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Joseph Finelli

When young, Joseph Finelli had comparatively little formal schooling. In his na-tive Italy, he went through the early grades, then, after his family moved to New York City, he continued only through the first year of high school.

In high school “I had been told that I had talent,” he now recalls, from his current  vantage point of age 85. Nonetheless, like so many others then,  he had to drop out to support his family. A few years later he left work and joined the army for a four-and-a-half year stint in World War II.

After returning home, he began his first career, that of butcher. He worked at var-ious meat-cutting shops in the Bronx, learning the trade and becoming expert at it. The work was not without stress, however; he had his first heart attack in the late 1950s.

Eventually he left the butcher’s trade and, in his second career, ran a home-cleaning service in Manhattan for ten years. But he yearned for something more creative.

Finally, he wife said to him one day, “Now, it’s time to go back to study.” So, at age 58 he enrolled in the National Academy of Design and, he says, “The rest is history.”

That is where he learned to become a sculptor. This is the goal he set for himself, a purpose that fit nicely with his philosophy of life. He was conscious of himself as an immigrant and his aim, as he puts it, was “to excel in everything.” In becoming an artist, he wanted to give something back to the society that had received him and given him op-portunity.

“My life completely changed,” he told me, in a recent telephone interview. After completing his training, he began work and sculpted many works that he sold to churches, cemeteries, and other agencies. He enjoyed his work and felt at last creative in carving  the pietas and other art that emerged from his studio. And he soon made enough money in his new role to support his wife and himself.

When I spoke with him, Joseph Finelli was feeling in high spirits and not without reason. He had just returned, with his son Anton and several other members of his ex-tended family, from Benevento, the provincial capital of Campania, near where he was born. The Museo del Sannio had bestowed on him the high honor of installing in its halls seventeen of his sculptures. Some were busts; most of them were full-life figures and nudes, he told me.

Asked how he felt about it, this late-blooming artist found it hard to express his pride and sense of fulfillment. That the place where he was born and raised recognized him in this way defied easy words. But clearly his was a “Nunc dimittis” experience, one that recalled Simeon, the eighty-year-old man in St. Luke’s Gospel who, at the moment of his fulfillment, exulted “Now, O Lord, you dismiss your servant in peace.”

The ties with his native land reached back more deeply than one might have thought. His son, Anton, recalls being told that his father, as a young boy, did some work with his uncles in the stone cutting business. How fortuitous that this childhood activity should blossom so many decades later!

I like to connect Joseph Finelli’s life story to the currently fashionable idea of “re-inventing oneself.” As more and more of us Americans retire early with the prospect of decades more of life still before us, we often feel the need and the desire to explore fur-ther our creative potential.

There will be much more time for this kind of experimentation than we ever thought possible. People in the huge baby boom generation, looking toward at least some increases in longevity, will have ample opportunity for further education and for trying new models of life style and professional activity. Some, of course, will need to work for financial as well as psychological reasons.

Joseph Finelli and other members of the older generation who have succeeded in changing course in middle or later life, are clear models of personal re-invention. They have listened to their inner voices spurring them on to excel in fields different from the ones in which they began adult life.

Looking toward the unfolding of this new century, the business/gerontology guru, Ken Dychtwald, writes in his new book Age Power: “In contrast to the 20th century, when most of the interesting innovations in human lifestages occurred with the youthful periods, the expanded middlescent life stage and the new years of vital maturity will pro-vide new opportunities for comebacks, late blooming, and second chances. In the 21st century, adulthood will explode with lifestyle experimentation and personal transformation.”

Allowing for the somewhat inflated language of an age booster, people now mid-dle-aged can perhaps find some inspiration in this vision of the future. I suspect, however, there is greater inspiration in the life of Joseph Finelli and others in the older generation like him who have already led the way.

Richard Griffin

Peace

In New York’s St. Patrick’s Cathedral at the funeral of Cardinal O’Connor a few weeks ago, Hillary Clinton and Rudolf Giuliani sat in adjoining pews. When the time came for the liturgical kiss of peace, they exchanged handshakes like others around them.

