Advent anticipates the coming of the Word

When I was in elementary school, there was a club for boys called “Junior Deputy Sheriffs.” Besides an ID card, members got a little badge, which many boys wore proudly, usually pinned to the right jeans pocket. My brother had been a member, and as soon as I was old enough – 9? 10? – I joined and pinned on my badge. We felt important, part of the team, though our duties consisted only of attending a monthly meeting. Looking back, I think the unspoken primary goal was to help prevent us from getting into trouble.

The meetings were in the auditorium after school, maybe once a month. It was led by an aging deputy, who helped us learn more about law enforcement. I think he may also have been a part-time preacher. Each meeting began with a “devotional” in which he read or had one of us read the first verses of the beginning of the Gospel of John – “In the beginning was the Word . . .” I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who found this passage confusing. And when I got chosen to read one time, it was challenging even though I was always among the best readers in my grade. When I aged out of the organization, there were things I missed. Having to listen to John 1 was not among them.

Yet many years later, I led Morning Prayers in Appleton Chapel at Harvard on a day early in Advent. It’s a short service, allowing 2-3 minutes for the homily. The text I chose to discuss — John 1.

Then, many more years later, during the COVID-19 pandemic, a sheltered part of my family held our own Christmas Eve service. For the homily, my son (by then a Harvard Divinity School graduate) spoke about “The Prophecy” and I “The Fulfillment.” As I began my preparation, I felt led to rely on – you guessed it – John 1.

Here’s what I said in the 1970s service at Harvard:

This, as you may or may not have been able to decipher through all the tinsel, is the season of Advent. The word “advent” comes from the Latin roots ad – “to or toward” – and vent from venio – “to come.” Thus, this is a season to celebrate the coming to us of someone or something.

There are a number of ways of interpreting the meaning of Advent. Parades beginning before Thanksgiving, in big cities, small towns and in between, interpret Advent to mean “the coming of Santa Claus.”

I want briefly to offer the fourth gospel’s interpretation: the coming of the Word of God into the physical realm of existence. I also want to attempt to suggest what “Word” means and what it is.

John 1:14: “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us.” The concept of “The Word,” or Logos in Greek, as found in much of the religious thinking of the 1^st Century Mediterranean world, is a topic for more time than I have, if not also more understanding. Suffice it to say, it meant more than mere letters on a piece of parchment or an uttered sound. Words were believed to be the essence of whose words they were. “The Word was with God, and the Word was God.” (John 1:1)

I suggest that the Advent of the Word-made-flesh means we are free. We are liberated. Jesus said, “If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples, and you will know the truth and the truth will make you free.” (John 8:31-32)

The Word came from God’s world — i.e., realm of being — to our world. So, we know that God’s world exists. We get a glimpse of it. This knowledge of a realm beyond our existence frees us from a lot of anxiety and uptightness. It gives us the freedom to, as it were, “transcend” things such as institutions, customs, prejudices of this world that would seek to entrap us.

This knowledge does not, however, free us from responsibility toward this world. Rather, it frees us to be responsible. For, because of the Advent, our world is joined with God’s world, as the Word becomes flesh. The difference between the two worlds is not a difference between “here” and “there,” but a difference between “here” and “more than here.”

We are freed not from having to love our fellow beings. We are freed to love them.

And now to my suggestion of what the Word is: St. John tells us that the Word and God are one. He, or someone with the same name, also tells us, “God is love, and he who abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him.” (1 John 4:16)

How this word was translated into human experience is the subject of all four gospels, but it can perhaps best be summed up into the word, “Love.” The Word is God, and God is Love. Love as exemplified by Jesus.

Another John — with another Paul — of our own time – that is Lennon and McCartney – express the whole idea in a song called “The Word”:
“Say the word and you’ll be free” and “Have you heard, the Word is Love.”

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Here are the thoughts I shared in our home service, Christmas Eve 2020:

At Christmas time in 1952, a couple of months before I turned 6, a sister of mine who was then in high school, joined with some of her friends to “adopt” a local family that would otherwise have a limited Christmas, at best.

I wanted to help. I dug five dimes out of my bank and gave them to her. That 50 cents would be $4.88 today. As I thought more about the needs of that family as compared to ours and about how surprisingly good I felt giving the money, I wondered if I was willing to do more.

In my prized monetary hoard were two 50-cent pieces I was saving for no reason other than that I liked having them. Could I possibly part with one? Would I feel sad? Dimes were a lot easier to replace. Ultimately, I found myself taking out one of the 50-cent pieces and doubling my contribution. What I felt was the direct opposite of sad.

Then I read John 1:1-5:

1 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 He was in the beginning with God. 3 All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being 4 in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. 5 The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overtake it.

“Word” here doesn’t mean speech. It’s the Greek word logos, which in Greek philosophy refers the controlling principle in the universe. I’ve heard it suggested that we translate it here as “God’s creative energy.” This text also calls it life and light. It has always existed and was exhibited in human form through Jesus. This is the introduction to the story of Jesus as told in the Gospel of John. It doesn’t start with shepherds and a manger, but with the Word — creative energy — of God becoming flesh — taking on human form.

So, here we have a guy who is God’s Word-creative energy-light in flesh and blood.

Whew!

So, where do I fit in?

The next couple of verses suggest an answer. Verse 6 introduces John the Baptist. It says, “He was not the Light but came to bear witness to the Light.”

