On the sixth day of Christmas: We are family

Yesterday's posting elicited an interesting, lengthy comment that I'm going to try to tackle in a couple weeks; right now, I'm lining things up on the front burner for next week.

There is the possibility that this might be another spam (I'm up to 4,077 incoming spams since I got rolling here less than a year ago). But I dug around a bit, and it seems this fellow does exist, and had lifted at least a goodly-sized junk of the text from his own blog… which I'll link in here once I've got his permission. I did send him a note back (subject-line "Five Golden Ringers"), in response to his comment (and masked his email address so he doesn't get spam-slammed):

Good morning, DoubtingThomas:

Thank you for your comments; these are common modern-day criticisms, and I'd like to address them in a more public forum than just via email between you and me. Would you be okay with it if I post your comments, and my responses, on my blog? I won't post your email address unless you request it, and will keep you anonymous. This will keep the spammers away from you, and also any more fundamentalist, rather rigid folks from trying to excoriate you.

I do have a bit of a docket built up for now, though, so this will have to wait at least a couple weeks: I'll be examining some more specific issues of Jesus' birth/life circumstances (as I outlined briefly yesterday) through January 6. On Wednesday I'm going to begin the first of two weekly features, this being a spotlight on a friend's television scripts. Thursday or Friday I'll begin the other, which is a how-to on building a really cool blues guitar, courtesy of another friend. I also intend to take at least a day or two in January and try tackling the lightning-rod issue of abortion, from the standpoint of a liberal, feminist Catholic man who is nonetheless obedient to the Church. [And before January is out, I'm also going to clean off His Holiness, Pope Pius XII.]

Again, what you've had to say is deserving of good, point-by-point attention, and I want to be sure it gets some serious, public focus, even if just so my other two readers, who likely share at least some of your viewpoints, might have (I hope) their own confusion to some degree ameliorated.

Regards,

AgingChild

No word back yet. Even if the comment's from a bogus sort (and some of my spam-laden "comments" have featured stolen text), the points he's trying – rather weakly and superficially, I think – to make are in need of reasoned, educated answer… or at least the best I myself can offer. Later, friend.

Anyway, back to humility.

Today, the first Sunday after Christmas, the Church marks as the Feast of the Holy Family (i.e., Jesus, His mother Mary, and His foster-father – Mary's husband – Joseph). St. Joseph I want to write on specifically; this, too, will be later, most likely in mid-March.

But it must be pointed out here that Jesus' prime role models in life were these, his earthly parents. I said a couple days ago that Joseph was more than just a carpenter, that he would best be referred to as a construction worker. The Greek word that has been translated as "carpenter" from the oldest extant texts of the Gospels is τεκτον (tekton), which refers to a worker in stone as well as in wood. Though the Bible doesn't mention it (and shouldn't need to), he and Joseph and their work-crew probably assisted in constructions ongoing in the town of Sepphoris, just a few miles up the road from their Nazareth home.

That Jesus was familiar with at least some practices of stone- and woodworking is evident in several places, such as Matthew 21:42, Luke 14:28 and 6:41-2, and so on. (He also showed genuine familiarity with animal- and plant-husbandry; my own little theory is that He spent quite a few of his first thirty years working in a number of very different professions.)

Not having done a whole lot of it myself, I do recognize that hard work does often foster humility in people. Joseph also showed his own humility (and trust) in immediately and unquestioningly heeding divine promptings (in the form of angels who commanded him in dreams), most particularly in doing an about-face when he was ready to divorce Mary when she turned out to be pregnant: instead he married her, and raised the child as his – their – own, doing his utmost to protect these two particular loved ones when their lives were threatened.

Joseph can be called "the silent saint", since nowhere in the Bible are his words recorded. So he speaks most loudly in his actions: his love for and devotion to Mary; his determination to be the best of fathers to Jesus; his deep and living faith; his trust in and obedience of the divine; and so on. We could all do far, far worse than emulate him.

Mary – sinless and saintly – lived a sweet humility, too. She was innocent and trusting. When Gabriel informed Zechariah (married to a cousin of Mary) that he was to become a father in his old age – and that this child would serve to prepare the people for the coming of the Messiah – Zechariah's fear turned to something almost derisive, and he responded with, essentially, "You don't know what you're talking about." That was also the last thing he said in nearly a year.

Mary's own response six months later, when Gabriel told her God wished her to carry the child who would be the Messiah, was simply to ask the angel to explain this further. Which he did, and so she – totally trusting – did. Think about it: absolute trust requires genuine humility; otherwise, we'd stand up and say, "Wrong; I know better." This was Zechariah's mistake… from which he certainly learned the hard way. Mary never failed in her own trust in God, and in her son – His Son – and His mission of salvation to Judaism and beyond.

(I need to cut this short, though – brother Sarge just called, and over the phone twisted my arm to join him in a two-mile run through Pennsylvania Dutch Country. I can handle that; I'd been planning on a midnight run through the neighborhood anyway. But it's going to be cold (~thirties); I'll let you know how it turns out.)

