Not So Fast

 
   A stuffed moose languished inside a container. Chances were, a janitor put him there. The location was a mall, one day after Christmas. Holiday displays were coming down. The moose had served its purpose.
   Christmas day is behind us. The popular culture gravitates to other fixations.
   Not so fast! Some people don't walk lock step with popular culture. For them, the twelve days of Christmas don't end on December 25th, they begin.

Tinkering With Light

   Lighting has impact. Artists understand this truism. So do photographers.  
   Last week I observed the lighting at my church. A figure of the Baby Jesus lay near the alter. There, the illumination was greater. That extra light on the figure made it stand out during a Christmas pageant.
   When artists draw nativity scenes, extra light illuminates the manger. Jesus appears brighter than the rest of the stable. Some artists take this concept further. They draw a beam of light projecting downward from the star of Bethlehem.
   When Jesus was born, someone must have held a candle or torch nearby. This notion is conjecture but it's plausible. A woman in labor would require lighting. A candle up close would have brightened Jesus more than the surroundings.
   Was it a natural occurrence that someone lit a candle? Or did God or his angels ensure that someone lit a candle? God, like artists of the time, understood the impact of lighting. He wanted those shepherds, and the Magi later on, not just to see Jesus, but to behold him. Good lighting would further that aim.
   Was the star of Bethlehem a supernatural light? Most scholars don't accept that assertion. They've offered scientific theories to explain it. The so called star has been described as a comet, or a supernova, or an alignment of planets. Those theories are explainable using the scientific method. Who knows, maybe God did use a natural phenomenon to lead those Maji to the stable.
   Or maybe he didn't. That light in the sky might have indeed been supernatural. 
   Given the magnitude of Jesus' birth, it is possible that God tinkered with the lighting.

Wishing you a Merry Christmas.

Keeping it Real

Sign nailed to a tree on a home owner's property near my town.

   Someone put up a sign urging a simplification of Christmas. I couldn't agree more.
   No longer do I wander about malls, stressing over the purchase of gifts. My gifts are social outings. For example, my nephews and nieces are returning to this area on college vacation. I'll take them out, one at a time, to restaurants. Menus will be reasonably priced. Nothing fancy. 
   I've been doing this socializing-as-a gift for years. Relatives prefer them over material gifts.
   The sign reminded us that Christmas celebrates Christ's birth. On the eve of that holiday, I'll assemble a creche. It'll occupy a spot in the dining room. Before I go to bed, I'll gaze at the nativity scene and wish Jesus a happy birthday.

Women--No Men--Bearing Gifts

   When the service ended at my church, the parishioners headed for the doors. But not all of them. A few women walked in an opposite direction.
   They carried presents to a Christmas tree. Their gifts were intended for charity.
  I've attended three masses since that tree was erected. After each service, women--never men--lingered behind to contribute gifts.
   Why did women do all the giving? Is it because women are more social than men? Gift giving reinforces social bonds. Therefore women are more inclined to contribute gifts to a charity.
   That explanation is a guess. I don't have a definitive answer. But it can't be coincidental that following three services, women donated all the gifts.

Broken Bond

Site of an Indian encampment from centuries ago. Pond with ice is visible at right.

   Indians once lived here.
   The site was ideal. It adjoined a pond and a spring. Flat land overlooked a southern slope, ensuring more exposure to the sun during winter. They hunted, fished, grew crops, and traded with other bands. Life was good.
   Change came in the mid 1600's. An Englishman built a stockade in this field, right where I stood while taking the photo. Other colonists settled nearby.
   Indians besieged the stockade. They set fire to a hay wagon and rolled it toward the stockade. A rock got in the way. The Indians withdrew. Soon they were driven out for good.
   For me, this patch of countryside has been a Shangri-La. I've canoed on the pond. I've watched osprey's dive into the water and emerge with fish in their talons. With friends, I've lit campfires in the woods. I've walked the fields.
   Most of all, I've found solitude here. It's a refuge from my home elsewhere in town. Where I live, traffic is loud and housing is dense.
   Now my heart aches. Bulldozers are tearing up the earth. A housing development is being constructed. Not at this exact spot but close. Way too close.
   Remoteness has been compromised. The solitude will never be the same.
   In small measure, I feel the anguish those Indians endured as their bond with this land unraveled.