Mayor Guliani at that time was a candidate for the United States Senate, pitted against Mrs. Clinton in what loomed as a bitter campaign. While not exactly enemies, the two candidates seemed to share strongly negative feelings toward one another. That they could rise to the occasion and exchange the kiss of peace, therefore, was a tribute to the power of this ancient ritual and a summons to mutual respect.

From the great spiritual  traditions of the world, peace emerges as a precious gift. Its possession has long been regarded as a priceless benefit for human beings because it brings us close to God.

In ancient Hebrew thought, the word “shalom” meant personal well-being and harmonious relationships with other people. Peace brings a person into perfect communion with Yahweh, the Lord God who himself is peace.

Shalom in the Hebrew Bible is a dynamic word, suggesting an ideal  condition in which nothing is lacking. The messiah who is to come is seen as the prince of peace, and his kingdom will guarantee peace without end.

People resident in Israel today use “shalom” as their greeting to one another. At its best, this word takes root in the soul and builds bridges to other people.

In the Christian tradition, Jesus embodies peace. In his letter to the Ephesians, St. Paul says, “He is our peace.” In writing to  the Galatians Paul lists peace among the fruits of the Holy Spirit.

Most of all, peace is associated with Easter, the feast of the Resurrection. When Jesus first appears to his disciples he greets them by saying “Peace be with you.” In his mouth it is a word that empowers his apostles to live by the spirit.

In the Muslim tradition, the word for peace, “salaam,”  has been used since the time of the Qur’an. Muslims use the same word when greeting one another. Salaam suggests that people should be bound together in respect and love, as children of the same God.

Whatever one’s faith, of lack of it, peace is a precious human quality. Both in the outer world, where enmity among peoples so easily erupts in  murder and war, and within our own souls, peace is devoutly to be wished for.

The desire for external peace among people and nations makes me think back to a chant that was popular among demonstrators against the Vietnam War. “All we are say-ing/Is give peace a chance.” This song gave expression to the heartfelt wish for an end to fighting and the establishment of a peace that would last.

The spiritual gift of peace has to be regarded as one of the greatest human goods. To be at home within one’s own skin in tranquillity and without rancor toward other people – that seems worth everything. “Humans are just inches away from paradise,” says Elizabeth Lesser, “but that last inch is as wide as an ocean.” Perhaps the gift of peace can narrow the gap.

Is there anything we can do to dispose ourselves to receive this gift? I believe that some disciplines do help to prepare us for becoming people whose lives are marked by peace.

Becoming more compassionate toward other people is surely one way. Exercising that same compassion toward ourselves might be another. Resisting the negative thoughts that make us find fault with others and with ourselves can open us to greater peace of soul.

For many years I have made it a practice not to allow disturbing thoughts to take over my mind in the evening before bedtime. In resisting beforehand the temptation to anxiety, we can often escape the worries that plague the hours of sleep and rob us of peace.

I also have found spiritual and bodily benefits in observing the sabbath. Taking at least one day a week off from work and making it a special time for prayer, getting together with other people, and recreation can nourish our soul and help us cultivate peacefulness.

The prayer of St. Francis points the way both inwardly and outside: “Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.”

Richard Griffin

Readers Respond

“Your recent attempt at catharsis .  .  . shows your weakness of intellect, character, and judgment – and the apparent lack of improvement of any of these qualities over the past 25 years.” So wrote one reader, a veteran of the Vietnam War, condemning me for my actions against that war, as remembered in a recent column.

A woman called from Lancaster, PA also chiding me for the same actions. “I’ve been enjoying the articles you have written,” she said, but she drew a hard line at the Vietnam War column.

My piece on Ronald Reagan also drew heavy fire from some quarters, though a few readers applauded my appraisal of his presidency. An Arlington reader described himself politically as “a fond friend of Ronald Reagan” and deplored my views of him. But another man told me “I liked it and I agree with it one-hundred percent. I think Ronald Reagan was a bum.”

More recently, the column calling for the resignation of Pope John Paul II drew almost universal disagreement. Many readers replied passionately, defending the pope and his record. “No successor will ever have his brain,” wrote a woman from Framingham.