Humility is not weakness, however. Besides her agony of not flinching at having to helplessly watch her son's torture and execution, she showed her mettle as well – like any good Jewish mother – in even giving Jesus, the very Son of God, a good hard push.

This was at His first recorded miracle, at a wedding in a small town called Cana (probably modern-day Kafr Kanna), not far from Nazareth. (Mary, Jesus, and his newly-gathered disciples were among the invited guests.) You probably know the story: when the wine unexpectedly ran out – interestingly, only after the disciples arrived! – , Mary turned to her son, trusting fully that he could save the festive occasion from becoming a big social disaster.

Their exchange bears deeper study and treatment than I can give it here just now. I don't yet grasp the full spiritual dynamics behind all this, but I'd really like to read up on it more. In any case, Jesus seems to decline her request – and Mary does seem in turn to ignore her son's answer, and tells the master of ceremonies to follow Jesus' instructions. Essentially this appears to put her son on the spot, and he readily accedes to His mother's request in stunning abundance: by turning quite a big load of water into some 500 to 700 gallons of wine. This must have been quite some wedding – especially afterward!!

But do you see the humility? Mary trusts her son… and also refuses to take a seeming "No" for an answer. (And they wonder why we Catholics like to run our prayers through her sometimes!) Jesus, in turn, honoring his mother (Fourth or Fifth Commandment), quite thoroughly takes care of the matter – showing us in the process the great yield provided to those who do indeed trust. As Psalm 23 says, my cup is overflowing! 

Five Golden Rings

Building a bit on Father's Christmas-Eve homily, it might be pointed out that Jesus was born within (and lived under) five particular conditions that are overlooked when gazing only on the figure of King of Kings, and Judge of All Humankind:

1. Poverty;

2. Humility;

3. Piety;

4. Peace;

5. Simplicity

Poverty we've looked at here; how about humility?

Merriam-Webster defines humble as "not proud or haughty: not arrogant or assertive" and "reflecting, [or] expressing… a spirit of deference or submission".

That Jesus was humble is readily evident in what was written of him early on (the Gospels/Acts, and the Letters). First, he deferred or submitted utterly to the will of the Father. Also, He'd cure the sick and restore the dead to life… and then urge the healed/restored not to tell that he had done this. He was not looking for self-glorification, but to turn the people to His – and their – Father.

(Humility shows clearly as well in the ministry of His herald and cousin, John the Baptist – e.g., saying definitively to the crowds drawn to see him that he wasn’t even of enough worth to untie the true Messiah’s dirt-encrusted sandals, and that his own ministerial destiny was to step aside for Jesus, now that he (John) had caught the eyes and hearts and attention of the people.)

Jesus was also stirred by the humility he'd find in strangers.

A centurion – foot-soldier and officer of the detested occupying army, by the way – approached Jesus (seeing Him as a holy man), asking that He heal his servant, who was paralyzed and suffering. Jesus agreed readily to go right to the soldier's house and heal the man. But the centurion backed off, and explained that he wasn't worthy enough for Jesus to even set foot in his home… could He just command the healing from a distance, much as this officer commanded his men and they would do his bidding? Matthew reports that this man's response "amazed" Jesus, Who declared He'd not seen the like of such trust/faith anywhere in Israel, and healed that servant on the spot.

Mark records an incident when Jesus, taking time out from his preaching (in an area inhabited by gentiles), was approached by a Greek, gentile woman. In humility she sprawled at His feet, and begged that He heal her daughter from possession (what might or might not have been psychosis… or a genuine spirit of evil – but I don't know; I wasn't there). Jesus firmly pointed out that his mission was first to the Jews in spiritual and physical need: "Let the children be fed first. For it is not right to take the food of the children and throw it to the dogs." (An examination of the earliest Greek text strongly suggests Jesus was speaking lightheartedly – say, with twinkle in eye and light, almost questioning tone – , and indeed giving this woman an opportunity to, in a way, plead the case/need of the non-Judaic world.)

Indeed, her reply was stunning (and perhaps Jesus had been looking as well for a non-Jew to provide a catalytic moment that would continue the expansion of His ministry far beyond the world of Judaism): "Lord, even the dogs under the table eat the children's scraps." And her bold humility indeed had the effect she'd needed: her daughter was healed that instant.

Both His mother, and His foster-father, were humble people – though open-eyed and decisive as well. Let's have a look at that tomorrow; your assignment in the meantime is to reread my Mothers'-Day blog, which (while venturing into, and occasionally out of, the tongue-in-cheek) touched on the humility of Mary, and of the father of John the Baptist.

Followup: An interesting comment came through quickly. The gent is not responding to anything I've written here, and instead has set up his own podium and soapbox (and megaphone) on my square of public concrete. Rather than simply deleting his screed, here it is in full, and verbatim – please disregard the vocabulary and subtext:

DoubtingThomas Dec 30, 2007

Matt 15:22-28 – Describes an encounter between Jesus and a Gentile woman who begs him to heal her daughter. Jesus ignores the woman. She persists and he finally says to her, “I am not sent but unto the lost sheep of the house of Israel. It is not meet to take the children’s (Jews) bread and to cast it to dogs (Gentiles).” Woman won’t give up and eventually Jesus finally relents and heals the child. Christians want us to worship a God who refused to heal an innocent child until he was pressured into it. Wow.

