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An Adult Reading of the Christmas Story...(no not the Jean Shepard one)
Was reading this morning in The New Yorker, Dec. 10th issue, about Diarists - why people keep Diaries and why people read them. Diaries, the essayist points out, are not the same as blogging or journal keeping in that a diarist will keep track of every little thing that happened regardless of how important or meaningful. (Don't know, depends on the blog/journal - I think. Some people online do write every little thing they've done and do it every day. Other's like myself write whatever hits their fancy and that they wish to remember, keep a record of, and more importantly to share with others.) At any rate, my blog as you've no doubt figured out by now is not a diary or a letter so much as a public journal that serves two purposes - one to keep track of thoughts I have for myself and well to share those thoughts to the world at large or in flocked posts to a select group whose journals/diaries I read. Electronic correspondence is not the same as long-hand or letters. It's more edited, cleaner, and yet at the same time, often more spontaneous.
Gray day today. Cool. Not a day to walk on the beach unfortunately. More a day to sit and watch the telly, read, eat, and listen to music. We've done the annual unwrapping of the presents, which as I grow older seems to be less and less important. I find myself caring less about what I receive and more about how others react to that which I've given. Kidbro for instance made my morning when he thanked me over the phone for the beautiful blanket I'd made for him and his family. Last night on the way home from Midnight Mass - on the radio, a commentator stated that when he was young he used to sweat over the annual Christmas list, be thrilled with each unwrapping, but now, he finds what he wants most at Christmas, what the holiday means to him, is the gift of friends, family, good food and spirits with carols and lights in the background. That he cherishes more than anything else. Something many of us take for granted until we spend the holiday without it. Watching my 89 year old grandmother unwrap her gifts, feels a bit like watching a small child. She has over time, collasped into herself, shrunk, her eyes bigger than most of her face, she reminds me a bit of a hobbit or one of those dried apple granny dolls. The gift that puzzled her the most was from my three year old niece, a selection of buttons strung together to make an innovative necklace. Ironic since once upon a time my Granny created her Native American beaded necklaces.
Now my family is sitting around the tree reading and listening to orchestrations of traditional Christmas tunes. I usually get a book at this time, but my parents have learned it is easier for me to buy these for myself or to swipe a couple from their large and ever blossoming collection. (I'm considering The Killer Angels and Water for Elephants).
I went to Midnight Mass last night with my folks, only Mass I go to all year not bein overly religious and more than a tad annoyed with the dogma of the Catholic Church. I did it mostly to support Momster who was singing in the Church Choir. At any rate the sermon based on the Christmas story related in the new testament according to Luke, annoyed more than moved me. It was more or less about why saying Merry Christmas was better than saying Happy Holidays. I found myself wishing the priest had said what my uncle wrote in the short piece of writing he'd sent in his annual Christmas card to my parents. Which is an analysis of the metaphorical meaning of nativity story, as opposed to the literal interpretation that we have become accostumed to.
I know most of my readers or a goodly percentage are either not religious, athesist, agonistic, or not Christian. So I hope you will bear with me while I share what can best be described as a historical and metaphorical analysis of a biblical text; I'm not sharing it to teach, inform, convert, so much as to ponder and discuss because it struck me as unique and interesting. The analysis is the piece of writing that my uncle included in his Xmas card to my parents. Before I share it - I should explain that my uncle is an ordained Catholic Priest, who has been a priest for more than 40 years, working a good percentage of that time on an Indian reservation in South Dakota. He was named after a Saint, the middle son of seven boys and three girls in a poor Irish Catholic family. As soon as he was able he retreated to the sancturary of the priesthood mostly to get away from the chaos at home.
