Now that Christmas has come and gone, what’s left but to take down all those decorations? It’s a task most of us dread. I suppose that’s why some people leave them up until spring. And a few never take them down.
In my family, we (“we” being my dad, myself and brothers) would have them down by January 1, in accordance with the Book of the Law of my mom, who decorated the interior of our home. Many people contend it’s appropriate to keep them up until January 6, Epiphany. Leaving them up beyond that date becomes borderline tacky, some say.
In any case, taking down decorations makes me wonder why I put them up anyway. Why do that? We did it, I suppose, because it had become a family tradition. Dad would get them out shortly after Thanksgiving, and I, being the youngest and smallest, would be ordered to shimmy up there or crawl over here to hang them. But my talents were limited; I was and am something of a mechanical incompetent.
You’d think, as much time as I spent helping dad put up Christmas lights, I would be a stickler for carrying on that tradition with my own household. I did for years but somewhere wandered away, and far from home, with my own brood up and gone, conveniently forgot this family ritual. Perhaps it’s because I am such a mechanical disaster; beyond the simple task of changing a light bulb, when it comes to anything electrical, I can be dangerous. When putting up the lights, I would usually have visions of Chevy Chase in National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation, where he can’t get his 25, 000 lights turned on and when he does, momentarily compromises the city’s electrical power.
Or maybe the reason I dropped the tradition was that I was indelibly scarred by memories of taking those decorations down, boxing them up, and carrying them to the attic year after year. I love Christmas traditions: the decorated tree, the mistletoe, even chestnuts roasting over an open fire---but I’ve managed to avoid the aisle in the store where Christmas lights can be found.
That’s why I was so surprised when I found my son, Dave, home on his first day of Christmas break from Centre College, rummaging through the garage on Sunday afternoon a couple of weeks ago. “What are you doing?” I queried.
“Just getting out the nativity scene.” He was referring to the outdoor nativity scene we used to put in the front lawn. I felt a bit shabby for letting Mary, Joseph, the baby Jesus, the camels, sheep, shepherds, and wise men lie neglected in the corner of the garage during Christmas. “And while I’m at it, I think I’ll get that wreath down too,” he continued. I felt a slight twinge of guilt; Lori, who was out of town, had mentioned the wreath to me, but her hint had fallen on my dull ears.
“Need any help?” I hesitatingly asked Dave.
“No,” he responded “I can get it, but I’ll holler at you if I do.”
He didn’t.
What’s an outdoor nativity scene without lights? A trip to the store for floodlights and a timer for them, wire to hang the wreath, and a few hours later Dave had our nativity scene looking alive. And my lone contribution was holding the ladder.
Whether Dave knew I was overwhelmed with work in my study, or whether he simply wanted to protect himself from a dad’s mechanical ineptitude, I don’t know and won’t ask. I do know he made Lori smile. “I love the lights!” she excitedly exclaimed the next day when she returned.
“That’s Dave’s gift to you,” I informed her.
Later that night, I reminded Dave how much Lori liked the lights. “But let me ask you,” I inquired, “why did you do that? Why did you go through all the trouble of putting up the nativity, the lights, the wreath?”
He paused a moment, smiled, and said, “Just carrying on an old family tradition, Dad, just carrying on an old family tradition.”
Life Matters is written by David B.Whitlock, Ph.D. His email address is drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com David’s website is DavidBWhitlock.com
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Friday, December 24, 2010
Have a Merry Life This Christmas
“We are so happy to be alive. Life means a lot more today than yesterday,” said Panama City, Florida School Board member, Jerry Register, the day after deranged gunman, Clay Duke, opened fire on the School Board and the School Superintendant, William Husfelt.
Looking into the barrel of a handgun has an interesting way of bringing life into focus. For Register and the others who endured what must have seemed to them at the time to be the longest school board meeting ever, life would, could never be the same--- at least that’s what they said in the days following their harrowing experience. The threat of losing life can give deeper meaning to life, once it’s returned.