Malachi’s prophecy that told of the arrival of the Messiah clearly states that Elias (Elijah) would return before the Messiah does. When Jesus is confronted with this fact he states that Elias did come … but no one noticed. Matt 17:12. Simple enough! I guess we’ll just have to take his word for it. It’s not like he could have an ulterior motive or anything. He even tries to pass off the identity of Elias onto John the Baptist to help cement him as the Messiah but John denies that he is Elias. John 1:20, 21.

Jesus was a bigot. Matt 10:5, 6 – depicts Jesus instructing his workers to go out and spread his word, but only to the Jews. “Go not into the way of the Gentiles … but rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.”

Matthew 10:35, 36 – What is Jesus’ deal? “For I am come to set a man at variance against his father, and the daughter against her mother, and the daughter in law against her mother in law. And a man’s foes shall be they of his own household.” These are Jesus’ words.

Considering the number of people claiming to be Messiah back then, it would have been nice if there could have been just a few unbiased witnesses to Jesus’ resurrection and ascension. After all, one ‘false’ Messiah had 400 followers when he was executed, that’s 280 more than Jesus had.

Jesus is kind of a dick. Luke 9:59-62 – depicts Jesus recruiting his disciples. When one asks if he can bury his recently deceased father, Jesus says, “Let the dead bury the dead.” And when another wishes to say farewell to his family back home, Jesus says, “No man, having put his hand to the plough, and looking back, is fit for the Kingdom of God.” In Matt 4:21, 22 two other disciples are forced to leave their father to mend the fishing nets by himself.

What happened to Honor thy Father and Thy Mother? John 2: 1-4 – Jesus to his mother, “Woman, what have I to do with thee?”

Matt 19:12 – reminds us that sex with women is unholy and Jesus gives extra commendation to eunuchs, especially those who castrate themselves.

Matt 21:19 & Mark 11:13 – When Jesus gets hungry & finds a fig tree bearing no fruit, the reason being that it’s out of season, he curses it. “Let no fruit grow on thee henceforth forever.” The tree withers away on the spot. No one is with Jesus at the time so we’ll just have to take his word for it.

Matt 11:20-23 – Jesus damns whole cities to hell. “Woe unto thee, Chorazin! Woe unto thee, Bethsaida! … And thou, Capernaum … shalt be brought down to hell.”

In Matt 5:22 Jesus says not to call anyone a fool but in Matt 23:17 he says of the Pharisees, “Ye fools and blind.” Matt 23:33 – “Ye serpents, ye generation of vipers, how can ye escape the damnation of hell?” Matt 12:34 – “O generation of vipers, how can ye, being evil, speak good things?”

Luke 21:32 – Jesus, speaking of the second coming -“Verily I say unto you, This generation shall not pass away, till all be fulfilled.” The Apostles actually believed they would be the first occupants of heaven from the rapture, not as a result of death. How could they have been so wrong?

Jesus: Not a member of PETA. Jesus casts a horde of demons out of a couple of protesters (because they must be possessed if they don’t dig the Messiah) and per the demons wishes, casts them into a herd of 2,000 pigs. The pigs then run violently into the sea and die. That herd must have been of great value to he who owned them but Jesus does not compensate this person. Besides, to eat swine they must have been Gentiles, so fuck ‘em! Matt. 8:28-33 and Mark 5:13.

Some of the ridiculous teachings/commands of Jesus: Accumulate no wealth; turn the other cheek; judge no ones behavior; don’t use your mind but be as children; do not question or philosophize; love those who mistreat you; avoid associating with the ‘dogs’ (Gentiles) of this world; sell all your possessions and give it to the poor (now you’re poor! Hoorah!); have no thought for the morrow (make no plans); everything you do and have is probably a sin; take no pleasure in this world; love those who treat you cruelly as much as those that are kind to you; mutilate yourself; be 100% certain Jesus bought your way into heaven through his torturous death; if the sight of someone of the opposite sexually arouses you, pluck out your eye; for special approval with God, become a eunuch; Servants, obey your masters; citizens, obey your rulers unquestioningly; children, obey your parents in all things; love your enemies; abandon your family and be rewarded in heaven; do not assert yourself; do not achieve prominence in this world, for the first shall be the last in heaven; if a criminal robs you of $50.00, give him another $50.00; etc. (By the way, how can love be a command? Love is an emotional response and can not be controlled.)

 

Fourth Day of Christmas: Sanctity Through Poverty

Let's look further at the role of the poor in the heart of God.

What's that old quote? "He must love them, because he made so many of them"? The wag who tossed off that silly line was looking down his nose… did it not occur to him (I'm saying "he" because I assume most women aren't that stupid and egotistical) that perhaps God loves them, yes, because their needs – individually and collectively – are so great? And because He truly knows them?

