Monks brawl while cleaning Bethlehem Church inspires this blog. The spectacle of men who have devoted themselves to living a holy life whacking each other with brooms in a dispute over cleaning the Church of the Nativity is educational. People are human. Sometimes they forget the larger goal in petty disputes. We can't feel too smug, because this is a failing all of us have.
The same thing has been true of Congress in 2011. Instead of trying to find solutions to the nation's problems, the GOP members decided to oppose the President at each and every turn. They refused to enact measures necessary for the nation's health and prosperity. Instead of cleaning house, they've been whacking at another with brooms...they've been manufacturing issues, like the national debt and defaulting. They seem to think this is the 1990s and that there are no real problems in the country that they need to address.
Politics and religion have a lot in common. Both are efforts to control people, to enable them to live together in harmony...to make them better. Because both deal with large issues, they can be controversial subjects. They stir up the emotions and make it that much more likely that people will start whacking one another with brooms.
2011 treated us to the spectacle of women, small children and peaceful protesters being sprayed in the face with pepper spray in the name of the social order.
Unfortunately, 2012 will be a Presidential election year in the USA and due to a recent ruling by the Supreme Court, there will be no spending limits. Expect huge amounts to be spent on TV advertising by anonymous groups with patriot-sounding names. Lies of all stripes will be pushed in our faces.
The rule is divide and conquer. I can only appeal to my friends of all political stripes: don't let them divide us. There is only one way to defend the faith and that is to live it one day at a time. Even if a political ad resonates to your emotions, stop and try to look at it objectively. Don't hurl the broom at some other person just because the TV tells you that person is less than human.
We are all human.
This is the first blog of 2012 and also the 8th blog of Christmas. Happy New Year!
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Monday, December 26, 2011
Beginning Here
Despite the yahoos on TV and elsewhere, Christmas Day is not the most important date on the Christian calendar...that would be Easter. For the devout Christian, Christ's death and resurrection make the whole point of Christ's existence.
Buddha was born a prince, but if he'd stayed in the palace the world would have been a poorer place.
It's not the beginnings that are most worthy of celebration but the completion. There's nothing unhealthy or morbid about that statement. It's great to find that wonderful first sentence that hooks the reader into the story...but until the last sentence is written the story is not complete and will be a disappointment to the reader.
Human beings are somewhat unpromising at the start: needing to be fed, and cleaned and carried around like luggage. Fortunately for the species, human babies are cute and are entertaining. But years of parental investment are required to make children into adults with something to contribute to society. I'm grateful that my Christian parents not only provided the material wherewithal to allow me to grow physically but blessed me with their own spiritual foundation. They fed not just my growing body but my inquiring mind.
They allowed me to read the Bible straight through, to question what I found there and to ask those large questions that have no answers: is there a God? If so, why does He allow suffering and evil in this world that He supposedly created?
They shared their own answers to these questions and also indicated that at some point, one must make up one's own mind and get on with life and the business of living. And they put up with my reasoned decision to become an agnostic. As an adult, I was more prone to going to religious services with friends...mostly to understand where they were coming from spiritually.
A friend and a co-worker from Eastern Kentucky introduced me to Buddhism. I took all the courses on meditation and philosophy offered by the small ashram on the fringe of the University of Kentucky campus. The philosophy appealed to me, but the discipline of sitting meditation was difficult. When one of the lay instructors who lived at the ashram told me that the purpose of meditation was boredom, I balked at that stupid idea as a waste of time and went off. I had things I wanted to do; experiences I wanted to savor...there was more to life than sitting still.
Years later, I was to realize this guy had it wrong. Life and age and illness will impose limits on our endeavors; death is the ultimate stillness. But if we sit still, open, listening, the universe or God or Enlightenment might have a chance to catch up to us. I have been more alive since I have learned stillness; my mind can take me further than any plane ever will.
The Old Testament of the Bible is the history and religion and cultural background of a people who lived in a particular part of the world long ago. The New Testament is about a man of that people who did and said unusual things for his time. He transcended the vindictive tribal law of revenge and conflict. In his parables and philosophy and practice of going off into the desert to meditate, it's pretty obvious that the man we know as Christ had encountered the philosophy and teachings of a man who lived four hundred years earlier. To put it bluntly: Christ was a Buddhist. He never claims to be the son of God; he refers to himself as the Son of Man.
And just as every notable teacher of Buddhism has added something to the tradition, Christ extended the meaning of compassion, charity and love to the highest degree.
So on the day after Christmas, we begin with the legacy of these two spiritual geniuses. The world is still unfinished...how do we complete this story?