Here's what he wrote:
In its telling, the wonder of the Christmas story can delight our children and grandchildren as it has for so many generations. This is to such an extent that we may begin to think it was written only for children. We mustn't forget that Luke and Matthew were writing the gospel for adult readers with an adult message. The infancy narrative is not an historical or biographical writing as we understand the genres today. Rather, it serves as an introduction to the gospel, a sort of prologue. As such the narrative is a summary of the gospel with each author's own emphasis. As the case for the whole gospel, the infancy narrative requires the reader to ask two questions: Who is this child? What is his message?
Luke's narrative begins with Caesar Augustus. Doing so dates the birth of Christ but also sets Jesus' identity in contrast to Augustus. At the time he wrote, Augustus was proclaimed as Lord and Savior who has brought peace to the world (pax Augusta). Luke challenges these assertions by assigning the title of Lord and Savior to Christ and the angels proclaim "peace on earth to those of good will." Luke writes that when Mary and Joseph arrived in Bethlehem there was no room for them in the inn. A more literal translation would be: "there was no room for them in the place where travelers lodged." Actually, it was a designated field where they could pitch their tents. When Luke says Bethlehem was David's city he is more likely calling his readers' attention to Jerusalem which was really David's city since it was there that he ruled as King. The lack of room would also call to mind that is was Jerusalem that rejected Christ as Messiah and crucified him outside David's city. That the infant was wrapped in swaddling clothes (like David's son, Solomon) reminds us that Jesus after his death was wrapped in burial clothing and on the third day rose again.
I have touched on just a few of Luke's clever narrative devices to tell the real story of Christ as the good news for us to hear new again. There's so much more for another telling of the wonder of Christmas.
After Mass, last night, around 2 am, my father told me after I told him that my uncle (his younger brother) had said it took a trained theologian to understand the text of the bible - "Ironic. Considering theology is mostly speculation. It is not a true science. It is not like the study of history or fact. Most of theology is based on things that we do not and cannot begin to know. Events that have not been recorded. Or loose interpretations. We know that Jesus was born. That he was born in or around Bethlehem. That he was crucified. There is proof of that. Those are facts. But as to the rest? Speculation filtered down through history. So much is based on faith." My father a history buff that had spent some time studying in the seminary when he was in his teens, has studied the topic extensively, reading the Historical Jesus, amongst other works.
This syncs nicely with a discussion I had with Wales over a week ago, in which she stated there was no proof God existed. My reply? There's no proof God does not exist either. It's the old legal argument - some believe the person must be proven innocent, some believe he must be proven guilty. Often in life no proof is presented to us and we must make a choice on what to believe without it. Those choices, I think as I grow older, are the hardest.
Gray day today. Cool. Not a day to walk on the beach unfortunately. More a day to sit and watch the telly, read, eat, and listen to music. We've done the annual unwrapping of the presents, which as I grow older seems to be less and less important. I find myself caring less about what I receive and more about how others react to that which I've given. Kidbro for instance made my morning when he thanked me over the phone for the beautiful blanket I'd made for him and his family. Last night on the way home from Midnight Mass - on the radio, a commentator stated that when he was young he used to sweat over the annual Christmas list, be thrilled with each unwrapping, but now, he finds what he wants most at Christmas, what the holiday means to him, is the gift of friends, family, good food and spirits with carols and lights in the background. That he cherishes more than anything else. Something many of us take for granted until we spend the holiday without it. Watching my 89 year old grandmother unwrap her gifts, feels a bit like watching a small child. She has over time, collasped into herself, shrunk, her eyes bigger than most of her face, she reminds me a bit of a hobbit or one of those dried apple granny dolls. The gift that puzzled her the most was from my three year old niece, a selection of buttons strung together to make an innovative necklace. Ironic since once upon a time my Granny created her Native American beaded necklaces.
Now my family is sitting around the tree reading and listening to orchestrations of traditional Christmas tunes. I usually get a book at this time, but my parents have learned it is easier for me to buy these for myself or to swipe a couple from their large and ever blossoming collection. (I'm considering The Killer Angels and Water for Elephants).