At some other point, I'd love to delve deeply here into the whole theological concept of sanctification: i.e., making something holy through connection/continuity, or/and through prayer, or/and divine touch/presence (this is my own rough, horseback definition). But for now, I just want to take a few moments and tie together poverty and sanctity.

There is, of course, the obvious spiritual truism that the more goodies and toys one has, the less likely he is to turn his heart and mind and soul back toward his creator. (Witness, for example, how religious orders of quite a range of faith traditions (e.g., Buddhist and Christian) deliberately live lives of poverty.) Followed through, this leads one to a reasonable conclusion that the poor and needy will average out more spiritually deep, since their souls and focuses – focī, for those folks who've taken Latin – have far fewer distractions.

What makes something holy? Let me toss out a few suggestions:

1)      "natural" holiness, or intrinsic beauty: e.g., the Himalayas, Victoria Falls, Uluru, and so on;

2)      focus of reverence; here some holiness seems to seep into the thing due to the high regard it's given: e.g., the big brass Buddha of Kamakura, the Potala, St. Peter's and other cathedrals, and particular works of artistic depth; et cetera;

3)      inner spirituality: e.g., holy people; your list would likely differ from mine, but I'll offer at least Blessed Theresa of Calcutta, St. Thérèse of Lisieux, the Dalai Lama, Chief Joseph, Mohandas Gandhi… and many, many more who have been so holy, we don't even notice them;

4)      "touched by God"; i.e., the miraculous and inexplicable, such as the tilma of Cuauhtlatoatzin and the shroud of Torino; and

5)      God Himself, and His presence.

In other words, (aside from being God Himself) something's holy through how it affects our inner selves; or through its "absorbing", one might say, a kind of holiness through our own regard of it; or because it's been imbued with an actual divine holiness through act of God. Sanctified.

Now, some more heavy theology. God sanctified humanity by becoming human – i.e., Jesus. God, who exists by nature outside of our universe (even while permeating it) of space and time… sanctified time by confining Himself (as Jesus), within time to live as a human being, even while remaining God beyond (and yet permeating) time. Life he sanctified through having an actual, physical life and death… thus sanctifying even death itself.

This is extremely deep, and my head's spinning just trying to lay out for you some things I grasp somewhat. Let me go on, rather than try to illustrate these mysteries further. And, yes, the Catholic Church does indeed recognize that much of God's nature and function remains totally mysterious to us.

This particular principle of sanctification has a mundane and shallow parallel among us mortal humans. Just look on eBay, and note the pricing of objects once owned by celebrities. It may be just a tissue, or a book, or an old car – but it's become kind of "special" to some people through who has touched it, see?

All the more so for things that God touches – as Father, Son, or Holy Spirit, in fact.

The King of the Universe, Creator of everything imaginable – including imagination itself – became human and lived among us for just a few years. He could have been born into luxury and comfort, so as not to be distracted by scrabbling for food and shelter. Yet… He was born to the unemployed wife of a poor construction worker (not only carpenter), and at the time of this birth they were staying in a cave/barn out of desperation, and under orders of an occupying power. He was surrounded by rotting hay, dung, stink… poverty.

And thus sanctified poverty. Do you see this? While it may not arguably be holy to be poor because one is poor, it does mean that the poor and destitute are particularly close to God's (metaphorical) heart.

Of course they own Heaven. During their ministries, both John the Baptist and Jesus were utterly homeless – John particularly so, living in the desert, and even eating bugs to survive; Jesus slept outside much of the time, and other times stayed with friends and strangers. Jesus himself said, quite simply, "Foxes have dens and birds of the sky have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to rest his head."

And He underscores further the spiritual poverty of the well-to-do, time and time again. Here's just one blunt example: "It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for one who is rich to enter the kingdom of God."

Everything we have that is in excess of what we must have to meet our needs… belongs to the poor. For the Kingdom of God is theirs.

 

Third Day of Christmas: Don't Just Count Your Blessings

During his Christmas-Eve homily, our pastor repeated the staggering declaration he'd unloaded on us during the Thanksgiving-Day mass:

Everything we have that is in excess of what we must have to meet our needs… belongs to the poor.

In this statement, I think some folks might just suspect they hear an echo of the torch-bearing, mud-faced rabble at their gates. This is not so, however; it was not a call to societal revolution from the pulpit, but rather a call to revolution of our comfortable-Americans' tight grip on our wallets when it comes to seeing to the needy.

Certainly a hurricane flooding a city (especially when the city isn't Crawford or Kennebunkport), a pair of skyscrapers brought down by a mangy handful of cowards, a country stripped bare by tsunami, a village by earthquake or mudslide… will embolden quite a few of us to open the wallet-strings and roll up our sleeves.

And so we must. But – as Jesus Himself said – we will "always have the poor"; eventually the catastrophes are remedied, the dead buried and mourned, the displaced rehoused, and so on. But conditions of need and poverty remain.

I don't know about you, but thinking about this gets me to squirming in real discomfort. Beyond my several-times-a-year boxload or bagload of clothing, computers, etc., to Goodwill, and the three days I spent earlier this month helping out (I was paid, not volunteered… and so I squirm more) at the Salvation Army, and my church-offerings… well, these are all easily done, and low-demand. But it's been years since I pitched in at the local soup kitchen, for instance.