A man wrote from North Andover saying “It is with great sadness that I read your article.” Striking a note expressed frequently by other readers, he ad-mires the pope for not making decisions on the basis of popularity or the spirit of the times.

Other recent columns have attracted appreciative but less passionate responses. A woman writing from Woburn commented on the article about my 25th anniversary of “returning to the world.” “I wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed it and was touched by it,” she says.

An old friend writing from Concord used the occasion to bring me up to date on herself and her family. Recently retired, she is looking for new activities and reminds me that I am four years her senior.

A professional gerontologist, Ken Dychtwald, wrote from California to say that he thoroughly enjoyed my column about his views. “I particularly liked the way you isolated some of the ‘big’ themes in order to get your readers think-ing.” He asked as a favor that I mention his new book “Age Power: How the 21st Century Will Be Ruled by the New Old.”

A woman in Florida e-mailed me saying that I should come down to Citrus Hills, where she lives. The place is also known for being the home of Ted Williams, she informs me.

The owner of the Boston coffee exchange in South Station and on Summer Street wrote and expressed interest in getting older people to sell espresso or cappuccino. No work is required on weekends, nights, or holidays, he says.

A man from Arlington, the nephew of the man whose memorial service I wrote about, told me of distributing the column to his cousins. In response to my interest he later sent me a copy of a newsletter about his extended family that he publishes regularly.

A rabbi writing from Newton also enjoyed my 25th anniversary column and told me of his fine teaching experience at a Jesuit college in Kansas City.

And I feel indebted to a woman who wrote from Chelmsford to correct the e-mail address for the Executive Office of Elder Affairs. Inadvertently, I had omitted the word “state” from www.state.ma/us/elder.

Finally, a retired cardiologist from Newton sent me a seven page typewritten letter in response to a column called about the connection between medical practice and spirituality. His was a very thoughtful discussion of the points made in my article. Though the writer took issue with several of my statements, he did so in an understanding and sympathetic way that I much appreciated.

Many other responses have arrived but these should be enough to suggest the range of readers and their opinions. Hearing from them has enriched my experience of column writing and encouraged me to move forward.

I am also struck by the growth in the number of men and women who use email. Rare is the person nowadays who sends me so-called snail mail; the great majority of my readers use electronic messages and to good effect. Contrary to  widespread assumptions, older people in particular seem to be using email regularly.

My practice is to reply whenever possible. Often that leads to further exchanges of messages and, occasionally, new friendships. I take pleasure in getting to know readers who share with me the varied experiences of aging.

When beginning this column three years ago, I promised readers to be provocative. As I wrote then, “It is, after all, part of a columnist’s job description to provoke people and stir them to indignation.” So, if you find yourself in strong disagreement with what I have written, that’s fine with me. If you let me know what you yourself think, that’s even better.

Richard Griffin

Three Men

Encounters with three people last week have stirred in me reflections about real-life spiritual issues. They all share a common drive for intellectual achievement that has carried them to positions of eminence in their chosen fields. But each of the men now finds himself facing a turning point in his life that is la-den with challenges and, perhaps, opportunities.

Two of the men I talked with have been friends or colleagues of mine for several years; the third I have known for much longer. And yet, despite much per-sonal contact, it is not easy to write about them because the spiritual depths of a person always remain so mysterious and inaccessible.

Much of what you find here therefore is guesswork, rather than precise knowledge. After all, if we can arrive at knowledge of ourselves only with great difficulty, how can we know other persons with confidence? Who can ever read the inmost depths of a fellow human being, with the secret desires and hopes that the human heart may cherish?

The first man has recently returned to work after a year’s leave of absence. He formerly was the equivalent of chief operating officer of his organization but was forced to resign that position. The president of the agency acted to remove him because the official had been discovered downloading dubious images on a computer that belonged, not to him, but to the organization. Much discussion fol-lowed upon the president’s action, with commentators split about whether it was justified or, perhaps, overly harsh.