This is the seventh blog of Christmas.
Buddha was born a prince, but if he'd stayed in the palace the world would have been a poorer place.
It's not the beginnings that are most worthy of celebration but the completion. There's nothing unhealthy or morbid about that statement. It's great to find that wonderful first sentence that hooks the reader into the story...but until the last sentence is written the story is not complete and will be a disappointment to the reader.
Human beings are somewhat unpromising at the start: needing to be fed, and cleaned and carried around like luggage. Fortunately for the species, human babies are cute and are entertaining. But years of parental investment are required to make children into adults with something to contribute to society. I'm grateful that my Christian parents not only provided the material wherewithal to allow me to grow physically but blessed me with their own spiritual foundation. They fed not just my growing body but my inquiring mind.
They allowed me to read the Bible straight through, to question what I found there and to ask those large questions that have no answers: is there a God? If so, why does He allow suffering and evil in this world that He supposedly created?
They shared their own answers to these questions and also indicated that at some point, one must make up one's own mind and get on with life and the business of living. And they put up with my reasoned decision to become an agnostic. As an adult, I was more prone to going to religious services with friends...mostly to understand where they were coming from spiritually.
A friend and a co-worker from Eastern Kentucky introduced me to Buddhism. I took all the courses on meditation and philosophy offered by the small ashram on the fringe of the University of Kentucky campus. The philosophy appealed to me, but the discipline of sitting meditation was difficult. When one of the lay instructors who lived at the ashram told me that the purpose of meditation was boredom, I balked at that stupid idea as a waste of time and went off. I had things I wanted to do; experiences I wanted to savor...there was more to life than sitting still.
Years later, I was to realize this guy had it wrong. Life and age and illness will impose limits on our endeavors; death is the ultimate stillness. But if we sit still, open, listening, the universe or God or Enlightenment might have a chance to catch up to us. I have been more alive since I have learned stillness; my mind can take me further than any plane ever will.
The Old Testament of the Bible is the history and religion and cultural background of a people who lived in a particular part of the world long ago. The New Testament is about a man of that people who did and said unusual things for his time. He transcended the vindictive tribal law of revenge and conflict. In his parables and philosophy and practice of going off into the desert to meditate, it's pretty obvious that the man we know as Christ had encountered the philosophy and teachings of a man who lived four hundred years earlier. To put it bluntly: Christ was a Buddhist. He never claims to be the son of God; he refers to himself as the Son of Man.
And just as every notable teacher of Buddhism has added something to the tradition, Christ extended the meaning of compassion, charity and love to the highest degree.
So on the day after Christmas, we begin with the legacy of these two spiritual geniuses. The world is still unfinished...how do we complete this story?
This is the seventh blog of Christmas.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Compassion & Empathy & Why Christ Was Born In A Stable
It's a funny story. Years ago, I sprained my right knee in a horseback riding mishap and in the course of getting physical therapy for it other problems were discovered and treated. My physical therapist, a woman who rode horses herself, sat me down with the air of imparting bad news and had the following conversation with me:
PT: You understand that the damage to your right knee means you won't be able to post a trot, right?
Moi: Yes.
PT: And this condition that we've discovered with your lower back and pelvis, you realize you won't be able to sit a trot, correct?
Moi: Yes.
PT: So you know what this means concerning horseback riding, correct?
Moi: It means I need to get a gaited horse.
The physical therapist slapped her forehead. "That's not the answer I had in mind, but it might work."
For the non-horsy people who may be reading this, a trot is a gait of medium speed that bounces, and can only be ridden by posting (moving up and down to miss the half the bounces) or sitting (absorbing all motion in pelvis and spine). A gaited horse is an animal belonging to one of several breeds of horses developed to carry the smooth sequence of the walking gait to higher and higher speed. This kind of horse has smooth paces and does not need to trot under saddle.
A few months after this conversation, I purchased an unregistered Tennessee Walker gelding, named him Rudy and found him apt for training. He learned quickly to come when called by his new name, to stand at a mounting block and also aided me in other ways. I could grab his mane with my right hand, say "handrail!", and he would adjust his pace to mine and allow me to lean on him to support my weak right knee.
I had him only a few months when I went with a couple of friends and their horses to try out a place that had some beautiful trails. Unfortunately, in the parking lot, Rudy spooked and collided with me as I came around the corner of the horse trailer into his forward blind spot. I felt my LEFT knee pop and give way. I insisted that my friends go ahead and ride. Rudy was put in a small holding pen. I sat on the back of the horse trailer, holding ice on my knee, listening to my friends whenever a bend of the trail in the forest brought them close.