I realize now that’s what I did that time back in ’52 (and I hope at other times since) — reflected that Light. (And I would note that when something is reflecting light, it is also lighted by it — and often warmed as well).

That’s our job, as we are reminded at Christmas — to bear witness to God’s Light. Our pastor put it this way in his streamed sermon last Sunday:

“You don’t have to be the Messiah to make yourself useful.”

Trying to re-find Paradise generated arts-based theology

During a summer ministerial job when I was in theological school, I led a weekend retreat for young adults and older teens. It was a good group experience, with shared recreation, group-building exercises and thoughtful conversation. A short time afterward, I was talking with a guy about my age who had participated. He began to delve further into my being a seminary student. Being skeptical but searching, he asked me the inevitable question: “Who or what is God?”

I thought for a few moments and remembered one of the more significant exercises we had done on the retreat. Each person takes a turn lying face-down on the floor while others tap firmly but gently on them, head to toe for a minute or so. They press down, then roll the person, who remains limp, over and raise them high above their heads. The feeling that one gets up there is beyond explanation. One experiences many things, including complete trust. You know that — no matter what — those people won’t drop you. That works even for certified acrophobes such as I. So, I said, “You remember how you felt when you were up in the air in that exercise on the retreat?” (And it’s worth noting he was the largest participant.) He smiled and said, “Yeah.” I replied, “That’s God.” His response: “Dig it.”

This guy is one of countless individuals I’ve encountered who are trying to know God. I’m in this group, and I’m confident the ones I’ve encountered represent a small sample of those on this journey. Often this search is for a limited God, not unlike one maybe heard about in Sunday School and/or John Milton’s “Paradise Lost.” This search is, at best, incomplete; at worst, disillusioning.

My religious upbringing was not completely fundamentalist but still quite “orthodox.” It was slightly altered along the way though never shaken for 19 years. But then one night during the spring of my freshman year in college, I was reading “Paradise Lost” for an English class. Ironically, it was this that started a chain reaction in my mind, so that in about 10 minutes, the beliefs I had held my whole life to that point were wiped out. Milton’s picture, so similar to what I had learned in Sunday School, was just so nice, that I suddenly realized it couldn’t be that way. No three-level universe, no war in heaven and, to my horror, no Ruler in heaven. The image this experience still brings to mind is that of a sandcastle disintegrating in the rising tide. It just shows how shallow my faith really is, I thought at the time. I’ve since learned it wasn’t shallow, just immature.

I immediately began to try frantically to piece my theology back together and/or rebuild it. I figured if there were a God, I’d better find “him” PDQ. So, I directed a lot of attention and energy to trying to define “God.” Every now and then, I would come up with some very systematic, step-by-step theory of what it was all about, just what “God” meant. And the very moment I got the theory all spelled out in my head, I immediately realized it was baloney.

This miserable time of being an atheist-wanting-to-be-a-theist went on for two or three years. In my quest, I fell into some patterns that I suspect hinder a lot of people in the same situation. I was trying too hard. Yes, we do need to be diligent in trying to figure things out, but there’s a point of diminishing returns. Sometimes we may be searching so hard for “God” (or the meaning of life, or Shalom or whatever term works for you), that we miss a small but significant clue that is right there. Often, we base our search on a narrow concept of God. Again, incomplete and potentially disillusioning.

Finally, I resigned myself to the fact that I did not understand what, if anything, the term “God” meant and might not ever. In this process, I subconsciously made the decision to affirm what did have meaning for me, rather than constantly being uptight about what didn’t. That was the first positive step I had taken in some time toward rebuilding my personal theology.

I didn’t even realize at first that these affirmations were helping me understand the concept of “God.” That realization developed slowly. I continued to participate in many of the same “religious” activities, including Sunday morning worship at church and various gatherings of a student organization. The rituals felt rather empty, but I got something out of being with the others. There was a human connection that was more than human.

Gradually, I came to understand that the connection with others – in religious and other settings, as well – was an experience of love. It was real and beyond the physical realm. I believed in this spiritual connection, whether or not I could define it or give it a name.

And there was art.

Art in all forms, though especially music and poetry, has always appealed to more than just my five senses. During that miserable time, I had no trouble continuing to affirm artistic expression and experience. I didn’t feel miserable when hearing good music or reading a meaningful poem. I came to appreciate that art has more than a physical dimension. This reality helped me realize I wasn’t an atheist after all.

The spiritual nature of human community reinforced this notion. Finally giving that connection a name – “love” – led to understanding, at long last, the scriptural phrase “God is Love.” To get to that understanding, I had to flip the phrase. Reasoning that “if A=B, then B=A,” I said, “Love is God.” Another piece of the puzzle.

The arts helped me begin again to rebuild my personal theology.

I think that one way of understanding how we are created in our Creator’s image is that we too can be creators, albeit imperfect ones. I am not suggesting we can all paint masterpieces, write quality poetry or compose fine music. But we do have the potential to be creative. Different individuals have potential that is developed further in particular areas. We have the potential fully to appreciate art in any of its expressions, be it visual art, music, drama, poetry, etc., even if we are not blessed with the ability to produce it. Yet, further, creativity, as given to us by our Creator, is not confined to what we think of as art. Our Creator’s image within us, like our Creator, transcends boundaries and limitations.

We can and should be creative in our occupation, in our relationships with others, in all aspects of our lives. That is, we need to be open, innovative, aware of all the possibilities, conscious of what is going on inside and outside of our heads. We need to utilize all our senses as well as components of our thought processes, without getting stuck in any particular one. Stated overly simply, we need to avoid operating “in a rut.”