In returning to work, this man has presumably had to swallow his pride and win back his standing in the community where he is still employed. It must be difficult for him to face his colleagues again, this time from a position of reduced power and carrying the humiliation of having been in effect fired.

The spiritual challenge facing this middle-aged man must be to accept what has happened and to turn his new status to advantage. Perhaps he has learned greater humility and self-knowledge; he may have become more open to the presence of grace. As a person of faith, he may believe that good may come out of highly undesirable situations; he may see in what has happened a call to greater devotion to God and community.

The second gentleman has passed his ninetieth birthday and is in obvious physical decline. Visiting him in his stately old urban residence, another friend and I talked with this retired professor about his delicate health and about the many friends we hold in common. The young woman who serves as his caretaker confirmed our view that, overall, he was doing better than previously.  

At one point, my companion said to the person we were visiting: “You are the greatest philosopher in the world,” a compliment not without credibility. After pondering this statement with some degree of embarrassment, the old philosopher replied, “Maybe that will help me in my gloomy moments.”

The philosopher does not believe in God, not does he seem to attach much reality to the spiritual life. Over the course of many conversations with him, I have never detected in him an interest in any kind of spirituality unless it be intellectual activity. The philosophy for which he is widely recognized is closer to language analysis and logic than to metaphysics.

The third man is another person for whom reputation looms large. In the course of an extended conversation last week, he made two statements that stick in my memory: “I am very important” and “I am world famous.” Though he was talking with me, an old friend, he oriented much of the conversation around this theme of his own self-importance.

Can this friend now experience peace of soul or any real happiness? His achievements are certainly solid but he seems dissatisfied unless everyone recognizes in him a preeminence that he apparently craves. And what about the future, what will come when he retires and has to face decline?

Again, no one can say with confidence what the interior life of these three men is like; only God can do that. Perhaps the best approach is to trust the resourcefulness of their secret hearts and the incalculable power of grace.

Richard Griffin

Woody’s Performances

It’s weird watching a movie star on screen in a film that lasts one hour and a half and then, immediately afterward, seeing the man in person. That was my experience last week when Woody Allen came to town for a preview showing of his newest film “Small Time Crooks.”

The film itself I found hilarious. It’s an old-fashioned comedy graced with the wit and sophistication of a contemporary master of the medium. Two top per-formances by Tracey Ullman and Elaine May place the film among Woody’s best, in my opinion. Revealing too much about the plot would spoil it for fans planning to see it for themselves.

It turns on an effort by Ray Winkler, Woody’s character, and two of his former prison mates to tunnel into a bank. If that does not sound like promising material, wait until you see what this triple threat director-writer-actor does with it. At one point I felt a tear flowing down my cheek, a delicious but uncommon experience for me to find such amusement in a film.

In person, Woody is slight and rather shy, though seemingly not so neurot-ic as the image he has long cultivated. Of course, he was bound to seem dimi-nished after his image was shown for so long on a large screen. And, in the course of the film he appears in various settings and guises that can make him larger than life.

Answering questions from a large audience composed mostly of Harvard students, he held everyone’s attention. The very first question seemed to throw him, however. A young woman asked him “What is comedy?” He acknowledged it to be appropriate but did not quite know how to answer it. There was something intriguing about seeing an acknowledged master of the genre wrestle with its meaning.

Of course, Woody did not need to feel embarrassed at inability to define an art form that defies almost anyone’s definition. Ultimately, his answer seemed to be something like – comedy is what makes people laugh.

Philosophers would probably focus on incongruity. That means the gap between what you expect and what actually happens or is. For instance, in the film Ray comes home to the apartment where he and his wife Frenchy live. He turns the key to the front door and steps inside. He calls to Frenchy and she an-swers “Who’s that?” Ray then says, “the pope” and explains that the pope has al-ways wanted to visit their place.

Many other incongruities occur as the film moves along. They provide a running series of events calculated to draw laughter. Some of them happen, not because of clever one-liners but because the characters are so full of amusing and often contradictory personality traits.

If I could have broken into the students’ question period, I would have in-quired about Woody’s experience of aging. At age 65 he is now no longer young; his film career has lasted thirty-five years.