I knew that my life would never be the same...but I didn't appreciate how severely this injury would affect me. Humana, the HMO that my then employer used in the state of Kentucky, tried to convince me that a woman in her mid-forties did not need to be able to walk. They would not authorize the surgery to repair the damaged ligaments until after I "tried a knee brace" but although the brace could have been ordered directly from the manufacturer and been delivered in two weeks, I had to order it through a local supplier and the brace was delayed for months.
My left knee would almost heal but then something ordinary such as climbing up the single step to my front porch would re-injure it. I was reduced to petting Rudy across the fence. He acted worried and anxious and would rush to the fence when I arrived--I told myself he could not possibly feel guilty, but he was certainly missing attention.
Four months after the injury, it seemed hugely improved. I paid a visit to Rudy who had been confined to the diet pen because he was getting too fat with no one riding him. I drove almost down to the gate and decided to go into the field to reassure him that I was truly on the mend. Also stuck in the diet pen was Mo, an Arabian gelding belonging to my best friend.
Mo had a great personality and is still mourned by all his friends, of whom I was proud to be numbered. I had trailered Mo to horse shows and endurance rides, held him for his owner and for the farrier, ridden him on occasion and he had every reason to regard me as one of the special people in his life. Mo came up for treats and petting and jealously chased Rudy away. I told Mo how rude he was and shooed him out of my personal space. As Mo departed, he flicked his heels at me -- a certain tit-for-tat was part of his personality, but he didn't mean any harm. I had to take two quick steps backwards and stepped into a depression with my bad leg. The knee buckled under me and I fell hard. The pain was agonizing and swift--worse, the knee joint didn't respond to the muscles that should control it. Later an MRI would reveal that two of the three ligaments in the knee had been completely snapped.
However my first problem was that I had fallen in a field where several horses were and I needed to get out. Horses are lovely, gentle creatures but they can't see where they are putting their feet and they are also curious. A notable trainer once described falling in a field, being surrounded by curious horses and getting knocked around under their hooves--a terrifying experience that could have been fatal. I started to crawl to the gate--not far, maybe twenty feet away, but my progress was slow.
Normally horses are attracted by anything curious that humans do...just try to mend a damaged fence or do any work in a field where horses are. I was surprised that none of the horses seemed to notice me and looked over. I saw Rudy, standing between me and the herd, his body perfectly positioned to screen me from their sight.
"Odd," I thought and continued to crawl. Halfway there, I looked again. Rudy had moved with me, as if deliberately blocking for me. Furthermore, although he was the lowest ranking horse in the field, he was pinning his ears and shaking his head in threat.
I was astonished. This couldn't be an accident. I crawled faster as I did not know how long Rudy could block for me. I reached the gate and started to pull myself up on the bars. With a gentle whuff, Rudy shoved his head beneath my left armpit and tried to help me stand. I was thunderstruck. I had trained Rudy to act as a handrail for my weak RIGHT knee but he had correctly determined that I needed support on my LEFT side. Furthermore, he maneuvered his body to help me open the gate. I believe he would have taken me straight to my truck, but I told him to stay in the field. He leaned against the gate holding it closed while I latched it and remained leaning against the gate while I crawled to the pickup truck.
Rudy has since proved this was not a fluke--in our years together he has come to my aide in other situations.
Rudy has changed my opinion of horses as rather unintelligent creatures, just working for the next treat.
Consider what his actions show: he accurately placed himself to hide me from the other horses and moved to maintain the screen. Then when that was no longer necessary he came close and attempted to provide support where it was needed--and considering the different body shape between horses and humans what kind of compassion and empathy was needed for Rudy to do this?
I know I remain humbled by this experience. This is a challenge my own horse has given me that I strive to rise to: to feel and show as much compassion--to have as much empathy--to see beyond the differences...if a horse can have feeling for a human, can not human beings see beyond the differences of culture, religion and politics? How many human beings can show this much empathy and compassion for others?
This explains why Christ was born in a stable... and thus ends the sixth blog of Christmas.
PT: You understand that the damage to your right knee means you won't be able to post a trot, right?
Moi: Yes.
PT: And this condition that we've discovered with your lower back and pelvis, you realize you won't be able to sit a trot, correct?
Moi: Yes.
PT: So you know what this means concerning horseback riding, correct?
Moi: It means I need to get a gaited horse.
The physical therapist slapped her forehead. "That's not the answer I had in mind, but it might work."