If we truly become conscious of what is involved in a good poem, a moving piece of music or any other art form, we become aware of something more than this physical world. To create music or poetry or any kind of art takes a power not of this realm of existence. Experiencing this art – listening to or performing a song, reading a poem – allows us at least a glimpse of this realm.

Ultimately, what worship is all about is transcendence – not as a means of religious intoxication, but as an impetus and aid to active Christian (or substitute the name of your religion) living. Through art, through creative expression, through utilization of God’s gift of creativity, we commune with our Creator.

This understanding of theology evolved for me concurrently with my deepening understanding of the spiritual nature of human community, leading me to be more interested in and dedicated to worship renewal.

Just as a side note, it is thus impossible for me to see any difference between “sacred” and “secular” when we talk about art. Begin by looking at the genesis of classical music. Many of the fine pieces used for preludes and postludes were written without words to convey a sense of the presence of God. Stained glass was put in the church windows not only to tell Bible stories, but also to evoke a sense of the Divine presence via their artistic quality and multicolored light shining through. Songs don’t have to include “religious” words to connect us with God.

I do think, however, that we do at times need the use of traditional religious symbols. For while it is good to experience the presence of God, it is even more joyous when we realize more fully that that is what we are doing. These symbols can do the reminding. But our dependence on them is due to our limitations. It certainly isn’t due to God’s. My spiritual journey over these decades has included redefining virtually every religious symbol, as well as many words and phrases I’ve heard quoted freely in church all my life.

When I was a student at “the oldest Protestant graduate school of theology in the nation,” one of my favorite and most influential professors was Rabbi Murray Rothman. In one class discussion, he reminded us – most eloquently – that God is infinitely greater than human understanding. Any ‘god’ that you can understand could not possibly be God.

As noted earlier, accepting my limitations was a positive step forward. We do not have to make God be there by searching frantically through the hymnal or the latest version of the Bible. Nor is the Rock of Ages going to crumble because some people rest on it in “unorthodox” ways.

Wrong anthem

As I sit here on Sunday morning, Sept. 28, 2025, listening to my local classical music radio station, which plays music reflecting the day’s Common Lectionary (selection of scripture passages used in many churches), I just heard “Poor Man Lazarus,” with its refrain:

I’m tormented in the flame!
I’m tormented in the flame!
Dip your finger in the water;
come and cool my tongue,
’cause I’m tormented in the flame!

It is based on the parable Jesus tells in Luke 16:19-31, one of today’s readings.

Some years ago, when this same passage was also used, a small choir of which I was a member, sang a song recounting John 11:1-44, in which Jesus is said to raise his friend Lazarus, brother of Mary and Martha, from the dead. Same name, but one was a character in a story Jesus fashioned, the other real person. Different stories, serving different purposes.

I didn’t realize we had prepared an anthem about the wrong Lazarus until I heard the day’s scripture read that Sunday morning. Our director, bless his heart, had seen the name Lazarus and then had chosen the song.

I sent a group email that afternoon pointing out the faux pas. The director admitted it was embarrassing. Another member, though, who as I do, holds a Master of Divinity degree, somehow found a way to see it as OK.

Why did/does it matter to me? Well, besides my OCD tendencies, I think that the more the music and liturgy directly support the day’s scripture, the more meaningful the worship experience can be.

Forgiveness

If someone wrongs you, then later offers a sincere apology, it can be possible, if not easy to accept the apology and move on – i.e., forgive them. But what if they never do their part to make things right? Then you find yourself in the murky area of forgiveness, which seems to be a vast, perplexing area.

Can you forgive someone who doesn’t ask for forgiveness? Maybe they don’t know or accept that they need it. Maybe they know but don’t want it. Would forgiving them absolve them?

Even with a lifetime of attending church and studying the Bible, plus a master’s degree from a theological school that included training in pastoral counseling, I struggle with understanding “forgiveness.” I suspect I’m not alone.

In the Lord’s Prayer, we ask God to forgive us as we forgive those who wrong us. If we expect God to forgive us, we should be willing to forgive others. But there are differences between Divine forgiveness and human forgiveness.

Believers see God’s forgiveness as unconditional, available to anyone who asks for it, regardless of the wrongdoings. We are absolved of our sins and can start again with a clean slate.

We humans, though, are not divine. When we attempt to forgive someone, emotional and psychological factors come into play. We don’t necessarily want to let someone “off the hook.” Yet the pain someone has caused us won’t go away while we remain angry. Vengeful thoughts vex only us. It’s the proverbial drinking of the poison that you intend for the other person.

You have to ask God for forgiveness but can be assured it will be granted. If you ask another person for forgiveness, it might not be granted. Also, a person might forgive someone who doesn’t ask for it. In fact, it can be a good idea to do so, because that can get rid of that poison that is affecting only you.

That in no way cleans their slate. That’s not our job, even if it we wanted it to be. What it does do is take away the power they have over you. It allows you to recognize the pain you are feeling and to avoid (or stop) letting it define you. This can have a positive effect on your health and peace of mind, whether or not the other person ever understands and accepts that they have wronged you.

It is possible that forgiving someone may lead to understanding and empathy for them. So much the better if it does, but even if it doesn’t, it’s still worthwhile to forgive, for all the good it can do you.

What if the person you need to forgive is you yourself?