In an effort to calm Duke, the School Superintendant spoke of his wife and family, and how he wanted to live and enjoy his loved ones. Later, in an interview with Anderson Cooper, Husfelt said, “I do not have a death wish. I know if I were to die today, I know where I’m going and I was fine with that, but I did not want everyone in that room killed.”
People who have had close encounters with death often talk about how important family, friends, and eternity become in that moment of suspense between life and death, that moment of transition from death in the third person, “People die,” to death in the first person, “I’m about to die.” One’s “to-do” list gets pared down rather quickly.
And what about the gunman, Clay Duke? Did he have similar thoughts of family, friends, and eternity before he placed his gun to his own head? Or was he incapable, in that moment, of thinking such rational thoughts? "The economy and the world just got the better of him. And, along with his bi-polar, it just set him up for this horrible event," his wife said.
Is it coincidental that this shocking event happened during Christmas season? Christmas---the season of joy, of anticipation, of holiday fun--- glides precariously above of the turbulent surface of other emotions: despair, doom, depression, anger, and hate. And sometimes, those emotions invade Christmas, upending it in abrupt ways.
What is it about the Christmas season that brings this out in people? Is it the shopping, the shoppers, the cards, the decorations, the gifts, the parties, and the greed that cause the impatience, the frustration, the anger, the hatred that is expressed in the rudeness, the meanness, the threats, the cursing and even the violence? It’s Christmas season: nerves are on edge; finances are stretched; emotions are frayed; people explode.
But for a few, like Mr. Duke, it goes beyond that. It spirals downward into hatred and violent actions.
Whether Christmas stress was a catalyst for Duke’s actions is something we will probably never know. His story will soon be lost for most people, another faded news item for all except those directly involved in the sad event. And that in itself is sad because the story can remind us during this season that savoring the gift of life in each moment can quell the despair, the anger, and hatred that accompany a season that is supposed to proclaim joy, hope, and peace. And it might even cure the sickness of a desperate soul like Clay Duke, who could be your neighbor, or co-worker, or friend, or family member, or you.
Somehow, it’s comforting to know life was really no different that night Christ was born: no room in the inn; taxes to be paid; dirty, irritating people everywhere; a menacing government demanding more; trouble and sorrow on every corner.
And there---in that small little corner of nowhere, a place where it was said, no good thing could possibly come, where the poor were oppressed and the rich gloated---he was born: “Peace on earth, and mercy mild; God and sinner reconciled.” And yes, by the way: life for all who come to him--- a life more meaningful today than yesterday. Everyday.
You can write David B.Whitlock, Ph.D, at drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com and visit his website, davidbwhitlock.com.
Looking into the barrel of a handgun has an interesting way of bringing life into focus. For Register and the others who endured what must have seemed to them at the time to be the longest school board meeting ever, life would, could never be the same--- at least that’s what they said in the days following their harrowing experience. The threat of losing life can give deeper meaning to life, once it’s returned.
In an effort to calm Duke, the School Superintendant spoke of his wife and family, and how he wanted to live and enjoy his loved ones. Later, in an interview with Anderson Cooper, Husfelt said, “I do not have a death wish. I know if I were to die today, I know where I’m going and I was fine with that, but I did not want everyone in that room killed.”
People who have had close encounters with death often talk about how important family, friends, and eternity become in that moment of suspense between life and death, that moment of transition from death in the third person, “People die,” to death in the first person, “I’m about to die.” One’s “to-do” list gets pared down rather quickly.
And what about the gunman, Clay Duke? Did he have similar thoughts of family, friends, and eternity before he placed his gun to his own head? Or was he incapable, in that moment, of thinking such rational thoughts? "The economy and the world just got the better of him. And, along with his bi-polar, it just set him up for this horrible event," his wife said.
