Friday, June 16, 2006
Barefoot in the Park. Well Sorta!
In 1967, Neil Simon’s play Barefoot in the Park was brought to the big screen. There is a recurring theme of people about to have cardiac arrests after walking up five flights of stairs. When I lived in Vienna in 1968, we had to walk up 102 steps everyday. We eventually adjusted to the challenge. But, almost every day we saw people making their way up those stairs with their luggage, almost on the verge of physical collapse. They all could have been stand-ins for the ‘67 movie. In the movie, Paul Bratter (Robert Redford) is asked to prove his love for Corrie Bratter (Jane Fonda) by standing barefoot in the park. He refuses, but in the end he does relent and Corrie and Paul live happily ever after.
Way back in 1076, a personal feud broke out between Henry IV, the Holy Roman Emperor, and Pope Gregory VII. Both were strong-willed and both thought they were the top dog in Europe. Henry, as was his custom appointed priests and bishops at his pleasure without consulting the Pope. Church positions were filled with his appreciative cronies. One never knew when a friend in the pulpit might come in handy. Or when a priest might need to look the other way, when one's sins begin to pile up like gift wrapping on Christmas day. Now, Gregory was not the sort to look the other way at transgressors. He was determined to bring every sinner in Europe to his knees—especially the high and mighty and pretentious Henry IV. So the Pope ordered his Royal Highness to stop appointing people to church positions. When he received his cease and desist orders, Henry laughed. He thought, “Who does this Gregory guy think he is?” “Was he born yesterday?” “Doesn’t he know that kings have been appointing friends and associates to lucrative positions for years?” “The next thing you know, he will be asking us to actually send the tithes to Rome!” So Henry decided to show his strength by appointing a new batch of church leaders.
When word of these appointments reached Gregory he was furious. So furious that he excommunicated Henry. The Holy Roman Emperor lived by the creed, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me”—not even if they come from the mouth of the Pope himself. Now Henry was not a particular popular monarch and his subjects seized on the excommunication issue to rise up in rebellion. In a few short weeks Henry was an Emperor without an Empire. The Pope seemingly had won. But, Henry thought of everything as a temporary setback. He was determined to track Gregory down and ask for forgiveness. He went looking for the Pope, but the Pope did not wish to be found. For several months there took place one of the most memorable games of hide-and-seek in human history. But, in January 1077, Henry found Gregory in the small Italian town of Canossa. For three days Henry stood barefoot in the snow, crying crocodile tears and begging forgiveness. The last thing the Pope wanted was to forgive dear old Henry, but what choice did he have. Either he must forgive the old reprobate or tear the concept of forgiveness from Church doctrine. So he forgave his enemy. And his enemy returned to Germany to put his Empire back in order, and then headed back to Rome to teach the Pope a little lesson of his own. To make a long story short, Pope Gregory died in exile. In retrospect, Canossa was not a victory for the Pope, but a win for his Royal Highness.
Standing barefoot in the snow really gets one’s emotions flowing. At least that seems to be what an Ann Arbor, Michigan, man was thinking back in early June. True, there was no snow, but he must have seen Robert Redford. The man had just proposed and been turned down by his girlfriend who pleaded that she did not think she was ready for marriage. What could he do to change her mind? In a twinkling it hit him like an excommunication order. He jumped out his first-floor window and stripped off his clothes to prove his love. Now, admittedly he wasn’t exactly barefooted. He was just bare. Suddenly he realized that someone is approaching and jumps into the bushes. A man seeing the bushes moving and bare feet sticking out from beneath them, takes out a gun and orders the man to step out from behind his erstwhile fig leaves. Now, we don’t know what our suitor was thinking when he saw the gun, but we can be sure that he had completely forgotten about his marriage proposal. Feeling cold and embarrassed, he tried to flee the scene. For some strange reason the second gentleman started firing his gun at the fleeing suspect. Now, at this point we can be dead certain that our suitor’s mind had wandered far from the annals of love. The “lover” was eventually captured by the police and released after they heard his story. No mention has been made about whether his girlfriend changed her mind. But the moral of this story is simple. The shoes ma’am, just the shoes!
