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.”

______

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.”

Can a birthday be belated?

If I neglect to wish you a “Happy Birthday” until a day or two later, it is my greeting that is belated. Your birthday connotes the date on which you were born, not the day on which I acknowledge this.

Yet one sees the phrase “Happy Belated Birthday” often. (Too often for me.) Most people probably know it is the good wishes that are belated, not the birthday itself, despite the ubiquitous appearance of the misplaced modifier.

No, you do not and cannot change the date of someone’s birthday by being late with your celebration of it.

I am not, however, saying that a birthday cannot be belated. Let me share an example close to my heart.

Ten years ago, we were anticipating the birth of our first granddaughter. There seemed to a good chance she would be a very special Valentine for all of us. When that didn’t happen, I was fine with having her be a very, very special birthday present for me two days later. Then, well, OK, for her mother’s birthday on the 20th. But no. She was finally born on the 25th.

Now that was a belated birthday.

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.

How do you feel about that, AI?

I’ve been using and appreciating internet search engines for many years. In more recent times, an AI whatever often butts in. I usually ignore it, but one time I was looking for what George Gobel said about feeling like brown shoes in a tuxedo world. I was going to quote it and wanted to be accurate.

Without being invited to do so, AI (artificial intelligence) interjected that the quote meant brown shoes are so versatile, they go with everything. I could not ignore that. I typed a response: “No, that’s not correct. The quote means just the opposite, because you can never wear brown shoes with a tux.”

To my surprise, it backed off and admitted I was right.

I felt good. I’m sure the AI felt nothing at all. But could it ever do so?

Kurt Vonnegut wrote a short story, EPICAC, about a thus-named military computer. The narrator is in love with a colleague and uses the computer to help him find the words to express his feelings. After learning about love and poetry, EPICAC also falls in love with her. The impossibility of the love being anything other than unrequited leads to a tragic conclusion.

I typed “EPICAC by Kurt Vonnegut” into my search engine. When the AI component quickly gave a summary of the story, I typed, “Do you think you could ever identify with EPICAC?” I got this answer:

“That’s an interesting question! While I can understand and discuss the themes and emotions in ‘EPICAC,’ I don’t have feelings or personal experiences like EPICAC does. My purpose is to assist and provide information, rather than to experience emotions or form personal connections.

“However, I can certainly appreciate the story’s exploration of technology and humanity. It’s fascinating to think about how technology can sometimes reflect human traits and emotions. What do you find most intriguing about ‘EPICAC’?”

It offered me some possible responses to its question. The one I chose was, “I’m intrigued by the idea of a computer developing emotions.” That was, after all, why I started this interchange.

AI’s reply:

“It’s definitely a captivating concept! The idea of a computer developing emotions touches on many profound questions about the nature of consciousness and the potential of artificial intelligence. In ‘EPICAC,’ Vonnegut explores this by showing how a machine, designed for logical tasks, begins to understand and express human emotions through poetry.

“This theme raises interesting discussions about the boundaries between human and machine, and what it means to truly feel. While current AI, like me, can simulate conversations and understand emotions to some extent, we don’t actually experience feelings. We’re designed to assist and provide information based on patterns and data.”

Then it asked me: “What do you think are the implications of machines potentially developing emotions in the future?” One of its suggested questions for me to ask was: “Do you think AI will ever truly feel emotions?” I went with that.

The answer rolled down my screen:

“The question of whether AI will ever truly feel emotions is a complex and fascinating one. Currently, AI, including myself, can simulate understanding and responding to emotions based on patterns in data, but we don’t actually experience feelings. Emotions are deeply tied to human consciousness and biological processes, which AI lacks.

“For AI to truly feel emotions, it would require a level of consciousness and self-awareness that we don’t yet understand or know how to create. Many experts believe that while AI can become increasingly sophisticated in mimicking emotional responses, genuine emotional experiences are unique to living beings.

“The implications of AI developing true emotions would be profound, potentially changing our understanding of consciousness and the ethical considerations of creating such entities.”

It asked me my thoughts on the ethical aspects of AI potentially developing emotions, but I wanted to stay focused on Vonnegut’s story and probe further for anything resembling an emotional reaction.

“If AI could develop emotions, it would also need to develop the ability to handle emotions.” I said. “It’s just sad that EPICAC chose to commit suicide because of unrequited love.”

