Christmas Story by Pat Lightfoot
I am very confused about Christmas. You see I have changed my direction three times at least . So for me Christmas is many open books and one that can be never opened. I have sacrificed Christmas for my own freedom.
Let me tell you about it. I was born to a rich middle class family in 1896. My father was in banking and of course my dear mother did not need to work. We had a piano in the house that I apparently began to start playing when I was two. My brother who was seven years older than me, was taught by a governess, who could play. We had a piano in the nursery and it was one of her duties to teach Ghet how to play. Well I muscled in on the act and was soon playing better than he was. The piano has defined my life. I was performing at the conservatory by the time I was ten years old. At the first concert that we went to when I was twelve, I decided I would be a conductor. Looking back at who I am, this was the one person that I truly am. There were many others, of course.
When I was twenty, only twenty I was the assistant conductor to Mahler. When Mahler died I lost part of myself and that was my first change. We had been playing in Geneva, with the Vienna Philharmonic and I was standing on the lake one very cold morning. The mist was blowing round the frozen edges of the lake and stealth ice was conquering the outer circle. My eyes were taken to the middle point of one of many small ponds of ice. Out of it rose a spangled star. It was twilight and no one was around me. It was the star of David. Rising out of the water like many many candles glowing in the darkness. My Jewish faith had been confirmed by a vision. Hannukah – all Gods blessings given to us. I must go back to Munich and celebrate with my family.
I was a Jew for another five years. When I was home I lived a Jewish life. When I was away, with my orchestra I was Walter, the conductor. Yes I lived in Munich but by 1928 I was travelling all over Europe and Russia. It was in Munich that I met Eugenio, who was something high up in the papal ecclesiastical world, but to me he was a friend. He came to my concerts regularly and we would often go out for supper afterwards. He was a critic of the rise to national socialism because of his humane Christian roots and wanted to protect the church from the evils of Hitler. Hitler had invited me to write a Nazi anthem and it was on Eugenio’s advice that I rejected the offer. One night I went back with him to his rooms in the Carmelite monastery and he prayed for me. One hand on my head and the other open to God. The one that was open began to bleed form a tiny puncture in his palm. As the blood pumped out I fell to my knees and went into a faint on the floor. When I came to I felt cleansed and washed inside and out. From that day, inside I became a Catholic. Of course I never went openly to Church, nor did I tell my parents, but Eugenio administered communion to me every week and said that he held my soul in his hands.
Unfortunately my life in Munich ended in 1933 and on the eve of conducting Mahler’s last symphony Hitler found out that I was Jewish and replaced me as conductor of my beloved Vienna Philamonic. It was Eugenio who got me out on a papal ticket. I became a Carmelite monk and was to go and live in the monastery in Rome. I am a Jewish Catholic so adding contemplation, service and community to my beliefs was easy. I packed nothing, wore a brown habit on top of my cold weather clothes and took a train south knowing that I would never return to the homeland again.
Of course my transformation to a monk did not last long. Until the end of the war I stayed with the brown men, enjoying the life in Rome and teaching young boys piano.
In 1945 I returned to public life with my Italian wife and two boys. I began to conduct again and even compose my own music. The infant cries had stirred some inner, long forgotten notes that had to be scribed. Lali, my dear wife also wanted to leave - the memories of war and occupation had left her emotionally scarred, so when I was offered a professorship in music at Chicago university we had no hesitations to leave Italy.
I am standing in front of a steamy mirror, on Christmas morning. The white Munich lilies are blooming outside in the garden. I can see them from the bathroom window. They were the flowers that we would have on our table at Hanukah. My shaving pot was the communion bowl that Eugenia had given me the blood of Christ.Tears began to form in my eyes for them never been open. How can a God let 6 million Jews die in concentration camps, how can the Jewish nation steal Palestine from its people and how can a God let a quarter of a million innocent people be scorched to death. There is no heaven. Religion has forced people into a living hell. This morning in my safe warm carpeted flat overlooking my lake, I will remind my children and my grandchildren that God has done much more damage than Santa Claus ever did. Please believe in him.