Is it coincidental that this shocking event happened during Christmas season? Christmas---the season of joy, of anticipation, of holiday fun--- glides precariously above of the turbulent surface of other emotions: despair, doom, depression, anger, and hate. And sometimes, those emotions invade Christmas, upending it in abrupt ways.
What is it about the Christmas season that brings this out in people? Is it the shopping, the shoppers, the cards, the decorations, the gifts, the parties, and the greed that cause the impatience, the frustration, the anger, the hatred that is expressed in the rudeness, the meanness, the threats, the cursing and even the violence? It’s Christmas season: nerves are on edge; finances are stretched; emotions are frayed; people explode.
But for a few, like Mr. Duke, it goes beyond that. It spirals downward into hatred and violent actions.
Whether Christmas stress was a catalyst for Duke’s actions is something we will probably never know. His story will soon be lost for most people, another faded news item for all except those directly involved in the sad event. And that in itself is sad because the story can remind us during this season that savoring the gift of life in each moment can quell the despair, the anger, and hatred that accompany a season that is supposed to proclaim joy, hope, and peace. And it might even cure the sickness of a desperate soul like Clay Duke, who could be your neighbor, or co-worker, or friend, or family member, or you.
Somehow, it’s comforting to know life was really no different that night Christ was born: no room in the inn; taxes to be paid; dirty, irritating people everywhere; a menacing government demanding more; trouble and sorrow on every corner.
And there---in that small little corner of nowhere, a place where it was said, no good thing could possibly come, where the poor were oppressed and the rich gloated---he was born: “Peace on earth, and mercy mild; God and sinner reconciled.” And yes, by the way: life for all who come to him--- a life more meaningful today than yesterday. Everyday.
You can write David B.Whitlock, Ph.D, at drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com and visit his website, davidbwhitlock.com.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Doubting Christmas?
“Who gave you permission to tell Charlie there was no Santa Claus? I think if we're going to destroy our son's delusions, I should be a part of it.”
---Scott Calvin, (played by actor Tim Allen in the movie, The Santa Claus, 1994).
“Some of the kids at school say Santa’s not real, but I don’t believe them. Santa is real. I just know it.” My sister-in-law, Lisa Suriano, was quoting her 8 year old son, Cooper. “What do you think I should do?” Lisa asked me. “Should I tell him?”
I didn’t need to ask, “Tell him what?” I knew exactly what she meant: the truth about Santa Claus.
Should parents tell their kids that Santa Claus is not real? Or is it okay to “play along,” and enjoy a child’s season of magical thinking with Santa at Christmas?
For some parents this is a big issue, and they are quite intense in their conviction: participating in the Santa tradition is tantamount to deceiving children, setting up a situation that can cause a child to doubt the trustworthiness of the parent.
But for others, it’s a healthy way of experiencing the joy and anticipation of receiving gifts. And, in those homes where the Santa tradition is welcomed, he is enjoyed for a while until the kids discover he is a myth. For some, as with our daughter Mary-Elizabeth and son Harrison, it comes when they see mom and dad, or an uncle or aunt, putting out the Santa gifts; for others, as with our son, Dave, it’s another sibling who breaks the news about Santa’s demise; and then for some, like our daughter, Madi, it’s schoolmates who are the informants about Santa’s fictional identity.
I don’t think any of these children, although they may have been disappointed at the time, experienced emotional trauma at the discovery that Santa doesn’t exist .Nor did it lead them to doubt their parents on larger life issues.
But, still, I have a concern here about how this plays out: a distinction should be made somewhere in the conversation with children between what is true about religion and morality and what is simply playful make-believe. I fear we may undermine the reality of the religious event we celebrate. We may inadvertently communicate to our children that it’s all just a story, nothing more than a myth: the birth of Jesus and Santa; Christ’s resurrection and the Easter Bunny--- both melt into the same fictional genre: simply children’s fairy tale stories we outgrow.