Indulge the uncomfortable thought a little longer. Posit a Judgment Day, okay? You can be agnostic, atheistic, or exempt (however you've rationalized it) the rest of today. But just for now, posit a moment, after death, when who you are and what you've done is laid out before you and your creator-judge. How many people in need will speak up in your defense? How many non-ignored hungry people – down the street, or across any ocean you can imagine – will say that you alleviated a credible amount of their desperation? Their children's?

You see why I squirm?

Well, at this point a lot of people duck out by slickly sliding over to the warm-and-fuzzy belief that a loving, benevolent God does not judge, but rather lives by compassion and forgiveness. Maybe… but I'd rather be prepared for somewhat less rosy-colored scenarios. Just posit with me on this, okay? And so... I'm squirming.

Sure, "Jesus loves me, this I know", and all that – but doesn't he also love the poor and suffering every bit as much as He loves me, in my heated/cooled house? Here where there's food in the fridge and cabinets and in a gift basket on my bed beside me, in fact? (Thanks, Alicia and Levi!) Down the hall I have hot water within seconds, and a flushing toilet. I can drive to the hospital or doctor or dentist if something goes wrong, or press 9+1+1 on my cell phone if I can't drive.

I bet I could walk down the road for ten or fifteen minutes, and find a sidewalk-spot, or doorway, where someone will be sleeping tonight, or slept last week. I bet you could too. How many meals could your brand-new Wii buy? How many nights of housing would your iPod have bought? Will God's justice – even his fairness – simply overlook this, once you're laid in the cold earth? Will He simply forget the desperation of the majority of humankind?

If you're not squirming now, or at least squawking in objection, your heart has shut down… or your earbuds have drowned out the sound of its beating. Regardless; I've set you up now for the second point – corollary or parallel; whatever – to Father's staggering statement, which he also made during the Christmas-Eve Mass:

The poor own Heaven.

Period.

Don't you remember the Beatitudes from Sunday School? You'll find them in Matthew 5:3-12 and Luke 6:20-22 (and following). Luke records the very first one as "Blessed are you who are poor, for the kingdom of God is yours". This may mean, yes, simply that they are assured a Heavenly reward for all they've suffered here on earth.

But… are you going to bet all your marbles that this is not quite literal, and doesn't in fact mean that the poor actually own Heaven? Don't know about you, sister/brother… but I don't dare.

Yes; Matthew's parallel (5:3) reads "the poor in spirit". But I repeat: are you gonna bet everything you have and are on Jesus' words referring strictly to the spiritually struggling?

If your many platters of Christmas-feast leftovers are beginning to taste a bit sour in your gut right about now (they sure are in mine), then His message has not fallen on deaf ears, or blind eyes.

 

The Second Day of Christmas: Festival of Light

It's arguable that Jesus was probably not born in mid-December, but more likely in the Spring. Evidence cited to back up that deduction includes how, in His birth narrative, the shepherds who would come to see him in stunned homage (look, I'd be stunned if a horde of shining angels showed up, singing divine praises), had been "living in the fields and keeping the night watch over their flock" (Luke 2:8). My understanding is that this is indeed typical of Semitic shepherds – in April or May.

So… why celebrate His birth in mid-/late December?

It is because – as of December 21/22 – the days have begun lengthening again, and light is returning to the world, which for so long had known far more darkness than light. Of course this is as much metaphorical as literal, yet it serves also as a lovely, outer-world parallel to what Jesus' birth and life represent for all of humanity.

(December 21 +/- is, of course, the Winter Solstice, when (due to the tilt of the Earth relative to the Sun, and its position in its orbit about the Sun) the Northern Hemisphere sees the least amount of direct sunlight of all days of the year… but now our tiny, fragile planet's orbit slowly begins to bring the tilt back toward, and not away from, the Sun. Thus, more direct sunlight, and longer, for the upper half of the planet.)

And amid the Church's array of dates set aside to honor particular saints (figures of great virtue and spiritual example), this choice of dates for Jesus' birth-celebration has a really neat parallel: the feast of his herald, John the Baptist.

John preached hard and unrelentingly against human corruption, and for redemption from our failings, and so of course was mistaken as a/the Messiah ("the anointed one" in Hebrew; the Greek word is "Khristos"… i.e., "Christ"). He denied this vehemently, and said that in fact he wasn't even of enough worth to untie the true Messiah's dirt-encrusted sandals.

There does seem to have been a bit of a tension between John's camp of followers, and Jesus' – which no doubt troubled both these men. John quashed this unceremoniously and flatly by saying of Jesus, quite simply, that "He must increase; I must decrease" – i.e., in role and immediate significance for humanity: John had come to alert the world (his little part of it, at that time) that our savior/rescuer/mediator was about to step up to the metaphorical podium… and all points beyond.

So… the day set aside to celebrate the birth of John the Baptist is June 24, right around the Summer Solstice: when indeed the light begins decreasing.

