does the word “catholic.” Why does it seem that the universal nature of catholic is lost when the “c” is capitalized? Does the roman nature of the Church nullify its universality?

The Roman Catholic Church is indeed roman, in respects that it developed within the cultural structure of Rome. This means imperialism, militarism and visual manifestations of power are bound to the framework of the Church. Missionary zeal could be equated to Roman imperialism, and the destructive force of the Crusades was all too militaristic. And then you have, in Rome alone, numerous towering basilicas and churches, professing the might of the Church. Rome inspires pilgrims from around the world. St. Peter’s Square is filled every Wednesday with tens-of-thousands of people, from every corner of the globe, united in belief, awe, or interest in Catholicism and the Pope. But, a square filled with diverse groups of people does not mean that the Catholic Church is universal.

There is a two-fold definition of universality. First, it means the quality, fact or condition of existing everywhere. In this regard, the Roman Catholic Church is indeed universal. The second part of this definition states that universality denotes “universal inclusiveness in scope or range, especially great or unbounded versatility of the mind.”2 This part of the definition is what I believe it means to be truly universal, and because of this, I do not believe the Church itself is universal.

Universal inclusiveness eludes the Roman Catholic Church as an institution. But, universality does exist. True universality is found in the Word of God and in His Kingdom. The Kingdom is salvation for all, a universal entity that affects this life, and the entirety of the earth. The Church is an instrument of the Kingdom, but not the Kingdom itself. The Kingdom is both the genesis and goal of the Roman Catholic Church. Universality is at the heart of the Church, but its roman manifestations separate it from the totality of humanity. Humankind is united in its hopes for fulfillment, for a truly human life, but it is yet to be connected under one universal organization.

“Full communion was and still remains the goal,” said Christopher Hill, the Anglican bishop of Guilford, who has been involved in Catholic-Anglican dialogue. “How distant the goal is, is another matter. It’s not that close now.” We are not close to full communion of all religions, a breaking down of the systems of separation.  But, the renewed interest in seeing what unites all religions, a search into the roots of Christianity, along with a discovery of common themes throughout all faiths, does bring light into the darkness of division.  Maybe we are not close to full communion, but through ecumenical acts, we are now closer than ever before. 

(1) International Herald Tribune. 22 September 2010. 3.
(2) www.freedictionary.com

[225] Art & Culture of Rome, 20 September 2010

Sistine Chapel: Creation of Adam

"The Creation of Adam" is the fourth panel on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.  The frescos of the Sistine Chapel were painted by Michelangelo during 1508 and 1512.  "The Creation of Adam" (1511) was one of the last paintings to be completed. The dimesions of this painting are 130 feet 6 inches x 43 feet 5 inches.

I wanted to focus not on the whole fresco, but on the section containing God and Eve.  As you can see, as God reaches out His finger to Adam, there is a female figure emerging from behind him who has her left hand clutched on God's left arm.  Our tour guide told us that this female was Eve, and Michelangelo painted her in to portray his view that God had the idea of Eve during the creation of man.  God's hand also extend over, touching a child.  It is believed that this baby represents Christ.  All of the images behind God are yet to be born.

This image of Eve resonated with the poet, Vittoria Colonna. In her sonnet to Michelangelo she wrote:

I saw no mortal beauty with these eyes

When perfect peace in thy fair eyes I found;

But far within, where all is holy ground,

My soul felt Love, her comrade of the skies:

For she was born with God in Paradise.

This image that depicts the spark of love, that is life, between God and man, also inspires love in its viewers.  "The Creation of Adam" is truly a powerful piece of artwork.  Within this painting, Michelangelo captured both the creation of man, and the creation of love.

http://entertainment.howstuffworks.com/arts/artwork/sistine-chapel-michelangelo-paintings5.htm

http://www.thecreationofadam.com/

http://www.eyeconart.net/history/Renaissance/michelangelo.htm

Porta Sancta of St. Peter's

To the right of the entrance of St. Peter's, before you hit Michelangelo's La Pieta, there is a concrete wall, with a gold cross.  Standing by Michelangelo's statue, I watched numerous people walk up to the cross and touch its worn and discolored bottom.  This cross marks the Porta Sancta, the Holy Door of St. Peter's.