But Santa Claus does have a history, although it’s embedded in tradition. His story grew from St. Nicholas, who was a bishop in a region of what is now Turkey. According to tradition, he was known for his love for his church and for the plight of poor children. St. Nicholas was reputed to have secretly delivered three bags of gold down a chimney to a poor family to provide a dowry for three unmarried sisters. From this developed the tradition of Santa Claus, a Dutch version of St. Nicholas.
Perhaps, by telling about St. Nicholas and how the story of Santa came from him, those who want to keep the Santa tradition can uphold the spiritual aspect of this season and still let Santa come down the chimney. Maybe they could say to their children something like, “Santa Claus is a wonderful story about a person who gave gifts and loved and cared for people. The main thing we need to remember is that Santa reminds us that God is the greatest gift-giver of all, and that’s what Christmas is really all about.”
What parents do with Santa is a personal matter; each family must come to terms with their own family traditions. But no matter what we do with Santa, it is unlikely we will shield our children from the possibility of doubt---and that includes the “real” Christmas. After all, Jesus’ own cousin, John the Baptist, had his doubts. In prison, he found himself knee deep in confusion. “Is it true? Is it him? Is he just another self-proclaimed messiah? Should we wait for another? Is it just another story?”
So John asked. And Jesus answered, “Go back to John and tell him what you have heard and seen—the blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cured, the deaf hear, the dead are raised to life, and the Good News is being preached to the poor. And tell him, ‘God blesses those who do not turn away because of me.’”
Notice, if you will, Jesus never said, “I’m the Messiah, for certain; without a doubt, I’m the one.” He only pointed to the evidence. He answered, but his answer still left room for the necessity of faith. For without faith, Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas, would it?
No doubt.
Life Matters is written by David B. Whitlock, Ph.D. His email is drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com. David’s website is davidbwhitlock.com.
---Scott Calvin, (played by actor Tim Allen in the movie, The Santa Claus, 1994).
“Some of the kids at school say Santa’s not real, but I don’t believe them. Santa is real. I just know it.” My sister-in-law, Lisa Suriano, was quoting her 8 year old son, Cooper. “What do you think I should do?” Lisa asked me. “Should I tell him?”
I didn’t need to ask, “Tell him what?” I knew exactly what she meant: the truth about Santa Claus.
Should parents tell their kids that Santa Claus is not real? Or is it okay to “play along,” and enjoy a child’s season of magical thinking with Santa at Christmas?
For some parents this is a big issue, and they are quite intense in their conviction: participating in the Santa tradition is tantamount to deceiving children, setting up a situation that can cause a child to doubt the trustworthiness of the parent.
But for others, it’s a healthy way of experiencing the joy and anticipation of receiving gifts. And, in those homes where the Santa tradition is welcomed, he is enjoyed for a while until the kids discover he is a myth. For some, as with our daughter Mary-Elizabeth and son Harrison, it comes when they see mom and dad, or an uncle or aunt, putting out the Santa gifts; for others, as with our son, Dave, it’s another sibling who breaks the news about Santa’s demise; and then for some, like our daughter, Madi, it’s schoolmates who are the informants about Santa’s fictional identity.
I don’t think any of these children, although they may have been disappointed at the time, experienced emotional trauma at the discovery that Santa doesn’t exist .Nor did it lead them to doubt their parents on larger life issues.
But, still, I have a concern here about how this plays out: a distinction should be made somewhere in the conversation with children between what is true about religion and morality and what is simply playful make-believe. I fear we may undermine the reality of the religious event we celebrate. We may inadvertently communicate to our children that it’s all just a story, nothing more than a myth: the birth of Jesus and Santa; Christ’s resurrection and the Easter Bunny--- both melt into the same fictional genre: simply children’s fairy tale stories we outgrow.
