Give Thanks Because We Can

Thanksgiving is an easy target.

From a traditional gathering to give thanks to the Almighty for the harvest, it's become a secular holiday that celebrates family, set to a ritualized schedule of televised parades and football games, accompanied by overeating.

And lately, it's the deep breath before the plunge into the madness of Black Friday. A day of rest before seasoned shoppers rise in the predawn dark to get the best deals on everything from toys to home theater systems.

So, ready...aim...FIRE! The true meaning of the holiday is lost, subsumed in a wave of commercialism and self-indulgence. Like Christmas, Thanksgiving is a symbol of Western greed and frivolous excess. It's a slap in the face to the rest of the world, where a full meal is by itself a cause for delirious joy.

But why don't you wait a moment before pulling the trigger.

It's true that modern Thaksgiving is a product of its time, and it's heavily hung with the trappings of a prosperous consumerist society. But what else could it be? We're not a nation of yeomen farmers, and haven't been for nigh on a century and a half. We're not subject to intermittent and inevitable famine, nor to the whims of a lunatic dictator who may choose to wipe out a tribal group because he put the wrong shoes on the wrong feet that morning.

So what is wrong with acknowledging the fact that the vast majority of the citizens of the United States lead comfortable lives, largely free from want and fear?

What is wrong with foregathering with friends and family to partake in traditional entertainments, cheering for the team with which we identify, and marveling at the balloons and floats in their triumphal procession through New York?

True, there is heartbreak and misery throughourt the world, but are we doing our God a service by smearing ash over the symbols of our good fortune? Are we going to increase out holiness through mea culpas and breastbeating?

Thanksgiving's all about symbols, and is it really any better to hate our good fortune than to appreciate it, and take a day to specifically enjoy it?

Neither will alleviate the pain of a hurting world, but if we take a day to appreciate what we have, aren't we more likely to return to The World with a more generous and energetic heart?

Generosity and effective outreach grow better in a soil watered wityh joy, rather than with tears.

So, go...enjoy the parades and the games and the food and the traditional family arguments around the dinner table.

And then, when the leftovers are finished, step out and do your bit to help the rest of the world. Do it in a spirit of joy and gratitude.

And wear steel toed-shoes for your Black Friday expedition.

The Devil's Secret Name

Restoring a romantic atmosphere to your marriage is one of the greatest gifts you can give your spouse - and yourself. Romance lifts you up. It gives you a glimpse of the love the Almighty has for us, and makes almost anything seem possible.

So...don't wait! Start now! Because tomorrow could be too late.

I thought about this post for a long time before deciding to publish it. We all want to think that it's never too late, as long as we're still breathing. But in matters of the heart, honestly, I think that sometimes it is.

The expression that's gained currency in today's world is 'moving on'. Ugh. What a horrible way of putting it. Sounds like Donald Trup deciding to pass on a merger.

I don't have a nickname for 'Too Late'. It doesn't need one.

It seeps in, like a damp fog infiltrating a bedroom through poorly-sealed windows.

Many would equate 'Too Late' with romatic interest finding another object. "I don't feel that way about my wife any more, but when I talk to the gal in the next cubicle my heart seems to skip a beat..."

Believe it or not, this is the better part of Too Late. This is a brink from which one can return, and with effort (and usually help from a counselor) rediscover those feelings for a spouse. The desire for romance is still there - it's just starved, for one reason or another. (Please, please don't look at this as condining extramartial relationships!)

The lowest circle of 'Too Late' is when you stop being able to see yourself in a romantic relationship at all. We all function, to some degree, as theatergoers in the moviehouse of our life-to-come, seeing the potential of our life and the role we can play, and then finding a way to make it true.

But when we can't see something that was once alive in a daily reality, we're in big, big trouble. Vision and a forward-looking imagination are the ladder that helps us climb over walls, but take away that ladder, and you're left staring at the bricks.

Staring at the bricks, and ultimately wondering why you're even there. The insidious evil of Too Late is that it spreads. You'll find yourself wondering what love even means, and then what friendship means. You'll wonder why anyone even bothers.

You'll see others who are making their dreams true in their lives, and you'll go from wishing you were like that, to 'knowing' you can never be like that, to thinking that the poor people are simply delusional.

Too Late will kill you, because it is the devil's secret name.