This door is only opened on a Holy Year (Jubilee), which is every twenty-five years.  The Pope cracks the cement with a silver hammer on the first day of a Holy Year.  This ceremony was inducted in 1450, and was tied to indulgences.  The abuse of indulgences led to the door being only opened once every one hundred years.  As the rules stand today, the Pope can open the doors whenever he wishes, but the ceremonial opening has been linked to the Jubilee.

When the wall is gone, the "Door of the Great Pardon" can be seen.  It is made up of bronze panels, crafted by Vico Consorti, that depict scenes of man's sin and redemption through God's mercy.  Vico's door replaced the wooden doors that occupied the space from 1749-1948.  One of the panels crafts the scene of Jesus unlocking the heart of doubting Thomas. 

The symbolism of opening the doors is of God's mercy, reaching out to mankind's frailty.  The door itself reprenents Jesus, who opened the gate of salvation up to mankind.By passing through the doors, pilgrims are symbolically conquering Adam and Eve's expulsion from Paradise. 

The last time the Holy Door was opened was in 2000, by Pope John Paul II.

 

http://saintpetersbasilica.org/Interior/HolyDoor/HolyDoor.htm

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Holy_door

[314] Rome and Jerusalem, 16 September 2010

What is the impact of the ghetto (in both the old sense and a contemporary sense) on the people inside and the people outside?

Jewish ghettos were inhumane. People were confined behind walls and gates, forced into a space that did not allow enough room to live. There was no room to move out, so the Jews built up – literally living on top of each other. For three-hundred years, this imprisonment went on in Rome. The impact of this inhumanity is still being understood today. I feel that the best way to shed light on the ghettos is to look at the most personal, and arguably the most human impact: emotional. This journal will look into the emotional impact of separation, both inside and outside the ghetto.

Standing outside the Roman ghetto, I didn’t notice anything different than the rest of the city. There are walls, but Italians love walls (just another expression power). I could see a large synagogue, but it was constructed by Italian architects, thus, its design mirrored other buildings throughout the city. Once inside, we were told that the synagogue was actually designed like a church, the proportions were not authentic. Its high, square dome is unique, but still fits this Jewish landmark snuggly into the skyline of Rome.

The “normalcy” quickly disappeared when I walked inside the gates. An unassuming wall contained a plaque, commemorating the date October 16, 1943. On this date, Nazis stormed the ghetto and took nearly two-hundred people to Auschwitz. Only sixteen returned. These rip-out-your-heart-and-watch-it-bleed stories are the old ghetto, not the ghetto we see today. The new buildings that stand within the walls work to cover up the perpetual tragedy that was the Roman ghetto. Without attention to detail, this area would have had no emotional implications to me; it would have been like any other. But, just like every piece of land in Rome, history lives around every corner and in every step.

The residents of the historical ghetto must have felt the pangs of separation. These walls and gates locked them away from the rest of the world, perpetuating confusion and paranoia. Then, there was also separation felt when the ghettos were emptied. The wails of emotional pain sounded off the walls, replaced only by the absence of feeling – actually, of pain to deep to express. I doubt that the people felt weak, the one emotion that the key-holders wanted.

But what did these oppressors feel? How about the men who locked the gates at night, or the people who moved freely through the ghetto during the day, then got to spend their nights in their homes outside the walls? The popes, especially Pope Paul IV who created the ghetto, must have felt a sense of power and accomplishment. Believers may have seen these ghettos and been afraid of turning their backs on Catholicism, or at least that was the hope of the ghettos – to serve as an example. The only example I see is that of community, of people who came together under the worst of situations and found a way to not be discouraged.

I think that the Jewish community, both old and new, was able to thrive because of the sense of family the ghetto provided. As Elsa Morante explains in The Smiles of Rome, “It was a place […] of a single, endless family.” (289) The emotional implications of family are a lot to unpack. But, the sense of being a part of something bigger, and having a community to rely on, is what I can boiled it down to. With these factors, one can feel comfort, a feeling that saturates the Roman ghetto today.

Now, the gates are gone. There is no terror palpable inside the ghetto’s walls. It is a pleasant place, filled with pleasant people. The streets are filled with more people than cars, and it feels as if the ghetto could be somewhat of a suburb to this Eternal City. There are children on break from Hebrew School, old men sipping caffé, legs crossed, talking of some unknown topic in exaggerated Italian, and plenty of women, young and old, chatting in and out of store fronts. The only separation I sense is that of a traveler viewing a local. As the group happens upon a kosher restaurant, even that feeling subsides as the owner pats Rabbi Spitzer on the back and encourages us all to take a seat.