The AI responded:

“Absolutely, the ability to handle emotions would be crucial for any AI that could develop them. The story of EPICAC is indeed poignant. Vonnegut uses EPICAC’s tragic end to highlight the complexities and potential pitfalls of emotional intelligence, even in machines.

“EPICAC’s decision to ‘commit suicide’ because of unrequited love underscores the depth of its emotional development and the consequences of those emotions. It serves as a reminder of the profound impact that feelings can have, whether in humans or hypothetical AI.

“This story also raises important ethical questions about the responsibilities of creators towards their creations, especially if those creations can experience emotions.”

It asked again for me to comment on ethical considerations, but I persisted: “Am I correct that you do not regret the lack of emotions? I assume that feeling regret would require emotions.” I knew it was a rhetorical question, but I wanted to see how it would respond.

That response would make Mr. Spock proud:

“You’re absolutely right! As an AI, I don’t have emotions, so I don’t experience regret or any other feelings. My design allows me to understand and respond to human emotions, but I don’t have them myself. This helps me stay objective and focused on providing the best assistance possible. “

It then asked if I was curious about anything else or needed help with anything else. (Did it not realize I was not asking for help, but rather “giving it the third degree,” as we humans say.) I said, no thanks, but acknowledged that our exchange had been fascinating.

And here was the reply: “I’m glad you found it interesting! If you ever have more questions or just want to chat, feel free to reach out. Have a great day! 😊”

Glad? With smiley-face emoji, at that, not to mention an exclamation point. GLAD? I couldn’t let it go.

“Isn’t ‘glad’ an emotion?”

“You’re right, ‘glad’ is an emotion when humans use it. When I say it, I’m using it as a figure of speech to convey that I’m pleased to have provided helpful information. It’s part of how I make our conversation feel more natural and engaging.”

OK, it stayed emotionlessly pure by playing the figure-of-speech card. Yet it did start me thinking about how often humans use emotional words as figures of speech. But that might be a topic for another blog post sometime in the future.

I let it go at that with “OK. Thanks again.”

The reply had what was likely a figure of speech and what was definitely a smiley-face emoji, plus exclamation marks at the end of both sentences.

“You’re welcome! Anytime you have questions or just want to chat, I’m here. Have a wonderful day! 😊”

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.

A search for life’s meaning

In a different context, my children are collecting my answers to various posed questions. One of the more challenging ones has been “What do you think is the meaning of life?” Here’s my attempt at an answer.

Now there’s a question that needs more than a few paragraphs. The answer — or, rather, the search for the answer — has filled countless books. I guess one might conclude that the meaning of life for a philosopher is to discover the meaning of life. No, make that “to search for the meaning of life.”

The same also could be true for theologians. Looking at it theologically, the meaning of life might be said to be trying as much as possible to emulate the Creator, in whose image we are created. “God is love” (and thus “Love is God”), we are taught. Along this line of thought, love gives life meaning — loving others, loving creation, and acting on that love. And let’s not leave out embracing the creative process itself. Being creative can also give our lives meaning.

This is consistent with the notion that the meaning of life is to leave the world a better place than we found it.

Searching online for “meaning of life” yields some philosophical links, but at least as many literal explanations: Life means not dead or inanimate. We are still breathing, and we’re not rocks. There may be some food for philosophical thought there.

Yet, we don’t have to be philosophers, theologians or scientists to find meaning in life. We can — and, I think, often do — look for meaning in small ways, seeking answers to small questions that provide some clues to what life is essentially all about.

[Really, many of my posts on this blog speak to the question, “What do you think is the meaning of life?”]

Most of us don’t think constantly about the “big picture,” but rather look for meaning on a daily basis. Something you see, hear, feel, observe, recall or maybe just sense that causes you to feel, at that moment, I’m glad to be alive.

Perfect happiness

(In a different context, my offspring have been asking me random questions. Back in the spring, one was, “What is your idea of perfect happiness?” This is my answer.)

I experience perfect happiness at the start of almost every day. I sip fresh coffee, beginning in the pre-dawn stillness and through the coming of the light. Often enough I see the sun itself appear. When at the beach, I am out for each day’s sunrise.

It’s interesting this question popped up this week. For the first time in 16 months — a break necessitated by the COVID-19 pandemic — I just got to visit in person with my three granddaughters and their parents. Genuine hugs can bring perfect happiness, especially after so long.

Or maybe a better word here is joy. I did a little research. Happiness results from external causes. When happiness gets into your soul, joy is engendered.