The Salvation Decoder Ring

Every profession, pastime, and hobby has its own special jargon. Golfers talk about birdies, bogeys, and The Rough; bowlers deal with strikes, spares, and splits; and runners embrace endorphins and shin splints.

And Christians...we have jargon to beat the band. We 'agree' in prayer, 'confess with the mouth', and 'repent of' our multitudinous sins.

Watching Christians talk with one another can be quite instructive, as the jargon flies thick and fast, a kind of cross between verbal shorthand and Swahili.

it's very good, very fulfilling, and completely fails in one vital aspect of Christianity - The great Commission.

The problem with jargon is that it's a separator. Yes, I know - 'go and be ye separate'. But trumping that is the message to spread the Good News to all creatures. Period.

And all creatures don't know the jargon. They walk into a church, and what they hear contains a lot of specialized terms - not specialized because they have to be, but because, in general, they come from the King James translation of the Bible. as such, they're at best archaic, and at worst, they don't correspond accurately to modern English.

Take confess with the mouth. Where, outside church or Bible Study, have you heard this? What it means is that we're verbally acknowledging that Jesus is God's Son, and that His death was in atonement for our sins.

But if you say this to a non-Christian, or to a nominal Christian whose practice ends at sleeping through Easter and Christmas services, you'll cause a bit of bewilderment, discomfort, and resentment.

Bewilderment because the first thing that comes to mind with the word confess is what criminals do, discomfort because the words do not rest easy on the modern ear, and resentment because Christianity is being portrayed as something of a 'club', with passwords and hierarchy.

It's not supposed to be that way. Jesus said that we enter the Kingdom as a child, or not at all. That pretty well rules out ranking based on our expertise in 'unpacking' the KJV.

He also suggested that we say yes when we mean yes, and no when we mean no. That's an exhortation to plain speech.

No one wants to take away the linguistic grace of King James' translation, but we have to keep our hearts on the reason we're here - to help others find peace, life, and hope in Christ.

The Great Commission is our primary job. Walk the walk, and talk the talk - plainly.

Amish And Built To Stay That Way

Have you ever wished you were Amish? Did you ever look at these singular 'people apart' in the media, or in person, and feel a stirring in your heart..."What these people have...I want that."

I certainly have. (Don't bother telling my wife. She won't believe you.)

And I'm not alone. One might say that the Harrison Ford movie "Witness" started the ball rolling, and writers like Beverly Lewis have illuminated aspects of the Amish life...and people are buying their books. (Yes, we have a Beverly Lewis shelf.)

What's to love? I think for most people it starts with the sense of community, belonging to a group of people who are honor-bound to come to your aid...just as it's a challenge to your honor, to be ready to come to your neighbor's aid. I think there's a strong need to be challenged in this way, in our United States.

I'm certainly not naive enough to think everyone's best pals, and that the internal politicking in an Amish community isn't dissimilar to classic Small-Town America.

And yet...there are rules. In this land of freedom, I think we want rules that will help us honor the commitments we want to keep.

I also like the plain clothing. I don;t know about you, but I get really tired of seeing men who look like they've spent all weekend in front of a TV set (well, maybe they did), or women who look like they need a slight nudge to spill mammarilly out of their clothing.

I think that maybe we want to be called to dress modestly, and keep a demeanor to match our clothing.

Doing with television, the Internet, and even electricity...hmm. That's pushing it. But some of the nicest evenings with my wife were spent on nights when there was a power failure. Conversation over candlelight was something I'd never known I'd missed. And some days, now, I just turn off the TV and the computer, and listen to the quiet. I think we want to invite quiet back into our hearts.

Finally, the way the Amish life is centered on faith is intriguing. There's no question about going to church, because it's what one does, plain and simple (get it?). It's as much a part of being Amish as going to a golf course is part of being a professional golfer.

Besides, next week's service might be in your house, and then where will you go? I think we want to invite God back into our houses.

Obviously, the Amish have their warts, and there are aspects of the life that would leave us uncomfortable indeed (like shunning) if only because we didn't grow up understanding it. The shadow areas are there, but the dream transcends them.

The appeal of being Amish really isn't based in a desire to run away from our busy lives. Instead, it's something to run to. It's a life that would call us to be more than we ever thought we could be, and better than we ever dreamed we could be.

The Sabbath Blues

A man opens a refrigerator and finds a rabbit inside, reclining on a bed of smashed bread loaves. Shocked, he yells, "What are you doing in there?"