I hope that he will continue to be a productive artist for many years to come. For that to happen, I don’t know whether it’s an advantage or disadvantage to have a physician for every part of his body, as Woody has claimed to have.

The methodology Woody follows in coming up with ideas for new films I found particularly interesting. He takes events that he has heard about and gives them various twists. In the most recent instance, he read of the attempt by thieves to tunnel through to a bank from a building nearby and used his imagination to develop a twist in the plot that upsets expectations.

That approach makes writing comedy not seem very far from anyone’s grasp. But those of us who have attempted to be funny in print know better. We can all testify that nothing is harder than making people laugh when they read words you have written. The authors of failed comedies are legion, while the ranks of those who have succeeded at it remain paper thin.

Another question had the great merit of giving Woody the chance to show his mythic self. A young-looking student asked him about his mother’s habit of deflavorizing the chicken. Woody responded with animation and said that indeed his mother used to do that to all the chickens she served. That made the chicken taste “like blotter,” Woody assured us. As a result, he used to love being invited to the homes of friends and neighbors where real chicken would be served.

Woody’s mother, incidentally, is ninety-four and his father one hundred. So Woody knows something about old age. Perhaps, as he grows older, we can look to him for a wry gerontological masterpiece that will have us laughing at the experiences of advanced years. And it will be good, too, if he mixes in some of the strange surprises the onset of age springs on us.

Richard Griffin

Spirituality A La Carte

Almost one-half of Americans under age thirty (46%) believe that “the best religion would be one that borrowed from all religions.” By contrast, only about one-third of people over seventy (31%) think so.

These figures emerge from a new survey of Americans’ attitudes about spirituality sponsored by the New York Times. The Times reported these figures in its Sunday magazine of May 7th.

Given attitudes distrustful of institutions among younger people, their opting for a religion made up of borrowings from all does not come as a great surprise. In fact, many people of all ages seem already to have crossed boundary lines and have adopted practices from religious traditions not their own.

In doing so, some Christians, for example, may have been inspired by spiritual leaders such as the Catholic monk Thomas Merton who journeyed to Asia in order to learn more for his spiritual life from Buddhist monks.

This new openness to different practices and beliefs different from the ones familiar from childhood must be judged admirable. Clearly, it can enrich the lives of individuals and communities of spiritual seekers. It might even promote prospects for peace among nations, at least if you believe that spirituality can influence world politics.

However, this approach runs the risk of watering down religion, of making it a grab-bag of beliefs and practices. Forming a deeply held religion cannot be the same as walking down a cafeteria line and choosing the foods that most make your taste buds salivate.

Borrowing from religions in this way could easily leave a person spiritually superficial. Instead of plumbing the depths of any one heritage, seekers of truth might end up forever roaming about in the world of religious thought and practice without coming to grips with the full richness of any single tradition.

Most masters of the spiritual life, even those sympathetic to a radical openness to the traditions of others, urge us to concentrate on one. The Muslim theologian Seyyed Hossein Nasr, for instance, says: “To cling to one’s own religion – this is the normal situation of humanity.” This he says while at the same time believing that “all religions are true.”

Of course, it would be a mistake to exclude the possibility of conversion from one faith to another. This experience usually results from a long spiritual search and often encourages us to keep searching even more ardently.

This past Easter I took part in celebrating the baptism of a dear friend, Madeline, as she became a Christian. She did so, after much prayer and some agonizing experiences of death among people closest to her. Through a long heal-ing process she discovered Jesus as her main source of spiritual enlightenment.

Her decision to be baptized did not, however, make her think that she was giving up her own Jewish heritage. Rather she felt herself to be bringing to her baptism all that she had learned growing up Jewish.

At the same time, in an intriguing twist, one of her daughters who was brought up Christian was embracing the Jewish faith. Friends and family members joined together in wishing for both mother and daughter inspiration and joy in their new-found faiths.