For the non-horsy people who may be reading this, a trot is a gait of medium speed that bounces, and can only be ridden by posting (moving up and down to miss the half the bounces) or sitting (absorbing all motion in pelvis and spine). A gaited horse is an animal belonging to one of several breeds of horses developed to carry the smooth sequence of the walking gait to higher and higher speed. This kind of horse has smooth paces and does not need to trot under saddle.
A few months after this conversation, I purchased an unregistered Tennessee Walker gelding, named him Rudy and found him apt for training. He learned quickly to come when called by his new name, to stand at a mounting block and also aided me in other ways. I could grab his mane with my right hand, say "handrail!", and he would adjust his pace to mine and allow me to lean on him to support my weak right knee.
I had him only a few months when I went with a couple of friends and their horses to try out a place that had some beautiful trails. Unfortunately, in the parking lot, Rudy spooked and collided with me as I came around the corner of the horse trailer into his forward blind spot. I felt my LEFT knee pop and give way. I insisted that my friends go ahead and ride. Rudy was put in a small holding pen. I sat on the back of the horse trailer, holding ice on my knee, listening to my friends whenever a bend of the trail in the forest brought them close.
I knew that my life would never be the same...but I didn't appreciate how severely this injury would affect me. Humana, the HMO that my then employer used in the state of Kentucky, tried to convince me that a woman in her mid-forties did not need to be able to walk. They would not authorize the surgery to repair the damaged ligaments until after I "tried a knee brace" but although the brace could have been ordered directly from the manufacturer and been delivered in two weeks, I had to order it through a local supplier and the brace was delayed for months.
My left knee would almost heal but then something ordinary such as climbing up the single step to my front porch would re-injure it. I was reduced to petting Rudy across the fence. He acted worried and anxious and would rush to the fence when I arrived--I told myself he could not possibly feel guilty, but he was certainly missing attention.
Four months after the injury, it seemed hugely improved. I paid a visit to Rudy who had been confined to the diet pen because he was getting too fat with no one riding him. I drove almost down to the gate and decided to go into the field to reassure him that I was truly on the mend. Also stuck in the diet pen was Mo, an Arabian gelding belonging to my best friend.
Mo had a great personality and is still mourned by all his friends, of whom I was proud to be numbered. I had trailered Mo to horse shows and endurance rides, held him for his owner and for the farrier, ridden him on occasion and he had every reason to regard me as one of the special people in his life. Mo came up for treats and petting and jealously chased Rudy away. I told Mo how rude he was and shooed him out of my personal space. As Mo departed, he flicked his heels at me -- a certain tit-for-tat was part of his personality, but he didn't mean any harm. I had to take two quick steps backwards and stepped into a depression with my bad leg. The knee buckled under me and I fell hard. The pain was agonizing and swift--worse, the knee joint didn't respond to the muscles that should control it. Later an MRI would reveal that two of the three ligaments in the knee had been completely snapped.
However my first problem was that I had fallen in a field where several horses were and I needed to get out. Horses are lovely, gentle creatures but they can't see where they are putting their feet and they are also curious. A notable trainer once described falling in a field, being surrounded by curious horses and getting knocked around under their hooves--a terrifying experience that could have been fatal. I started to crawl to the gate--not far, maybe twenty feet away, but my progress was slow.
Normally horses are attracted by anything curious that humans do...just try to mend a damaged fence or do any work in a field where horses are. I was surprised that none of the horses seemed to notice me and looked over. I saw Rudy, standing between me and the herd, his body perfectly positioned to screen me from their sight.
"Odd," I thought and continued to crawl. Halfway there, I looked again. Rudy had moved with me, as if deliberately blocking for me. Furthermore, although he was the lowest ranking horse in the field, he was pinning his ears and shaking his head in threat.
I was astonished. This couldn't be an accident. I crawled faster as I did not know how long Rudy could block for me. I reached the gate and started to pull myself up on the bars. With a gentle whuff, Rudy shoved his head beneath my left armpit and tried to help me stand. I was thunderstruck. I had trained Rudy to act as a handrail for my weak RIGHT knee but he had correctly determined that I needed support on my LEFT side. Furthermore, he maneuvered his body to help me open the gate. I believe he would have taken me straight to my truck, but I told him to stay in the field. He leaned against the gate holding it closed while I latched it and remained leaning against the gate while I crawled to the pickup truck.
Rudy has since proved this was not a fluke--in our years together he has come to my aide in other situations.
Rudy has changed my opinion of horses as rather unintelligent creatures, just working for the next treat.
Consider what his actions show: he accurately placed himself to hide me from the other horses and moved to maintain the screen. Then when that was no longer necessary he came close and attempted to provide support where it was needed--and considering the different body shape between horses and humans what kind of compassion and empathy was needed for Rudy to do this?
