Aug 2002
“Greetings, classmates. Hope everyone is having a wonderful summer. We begin this edition with a submission from my predecessor, the eminent Asian oil man, William Bogaty. It was first sent to me a year ago, but was eaten twice by my cyberdog. I am happy to present it here.
”My two small children were baptized, on April 14, 2001 (Easter eve), in St. Alban’s Episcopal Church in Tokyo. They greeted this ceremony with somewhat different sets of anticipation. Sophia (6) was pleased as it would permit her thereafter to ‘get the biscuit’ on Sundays; Alexander (5) regarded it as a somewhat messy imposition on his space but in the event did not protest and carried himself with requisite dignity. I participated in this fest in a stance of family support, having discussed with and made clear to the chief celebrants that my relationship with the Creator was one of mutual hostility at best and mutual denial in the base case. The source of energy for this event was, of course, my wife, whose underlying religious fervor is something I conveniently ignore until abruptly reminded on occasions such as the one I am reporting on.
“I did, in the end, participate more than at least I intended, as I was impressed to read one of the lessons. (One about the Israelites running through dry land a few minutes before the Egyptians, who didn’t know the punch line, got real wet. The object of this lesson was not entirely clear to me; take SCUBA along? But fortunately for all involved I wasn’t called on to explain, just read.) Some of this stuff is somewhat hard for us non-religious types to fully take in. For example, I would find transubstantiation to be a much more satisfying concept if the consecrated host were converted into something easier to contend with, like, say, an Oldsmobile. But there doesn’t seem to be much room in the process for dramatic experimentation.
”St. Albans is a strange place, done in an architectural style that I can only label ‘Swiss Chalet,’ albeit in the middle of Tokyo. The denizens are nice enough, although generally affected with a style resonant of the genteel irrelevance that at least I associate with modern Anglicanism. (Our classmate and my friend, Doug Ousley, who when I last checked was running the tony Church of the Incarnation in Manhattan that looks nothing like a Swiss chalet, may well differ in this assessment, but he is a grown-up and doubtless can weigh in with his own views.) I was pleased that they had enough sense of ceremony (at least on the eve of Easter) to shoot incense around in a satisfyingly ornate censer — if you’re going to all the trouble to be religious why not make a spectacle of it? The already bizarre setting was rendered even more exotic by the participation of a couple of Japanese adult candidates for baptism, including one woman in full formal kimono. What would the Archbishop of Canterbury say to that? At least nobody — in my sight — handled any snakes.
“The lucky godparents are my freshman-year roommate Robb High and his wife Vanda. They are, through the intermediation of profane, rather than religious, ceremonies performed by members of the Bar, the contingent guardians of the children’s persons and fortunes (such as the latter are), and constituting them also the guardians of the children’s spirituality simply rounded out the grand slam. The godparents had the good sense (as well as being affected by timing and other constraints) not to appear in Tokyo for the occasion, and we therefore needed to innovate by producing local friends as ceremonial proxy godparents. Thereby we introduced into the liturgy the spiritual equivalent of the second derivative. Otherwise, all is well in Tokyo.”
On to other matters. Morris Swartz filed the following report: “It has been many moons since I have had much interaction with Yale, aside from writing out yearly checks for contributions. That has all changed since my daughter Molly was accepted via early admission to the Class of 2006. It has been a great experience to see how exciting Yale is through her eyes. I recently joined her for part of Bulldog Days, and was incredibly impressed at the energy and diversity on campus. I am ready to re-enroll! I continue to practice medicine in Philadelphia. Three years ago I joined the faculty of the University of Pennsylvania as a full-time clinician in pulmonary and critical care. The combination of teaching and practice continues to be fulfilling, although the time commitment of medicine remains a bit excessive. I would like a little more time to pursue my interest of nature photography.”
I know many of you have children who will be starting at Yale, and other fine institutions, this fall. Please let me know so I can acknowledge appropriately. Since so many of us are at that living-through-our-children phase, I know your classmates are interested.