The health benefits of self-forgiveness are similar to those derived from forgiving others. Yet, I doubt I’m the only person who sometimes finds it can be more difficult to forgive oneself.

While getting another person to change is not a goal in forgiving them, self-forgiveness necessarily involves owning your wrongdoing and admitting that you might need to change. That can be difficult, more so if you aren’t ready to change.

Sometimes those not ready to change may choose to gloss over their behavior in a sort of artificial self-forgiveness.

Another cautionary note is that even true self-forgiveness can reduce one’s empathy for those they’ve wronged. Just because you feel better doesn’t mean they do, too. Experts recommend consciously practicing empathy with those we’ve hurt even as we forgive ourselves for doing so.

Please note that people who unnecessarily blame themselves for something outside their control are not candidates for self-forgiveness. They need to work on and let go of their unfounded guilt. They may also need to forgive someone else.

I am finding it helpful to identify the anger I feel about certain occurrences. In reflecting on past hurts that linger, I am starting to realize, “Oh, that’s someone I need to forgive.” I am working toward the next step: in fact forgiving them.

If it’s something about which I am angry at myself, I sometimes remind myself, “That was X years ago.” Whatever the time frame, I realize that no one else may even remember the incident and, even if someone does remember, it may well not make any difference to them now. I also have begun to say to myself “It’s OK to make mistakes” or “You are not expected to be perfect” at appropriate times.

Forgiveness, whether of others or oneself, often is difficult. The degree of difficulty may depend on how bad the act hurt or how long the grudge has been held. It takes work and practice. Talking with someone, at least a trusted friend if not a professional is often a good idea.

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An internet search for “forgiveness” will yield a plethora of sources. Here are some I consulted:
— https://www.gotquestions.org/forgive-forgiven.html
—https://www.mayoclinic.org/healthy-lifestyle/adult-health/in-depth/forgiveness/art-20047692
—https://greatergood.berkeley.edu/topic/forgiveness/definition#why-practice-forgiveness
—https://www.scripturesshare.com/what-is-gods-forgiveness-vs-human-forgiveness/
—https://www.verywellmind.com/how-to-forgive-yourself-4583819
—https://www.bostonimp.com/post/the-link-between-forgiving-others-and-forgiving-yourself
This analysis of Don Henley’s song, “The Heart of the Matter,” which is about forgiveness, is interesting and may be helpful:
— https://melodyinsight.com/don-henley-the-heart-of-the-matter-lyrics-meaning/

. . . and Happy Hanukkah

Each year, during the time many people wish others “Merry Christmas,” a number of well-meaning individuals (bless their hearts) tack on “and Happy Hanukkah.” Being an inter-faith couple, my wife and I hear this a lot.

Yet these are different celebrations. The primary thing they have in common is that they occur at about the same time of the year.

Christmas is one of two High Holy Days in Christianity, second only to Easter. In this sense, it corresponds to Rosh Hashanah, one of two High Holy Days in Judaism, second only to Yom Kippur. Also, Rosh Hashanah is the Jewish New Year. Advent, which leads into Christmas, marks the beginning of the Church year. So, they correspond in this way, too. Yet my wife hears “Happy Hanukkah” around Christmas time a lot more than “Happy New Year” earlier in the fall.

Yes, there are some common themes shared by Hanukkah and the Christmas season. Since it usually occurs during Advent, our observance of Hanukkah in our home enhances my preparation for Christmas. Yet if the Jewish calendar put some other Jewish holiday, instead of Hanukkah, close to Christmas, I dare say it would be as big as we make Hanukkah to be.

Let me be clear: I am not anti-Hanukkah. It commemorates the rededication of the Temple after it had been defiled by foreign invaders. The word I transliterate here as “Hanukkah” (Jewish sources seem to prefer “Chanukah”) means “dedication.” That’s a significant event. Meditating on faith, freedom, courage, charity, integrity and knowledge is meaningful.

But Hanukkah is not Jewish Christmas. The two are not equivalent. It especially is a shame that some people, who nominally observe one or the other, act as if the two celebrations are in competition. It may be that the “and Happy Hanukkah” phenomenon detracts from the celebration of both Christmas and Hanukkah, while shortchanging Judaism’s two High Holy Days, as well as other lesser holidays and festivals. Further, it can sound a bit patronizing.

What I am advocating here is having reverence for one’s own religious observances and respect for those of others.

I’ve said before, and will likely say again, if you want to balance your “Merry Christmas” for your Jewish acquaintances, notice when Rosh Hashana occurs and wish them “Happy New Year” at that time.

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Side bar on Passover and Easter

Similar to our December experience, in the spring we have Passover and Easter occurring close together. This likely makes some non-Jewish people more aware of Passover and causes some to want to “give equal time” by tacking on “and Happy Passover.” Yet, again, Easter most closely corresponds to Yom Kippur, in that each is the most High Holy Day of the religion in which it is observed.

A difference from Hanukkah-Christmas, however, is the historic connection between Passover and Easter. During what we Christians call Holy Week, Jesus was in Jerusalem for Passover. The Last Supper of Jesus and his disciples, on which the Eucharist was established, was a Passover seder. This gives the Seder, which I have celebrated each year for decades, special meaning for me.

(It’s worth noting also that in the story told in Luke 2:41-52, in which 12-year-old Jesus goes missing from his parents, who find him in the Temple, they are in Jerusalem for Passover. Thus, two Passover vignettes bookend the story of Jesus’s ministry.)

