You almost couldn't see the elephant in the room. There was already a crowd as I entered the Rose Art Museum Wednesday night for the opening of "The Rose At Brandeis: Works from the Collection." I dispatched my umbrella praying I would find it again, said hello to the student handing out "Save the Rose" buttons and proceeded inside. When you've been to a few art openings, they start to look the same: lots of coiffed women in black couture, shiny lapel pins and name tags, too many pairs of tortoiseshell glasses to count and the requisite tables of white zinfandel and cheese cubes that were more dressed up than the patrons in attendance. A neat jazz trio filled the museum with music as old friends reconnected and professors mingled with students. Amidst the buzzing crowd and more cordial hand-shaking than a U.N. General Assembly meeting, there was the art."There" is a bit of an understatement. From the moment I leave the Rose's shallow foyer I am surrounded by art. There's René Magritte on my right and Picasso on my left sharing a wall with Georges Braque and a few friends. The paintings wrapped the walls of the upper floor of the Fineberg Gallery and the Foster Gallery and were arranged according to period or movement from Modernism and Social Realism to Pop and Abstract Expressionism. It was a kind of populist approach to displaying the work that seemed appropriate for an opening attended by well over 500 people, according to the staff.

As I collected a glass of Turning Leaf, a group of people parted ways just as I was looking up. Behind them, revealed to me as though by the Muses, a stunning Roberto Matta painting with bright neon pink and green in a swirling hurricane of grey, like a great electrical storm was unfolding in front of me. I don't remember how many shoulders I nudged or how many pardons I uttered; I needed to be closer. This is the power of some of these pieces which will be on display until the end of the academic year.

Later on as I talked with some friends, Office of the Arts Director Scott Edmiston approached and asked me my favorite piece. I told him about the Matta, but Edmiston prefers the social realism of Reginald Marsh. We asked Roy Dawes who, with Adelina Jedrzejczak, curated the showing of over 120 works from the collection. Roy has a soft spot for De Kooning and he eagerly explained some of the artist's influences before other parties required his attention. Some I spoke with found the orgiastic arrangement of the work on display difficult. At times, the proximity of pieces felt harrowing or rushed. Still others were simply in awe of the vast and impressive works on display, and to be fair, the view of Ana Mendieta's triptych Body Tracks (1989) with Rona Pondick's Red Bowl (1993) in the foreground was surprisingly humorous and thoughtful. To be sure, there were as many diverse opinions about the art on the walls as there were about the status of the museum itself and its collection. The elephant was beginning to rear its head.

Early in the evening there was a notable presence of "Save the Rose" buttons, even a T-shirt or two, but for some the message was an unwelcome guest. You can, or have already, read about Prof. Shula Reinharz (SOC) and the curious case of the "Save the Rose" buttons on p. 3 of the News section. It's worth noting that in responding to the incident, Reinharz said "The Rose has already been saved." For some there was a celebratory air to the evening, and Provost Marty Krauss told The Daily News Tribune, "The Rose is saved, that's the headline for this event." The view that Wednesday's opening was the end of just another chapter in the museum's history was not universally shared. Many await the outcome of a case that will be heard by the Suffolk Probate Court on July 29, a continuation of the Oct. 13 hearing in which a limited injunction was imposed to prevent the sale of works from the collection contributed by the plaintiffs. Some students and faculty chose not to attend the opening at all on principle. Others were simply happy to be part of the spectacle and enjoy the art.

For everyone, it seems to come down to the issue of legacy. I went back to the Rose in the morning after the cocktail napkins had been swept up to take a closer look at the wonderfully assembled photography in the lower gallery. It's always been a good museum for moments of reflection. The space invites memories and frames them. What we learn from the Rose is that our generation faces an increasing number of difficult decisions whose effects far outweigh the choices made by those who came before us. Regardless of what side of the issue one takes, it is worth remembering that a university does not only exist for the students who attend each year, but for the thousands of students who came before and the many thousands who will come after. In June, the court will attempt to decide some of the legal issues involved, but after Wednesday night's opening, it is left to us to resolve what kind of a legacy we wish to leave. If there is a lesson to be learned from the evening, it's that no voice should be left out. Take a cue from the art on the walls: Each piece speaks with its own voice. In the Foster Gallery, the loud condensed colors of Gene Davis' Moondog stand in defiant opposition to Sam Francis' White Ring. Yet there they are, side by side, hopefully for years to come. Will these paintings play a role in the education of students in generations to come? It seems the jury is still out.