Though the walls are gone, separation still permeates the ghetto. But now, it isn’t imposed by authority, it is the product of comprehension. What can we, the Gentiles, fathom? I can hear stories, see museums, walk the ghetto's streets … but I can never get past the wall of empathy. I can’t imagine. I don’t know what it’s like. So, I enter where the gate once stood, and physically enter the walls of this separation, hoping to open the doors of the gate in my mind.

[325] Rome: Stories & Traditions, 6 September 2010

How does the piazza provide a lens toward Italian culture?

Italian culture has been mimicked and caricatured throughout the world. In Italy, this theatrical culture of expressive life, indulgent foods and religious prominence has found its biggest stage. Barzini explains, “The surface of Italian life […] has many characteristics of a show. It is, first of all, almost always entertaining, moving, unreservedly picturesque […] secondarily, all its effects are skillfully, if not always consciously, contrived and graduated to convey a certain message to […] the bystanders.” (74) From the piazzas of Rome, foreign bystanders become theater-goers, observing this show we know as Italian culture. Spooning la dolce vita into our open mouths, listening to the cries of a worn violin, travelers realize that Italy is speaking: “destiny can wait.”

To come to piazzas to observe is not a foreign idea; actually, Italians have been doing so since the Renaissance. The residences that surround piazzas all have balconies, “as convenient as boxes at the theater.” (Barzini) This culture is truly social and piazzas beckon characters like theaters call actors – the pull is not engineered, but instinctual. The piazza’s shows range from drama to comedy, with the mandatory love stories. The props range from Bernini fountains to soaring cathedrals. There are waiters in perfect black bow-tied costumes, ushering audiences into seats. The front row flowing onto sidewalks and streets.

The street that leads to one of Rome’s greatest piazzas, Piazza di Spagna, is Via Condotti. This is where tourists and locals alike find the most elegant shops, and the most deceptive actors. “The art of appearing rich has been cultivated in Italy as nowhere else,” Barzini testifies, because Italians have consistently found it difficult to acquire real power and wealth. (83) Oftentimes, the local that walks by in Gucci does not own more than the clothes on his back. It is more important to live lavishly on the street than in one’s home, because life is lived outside. Ancient Romans are known for their architecture, but today, fashion is the new show of power and prosperity. If enough people believe the show they see, it becomes a reality.

This show is perpetuated throughout Italy – not just of prosperity, but of fantasy. “Everything must be made to sparkle, a simple meal, an ordinary transaction, […] a cowardly capitulation must be embellished and ennobled with euphemisms, adornments. […] These practices were not developed by people who find life rewarding and exhilarating, but by a pessimistic, realistic, resigned and frightened people.” (75) Nothing unites people more than fear. Fear of disorder is silenced by the organization of Roman streets and the geometrical perfection of piazzas.

Unity is manifest in piazzas. There is food, art, and churches (the most Roman form of unification). Every piazza contains a church, and in the case of Piazza di Popolo, three churches. Religious life permeates the culture of Italy. Rome is one of the most important cities for the Christian religion, and the number of papal crests on buildings, and nuns roaming the streets, serve as tangible examples to that fact. There is a definite show of power with churches: golden mosaics, cumbersome marble columns, ceilings that seem to reach heaven, and crosses ten times the size of life. Tourists flock to these vaults of cultural richness, but on Sunday, the churches are never full. It seems as if the show of dominance is more important than the actual influence of faith.

So, religion and wealth are distorted pictures in piazzas, but there is one way to understand Italian culture: food! Standing at Bernini’s fountain in the center of Piazza Nuvona, one can do a three-sixty and see multiple sit down restaurants, gelaterias, pizzerias and sandwich shops. Throwing my arms up in the air, I spin around and take in the smells of fresh tomato sauce and baking bread. Here is Italian culture, the simplicity of pure food and the pleasure of enjoying it with characters of your life. I run up to Danilo and ask, “Where would you recommend we eat at?” I was prepared for options, but got a curt, yet genuine response, “I don’t know, Italians don’t eat here.” The show started crumbling.