I know I remain humbled by this experience. This is a challenge my own horse has given me that I strive to rise to: to feel and show as much compassion--to have as much empathy--to see beyond the differences...if a horse can have feeling for a human, can not human beings see beyond the differences of culture, religion and politics? How many human beings can show this much empathy and compassion for others?
This explains why Christ was born in a stable... and thus ends the sixth blog of Christmas.
Rudy - July 11, 2001
I took this picture about one year after the events detailed here. Rudy's rescue
of me took place in September 2000.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
The color of "Calling Birds"
"On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me four calling birds...."
Sounds pretty, doesn't it? Four birds calling and singing Christmas carols....
Except it's not that. It's a great illustration of how the words of one century get twisted and turned around in later eras.
What sounds like "calling" to modern ears is "colly" or "collie" in the original, as in the related word collier meaning a miner of coal. Colly means "colored like coal" or black. The lady's true love is giving her four blackbirds, the same variety of which gets "baked into a pie" in Sing a Song of Six Pence:
Sounds pretty, doesn't it? Four birds calling and singing Christmas carols....
Except it's not that. It's a great illustration of how the words of one century get twisted and turned around in later eras.
What sounds like "calling" to modern ears is "colly" or "collie" in the original, as in the related word collier meaning a miner of coal. Colly means "colored like coal" or black. The lady's true love is giving her four blackbirds, the same variety of which gets "baked into a pie" in Sing a Song of Six Pence:
Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of rye
Four and twenty blackbirds baked into a pie
When the pie was opened the birds begin to sing
Wasn't that a dainty dish to set before the king?
And yep, blackbirds were really grocery items back in the day. Think chicken pot pie except not chicken...
And the notion of putting live birds beneath a pasty crust was the medieval equivalent of the dribble glass, considered to be just hilarious. Presumably after the bird were released and had pooped all over the diners, the chef would bring in the real pie.
The above picture depicts the Twelfth Night Feast (Christmas Feast) at the Duc de Berry (he's the gentleman in ornate blue robe with the gold pattern and we are greatly indebted to him for the lovely illustrations he commissioned which showcase his time for us). I regret that there are no bird erupting from pies, but probably that took place off-camera.
But the difference between calling birds and colly birds should cause us to reflect on the untrustworthy nature of words to shift and change...sometimes right in front of us. Words like "gay" and "straight" for example are words where the meanings changed in the blink of an eye.
Whenever anybody tells me that the only safe way to interpret the Bible is literally, I think of the colly birds and how a nice gift of food got turned into something fanciful. I always want to ask the literal Bible reader which translation they are using, and which translation that translation was based on and other things which are probably unkind to ask. They usually fall back on "This is the word of God" defense and all the translators were divinely inspired so they wouldn't have made any mistakes. Asking them to compare different editions and translations of the Bible is downright cruel because there are some passages where the translators have given us diverse images.
Most of these passages are not that important. Not sure why anybody would worry about whether
Agag came* "on trembling feet", or "with a blithe step" or "in chains". Agag and his gruesome Old Testament fate doesn't seem to have much bearing on what Christ did or said later, but he sure did give the translators fits. Maybe his purpose was to keep them humble and remind them that however divinely inspired they thought they were, they were only human.
Agag came* "on trembling feet", or "with a blithe step" or "in chains". Agag and his gruesome Old Testament fate doesn't seem to have much bearing on what Christ did or said later, but he sure did give the translators fits. Maybe his purpose was to keep them humble and remind them that however divinely inspired they thought they were, they were only human.
Thing like words and the marvelous way they twist and change down through time interest me, because I like words and the whole aspect of trying to communicate with the little devils is so fraught, especially when dealing with things like religious truths that have to be approached sideways and through parable and metaphor.
To me there's an added dimension to knowing that the beautiful "calling birds" of my imagination were plain old blackbirds once upon a time. Plus I think the knowledge tempers extravagant expectation with prosaic reality. Not a bad thing for a holiday...or for a people or a religion or a political campaign--because when the shouting stops, you still gotta govern. A pinch of reality makes true love stronger.
This is the fifth blog of Christmas.
*I Samuel 32 - My King James Revised American Standard Version says "cheerfully". Anyway he gets hacked in pieces in Verse 33.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Christmas DAZE, or What's In A Date?
Christmas is widely celebrated on December the 25th. Also, Christmas is celebrated on January 6th--in those traditions Twelfth Night or the evening of January 5th is the most important date. Christmas is also celebrated on all the days between, so St. Stephen's Day or Boxing Day, Kwanzaa, New Year's Day all fall in the Christmas season according to the older traditions of Christianity. The 28th of December is the Feast of the Innocents or Childermas.