But Santa Claus does have a history, although it’s embedded in tradition. His story grew from St. Nicholas, who was a bishop in a region of what is now Turkey. According to tradition, he was known for his love for his church and for the plight of poor children. St. Nicholas was reputed to have secretly delivered three bags of gold down a chimney to a poor family to provide a dowry for three unmarried sisters. From this developed the tradition of Santa Claus, a Dutch version of St. Nicholas.
Perhaps, by telling about St. Nicholas and how the story of Santa came from him, those who want to keep the Santa tradition can uphold the spiritual aspect of this season and still let Santa come down the chimney. Maybe they could say to their children something like, “Santa Claus is a wonderful story about a person who gave gifts and loved and cared for people. The main thing we need to remember is that Santa reminds us that God is the greatest gift-giver of all, and that’s what Christmas is really all about.”
What parents do with Santa is a personal matter; each family must come to terms with their own family traditions. But no matter what we do with Santa, it is unlikely we will shield our children from the possibility of doubt---and that includes the “real” Christmas. After all, Jesus’ own cousin, John the Baptist, had his doubts. In prison, he found himself knee deep in confusion. “Is it true? Is it him? Is he just another self-proclaimed messiah? Should we wait for another? Is it just another story?”
So John asked. And Jesus answered, “Go back to John and tell him what you have heard and seen—the blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cured, the deaf hear, the dead are raised to life, and the Good News is being preached to the poor. And tell him, ‘God blesses those who do not turn away because of me.’”
Notice, if you will, Jesus never said, “I’m the Messiah, for certain; without a doubt, I’m the one.” He only pointed to the evidence. He answered, but his answer still left room for the necessity of faith. For without faith, Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas, would it?
No doubt.
Life Matters is written by David B. Whitlock, Ph.D. His email is drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com. David’s website is davidbwhitlock.com.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
A Glimmer of Hope
It’s been a tough week for world peace. Tensions between North and South Korea are severely strained after North Korea launched a deadly artillery attack last week; the war in Afghanistan drags on as U.S. leaders ponder the duration of our presence there; a strategic arms pact with Russia appears to be on hold, at least for now; a new English-language web magazine produced by Al Qaeda entices alienated American Muslims to “attack the enemy (America) with smaller but more frequent operations” that will “bleed the enemy by a thousand cuts;” a 19 year old American-Somali man, Mohamed Osman Mohamud, was accused of trying to blow up a van full of explosives during Portland, Oregon’s Christmas tree lighting ceremony; and we have yet to see the full impact on national security that the newly released WickiLeak documents will have.
Meanwhile, millions of us barreled past Black Friday and then with grand élan, having taken a breather over the weekend, millions more enjoyed the convenience of shopping online for Cyber Monday. And somewhere in all this---oh yes, Sunday--- the first day of Advent lie hidden in the corner of the church house, quiet as a mouse.
If we aren’t intentional, amidst all the crises of our world and the cries from retailers beckoning us to catch the next best buy, we will miss the true celebration around the manger. That’s what Advent is about: taking the time to prepare for Christ. Taken from the Latin word adventus, meaning coming, Advent is observed by many Christians in the West as a way of preparing for the celebration of Christ’s birth 2,000 years ago. Even churches that don’t formally observe Advent have different ways of anticipating the celebration of Jesus’ birth.
The time to do that is now, not December 24th. And that requires something most of us are short on: patience. We do not like waiting on Christ, nor preparing for him. We prefer him to catch up with us. The French philosopher and Christian mystic, Simone Weil, said, “Waiting patiently in expectation is the foundation of the spiritual life.” Expectant waiting takes place most often in the quiet, in the secret place of a heart yearning for more than the world can offer. It’s heard in the strained voice of one crying in the wilderness, “Prepare the way of the Lord.”
Some eight centuries before the birth of Jesus Christ, when a foreign military superpower, Assyria, threatened tiny Judah’s national security, the prophet Isaiah proclaimed hope in the midst of despair. It may have only been a glimmer, but that was all the hope necessary to give words to his vision of a better day, a time when the nations would “hammer their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks.” In a day of fear and intimidation, distraction and disarray, dishonesty and corruption, Isaiah, waiting patiently, caught a glint of hope--- eight centuries yet away. But he saw it. And he wouldn’t let it go.