 

On the first day of Christmas...: humble beginnings

Pausing a moment to catch my breath and key out a few paragraphs late yesterday, I wrote that "over the coming days I want to look at here, in depth, some of the key pivot-points of our pastor’s Christmas-Eve homily yesterday on Jesus' birth". These points are: Peace, Humility, Simplicity, and Poverty. Since you are probably at least as busy (still) today as I am, could I at least enjoin on my reader(s) to still take a little time tonight, and tomorrow, and the days following, and reflect a few minutes on these things?

Please also do not be in a hurry to take down your Christmas décor. Keep the tree up, and lit; leave your cards out on display, keep your opened gifts under the tree: today is just the First Day of Christmas; the celebration has only begun.

Our heavenly king, lord, rescuer of humanity, and greatest intercessor with our Father… was born in the stink and squalor of an animal pen, laid down and bundled up in, essentially, a food-trough. You want humble? You got it. He through whom the grandest sweep of galaxies and rainbows, the stunning beauty both of canyon and cantata, were created… entered our world and our lives and our history in circumstances about as far from royal and righteous as one could imagine.

He never lost sight of His most humble of origins. Why have we?

Christmas Day: Puer Natus Est

With Christmas Day fast waning down, I just don't have the time (late) this evening to write as thorough a blog as I'd like to. Ironically, this is rather antithetical to one of the main messages inherent in our observance and celebration of Jesus' birth: peace, calm, and simplicity.

Today saw me dashing off over a couple minor mountain-ranges to pick up lovely younger daughter Portia from her likewise-lovely Bavarian-cream mom's home – located in the calm, sedate eye of the veritable Holy-Day hurricane – to the utter and wonderful maelstrom madhouse at my sister Mew's home. More on this, perhaps, later. For now: it was awesome.

So, no, I didn't immerse myself in the peace that surrounds our Prince of Peace. Nonetheless, over the coming days I want to look at here, in depth, some of the key pivot-points of our pastor's homily yesterday on Jesus' birth; stand by for the twelve days of Christmas.

Hectic or not, it's such a beautiful – and utterly pivotal, and significant – date that, well, why just celebrate it on one day?

 

Grime, and Pun-ishment

With Christmas just a week away, this evening our parish held what I – a bit irreverently, I'll admit – refer to as a "confessathon". As I explained this past Spring:

[T]wice a year – near the end each of Lent and Advent – most of a dozen priests from more distant points join our own for a communal penance service for the parish.

Basically, it’s a non-Mass service of prayer, reflection, meditation, and Reconciliation (confession); at the culmination of this service, the priests take up (very private) stations around our very big church, and hear confessions until we’ve all been taken care of… and there are generally several hundred parishioners who make it to these services, so this can take a few hours. Fine by me.

So having taken care of that this evening, I'm back to tabula rasa status for now. I'd like to get into the habit of going once a month, in fact, rather than two or three times a year (I squeezed one in over the summer while visiting a shrine). Our previous pope, John Paul II of warmest memory, went once a week. If he found this necessary, especially with that kind of frequency… who am I to argue? For me the objective isn't to have a cleaner sheet of soul-paper to fill up again with dirty scribblings, but rather to recharge that selfsame soul. Yes, much of this needful spiritual recharge I get from weekly reception of the Eucharist – and despite Bart Simpson's assertion, it's not merely "crackers and booze". Still, if I'm going to house Jesus himself within me – body, blood, soul and divinity –, even if only for some ten or fifteen minutes, the least I can do is tidy up the place, you know? QED.

And while my soul is particularly light, allow me something from my light heart, too – more puns and other embarrassments from work and home!

Item: As I mentioned on Sunday, Selma got the tree up at work midweek last week. No, Renaldo didn't trim it after all, despite his impressive throwing-arm; Selma took the honors there as well. Somewhat later, while the boss was out, she helped herself to Renaldo's Cessna model and lodged it near the very top of the tree, in lieu of a star... and in keeping with the firm's airplane-focus (we're located one quick bad landing right off the tarmac of a regional airport). And the plane's position really did make it look like a bad landing... or bad tree-ing, I guess.

Yesterday morning, I found that the model had been replaced with a real, lit five-pointed star. While I was working with some outbound mailers, the departmental manager – Grant – was saying to Selma or LC (as in "Lacrosse", another coworker) that he felt better with a star there than with the more traditional angel. "Some people have trouble with angels," he said (also revealing his rubbery spiritual backbone), and a star would be much more neutral.

I stopped in mid-envelope and squinted at the thing a bit. No; couldn't be mistaken for a Mogen David (Star of David, I mean – not the wine); only had five points, not six. So I said, stroking my chin speculatively, "Isn't that star a Satanic symbol?"

Selma gasped, and Grant stood up abruptly and lifted his phone to his ear. "You can be replaced," he reminded me. I grinned back. I didn't tell him one of my mottoes: If you can't be replaced, you can't be promoted. Heh-heh.