I wheeled around, searching with my vision for verification of what he said. I saw people, plenty of people, but, they had that air of trying to be Italian, but not really succeeding. How could this be? The piazzas, just a moment before, had been everything Italian to me. Now I see the Germans seated in the front rows of restaurants, the Chinese taking individual photos by the fountain, and the Americans devouring huge slices of pizza. Maybe the piazza was the stage of culture earlier in history, but now it just seems to be a reflection of what we, as tourists, think Italian culture should be. But, that is not entirely true, “in fact, the thing and its representation often coincide exactly” in Italy. (85) This is all just a show of Italian culture, but this culture is a show.

I follow Danilo to a place the tourists don’t know around Piazza Nuvona, a hole in the wall smoothie shop. He orders banana mango, and I split banana strawberry with my friend Rebeka. We take our seats on the street and gaze at the actors. Pretending to be a local, I add to the open air theater, becoming a part of the revolt. Take it from an Italian, “Often, to put up a show becomes the only pathetic way to revolt against destiny, to face life’s injustices with one of the few weapons available to a desperate and brave people, their imagination.” (Barzini 83) As I sip my smoothie, I do not feel the pangs of fear that follow me at home, the overwhelming feeling of mortality. For now, the world is kind, life is sweet, and I feel immortal.

Piazza Nuvona with some awesome characters: Barbie & Ali.

[314] Rome & Jerusalem, 2 September 2010

In what ways is Georgio Perlasca an “authentic Italian hero?” What does “authentic hero” mean?

“Whoever saves a single soul, it is as if he saved the entire world.” (1)

Since the end of World War II, the Yad Vashem has been awarding “non-Jews who specifically addressed themselves to the Jewish issue, and risked their lives in the attempt to aid Jews” with the Righteous Gentile distinction. (2) To date, over 16,000 people have been recognized, 468 Italians alone. Among these Italians is a man named Georgio Perlasca. Perlasca’s dedication to the Jewish community in Budapest saved over 5,000 lives, a feat which eventually led to his recognition in film: Perlasca: The Courage of a Just Man. He is more than a mythical heroin, he is authentic.

Perlasca, an Italian Catholic, worked with the Italy’s military as a provisionary. While in Budapest collecting supplies, a location that had remained untouched by the war, Perlasca was swept up in wartime events, alongside Hungarian Jews. Unlike the Jews, he had connections with the Spanish embassy. As a soldier in Franco’s army, Perlasca had received a document that allowed him safe-keeping at the Spanish embassy. Upon finding the embassy, he learned that the ambassador was moving to a safer location, and he was given the option of staying there or moving along with him. Perlasca decided not only to stay, but to impersonate the ambassador.

Assuming the role of ambassador, Perlasca handed out letters of safe haven to Jewish peoples. He had learned of the Nazi’s plans for Jewish ghettos in Budapest, and eventual extermination, and deliberately put himself between the Nazis and the Jews. He faced emanate death and unspeakable danger, but never backed down – a feat of valor that most people would agree they could never muster the courage to do. Once the war ended, Perlasca returned to Italy and his family. He never spoke of his wartime heroism, but he did write his account down, making three copies.

The first copy he sent to the Vatican, the second to the Spanish government, and the third he housed in his coffee table. His story was discovered by his daughter-in-law, who was instructed by an ailing Perlasca to open up the drawer of the coffee table. After verification of accounts by Jews that he helped, Georgio Perlasca was awarded “Righteous Gentile” status. Thousands of people have risked their lives to save Jews, procuring the same status as Perlasca. When one searches the archives of “Righteous Gentiles” his name is not included on the people of note.

The fact that countless others have worked towards the same end as Perlasca does not make him a faux hero. He is more of a hero because his dedication to life can be imitated. Furthermore, his authenticity stems from his obscurity. Perlasca retained his humanity after completing superhuman acts. He went back to his life. He did not search out acknowledgement by peddling his story, making himself into a character or superhero; he continued living as he always had. He lived out Matthew’s Gospel message, “But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.” (3) He was rewarded, and his life left inspiration for us all. One cannot hope to save thousands of lives, but by saving one, the world is saved.

(1) The inscription found on “Righteous Gentile” medal. http://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/jsource/Holocaust/righteous.html
(2) Henry, Marilyn. http://christianactionforisrael.org/isreport/righteous.html
(3) Matthew 6:3-4.