Interestingly enough, in North America, the "Twelve Days of Christmas" are stood on their head and the countdown begins before Christmas...somewhere around December 14th and thus ends on December 25th. I don't find any Christian tradition in Europe that does this. It appears to be an American innovation, like Santa Claus or Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Possibly this is done to clear the way for post-Christmas sales or for New Year's Eve parties?
However, the date or the day of Christmas is determined there's a very clear reason why it falls in the darkest months of the year, near the time of the winter solstice when daylight is in scant supply. The harvest is in; agriculture is idle in the northern hemisphere and the fathers of the early Christian church wanted a festival to supplant/compete with the older festivals that celebrated the renewal of hope and the return of light.
Think about that: the renewal of hope and the return of light. I think these things are universal needs of the human heart.
We don't know the exact date of Christ's birth but from the evidence provided by the Christmas story of his parents going to be registered by the degree of Augustus Caesar, it's likely that their journey would have taken place at a more seasonable time of the year...but maybe not. Palestine is pretty hot and desert-like. When I was growing up in West Texas, December was a pleasant month for playing outside and harsh weather that would make travel difficult was rare. It was a better season for travel or being outdoors than August, that was for sure.
Wouldn't it be funny if the people who grumble about the pagan origins of Christmas were completely wrong?
What if December the 25th or January 5th, or one of the dates in between is the actual birthday of Jesus?
And then when one has savored that thought, one realizes that the best way to "defend Christmas" is to renew hope and seek light all 365 days of the year...366 days if it is Leap Year. It's not in the date or even for one day...it's for our darkest hours that we may rise above them.
This ends the 4th blog of Christmas.
In support of "Happy Holidays" -the 1st blog
The 3rd blog of Christmas
Interestingly enough, in North America, the "Twelve Days of Christmas" are stood on their head and the countdown begins before Christmas...somewhere around December 14th and thus ends on December 25th. I don't find any Christian tradition in Europe that does this. It appears to be an American innovation, like Santa Claus or Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Possibly this is done to clear the way for post-Christmas sales or for New Year's Eve parties?
However, the date or the day of Christmas is determined there's a very clear reason why it falls in the darkest months of the year, near the time of the winter solstice when daylight is in scant supply. The harvest is in; agriculture is idle in the northern hemisphere and the fathers of the early Christian church wanted a festival to supplant/compete with the older festivals that celebrated the renewal of hope and the return of light.
Think about that: the renewal of hope and the return of light. I think these things are universal needs of the human heart.
We don't know the exact date of Christ's birth but from the evidence provided by the Christmas story of his parents going to be registered by the degree of Augustus Caesar, it's likely that their journey would have taken place at a more seasonable time of the year...but maybe not. Palestine is pretty hot and desert-like. When I was growing up in West Texas, December was a pleasant month for playing outside and harsh weather that would make travel difficult was rare. It was a better season for travel or being outdoors than August, that was for sure.
Wouldn't it be funny if the people who grumble about the pagan origins of Christmas were completely wrong?
What if December the 25th or January 5th, or one of the dates in between is the actual birthday of Jesus?
And then when one has savored that thought, one realizes that the best way to "defend Christmas" is to renew hope and seek light all 365 days of the year...366 days if it is Leap Year. It's not in the date or even for one day...it's for our darkest hours that we may rise above them.
This ends the 4th blog of Christmas.
In support of "Happy Holidays" -the 1st blog
The 3rd blog of Christmas
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Pearl Harbor Day - December 7th, 1941
Lt. H. Earl Mizell driving an Army jeep - Pacific Theater - Saipan?
Take just a moment from the joys and travails of the holiday season to think back 70 years ago to "a Day that will live in Infamy". And so it does.
Let us remember not only the men lost on those ships at harbor but look beyond...not just the war that came to America's doorstep that day but the peace that those men bought us by their sacrifice.
Dec 7, 1941 changed the life of the man in the black and white picture. He could already see that war was coming and had enlisted right after gaining a Master of Science degree in Agriculture. He'd wanted to go for radio training but the recruiter said that specialty was full up, what else can you do? And so the farm boy from Southern Illinois spent the months before Pearl Harbor getting his basic training in the horse cavalry.
He had a spirited horse called Red, a chestnut who'd been too much for the other men in his unit to handle and he greatly enjoyed galloping across the plains of Kansas.