Passover celebrates the escape of the Hebrew people from slavery in Egypt. It is a highly significant story, told extensively in the early books of the Hebrew Bible. The restoration of the Temple, celebrated at Hanukkah, is also highly significant. This story, however, is recounted in the book of Maccabees, which though included in the Catholic Bible, is not part of the Hebrew Bible (nor that of Protestants).

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Lists of Holidays

Hanukkah is but one of many opportunities to offer a Jewish friend acknowledgement of and blessings on a religious observance. Here’s a list of Jewish holidays, major and minor, and the dates on which they occur this year (2025):

Fast of Tevet 10
Sunrise to sunset, Friday, January 10.

15 Shevat
Thursday, February 13.

Purim
Sunset of Thursday, March 13 to nightfall of Friday, March 14.

Passover
Sunset of Saturday, April 12 to nightfall of Sunday, April 20.

Second Passover (Pesach Sheni)
Monday, May 12.

Lag B’Omer
Friday, May 16.

Shavuot
Sunset of Sunday, June 1 to nightfall of Tuesday, June 3.

The Three Weeks
Sunday, July 13, through Sunday, August 3.

The 15th of Av
Saturday, August 9.

Rosh Hashanah
Sunset of Monday, Sept. 22, to nightfall of Wednesday, Sept. 24.

Yom Kippur
Sunset of Wednesday, October 1, to nightfall of Thursday, October 2.

Sukkot
Sunset of Monday, October 6, to nightfall of Monday, October 13.

Shemini Atzeret & Simchat Torah
Sunset of Monday, October 13, to nightfall of Wednesday, October 15.

Chanukah
Sunset of Sunday, December 14, to nightfall of Monday, December 22.

Fast of Tevet 10
Sunrise to nightfall of Tuesday, December 30.

Christian holidays

Here’s a list of Christian holidays, observances, etc. for 2025. I ‘ve heard of most. I don’t even pretend to celebrate a good number of them and don’t really know anyone who does. Some, obviously, are tied to other holidays — e.g., all those associated with Easter, from Ash Wednesday through Easter Monday.

Jan 06, 2025, Epiphany
Jan 12, 2025, The Baptism of Jesus
Feb 02, 2025, Candlemas
Feb 14, 2025, St. Valentine’s Day
Mar 05, 2025, Ash Wednesday
Mar 17, 2025, St. Patrick’s Day
Mar 19, 2025, St. Joseph’s Day
Apr 13, 2025, Palm Sunday
Apr 17, 2025, Maundy (Holy) Thursday
Apr 18, 2025, Good Friday
Apr 20, 2025, Easter
Apr 21, 2025, Easter Monday
Apr 23, 2025, St. George’s Day
May 29, 2025, Ascension of Jesus
Jun 08, 2025, Pentecost
Jun 15, 2025, Trinity Sunday
Jun 19, 2025, Corpus Christi
Jun 29, 2025, Saints Peter and Paul
Jul 15, 2025, Saint Vladimir
Jul 25, 2025, St. James the Great Day
Aug 01, 2025, Lammas
Aug 15, 2025, The Assumption of Mary
Sep 14, 2025, Holy Cross Day
Sep 29, 2025, Michael and All Angels
Oct 31, 2025, All Hallows Eve
Nov 01, 2025, All Saints’ Day
Nov 02, 2025, All Souls’ Day
Nov 23, 2025, Christ the King
Nov 30, 2025, St. Andrew’s Day
Nov 30, 2025, Advent – first Sunday
Dec 06, 2025, St. Nicholas Day
Dec 13, St. Lucia Day
Dec 24, 2025, Christmas Eve
Dec 25, 2025, Christmas
Dec 28, 2025, Holy Innocents
Dec 31, 2025, Watch Night

Merry and Happy

It’s time for the annual debate: “Merry Christmas” vs “Happy Holidays.” I usually say “Merry Christmas,” though I’m not averse to saying “Happy Holidays,” and I’ve personally never encountered a problem saying “Merry Christmas” to anyone.

There are those, however, who seem to have a problem with one or the other. Some people fall into a conspiracy-theory mode if they hear “Happy Holidays.” Others practically pull a muscle avoiding saying the word “Christmas.” Both can be annoying, though the latter can also be amusing. My wife, who is Jewish, agrees with me. We enjoy joking about holiday trees, the song “The Twelve Days of Holiday,” the poem “The Night Before Holiday,” and Dickens’s classic “A Holiday Carol.”

“Holidays,” it seems to me, has more than one meaning. The word derives from “Holy Days,” days of special religious observance. Christmas is just such a “HolyDay.” Yet we often use the term more broadly. Hanukkah is a religious celebration, but is a festival, not a Holy Day on par with Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. The relatively new Kwanza, is a cultural celebration, based on African harvest festivals. We easily refer to both as holidays.

“Holidays” also connotes days that governments and businesses take off. December 25 and January 1 are designated as such holidays in the U.S. We can wish each other happiness on those two days.

“Holidays” further may mean “when we take vacation days and spend as much time as possible with family.” Thus, “Happy Holidays” here means “enjoy this special period of time and all it includes for you and yours.”

There are 12 days of Christmas. That is NOT because of the song. The song was written because Christmas traditionally ends at Epiphany, Jan. 6. Thus, “Happy Holidays” can be seen as wishing one happiness through the 12 days of Christmas.

For all the reasons listed above, I personally appreciate being wished “Happy Holidays” or “Merry Christmas.” Or any other thoughtful, caring expression.