Animal tracks cut through snow near construction site.

Machinery digs up the land.

Transcendent Music

Forty speakers surround listeners during a performance in New York City of 'Spem in Alium,' an ancient motet.

    When the music ended, the audience did not applaud. Not because we disapproved. We were in awe.
   The setting was a chapel located at the Cloisters Museum in New York City. Forty speakers surrounded us. So did limestone block walls and medieval artwork. The speakers had played a recording of Spem in Alium. It's a Latin motet from the 1500's.
   The music was haunting. My friend described it as ethereal. There's been accounts of people weeping and embracing.
   The composer was Thomas Tallis. He wrote eight separate parts--or melodies--to the motet. Each part is written for five voice types, those being alto, soprano, tenor, baritone, and bass. That's forty individual voices. The melodies are sung at the same time. They compliment each other rather than compete.
   The version in New York City had something else going for it.
   A few years ago, music artist Janet Cardiff positioned forty microphones in front of individual singers at the Salisbury Cathedral Choir in England. They sang the motet. She recorded them.
   Her recording has been described as a masterpiece. Acoustic separations are so distinct, it's as though the choir is surrounding you in person. Call it audio 3D. The recording has played for several months at The Cloisters in New York.
    Music is subjective. But sometimes the impact of a composition, and how it's presented, transcends differences in tastes. What I heard in that chapel deserves such an accolade.

Rethinking John Lennon

A flower adorns a mosaic memorial for John Lennon. It's located at Central Park in New York City. I visited the spot this week.

   'Imagine' was my favorite song composed by John Lennon.
   Not anymore.
   Some of the lyrics are beautiful and heartfelt. Consider this: Imagine all the people, living life in peace. And this: No Need for Greed or Hunger, a brotherhood of man. 
   It's taken me a few years, but I've come to realize that other lyrics in the song are disagreeable.
   Here's the opening line: Imagine there's no heaven.
   No way I agree with that sentiment. Knowing that Heaven exists provides me with hope for salvation.
   Lennon's lyrics ask us to imagine: Nothing to Kill or die for, and no religion too. The first part is beautiful. It'd be nice if people stopped killing one and other.
   The second part of that line, imagining a world without religion, is another sentiment I disagree with. Religions are rudders, they steer us toward God. My rudder is Roman Catholicism. Other people use different rudders to ply the waters toward salvation. Without religions--our moral compasses--the world would regress into darkness.  
   One of Lennon's other hits songs is 'God.' It begins with this line: God is a concept by which we measure our pain. Later he sings, I don't believe in Jesus… I don't believe in Buddha.
   Lennon wasn't denying Jesus' existence, even if it the lyrics suggest he does. But still, the lyrics disrespect God. And they disrespect Buddhism.
   Thirty-three years ago, John Lennon was gunned down. I was shocked. A friend and I hitchhiked to New York City. We stood in Central Park. Surrounding us were thousands of Lennon fans. We'd gathered for ten minutes of silence.
   During that interlude, a man nearby read The Bible. News helicopters hovered overhead. I faced the Dakota building where Lennon had lived and died. My heart was heavy with sorrow.
   The sadness remains. December 8th marks the anniversary of John Lennon's death.
   I miss him. His music I still enjoy. But I don't support his criticisms of religion and God.

Tourists gather around the mosaic.

Too Much of a Good Thing?

   I slammed on my brakes and grabbed my camera. A formation of Canada geese had passed above the car. Rather than lowering the window--it would have taken too long--I took a 'Hail Mary' photo through the glass.
   When I was a child, that V formation was rarely seen here in New England. Or anywhere. Canada geese had become an endangered species. An effort was made to save them. It worked. The geese staged a comeback.
   At first I was thrilled to see geese returning to this region.
   Now they've become pests. They overrun ponds and lakes, fouling the water. They soil the grass in parks.
   People support the protection of wild animals. But they sing a different tune when turds foul their beaches and cling to their shoes.