Pearl Harbor happened and hours later, he was on a train for the East Coast and he never saw that fine chestnut horse again. By sheer fluke of luck, he was dumped into training for radio communications. The war took him places he'd never imagined: New York City, Florida, Canada in the dead of winter, California...and finally, overseas to the island cluster of Guam, Saipan and Tinian.
At the end of the war, he had a chance to go to Japan, but decided to go home instead. That decision enabled him to eventually meet my mother. So life happened. In 1979, I went to Japan to attend a student conference and for years after that, my parents hosted any of my Japanese friends who managed to get to my hometown.
One of those friends spent half a night talking to my Dad and was thunderstruck that a veteran of World War II in the Pacific would welcome the son of a former enemy into his home. My father explained that the war had nothing to do with me, his daughter, or anyone of my generation. The war was over and Japan and the United States were friends. Nothing to forgive or forget: the war had brought our nations together and it was up to the young to make sure it stayed that way. That young Japanese feller became a doctor, working on the military base at Yokohama, treating the ills and injuries of American servicemen.
So let us remember and reflect and also turn our eyes to the future. Nothing lasts forever; the enemy of the past becomes the staunch ally of the future. That is embodied in the message:
Peace on Earth and Goodwill to all Men.
As Christ said, love your enemies. Turns out it is a great strategy and guarantees the future. So, yes, we have our struggles, but let us not demonize our foes.
Peace on Earth. To my friends in Japan, recovering from the terrible earthquake and tsunami that ravaged your beautiful northern coast, I think of you. Stay safe and away from that nuclear reactor.
Goodwill to all. May we meet as friends someday.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
The Question of the Christmas Tree
An offhand comment from one of my friends on Facebook prompted me to do research on whether or not the Christmas Tree was pagan in origin.
It's an interesting question because there has long been two theories about Christmas in America and two ways of celebrating. One is very austere: no tree and few or modest presents and hours spent in church. The other is a lavish tradition of a brightly decorated tree, feasting, gifting and parties as well as church. And everything in between--Christmas is never one thing.
Folk who feel that the more austere Christmas is more religious tend to claim that the Christmas Tree and whatever elements of the lavish Christmas they disapprove of is "pagan".
However it turns out that decorating the house with palms or other greenery is appropriate for Jewish festivals such as Passover. Palms are not available through out the world; however evergreens are widespread and carry a symbolic message of long life, immortality or hope in times of despair. While the idea of a Christmas Tree is linked with supposed pre-Christian pagan rituals, I'm not able to locate any definitive tradition of what, exactly, those supposed pagan rituals were.
I do find accounts of medieval morality plays at Christmas that feature a tree inside the church called "the Tree of Paradise". Typically an apple or apples would be tied to the branches for Adam and Eve to pluck. This might have inspired the idea of tying gifts for small children to the branches of a tree. Who knows?
I also find accounts going back to the 15th century of trees cut down and displayed in guildhalls at Christmas. Often the trees were used to fuel winter bonfires in the village square where the young men and women could dance. This may or may not be a pagan relic--it might just be a way of cheering up the grim season of darkness in Northern Europe.
There are traditions in Christian culture that go back 600 years involving the use of evergreen trees to symbolize that even in the depths of winter God is with us. The "modern" tradition of gifts being placed under the tree goes back at least 200 years. I think if Christians want to decorate a tree at Christmas, they can do so in good conscience, at least from the standpoint of their religion.
After all, if Buddha found Enlightenment under the bodhi tree, what's wrong with the kids finding a little fun on Christmas morning?
All I ask is that you recycle your tree. And don't forget to plant a new one on Arbor Day. Thus concludes the second blog of Christmas.
The first blog of Christmas - "Happy Holidays"
The 3rd Blog of Christmas - Pearl Harbor Day in this season
It's an interesting question because there has long been two theories about Christmas in America and two ways of celebrating. One is very austere: no tree and few or modest presents and hours spent in church. The other is a lavish tradition of a brightly decorated tree, feasting, gifting and parties as well as church. And everything in between--Christmas is never one thing.
Folk who feel that the more austere Christmas is more religious tend to claim that the Christmas Tree and whatever elements of the lavish Christmas they disapprove of is "pagan".
However it turns out that decorating the house with palms or other greenery is appropriate for Jewish festivals such as Passover. Palms are not available through out the world; however evergreens are widespread and carry a symbolic message of long life, immortality or hope in times of despair. While the idea of a Christmas Tree is linked with supposed pre-Christian pagan rituals, I'm not able to locate any definitive tradition of what, exactly, those supposed pagan rituals were.
I do find accounts of medieval morality plays at Christmas that feature a tree inside the church called "the Tree of Paradise". Typically an apple or apples would be tied to the branches for Adam and Eve to pluck. This might have inspired the idea of tying gifts for small children to the branches of a tree. Who knows?