Beach sunrises

Each year, my wife and I spend a week at the beach. More specifically, at the Cavalier by The Sea motel, milepost 8.5 on the beach road in Kill Devil Hills. We stay in a beachfront efficiency. Until a tall building was built a few years ago, we could see the Wright Brothers monument from our kitchen window.

In my younger days, I would occasionally drag myself from bed to see the sunrise. Now in my not-so-younger days, my biorhythms have changed drastically. Wherever I am, I am up in time to witness the coming of the morning’s light. Thus, for many years, when at the beach, by the time the sun rises, I’ve been out enjoying the colorful preshow for an hour or so.

All photos copyright John W. Becton, 2024

Watching the sun rise provides a lesson in patience. It happens when the Earth rotates far enough. No matter how anxious you are to see it, you can’t make the sun appear a second sooner. Yet, the time of anticipation provides me practice in living in the moment. Each moment leading up to the sunrise can be enjoyed. I find that this approach makes the sunrise itself even more dramatic and fulfilling.

It’s a spiritual experience for me. At the beach, it is also a communal experience. There are others out for the same reason as I. I occasionally speak briefly with one or two and rarely ever know any of them personally. Yet I feel connected to them all.

You have to be attentive. Once that first sliver of light appears, everything happens quickly. The full Sun clears the horizon in a minute or so.

Just as you can’t jump in the same river twice, you see a specific sunrise only once.

A million-dollar experience I wouldn’t take $2M to repeat

As the sign came into view, “Entering Forsyth County,” one of my colleagues exclaimed, “Yay, Forsyth County!” It was maybe a little over the top but mostly amusing. She attended Wake Forest University, which is in that county.

There were four of us. Each attended a different college. No one put another’s school down, but none of us hid our pride in our own. This was just another example. It was all in good fun, much more positive than some of our interactions.

We had been chosen and put together for this summer project. Our primary role was to spend a week each in various churches, interacting with youth, leading in worship and presenting two plays. There was one other team like ours. A couple of times, with neither team booked in a church, we were together for other activities.

During one week when we were a group of eight, we had a meeting that departed from the good-natured banter described above.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a guy on the other team criticized me for talking about my school, UNC, and the town in which it is located, Chapel Hill, more than he wanted to hear. My team members, who had spent a lot more time with me, didn’t seem to have a problem with me on this. (But, as we’ll see in a moment, they did have other problems with me.) I tried to say I thought I was joining in the rah-rah banter, maybe as much as but no more than everyone else. If I’d had more presence of mind, I could’ve added that for the past three years, I had spent most of my days there. UNC and Chapel Hill provided the context for much of what I had to say.

He didn’t indicate he had a problem with anyone else sharing their own campus experiences. Ah, but what was different was that he had wanted to go to UNC-CH but couldn’t swing it financially. When others mentioned their schools, he didn’t feel envious.

It was unpleasant, but much worse was to come.

As if interpersonal issues weren’t enough, we also had to deal with a number of external challenges, including a drowning at a swim party and a serious accident during a fellowship event. One day, our supervisor received a letter from members of one church, complaining about our time with them, though the feedback had seemed quite positive while we were there. Late in the summer, we performed the play “In White America” in a town that had just been ordered (finally) to integrate their schools.

Each person had a specific area of responsibility. These roles were team coordinator, music leader, recreation and discussion leader, and preacher. I was designated the preacher and worked up a sermon to give each Sunday. The other guy was assigned recreation and discussion. The older of the two young women was named coordinator, the other given music responsibility.

That seemed good at the start, but circumstances blurred some lines. Because we traveled in my car, it was necessary for me to do some coordinating. Because my guitar and I accompanied our singing in the productions and sometimes in worship, I was de facto music leader at times. Of lesser note, but notable, I was passably athletic while the other male student was not athletic at all. This may have affected our relative roles in some recreational activities.

Even if you don’t intend to usurp some of other people’s authority (and even if they let you), doing so can engender resentment. And I presented them with other issues as well.

I do own some of the blame for intra-team friction. I had strong ideas about many things and could be short on tact. I had mental health difficulties I had only begun to address, though it turned out I wasn’t the only one on the team wearing this tag. Nonetheless, I felt then and still feel now that the amount of criticism leveled at me, as compared to what others received, was excessive.

That I was less conventional in my appearance and approach to life was a problem for the others from the beginning. Yet before the summer started, I had shaved off my then-full beard. I got my hair cut shorter and neater, though since it still touched my ears, it was too long for my teammates. Less superficial were the adaptions I made conversationally. I made sure my language was less “colorful” than was the norm among my college friends. Just as significantly, I began peppering things I said with theological words and phrases, something I had pretty much abandoned as a college student.

I felt I was compromising — moving closer to being like my teammates. I made changes to be less different from them. But I didn’t become exactly like them, and they discredited or disregarded the changes I had made. It wasn’t all; so it was none.

We had a weekly meeting that including the chance to air concerns — i.e., a gripe session. I seemed to be the primary object of the aired concerns. There was one week in which the two females had done something that the other male told me he was going to criticize in that week’s session. But it was held after we’d led some activity in which everything had clicked. My compatriot was in too good a mood to complain during the session. That was the closest we came to having one of those meetings in which I wasn’t the focus.

