And now, back to where we started… the picture of Charlie Chaplin at the top. That image is taken from the very last shot of City Lights, released in 1931 and widely considered by critics his masterpiece. On a side note, Chaplin made this as a silent film, even though the “talkies” had been in vogue for several years. I first watched City Lights during my film school days in the 1970s and, frankly, had forgotten about it until it played a few weeks ago on TCM (Turner Classic Movies). It is now on my list of “favorite films” and I’d like to tell you why.
 
There are many brilliant comedic scenes in City Lights that would warrant placing it on anyone’s list of favorite films, but it was the ending that got to me. I had forgotten all about the ending, and when I saw it again, watching with fresh eyes after the passing of many years, I found myself moved to tears. I daresay you would be moved to tears as well.
 
Briefly, the story goes like this. Chaplin’s beloved Little Tramp character falls in love with a blind flower girl (Virginia Cherrill), and when she interprets his chivalrous attentions as those of a genteel, wealthy man, the Little Tramp plays along. He does, in fact, come into a fistful of money through a hilarious set of circumstances, but maintains the pretense of being a wealthy suitor by giving the blind girl the money she needs to avoid eviction from her apartment as well as afford expensive eye surgery to restore her sight.
 
Flash forward to the ending.
 
The Little Tramp is just out of jail (he has served a few months’ time for a crime he did not commit) and happens by a flower shop owned by the once blind flower girl. She has had the surgery and her eyesight is restored. It doesn’t cross her mind that the ragged Little Tramp could be her benefactor, but when she pins a flower on his lapel as a kind gesture (she is, after all, a kind lady), and presses a coin in the Little Tramp’s hand, the sense of touch overtakes the sense of sight and she realizes…
 
Aah! I’m still crying. Ninety years after the film was made, I’m still crying. Here’s their final dialogue as taken from the title cards:
 
“You?” she asks the Little Tramp.
 
He nods shyly, asking, “You can see now?”
 
Showing a powerful mix of emotions, she replies, “Yes, I can see now.”
 
CUT TO the Little Tramp in closeup and fade to black. The end. And pass the Kleenex.

Simple, sublime, spiritual, and arguably as powerful now as it was nearly a century ago. This, my friends, is why we create and esteem art. It elevates our souls. And, of course, I can’t help but think what a powerful parallel to the ministry of the Man from Galilee, who healed the physically blind and the spiritually blind. Who walked among us as a Little Tramp (I mean no disrespect), spurned and disregarded by the ruling elite, put to death between two criminals. Even today his name is freely used as an imprecation.
 
One day, we will see him clearly. We will, perhaps, recognize him initially by the touch of his hands, those calloused, carpenter’s hands that caressed us in our darkest nights and wiped the tears away. Who paid the ultimate price that we might see. We will look in his face and know him completely, thoroughly, just as he knows us completely and thoroughly. Together with him, we will inhabit eternity, our eyes truly opened.
 
Charles Chaplin himself, as far as I have been able to tell, was not a believer. I suppose we will find out in Eternity. Interestingly, he said this: “We live by faith more than we think and achieve by it more than we realize. I believe that faith is the precursor of all our ideas.”
 
Thank you for City Lights, Charlie. You have blessed my soul.
 
And God bless all of you,