|I just love how awkward he looks|
What if someone gave me the opportunity to make sure that all of my people were cared for, at least as well as I could or better, but I would never see them again, I would not even be able to say goodbye. Not only could I get a break, but I could do what I have been longing to do for more than a decade: give the work over to someone who isn't exhausted and overworked every day. However, I would belie one of the principles that I base my work on. That this work for the poor wouldn't be clinical or two dimensional, but would be personal, based on true friendship and care. To trade my relationships for what fundamentally is a sum of cash changes the very structure of the work I have established, transforms it possibly into a monster, a facade into which a stranger would insert their own motivations and principles. It is not just my own retirement, a breaking of deep relationship, but turning my back on everything I've created. I think of this, deeply consider this, on a regular basis, without the sum of money (the possibility, say, of housing half my folks) because I am that exhausted and I often look for an escape route. But the cost is the trust that I have built.
After the Wedding threw this moral dilemma in my face, and I "knew" what Jacob should do. But do I now choose a different option for myself? Am I a hypocrite because I choose a path for a fictional character, but in my life I would chose the opposite direction? Pramod, the orphan in India who does not stay with Jacob because he denies his own principles, would he look at me and gently accuse me?
All this to say that a powerful movie like this causes us to question our whole lives, to re-examine our motivations and hopes. This one just shaves a bit too close. It is one of the great films, especially for me, but damn.