Things boiled over in a team meeting one night with our supervisor. The other guy on the team went through a long spiel about his growing dissatisfaction. He said he didn’t think he could continue to be on the team. His biggest issue was that there was one person he just could not work with. And that person, he revealed (though everyone already knew), was the person now writing this piece. Among other things, he criticized my hair. That didn’t surprise me, but I was taken aback when he also said the sermon I had preached most Sundays wasn’t any good. That was the first I’d heard of that. Some helpful suggestions early on might’ve been nice.

Before he officially quit, he got a chance for a repeat performance. The next week, we were again together with the other team at a weeklong youth conference. There was a meeting one night of both teams with our supervisor and his supervisor. My colleague repeated his soliloquy for a larger audience, with the same buildup to leveling blame on me. The first time, I had tried to offer some personal defense for my alleged transgressions. This time, I said nothing.

Accommodations were made for us to operate as a team of three in the last two or three churches. Despite this person’s growing resentment toward me, he had freely used me as a sounding board for his personal struggles. Not many days after he had left the team because he couldn’t work with me, he called one morning to the home where I was staying that week, because he just had to talk to me about the latest things with which he was dealing in his personal life.

The summer provided growing experiences, and not all of them were negative. Our highest highs weren’t as high as our lowest lows were low. But there were a lot of highs. Many joyful moments. A lot of intensity, often good, at times not so good. I can’t say I’m sorry I went through it, but by the time it was over, I was more than ready to go home.

After the goodbyes at the conclusion of a meal following the Sunday morning service in our last church of the summer, I got in my car and headed southwest. In Durham, on I-85, I reached the exit with the sign saying:
U.S. 15-501 S
Chapel Hill

Tears flowed.

What it’s like to be a radio personality — for a short time

There was a time when you could hear me on the radio, if you wanted to. And if you were in the same town and had an AM radio. I backed into the experience and rode it as long as it lasted.

My “career” in radio comprised two programs in two different states in which I mixed music and discussion. The first was just for a summer, the second for about two-and-a-half years.

The first was on a small radio station in Orange MA. I say “small” to refer to the size of the staff and building, as well as the reach of its broadcast signal. It was AM, as most stations were back then.

I was in town for that summer, as I had been for the previous one, to run a youth ministry supported by five local churches. For the radio station I checked two boxes: trying to appeal to younger listeners and providing some community-service programming.

As part of the attempt to reach community youth, the Saturday afternoon format was called, at least by the program director, “Rap and Records.” In those days “rap” was slang for “to converse” as a verb or “conversation” as a noun. My shift was referred to as “The United Youth Ministry Portion of Rap and Records.” A friend had a slot in which he played and talked about jazz.

My program aired live for an hour. I had one or two guests. The engineer played a recording of a meaningful rock song I had chosen, and my guests and I discussed it. Listeners could call in and join the conversation, though few did.

I enjoyed hanging around the radio station, getting to know some members of the staff and maybe learning a few things.

The one person on duty during my gig was a high school student who had landed a part-time job there. He used an on-air name that was more Anglo-Saxon than his real name. In time, I learned that another high school student I knew had wanted that job. I had the second guy as a panelist on my show one week. At one point, the student employee called in from another line in the adjacent studio, as if he were a listener at home. During the call, I was aware of some subtle digs between the two, though it’s likely listeners didn’t notice.

At some point, I saw a memo from the program director to the limited number of DJs, who apparently programmed their own music. Selections during the day were to be from the vanilla section of popular tunes — my wording, not his. After sundown, however, “rock out, as long as the towers don’t fall down.” These were his words. The music after dark though, was still pretty vanilla.

One evening I did hear something with a little more zip to it. I don’t remember what it was, but it wasn’t the Carpenters. On the other hand, it wasn’t Black Sabbath either. The D.J. quipped, “I hope the towers don’t fall down,” a reference one could get only if they’d seen the memo.

This same DJ also took credit for the urban legend that Jerry Mathers, TV’s Beaver Cleaver, had been killed in Viet Nam. He told me he and some fellow students had floated the notion on their Westcoast college radio station and it had caught on.

One of the few times my show did get a caller, he had a lot to say about that day’s topic. It was a good interchange, but as the top of the hour approached, I kept trying to end it tactfully. Not only was my segment supposed to end on the hour, but there was also the station identification requirement, about which I somehow was aware. The FCC has loosened up some since then, but in those days, you had to give the station call letters on the hour. There were only two minutes’ grace before you were in trouble.

The clock moved to 2:00 as the guy continued to talk. It moved past as I tried to interrupt without seeming to interrupt. Finally, somewhere between 2:01 and 2:02, he took a breath, I said, “Thanks for calling” and said — through the live phone — “You are listening the WCAT, Orange Massachusetts” with about five seconds to spare. I hung up the phone, quickly wrapped up and tossed it back to the high school student DJ/engineer. I’m sure he had queued up a recorded station break, then probably held it for 3:00.

A couple of years later, after I had returned to Chapel Hill NC, I got to know the program director of the local radio station, then also AM. They had recently expanded their broadcast day to 24 hours. The program director said they needed to expand their public-service broadcasting accordingly.

They were interested in something that could fall into the category “religious programming” but wouldn’t be overtly religious. Canned programs were available, but none really fell into this category. Besides, they preferred something with local appeal. I told him about my previous experience. He agreed I could provide what they needed.

Once again, I featured guests and music. This program, though, was a half hour long. It was prerecorded and aired on Sunday morning. I called it “Sacred Space.” In my introduction each week, I identified it as, “a program dealing with our relationship to God and our relationships with each other, with the belief that these two kinds of relationships are inseparable.” I closed each program with these words: “God touches and is part of all aspects of our lives. Sacred Space is where we stop to realize that.”