Sometimes small glimmers of hope are all that is necessary to birth a new tomorrow, even when that tomorrow seems an eternity away.
Tempted to despair this Christmas season? Small wonder. It’s the way of our world; the world we know, the world of anxiety, anger, and ultimately annihilation. It’s only in looking away from it that we can gaze into another world, the world within the Word---a strange and mysterious world where miracles happen, where a virgin gives birth to a Savior, where good news announces freedom to captives, hope for the despondent, and light for those dwelling in darkness---the world you’ve longed for, where the songless choir is given the rhythm of joy by which it rejoices with heaven and nature, singing: “Joy to the world, the Lord is come!”
It’s a world worth waiting for, and as we listen, ever so intently, we can almost see it, faintly, obscurely, dimly, but undeniably there---peeking over the morning horizon: a glimmer of hope. Do you see it?
Life Matters is written by David B. Whitlock, Ph.D. His email is drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com. David’s website is davidbwhitlock.com.
Meanwhile, millions of us barreled past Black Friday and then with grand élan, having taken a breather over the weekend, millions more enjoyed the convenience of shopping online for Cyber Monday. And somewhere in all this---oh yes, Sunday--- the first day of Advent lie hidden in the corner of the church house, quiet as a mouse.
If we aren’t intentional, amidst all the crises of our world and the cries from retailers beckoning us to catch the next best buy, we will miss the true celebration around the manger. That’s what Advent is about: taking the time to prepare for Christ. Taken from the Latin word adventus, meaning coming, Advent is observed by many Christians in the West as a way of preparing for the celebration of Christ’s birth 2,000 years ago. Even churches that don’t formally observe Advent have different ways of anticipating the celebration of Jesus’ birth.
The time to do that is now, not December 24th. And that requires something most of us are short on: patience. We do not like waiting on Christ, nor preparing for him. We prefer him to catch up with us. The French philosopher and Christian mystic, Simone Weil, said, “Waiting patiently in expectation is the foundation of the spiritual life.” Expectant waiting takes place most often in the quiet, in the secret place of a heart yearning for more than the world can offer. It’s heard in the strained voice of one crying in the wilderness, “Prepare the way of the Lord.”
Some eight centuries before the birth of Jesus Christ, when a foreign military superpower, Assyria, threatened tiny Judah’s national security, the prophet Isaiah proclaimed hope in the midst of despair. It may have only been a glimmer, but that was all the hope necessary to give words to his vision of a better day, a time when the nations would “hammer their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks.” In a day of fear and intimidation, distraction and disarray, dishonesty and corruption, Isaiah, waiting patiently, caught a glint of hope--- eight centuries yet away. But he saw it. And he wouldn’t let it go.
Sometimes small glimmers of hope are all that is necessary to birth a new tomorrow, even when that tomorrow seems an eternity away.
Tempted to despair this Christmas season? Small wonder. It’s the way of our world; the world we know, the world of anxiety, anger, and ultimately annihilation. It’s only in looking away from it that we can gaze into another world, the world within the Word---a strange and mysterious world where miracles happen, where a virgin gives birth to a Savior, where good news announces freedom to captives, hope for the despondent, and light for those dwelling in darkness---the world you’ve longed for, where the songless choir is given the rhythm of joy by which it rejoices with heaven and nature, singing: “Joy to the world, the Lord is come!”
It’s a world worth waiting for, and as we listen, ever so intently, we can almost see it, faintly, obscurely, dimly, but undeniably there---peeking over the morning horizon: a glimmer of hope. Do you see it?
Life Matters is written by David B. Whitlock, Ph.D. His email is drdavid@davidbwhitlock.com. David’s website is davidbwhitlock.com.
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