Item: Today saw a number of departments having their "holiday luncheons" (the term's a joke, and very inaccurate – what, they do have a special lunch on Arbor Day? and on Flag Day?). While pulling a cart of packages to deliver around to some of the upstairs departments, I nearly stepped on a couple pieces of flatware that someone had dropped; I picked them up (commitment to safety, of course). Two employees came up behind me, and I raised the implements, and said, "You know, I've heard of a fork in the road... but a fork in the hallway?"

One of the employees chuckled, and observed, "Must have been quite a party!"

And I bit down hard, smiled, and kept my tongue still; I'm a temporary employee only, from one of the local staffing agencies. But I wanted so badly to say: "Forkin' A!"

Item: Older daughter Shellie called me this evening to berate me in advance, just in case I don't like the Christmas gift she'd ordered for me, and which had just shipped. Actually, I'm sure I'll like it, of course; she's always come up with unexpected and fantastic gifts for friends, family, and loved ones... yours truly delightedly included.

She also asserted that I obviously never loved her as a child. Why? Because all her friends got custom-engraved tree-ornaments every year, and she never received any. (Actually, she has three – but one was made by her kindergarten teacher almost twenty years ago; the other two come from girlfriends of mine over the years. Uh…) "So I guess you want an engraved ornament for Christmas this year?" I deduced.

"No!" she shot back. (I really do love her!) "I want twenty-five of them!" (She'll be 25 just after St. Patrick's Day.) Brat.

She mentioned to me that her male-interest fellow (kept on a short leash so she can easily administer frequent whippings) had invited her to come along hunting with him. She passed; "I'll eat deer meat," she admitted to him, "but someone else has to kill it and cut it up and prepare it first!" The girl knows her boundaries!

Immediately another pun bubbled up to the surface of my brain. I wanted so badly to pass it along to her, and told her so; she quashed the idea – she has no patience at all for these delightful twists of word, and more than once has called me up just to yell at me when she's channeled her Dear Old Dad yet again and found herself spouting a stinky pun to a friend.

So, no; out of respect for her boundaries I kept the pun to myself. But, thinking about the deer meat, I really wanted to suggest she tell this gentleman: "Sure; I've always wanted to see Venison the Spring!"

 

Twelve Daze of Christmas

You may have received this same email. One of my regular correspondents forwarded me something interesting looking; I'd seen it before and given it credence because of its, well, credibility (plus my familiarity with the long-underground Catholic church in England. But I hadn't given this claim any further thought; here's the email s/he sent me this past week:

-----Original Message-----
Sent: Thursday, December 13, 2007 4:55 PM
Subject: New To Me

There is one Christmas Carol that has always baffled me.  What in the world do leaping lords, French hens, swimming swans, and especially the partridge who won't come out of the pear tree have to do with Christmas? Today, I found out.

From 1558 until 1829, Roman Catholics in England were not permitted to practice their faith openly. Someone during that era wrote this carol as a catechism song for young Catholics.  It has two levels of meaning: the surface meaning plus a hidden meaning known only to members of their church.  Each element in the carol has a code word for a religious reality which the children could remember.

-The partridge in a pear tree was Jesus Christ.
-Two turtle doves were the Old and New Testaments.
-Three French hens stood for faith, hope and love.
-The four calling birds were the four gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke & John.

-The five golden rings recalled the Torah or Law, the first five books of the Old Testament.
-The six geese a-laying stood for the six days of creation.
-Seven swans a-swimming represented the sevenfold gifts of the Holy Spirit--Prophesy, Serving, Teaching, Exhortation, Contribution, Leadership, and Mercy.
-The eight maids a-milking were the eight beatitudes.
-Nine ladies dancing were the nine fruits of the Holy Spirit--Love, Joy, Peace, Patience, Kindness, Goodness, Faithfulness, Gentleness, and Self Control.
-The ten lords a-leaping were the ten commandments.
-The eleven pipers piping stood for the eleven faithful disciples.
-The twelve drummers drumming symbolized the twelve points of belief in the Apostles' Creed.

So there is your history for today. This knowledge was shared with me and I found it interesting and enlightening and now I know how that strange song became a Christmas Carol...so pass it on if you wish.

Merry (Twelve Days of) Christmas Everyone.....

Most of my readers (i.e., both of them) know that I turn to Snopes whenever I have a mind to look behind whuddaya-know emails circulating around out there; I should have checked this one earlier, too. See for yourself:

http://www.snopes.com/holidays/christmas/12days.asp

Essentially: false. Yes, the Catholic Church was persecuted and banned in England from the early sixteenth century well into the nineteenth. But the Anglican Church and the Catholic share nearly all the same core doctrines, coming up shy at just a few key areas – close enough, in fact, that some members of the Church of England refer to themselves as "Anglican Catholics", although there's no such animal.

In any case, nearly all the catechesis supposedly "hidden" in this old carol is in fact rock-solidly part of the Anglican/Episcopal doctrinal slate as well... so there was no need to tuck religious instruction away in symbol.

Yeah; it's a neat story – but just not true, I'm afraid. Which is not to say, of course, that Catholics did not suffer persecution and martyrdom during that span. Tertullian wrote way back in the late second century that "The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church"... and much of this seed was sown "upon England's mountains green".