Usually, I focused on discussion with the guest(s) and used some music to enhance the discussion. At first, a competent engineer recorded and produced. After he moved on the bigger and better opportunities, the quality of the production help I got began a downward slide. Eventually, I did all the production work myself. My work was at least passable much of the time, though occasionally I ventured into the realm of the Peter Principle.

Every now and then, I deviated from the from the format and offered music and my own commentary. A specific topic may have suggested itself to me. I know I did at least one for Christmas and one inspired by the birth of my first child. A time or two, I threw something together because I had trouble lining up a guest.

I got some feedback from time to time that let me know that at least a few people listened. For a short while, an FM station on a nearby college campus used some of my work in their programming. Running the show itself didn’t work out, but some of my interviews fit into an on-air magazine. (Several years later, I was a guest at that station for an interview — by the same guy who had used parts of my program — to talk about a health promotion program I was running at UNC Health.)

Another commercial station in another city asked about letting them get tapes of “Sacred Space” to broadcast each week, but our PD said no. It was a competitor. Also, the person asking was a former employee of his. While I got along well with both of them, I got the idea they were less than friends.

In time, there was a new program director, with whom I also had a good relationship. At one point, he said he wanted to move my program back from 8 a.m. to 7 a.m. I already wondered how many people were up at 8 on Sunday morning to listen in. I told him I wasn’t sure it was worth my effort to produce a program that even fewer people were likely to hear. He didn’t change the time.

All my work for both stations was volunteer. When I sent tapes to the college FM station, I paid for the postage. Eventually, this PD had the station start cutting me a $5 check (about $30 today) each week for “expenses.” It was basically a “tip” for 3-4 hours of work each week.

I didn’t know it at the time, but that may have been the beginning of the end. Several weeks later, he called me at home one morning and said the station was making some cost-cutting moves. One move was to replace my show with one they could get for free from some organization that was not local. It would begin airing that coming Sunday in my slot.

I had mixed feelings. I was getting tired of doing the program. So, there was some sense of relief, along with the feeling of rejection and some anger at the abrupt way it came down. I choose to remember that the program director at least implied some message of thanks, but I still feel it would have been appropriate for the station’s owner to have sent me a short letter thanking me for all I had done for them. But that wasn’t his style.

My radio days ended without a sign-off.

That 4-letter word

You see and hear the word frequently in the media and in casual conversation. This is especially true regarding sports and popular culture, though it crops up in other contexts as well. It’s my most unfavorite four-letter word: H. A. T. E.

Apparently, you’re either a “fan” or a “hater.” No other options. Why do we feel a need to be so extreme?

In the world of sports, more specifically college sports and, within that category, my alma mater vs. its archrival, I hear or read about “hate” almost daily. The word recently was in a newspaper headline. Yeah, of course I favor my alma mater. And, yes, I have some specific gripes with the archrival. But I don’t hate anyone or any group of people. I do very much dislike the way some people act. Many people enjoy good-natured trash talking (I am not one of them), but that’s rather different from just being crass and proud to be so. I very much dislike biased sports reporting. So a victory by my alma mater, at which the local paper take digs whenever possible, over the team our local paper clearly favors is that much more desirable. And, I very much dislike the way a former employer treated me. After I sweat blood and tears for the institution, I was chewed up and spit out. Yes, I am angry. That increases my lack-of-loyalty to athletic teams that represent the same institution. But I don’t hate anyone. (In fact, there are several people I appreciate a lot who came into my life while I worked there. And every athlete from there I’ve encountered on a personal basis has been a stand-up person.)

I don’t “hate to tell you” this. On the contrary, I am glad to tell you. I think it’s likely that’s what most people mean when they use that phrase. I doubt there’s any hate involved, just maybe some deception. It’s an example of the flippant use of this serious word.

Another flippant use that is puzzling it is “love to hate.” Well, it’s puzzling if you think about it, but who thinks about it? (Is that even possible?) More on this in a minute.

Maybe our overuse of the word “hate” reduces its power. That’s something to wish for. But another possibility is that our overuse is a sign that hatred is becoming more pervasive. I recently saw a comment on Facebook lamenting that there is so much “I hate this” in the posts and responses. I feel the same way. Perhaps overuse contributes to the pervasiveness.

Laziness could also be involved. People may find it easier just to use the H word than to be more precise: “I’m angry,” “I’m disappointed,” “I’m envious,” etc. More precise and maybe a little less antagonistic.

What about love vs. hate? Opposites? Certainly contrasting ways to react to another person. Yet, numerous sources say they are not opposite emotions. In fact, some experts say there is a thin line between these two powerful emotions. They propose that the opposite of love is indifference. Does that make hate seem a little less bad? Or does it note just how bad indifference is?

But I digress.

I am not suggesting that we never, ever utter the word “hate.” I also find it useful shorthand at times in innocuous situations. For example, “I hate when I drop something on the floor.” (“Stooping down to pick it up causes me orthopedic and balance problems.”) Or “I hate waiting in line.” (“A long wait is frustrating and standing a long time makes my back hurt.”) And the ever-popular “I hate when that happens.” (Meant as idiomatic humor.)

I just wish that we’d all be a little more conscious of and discerning about our use of this word. Especially when talking about other human beings. And maybe guard against letting it define us.