So, at the risk of appearing unsympathetic toward the majority of young people who favor a religion made up of borrowings, I choose a middle ground. Yes, I would say to youthful seekers, avail yourself of precious elements from traditions not your own. But do not believe that the “à la carte” approach to religion will satisfy your deepest desires.

I myself have profited much from other traditions. But my experience is that, while I come away from experience of other faiths with a broader vision, I feel strengthened in my own faith.

For many years I have felt free to incorporate into my religious practice prayer methods of the Asian religions and American Quakers, for instance, to my own spiritual profit. At the same time, I hold on to the meditation learned from teachers nurtured in my own tradition.

Of course, if you grown up without being gifted with a religious tradition at all, your situation is different and perhaps more complicated. You may then need to explore world religions for yourself. Even there, however, it makes more sense to plumb the depths of one religion rather than rely on mere borrowings.

Richard Griffin

Success

Two weeks ago my brother-in-law Tom Keane received the Lavoisier Medal for Technical Achievement, the highest honor the DuPont company gives to its scientists and engineers. Close family members were invited by the company to Wilmington, Delaware for several days where we celebrated the recognition received by Tom and five other long-time fellow achievers.

Amid all the hoopla of a professional high-tech award ceremony before a large audience,  the six received medals from the CEO. The next day, in another ceremony, the company unveiled plaques engraved with the faces of the honorees. It seemed the private industry equivalent of adding their images to the side of Mount Rushmore.

Tom received all these honors with modesty. In his acceptance speech after being given the medal, he told the audience that what counted for him most was his family. And he acknowledged that he could not have accomplished anything, during his forty-six year career, without the collaboration of many colleagues.

Success like this comes to relatively few people. Most of us never achieve so much or receive recognition of this sort during long years of work. Instead, we may be  tempted  to envy the success of others. “Could I but achieve something worthy of wide recognition,” this subtle temptation suggests, “then that success would heal whatever is lacking in me.”

We live in a culture that is notoriously success-driven. People everywhere in America crave becoming wealthy and recognized. Nowadays dot-com millionaires are envied for having scored brilliant successes so quickly.

The myth of the self-made man still holds its grip on our society. “Pulling yourself up by your own bootstraps” and other such clichés retain their power to influence our imaginations when we think of what success means.

Success in itself is something good. Whenever we manage to accomplish some-thing significant, our strong impulse is to feel good about it. If  others recognize what we have done and honor us for it, so much the better. An accomplished life, an honored life is much to be desired.

At the same time, success can be spiritually dangerous. It can close us off to what is most important in life and make us think of ourselves as self-sufficient. The person whose success has gone to his head has fallen victim to illusion and may have damaged his soul.

Of course, failure has its dangers as well. Repeated failing can make us lose heart. It can cause us to give up confidence that anyone, human or divine, really cares about us. Ultimately, it can drive us toward despair.

Let me suggest here an approach to success that can satisfy both our natural craving for achievement/personal recognition and the deeper demands of the spirit.    

Perhaps the answer is to be prepared to accept as gift whatever success may come our way. After all, there is no such thing as the self-made person, man or woman. We all get somewhere only through God-given talents and by the help of countless other people. Seeing success from this angle can enrich our spiritual life.

Besides recognizing success as a gift we also need to redefine it. Seen spiritually, success cannot be identified only with material achievement or reputation or power, but must include fidelity and self-knowledge and the ability to love. Devoted spouses, parents who truly cherish their children, and people of spirit who reverence all life and show compassion for other human beings – all these people must be recognized as truly successful.

Public television this week featured the life of Joe DiMaggio, the storied Yankee center fielder. According to the program, DiMaggio, when off the baseball field, was a painful failure as a husband, a father, and a human being. He seems never to have had the spiritual values necessary for success in these roles. On the diamond, he set a consecutive game hitting streak that has lasted almost sixty years. But in real life, he failed miserably at roles infinitely more important than hitting.

I feel happy for my brother-in-law that he has achieved so much and has been accorded such honor. But I feel even happier that he has the spiritual vision not to be seduced by the sweet-smelling incense that has wafted his way. He has clearly shown him-self a man of spiritual values who knows what is truly important in life.

Richard Griffin