P.S.: Something else not addressed (pardon the pun) in that email – but covered at the Snopes page – is that the Twelve Days of Christmas begin on Christmas, and run through to January 6, or Epiphany: the date traditionally assigned to the visit of the three Magi/Kings. (25 + 12 = 37; 37 - 31 = 6; January 6 Q.E.D.) I'll harp on this more after Christmas.

"You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free." John 8:32

Fa-la la-la-la, la-la, la, la...

 

The Midweek Office Ball

One thing I forgot to mention a couple days ago, about the airfield-based office where I'm working for now: it's great to be working in an office again, even though just on short-term assignment, and even though it's more part-time than full-time.

Midweek last week, Grant, the Officer Services manager, was watching as one of his staff, Selma, put up the artificial office Christmas tree across the common area (i.e., there are desks, but no cubicle-walls). Next to his desk, as Selma stepped back and looked at her work – tree still bare –, sat facilities meister Renaldo, a box of ornaments at his feet.

Renaldo picked up an ornament – a fragile blown-glass ball – and threw it across the room, hard, like a retired baseball player. And the ball lodged firmly in the branches, did not slip or/and fall. Startled, Selma turned and grinned at his precise shot.

He hefted another ball and took aim. "You don't have to do any more," he assured Selma. "I can decorate the whole thing from here."

The Work of the Season

I know, I know – sometimes it looks like I've abandoned this blog. Far from it! In fact, I'll be adding a couple weekly features (at least, until I run out of material) beginning next month:

1) Would you like to build a lapsteel guitar? Regular fodder-provider Spartacus set down his crossbow and throwing-axe long enough to do just that; stand by. We'll be looking over his shoulder as he goes through the steps, visiting one of his two workshops once a week; please do not touch the equipment.

2) Semi-adopted sister Chuckles has agreed to let me post her scripts here. No, I don't mean fonts; I'm talking actual scripts for television shows which she's written and pitched – they range from "The Simpsons" to "Star Trek" to "House". None have hit the screen yet (and they're already copyrighted, so don't get any dollar-signs in your eyes, okay?), but any day now… once the strike's over, that is. Oh, and did I mention she's legally blind?

…plus there are seasonal things I want to squeeze in over the next couple weeks, and I’m still committed to scraping the muck off His Holiness Pius XII; I'll also be tackling a particularly tough issue next month: abortion – from a liberal (yet loyal) Catholic's viewpoint.

Back to the immediate present, though. Without any appreciable loss in weight, the month thus far has seen me spread thinner than I've been in some time. Thanks to a helpful (i.e., desperate) national staffing agency, today I finished out my second full week at the headquarters of a world-spanning firm sited just off the tarmac of a regional airport that's also close to my home.

Being the USAF veteran and wingnut/propellerhead he is, on my very first day I happened to be in a supply-room, and I called Spartacus and gloated at him, identifying the firm (he's quite familiar with it). There he was, in the mountainous wilds, busily preparing for the next snow-onslaught, and here I was, within not-too-many-dozen yards of lots of jet fuel and small planes.

I may yet meet the business-end of one of his axes; he could've taken it as mean of me.

A portion of my assignment for this firm's Office Services department has seen me pitching in with the overworked folks in the corporate mailroom… thus netting me a harvest of many handfuls of world stamps come the end of each day. (These are not part of my wages… which aren't spectacular. But it's work.) Daughter One, Shellie, was a Psychology major, and thereby I've once again vindicated her academically-qualified assessment that I do, indeed, need a life. Woo-hoo!

Before taking on the privilege of ducking particularly low-flying aircraft, I was honored to spend three humble days at the beginning of this month helping out the commendable people of the Salvation Army – this was their near-downtown location at a county seat. They needed some folks to help on the admin end of getting needy families set up for assistance in simply being able to give their kids some toys and clothing for Christmas. I accepted the request without hesitation. I met and spoke with (in English and shaky Español) quite a few families.

Let me give the Salvation Army an unmitigated, enthusiastic plug here. According to their latest annual report (see page 17), a paltry 5% of their moneys coming in is earmarked to pay for fundraising; even their operating expenses – headered "Management & General" take up no more than 12% of their expenses. My understanding (I've not yet verified, but Forbes confirms) is that this is far better than any other community service charity out there – better by staggeringly far than United Way; better even than my own Knights of Columbus, for that matter.

You want your charitable contributions to go the furthest, then for your desperate brothers' and sisters' sake, people, don't skip the Kettle. Shoot; you can even donate online, and tell them how you want your donation allocated.

Other donations: household goods, clothing, etc. – of course! And if you have one of those Planet Aid clothing-donation boxes in your neighborhood… stay away from those scammers! (I want to take them on here sometime, too.) They are not a non-profit charitable organization. Give your giveaways to the bell-ringers, or to Goodwill. I do.

Let me repeat what our Pastor preached for Thanksgiving:

Everything we have that is in excess of what we must have to meet our needs… belongs to the poor.