Classic Behavior

The Friends is presenting performances this year based on three different famous literary sources—Judith, Beowulf, and Don Quixote de la Mancha. I’m working my way through them so I know what’s going on in the performances.
I read Beowulf first—the Seamus Heaney translation. I love words and the astounding craft that the original poet used with his sophisticated poetic devices in that Olde English was mesmerizing to me. Heaney’s attempt to recreate the use of the same devices in his translation, while still keeping the spirit and meaning of the words, was even more fascinating to me than the story itself. But the story is also captivating—a man who volunteers to fight a horrible sea monster who is killing many people in a far-off land.
I read Judith second. Being a Protestant, it isn’t part of my canon but I found the Biblical words of faith and heroism inspiring and familiar. A woman who volunteered for certain death to save her people.
I’m reading Don Quixote last. All, what, gazillion pages of it? I can sing songs from “The Man of La Mancha” from my childhood (in fact during the often-painful process of editing and compiling the Friends’ season program book, I confess to humming “To Dream the Impossible Dream” over many times!), and I’m finding the book charming. The other night when my husband and I were reading, I think he was a bit disturbed because while he was trying to learn about the layers of inner wisdom or something, I kept guffawing out loud over this self-declared “knight errant” and his mad pursuit of imaginary enemies while seeking glory for his equally-imaginary love, Dulcinea. Off he rides on his consumptive horse followed by his paunchy, needfully-stupid peasant-cum-squire who is riding along behind on his mule. A madman charging at windmills in his private effort to make the world a better place.
It’s struck me how much alike the themes of these three classic works are. These are pieces of literature hundreds or thousands of years old and they’ve not only lived but thrived. And directly inspired thousands of other works of art and music—even movies—and the lives of millions of people all over the world. All three of them portray a solitary individual—not a government, a profession, or even a club—but one person who voluntarily put their own life on the line to save the lives of other people. And none of them were expected to perform those deeds—none of them were even asked. One was in another country; one was a woman (!); and one was an old madman. But each of them felt that they were the only person in the world to do a certain very important job, and each of them stepped up to the plate.
I think that’s a classic lesson for all of us.