I am very confused about Christmas. You see I have changed my direction three times at least . So for me Christmas is many open books and one that can be never opened. I have sacrificed Christmas for my own freedom.
Let me tell you about it. I was born to a rich middle class family in 1896. My father was in banking and of course my dear mother did not need to work. We had a piano in the house that I apparently began to start playing when I was two. My brother who was seven years older than me, was taught by a governess, who could play. We had a piano in the nursery and it was one of her duties to teach Ghet how to play. Well I muscled in on the act and was soon playing better than he was. The piano has defined my life. I was performing at the conservatory by the time I was ten years old. At the first concert that we went to when I was twelve, I decided I would be a conductor. Looking back at who I am, this was the one person that I truly am. There were many others, of course.
When I was twenty, only twenty I was the assistant conductor to Mahler. When Mahler died I lost part of myself and that was my first change. We had been playing in Geneva, with the Vienna Philharmonic and I was standing on the lake one very cold morning. The mist was blowing round the frozen edges of the lake and stealth ice was conquering the outer circle. My eyes were taken to the middle point of one of many small ponds of ice. Out of it rose a spangled star. It was twilight and no one was around me. It was the star of David. Rising out of the water like many many candles glowing in the darkness. My Jewish faith had been confirmed by a vision. Hannukah – all Gods blessings given to us. I must go back to Munich and celebrate with my family.
I was a Jew for another five years. When I was home I lived a Jewish life. When I was away, with my orchestra I was Walter, the conductor. Yes I lived in Munich but by 1928 I was travelling all over Europe and Russia. It was in Munich that I met Eugenio, who was something high up in the papal ecclesiastical world, but to me he was a friend. He came to my concerts regularly and we would often go out for supper afterwards. He was a critic of the rise to national socialism because of his humane Christian roots and wanted to protect the church from the evils of Hitler. Hitler had invited me to write a Nazi anthem and it was on Eugenio’s advice that I rejected the offer. One night I went back with him to his rooms in the Carmelite monastery and he prayed for me. One hand on my head and the other open to God. The one that was open began to bleed form a tiny puncture in his palm. As the blood pumped out I fell to my knees and went into a faint on the floor. When I came to I felt cleansed and washed inside and out. From that day, inside I became a Catholic. Of course I never went openly to Church, nor did I tell my parents, but Eugenio administered communion to me every week and said that he held my soul in his hands.
Unfortunately my life in Munich ended in 1933 and on the eve of conducting Mahler’s last symphony Hitler found out that I was Jewish and replaced me as conductor of my beloved Vienna Philamonic. It was Eugenio who got me out on a papal ticket. I became a Carmelite monk and was to go and live in the monastery in Rome. I am a Jewish Catholic so adding contemplation, service and community to my beliefs was easy. I packed nothing, wore a brown habit on top of my cold weather clothes and took a train south knowing that I would never return to the homeland again.
Of course my transformation to a monk did not last long. Until the end of the war I stayed with the brown men, enjoying the life in Rome and teaching young boys piano.
In 1945 I returned to public life with my Italian wife and two boys. I began to conduct again and even compose my own music. The infant cries had stirred some inner, long forgotten notes that had to be scribed. Lali, my dear wife also wanted to leave - the memories of war and occupation had left her emotionally scarred, so when I was offered a professorship in music at Chicago university we had no hesitations to leave Italy.
I am standing in front of a steamy mirror, on Christmas morning. The white Munich lilies are blooming outside in the garden. I can see them from the bathroom window. They were the flowers that we would have on our table at Hanukah. My shaving pot was the communion bowl that Eugenia had given me the blood of Christ.Tears began to form in my eyes for them never been open. How can a God let 6 million Jews die in concentration camps, how can the Jewish nation steal Palestine from its people and how can a God let a quarter of a million innocent people be scorched to death. There is no heaven. Religion has forced people into a living hell. This morning in my safe warm carpeted flat overlooking my lake, I will remind my children and my grandchildren that God has done much more damage than Santa Claus ever did. Please believe in him.