I went to Midnight Mass last night with my folks, only Mass I go to all year not bein overly religious and more than a tad annoyed with the dogma of the Catholic Church. I did it mostly to support Momster who was singing in the Church Choir. At any rate the sermon based on the Christmas story related in the new testament according to Luke, annoyed more than moved me. It was more or less about why saying Merry Christmas was better than saying Happy Holidays. I found myself wishing the priest had said what my uncle wrote in the short piece of writing he'd sent in his annual Christmas card to my parents. Which is an analysis of the metaphorical meaning of nativity story, as opposed to the literal interpretation that we have become accostumed to.
I know most of my readers or a goodly percentage are either not religious, athesist, agonistic, or not Christian. So I hope you will bear with me while I share what can best be described as a historical and metaphorical analysis of a biblical text; I'm not sharing it to teach, inform, convert, so much as to ponder and discuss because it struck me as unique and interesting. The analysis is the piece of writing that my uncle included in his Xmas card to my parents. Before I share it - I should explain that my uncle is an ordained Catholic Priest, who has been a priest for more than 40 years, working a good percentage of that time on an Indian reservation in South Dakota. He was named after a Saint, the middle son of seven boys and three girls in a poor Irish Catholic family. As soon as he was able he retreated to the sancturary of the priesthood mostly to get away from the chaos at home.
Here's what he wrote:
In its telling, the wonder of the Christmas story can delight our children and grandchildren as it has for so many generations. This is to such an extent that we may begin to think it was written only for children. We mustn't forget that Luke and Matthew were writing the gospel for adult readers with an adult message. The infancy narrative is not an historical or biographical writing as we understand the genres today. Rather, it serves as an introduction to the gospel, a sort of prologue. As such the narrative is a summary of the gospel with each author's own emphasis. As the case for the whole gospel, the infancy narrative requires the reader to ask two questions: Who is this child? What is his message?
Luke's narrative begins with Caesar Augustus. Doing so dates the birth of Christ but also sets Jesus' identity in contrast to Augustus. At the time he wrote, Augustus was proclaimed as Lord and Savior who has brought peace to the world (pax Augusta). Luke challenges these assertions by assigning the title of Lord and Savior to Christ and the angels proclaim "peace on earth to those of good will." Luke writes that when Mary and Joseph arrived in Bethlehem there was no room for them in the inn. A more literal translation would be: "there was no room for them in the place where travelers lodged." Actually, it was a designated field where they could pitch their tents. When Luke says Bethlehem was David's city he is more likely calling his readers' attention to Jerusalem which was really David's city since it was there that he ruled as King. The lack of room would also call to mind that is was Jerusalem that rejected Christ as Messiah and crucified him outside David's city. That the infant was wrapped in swaddling clothes (like David's son, Solomon) reminds us that Jesus after his death was wrapped in burial clothing and on the third day rose again.
I have touched on just a few of Luke's clever narrative devices to tell the real story of Christ as the good news for us to hear new again. There's so much more for another telling of the wonder of Christmas.
After Mass, last night, around 2 am, my father told me after I told him that my uncle (his younger brother) had said it took a trained theologian to understand the text of the bible - "Ironic. Considering theology is mostly speculation. It is not a true science. It is not like the study of history or fact. Most of theology is based on things that we do not and cannot begin to know. Events that have not been recorded. Or loose interpretations. We know that Jesus was born. That he was born in or around Bethlehem. That he was crucified. There is proof of that. Those are facts. But as to the rest? Speculation filtered down through history. So much is based on faith." My father a history buff that had spent some time studying in the seminary when he was in his teens, has studied the topic extensively, reading the Historical Jesus, amongst other works.
This syncs nicely with a discussion I had with Wales over a week ago, in which she stated there was no proof God existed. My reply? There's no proof God does not exist either. It's the old legal argument - some believe the person must be proven innocent, some believe he must be proven guilty. Often in life no proof is presented to us and we must make a choice on what to believe without it. Those choices, I think as I grow older, are the hardest.