The rabbit replies, "This is a Westinghouse, isn't it?"

"Uh...yeah..."

"Well, I'm just westin'."

After you stop groaning, we can go on. All done? Okay.

For a long time I scored the idea of a Day of Rest. I figured that Jesus said the the Sabbath is made for man, not vice versa, and having seven days in which to work meant that I could get seven days' work done.

All very true, and for a long time I fancied myself as being very effective. What I didn't realize was that people were starting to avoid me, because I had become a humorless, rather Prussian caricature. While I didn't force anyone to match my pace, someone eventually told me that I looked like I expected them to, and was perfectly capable of finding a way to enforce it.

I thought this was a compliment.

It wasn't until I married that I became aware that another way of life was actually an option. And, typically, I resisted it. God knows why Barbara put up with me! She tried to convince me that taking a day off wouldn't kill me professionally, and that I might actually be more effective if I would spend the day with her, relaxing, and go back refreshed on Monday.

Okay. I can still work in my head. Obviously, this was a nonstarter, and Barbara eventually gave it up.

Fast forward to now. I'm no longer the humorless Prussian...at least, I hope not. I've learned to take time off, mainly due to a ferocious illness that doesn't give me a choice. My teaching/research career has been prematurely ended, despite the fact that I was known to be one of the hardest workers in the business.

And I'm left with the memory of the 500 weekends of my marriage, sacrificed on the altar of a self-imposed work ethic, to a career that no longer exists.

Don't be me.

Redneck Medicine

They say ninety percent of being a doctor's learning the vocabulary...I'm partway there!

Pokemon Amnesia

Seventy years ago, the United States fought the Empire of Japan for the control of the Pacific Hemisphere. We won.

That reminder, that "we won" isn't entirely facetious, because while the US has made the Second World War part of its cultural history, the Japanese have made a concerted - and relatively successful - effort to eradicate it from the national memory.

Part of the reason is rooted in the work Douglas MacArthur did in setting up an Occupation Government that would later transfer back to independence. MacArthur did not want militarism to come rising out of its unquiet grave. Putting it there the first time was costly to the US, and to the Japanese (who endured two atomic bombs before giving up).

Another part is cultural, and not completely accessible to the Western mind. Japan in the early 20th century took most of its cultural cues from Bushido, which roughly translates as "the way of the warrior". Bushido is, or was, a large part of the Japanese soul, but it changed with the times almost as a living thing, The version which led Japan to a war they could never win was popularized in the 20s and 30s, and has some significant differences from the version first codified under the title Hagakure in the late 18th century.

One very important distinction is that the savagery toward the enemy, and toward civilians in the crossfire was utterly banned by traditional Bushido. Another distinction is the Death Culture that was used to develop and deploy the kamikaze. While the individual Japanese soldier was supposed to be ever-ready to die, he was not supposed to simply kill himself, or attach into the teeth of a the American military simply to meet a good end on the field.

I think it's this that has caused a deep feeling of shame and revulsion among the Japanese who survived the War - as it should have. The result is that the memories have gone into a sturdy - and seldom-opened - box. Their presence in the front room of the Japanese soul has been taken by the vapidity of Pokemon and Hello Kitty.

It's understandable, and it's tragic. The shame is being buried, but so are the memories of strength and fortitude that should help any country when the chips are down. The kamikazes - "tokko boys" - were neither press-ganged nor brainwashed. The really believed that a victorious United States would ravage their home and families, and these young men meant to keep that from happening. The only weapon left, they were told (and it was true) was to embrace the fatal choice, and in their deaths make the price for invading the home islands so great that the enemy would just strike their tents and go home.

(What wasn't true was the supposition that Americans were barbarians. When our troops got to Japan, they were more interested in teaching kids how to play baseball than they were in looting and pillaging. Americans would have made lousy Vikings or Visigoths.)

It was a strategy which might have worked, too, but for the fertile mind of one Albert Einstein.

Can you imagine making this choice? It's part of our culture, too - the Alamo comes pretty close without the suicidal aspect, and the phrase "save the last bullet for yourself" covers that nicely. But we managed to avoid the perversion of the ideal. Japan, sadly, did not.

And so, Japan beats it swords into plowshares, and the War, likes its fast-dwindling number of surviving veterans, dwindles away to myth and legend.

And to Pokemon.