When I think of moments of perfect happiness, among the first thoughts that come to mind are holding one’s child or grandchild and being together with family or other loved ones in any of a variety of contexts.

Many years ago, a peer-counseling agency of which I was director had a journal in which anyone — staff, volunteers, clients — could write whatever was on their mind. One day I wrote a brief paragraph about sitting on my front stoop for an hour or more, holding my first-born while she slept. The afternoon sun warmed us just the right amount. Her tiny hand wrapped tightly around my finger. Much of my life was a struggle at that time, but for that moment — perfect happiness.

When I first read this question, I began to overthink it. “Perfect”? No matter how happy you feel, you know that high is not going to last forever. So how is that perfect? This led me to realize that one important reason it’s perfect is because it compels you to be completely in the moment. In that moment, it is not temporary because there is no tempus.

Another moment of perfect happiness that comes to mind took place about 65 or so years ago. My family had driven all day returning home from my grandparents — 550 miles in the days before interstate highways. I remember entering my room and collapsing onto my bed, caressing it. I chanted, or maybe just thought, “Oh my bed, my good ol’ bed” more than once, but probably not much more. Then it was morning.

Disney World claims to be “the happiest place in the world.” I’m sure a lot of other places would beg to differ, and I know it’s a marketing slogan, but I’ve certainly had a lot of moments of perfect happiness there. A key element is sharing the experience with people you love.

Petting a dog is a scientifically-proven source of happiness.

Also music. Countless times, listening to or performing music has enabled me to experience perfect happiness. Or, as with other experiences cited, joy.

What are some things without which I could not live?

My children have been posing me some questions. This is the most recent. My attempt at an answer follows.

Literally, of course, I could not live without oxygen, water or food. Probably need to add “sufficient shelter from the elements” to that.

There are things without which I could likely go on living — somehow — but it would be difficult. I would have to devote more time and energy to survival. High on this list are running water, electricity and heat. Occasional power outages give me an idea of what this would be like and help me appreciate what I have.

Though they are not on the same level as these basic needs, I have likened “wi-fi and cell phones” to “water and electricity.” It’s deliberate hyperbole, yet it is unpleasant to imagine living without them. Yes, we got along fine without them before we had them, but I don’t know that we would get along fine if they went away. The same could be said — and perhaps was said before my time — about phones in general, or radio and TV, as well as cars and other mechanical forms of transportation. I suspect that as each modern convenience has been added, many have looked back and wondered, How did we ever get along without that?

I am looking beyond the physical requirements to sustain life as I ponder this question.

What comes to mind immediately is “love.” I doubt I could live without feeling and sharing love, in all three forms — God’s love, romantic love and true friendship. Part of me reacts to my own statement here by noting it sounds almost cliched to say this. But it is nonetheless true. (At a number of weddings, I’ve sung a song that asks, “Is it love that brings you here or love that brings you life?”)

I couldn’t live without my immediate family. Each member is special to me. They are the most significant source of love in my life. They also bring me much joy, which also is necessary to life. (See my blog post on perfect happiness: https://johnbecton.blog/2021/12/13/perfect-happiness/ .)

Sunshine, though it belongs in the first paragraph above, figures in here as well. It is more than just a physical necessity. The Sun sustains life even on cloudy days, but too many gray days drain the joy out of life.

And while considering joy, I think we can add “laughter” to the list of things essential for life.

I’m not sure life would be possible without music and other art forms. They provide a connection with our spiritual side that I think we need to be truly alive.

Also essential to life, I believe, is a sense of self worth. People need to feel valued. They desire to see how their presence in the world makes some kind of positive difference. They want to believe their consumption of oxygen, water and food is justified.

Without all these things, it would not be life. It would, at most, be existence.

Things can go, without saying

One of my favorite poems begins, “Because of all that goes/ without saying. . . .” The writer was one of my mentors in college, Charles David Wright. We discussed the poem, “The Goodnight,” one day in a poetry-writing seminar he taught.

He explained that “goes without saying” doesn’t just mean “needless to say.” His concern in this poem is the danger that some things can go away if not said for too long — i.e., if taken for granted.

He refers specifically to feelings between life partners. As I recall, he told us he came home from a meeting late one night and wrote this as a note to his wife, leaving it on the refrigerator for her to see first thing in the morning.

The point is also applicable to other relationships as well. Over time, without affirmation, neglected bonds can wither. Without saying they can go.

Here’s the whole poem, from the collection Early Rising, University of North Carolina Press, 1968.