I also find accounts going back to the 15th century of trees cut down and displayed in guildhalls at Christmas. Often the trees were used to fuel winter bonfires in the village square where the young men and women could dance. This may or may not be a pagan relic--it might just be a way of cheering up the grim season of darkness in Northern Europe.
There are traditions in Christian culture that go back 600 years involving the use of evergreen trees to symbolize that even in the depths of winter God is with us. The "modern" tradition of gifts being placed under the tree goes back at least 200 years. I think if Christians want to decorate a tree at Christmas, they can do so in good conscience, at least from the standpoint of their religion.
After all, if Buddha found Enlightenment under the bodhi tree, what's wrong with the kids finding a little fun on Christmas morning?
All I ask is that you recycle your tree. And don't forget to plant a new one on Arbor Day. Thus concludes the second blog of Christmas.
The first blog of Christmas - "Happy Holidays"
The 3rd Blog of Christmas - Pearl Harbor Day in this season
Saturday, December 3, 2011
In support of "Happy Holidays"
I have some dear friends who are Christians who have requested that I not use the greeting "Happy Holidays" on the grounds that it is "politically correct". They have requested I use "Merry Christmas" instead.
My response is "Hello?"
I've never used "Happy Holidays" to be politically correct. I've used it because my company has instructed me to use the more inclusive greeting in phone interactions with clients. I've also used it as shorthand for: "Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!"
The end of the year is crammed with festivals and celebrations from many cultures and religions. I don't think it is wrong to say "Happy Holidays!" in the spirit of peace on earth and goodwill to all humanity. "Happy Holidays" not only covers Christmas but New Years Day -- a day important to me for quiet reflection, to acknowledge the changes of the previous year and to embrace the possibilities of the next.
If you say "Merry Christmas!" to me, I'll thank you for the good wishes and respond in kind. If you say "Happy Holidays" I'll thank you for the good wishes and respond in kind. If you wish me "Happy Hanukkah" or "Happy Kwanzaa", I'll respond in kind. But if you wish me "Happy Eid-ul-Adha" I'll look at you oddly because that was last month. If you want to wish me "Happy Ashura", you've got until Monday Dec 5th in the Middle East and Tuesday Dec 7 in North America. Al-Hijra/Muharram is still going on, having started on Nov 26 and ending on Dec 24. (All these dates are 2011.) Rohatsu as the very name implies is celebrated on December 8th.
All of these holidays are important to someone. Most involve a serious religious purpose and are not occasions to shop and spend money. Christmas has almost become a universal holiday being celebrated wherever department stores are present. I sympathize with my Christian friends who would like to put the religion back in their holiday. The best way to do that is to emulate Christ and I strongly believe that Christ would not bite my head off if I wished him "Happy Holidays".
This is the first blog of Christmas.
The 2nd Blog of Christmas - The Tree ?
My response is "Hello?"
I've never used "Happy Holidays" to be politically correct. I've used it because my company has instructed me to use the more inclusive greeting in phone interactions with clients. I've also used it as shorthand for: "Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!"
The end of the year is crammed with festivals and celebrations from many cultures and religions. I don't think it is wrong to say "Happy Holidays!" in the spirit of peace on earth and goodwill to all humanity. "Happy Holidays" not only covers Christmas but New Years Day -- a day important to me for quiet reflection, to acknowledge the changes of the previous year and to embrace the possibilities of the next.
If you say "Merry Christmas!" to me, I'll thank you for the good wishes and respond in kind. If you say "Happy Holidays" I'll thank you for the good wishes and respond in kind. If you wish me "Happy Hanukkah" or "Happy Kwanzaa", I'll respond in kind. But if you wish me "Happy Eid-ul-Adha" I'll look at you oddly because that was last month. If you want to wish me "Happy Ashura", you've got until Monday Dec 5th in the Middle East and Tuesday Dec 7 in North America. Al-Hijra/Muharram is still going on, having started on Nov 26 and ending on Dec 24. (All these dates are 2011.) Rohatsu as the very name implies is celebrated on December 8th.
All of these holidays are important to someone. Most involve a serious religious purpose and are not occasions to shop and spend money. Christmas has almost become a universal holiday being celebrated wherever department stores are present. I sympathize with my Christian friends who would like to put the religion back in their holiday. The best way to do that is to emulate Christ and I strongly believe that Christ would not bite my head off if I wished him "Happy Holidays".
This is the first blog of Christmas.
The 2nd Blog of Christmas - The Tree ?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)