In 1967, Neil Simon’s play Barefoot in the Park was brought to the big screen. There is a recurring theme of people about to have cardiac arrests after walking up five flights of stairs. When I lived in Vienna in 1968, we had to walk up 102 steps everyday. We eventually adjusted to the challenge. But, almost every day we saw people making their way up those stairs with their luggage, almost on the verge of physical collapse. They all could have been stand-ins for the ‘67 movie. In the movie, Paul Bratter (Robert Redford) is asked to prove his love for Corrie Bratter (Jane Fonda) by standing barefoot in the park. He refuses, but in the end he does relent and Corrie and Paul live happily ever after.
Way back in 1076, a personal feud broke out between Henry IV, the Holy Roman Emperor, and Pope Gregory VII. Both were strong-willed and both thought they were the top dog in Europe. Henry, as was his custom appointed priests and bishops at his pleasure without consulting the Pope. Church positions were filled with his appreciative cronies. One never knew when a friend in the pulpit might come in handy. Or when a priest might need to look the other way, when one's sins begin to pile up like gift wrapping on Christmas day. Now, Gregory was not the sort to look the other way at transgressors. He was determined to bring every sinner in Europe to his knees—especially the high and mighty and pretentious Henry IV. So the Pope ordered his Royal Highness to stop appointing people to church positions. When he received his cease and desist orders, Henry laughed. He thought, “Who does this Gregory guy think he is?” “Was he born yesterday?” “Doesn’t he know that kings have been appointing friends and associates to lucrative positions for years?” “The next thing you know, he will be asking us to actually send the tithes to Rome!” So Henry decided to show his strength by appointing a new batch of church leaders.
When word of these appointments reached Gregory he was furious. So furious that he excommunicated Henry. The Holy Roman Emperor lived by the creed, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me”—not even if they come from the mouth of the Pope himself. Now Henry was not a particular popular monarch and his subjects seized on the excommunication issue to rise up in rebellion. In a few short weeks Henry was an Emperor without an Empire. The Pope seemingly had won. But, Henry thought of everything as a temporary setback. He was determined to track Gregory down and ask for forgiveness. He went looking for the Pope, but the Pope did not wish to be found. For several months there took place one of the most memorable games of hide-and-seek in human history. But, in January 1077, Henry found Gregory in the small Italian town of Canossa. For three days Henry stood barefoot in the snow, crying crocodile tears and begging forgiveness. The last thing the Pope wanted was to forgive dear old Henry, but what choice did he have. Either he must forgive the old reprobate or tear the concept of forgiveness from Church doctrine. So he forgave his enemy. And his enemy returned to Germany to put his Empire back in order, and then headed back to Rome to teach the Pope a little lesson of his own. To make a long story short, Pope Gregory died in exile. In retrospect, Canossa was not a victory for the Pope, but a win for his Royal Highness.
Standing barefoot in the snow really gets one’s emotions flowing. At least that seems to be what an Ann Arbor, Michigan, man was thinking back in early June. True, there was no snow, but he must have seen Robert Redford. The man had just proposed and been turned down by his girlfriend who pleaded that she did not think she was ready for marriage. What could he do to change her mind? In a twinkling it hit him like an excommunication order. He jumped out his first-floor window and stripped off his clothes to prove his love. Now, admittedly he wasn’t exactly barefooted. He was just bare. Suddenly he realized that someone is approaching and jumps into the bushes. A man seeing the bushes moving and bare feet sticking out from beneath them, takes out a gun and orders the man to step out from behind his erstwhile fig leaves. Now, we don’t know what our suitor was thinking when he saw the gun, but we can be sure that he had completely forgotten about his marriage proposal. Feeling cold and embarrassed, he tried to flee the scene. For some strange reason the second gentleman started firing his gun at the fleeing suspect. Now, at this point we can be dead certain that our suitor’s mind had wandered far from the annals of love. The “lover” was eventually captured by the police and released after they heard his story. No mention has been made about whether his girlfriend changed her mind. But the moral of this story is simple. The shoes ma’am, just the shoes!
