Results tagged “Holidays” from Kristin Swenson

Living as a nomad, it was bound to happen: I left my computer behind. Bouncing between cities (two) and offices (four) as I've done the past semester, I rely on THE LIST -- things to do before leaving the house (empty the kitchen compost, e.g.) and things to bring (er, that'd be the computer, e.g.). The list works great... if I actually use it. Last week, I didn't. The irony is, I'm finally settling in again, finally staying put  -- one city, one office, for the most part, anyway. Maybe that was it. I let my guard down, got cocky.

"Remember." The Bible is full of commands to remember. It is itself a testimony of remembrance, a witness to the power of memory, and its commands humanize with their instructions. Of hospitality and kindness, "Remember that you also were foreigners, strangers in a strange land." Of faith and community, "Do this in remembrance of me." To recognize the sacred and sanctify the ordinary, "Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy."

Being without my computer, the days were different, slower. I wrote by hand, read huge chunks of books for ideas and a big-picture sensibility (rather than recording with detailed notes). Thanks to Audubon, I identified a pair of green herons and watched as Beverly, a large almost black beaver, munched the mini maples around the periphery of the pond out back. I cleared bamboo and braised local lamb shanks. I spent time with the ones I love -- two- and four-leggeds alike. 

Then it was Memorial Day. Dinner with new friends and the invitation to share gratitude. Thanks for this place, these people, the food. But thanks, too, for the ones who have gone before. Honor to their memory -- those who have sacrificed in our armed services, yes, but also to those ordinary and extraordinary individuals whose lives, vision, and selves helped shape the ideas, conditions and company I enjoy today. My great aunt Lucille, Thomas Jefferson, those who fought to ban DDT, Louis Pasteur, my boyfriend's father.

Truth is, I have a terrible memory. I want to remember that as I age so that I don't worry unnecessarily about my forgetting. But, well, you see the problem there. Maybe, though, forgetting can lead, as in the case of my computer, to different kinds of remembering. Deeper remembrances -- of our tiny-ness, of our dependence on and debts to others, of what is holy. Now where did I put those keys?

This essay first appeared in the Fredricksburg Free Lance-Star on April 4, 2010.  

Of all the Christian holidays, it's Christmas that gets the most attention. And can you blame us for that? Light and life in the dead of winter, gifts galore, and cookies to boot -- no wonder it's a favorite. Yet Easter is the most important Christian holiday and was celebrated long before Christmas became what it is today. We can be comfortable with Christmas, its jollity and twinkling beauty, the stable, newborn, and serene mother. Easter, on the other hand, is different and a bit unsettling. For one thing, it is preceded by a gruesome, torturous death by crucifixion. What's more, it's based on an utterly unnatural event -- the coming back to life again of a definitely dead man. Let's face it, being born is nothing special. We've all done it, and in every case at least one person was on hand to witness the occasion. But resurrection?... 
 

 I love the movie Groundhog Day. It's such a great story about redemption, and I for one, an accomplished bumbler, would love a few do-overs to get things right. Besides, the film's hilarious. I might have guessed that it would have some sort of religious theme to it, but until recently, I didn't imagine that Punxsutawney Phil and Jesus share that auspicious day... and not by mere coincidence. Groundhog Day is exactly forty days after Christmas Eve, and Jewish religious tradition required that certain things happen forty days after a boy's birth. Those traditions, together with ancient legends, ultimately led to the connection of that cheeky little varmint with the Christian "light of the world." 
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Huge snow in VA, cold days clear down to FL, these are the days for books. Any form, any genre, grab a fav or something new and settle in.   Want something fun to share with family gathered over the holidays? Or maybe you need a break from the mayhem. Perhaps you're going solo this year and feeling a little blue or happily free(!) ... books. Gotta love 'em. Need some ideas? Check out this bibliophile website , culled from Don Swaim's CBS radio show, "Book Beat," where you can listen to great writers talk about their books, the craft, life, in brief segments. There are countless books featured in the line-up. Find one to suit your taste, hunker down, and be transported.

I'm sitting in a cafe on 58th and Broadway, far from home. So far from home,... and yet. It's Christmas time in New York, and I'm here for a quick turn-around visit, counted in hours. Breakfast this morning at a little scandinavian cafe. nothing fancy, but good good good. It brings to mind the picture-perfect holidays I remember from childhood. Northern Minnesota among strong, quiet Swedes, Norwegians, and Danes. And oh, the sight! Pine trees heavy laden with snow perched impossibly on feathery branches. Branches extended and bending to hold a weight, only possible because the snow fell flake by flake, gently, patiently. There's something there of Christmas, besides the charming red wooden horses and tomte figurines, the pepparkakor and saffron-dyed buns. I'm far from home -- the home of Minnesota, the home of Virginia, the home of the one I love farther still. Still, what is home? What is home?, especially in this time when the dominant story is of God (God!) determining to know what it is to be human, to be so far from home. Cast as a baby on the beautiful mercy of a small world. (A God to care for?!) Christmas to contemplate.

 As my dear friend and colleague Jack Spiro says of this and other Jewish holidays, "They tried to kill us. We survived. Now, let's eat!" Good wishes to Jewish friends and family celebrating this Festival of Lights! Latkes for all. You may enjoy this column by Ben Romer, a Richmond-area rabbi -- a thoughtful meditation on the season. Did you know that although the book of Daniel is set during the periods of Babylonian exile and Persian diaspora, its apocalyptic sections (chaps 7-12) were probably written around the time of the great Hellenization crisis (167 B.C.E. and Jewish victory) that Hanukkah commemorates. Go, Maccabees! 

Nazareth or Bethlehem? Of the four gospels, only Matthew and Luke have infancy stories. They agree that angel announced Mary's conception, and they agree that Jesus was born in Bethlehem and raised in Nazareth. They disagree on a number of other things, though, among them: at the time of conception, Matthew situates Jesus' family in Bethlehem. In Luke, they're in Nazareth. This reflects other, more general differences between the two: Matthew is a very "Jewish" gospel; Luke less so. In this case, Matthew may be recalling his Jewish sacred texts (Hebrew Bible), specifically Micah's prophecy from centuries earlier (late eighth century BCE): "you, O Bethlehem Ephrathah, who are too little to be among the clans of Judah, from you shall come forth for me one who is to be ruler in Israel, whose origin is from of old, from ancient days" (Mic 5:2). And in Matthew, it's Joseph who receives the annunciation, Joseph through whose lineage Jesus is traced back to David (of Judah). Luke, on the other hand, focuses much more on women than do his gospel counterparts, and it is Mary who receives the annunciation. Mary, who is associated with Nazareth, in the Galilean region where Jesus would be remembered as conducting his ministry, teaching and preaching. Noting these differences needn't be an exercise is telling how the Bible can't be trusted, as some assert. Rather, among other things, they demonstrate the tremendous significance Jesus had for his followers in light of the richness of their traditions and theology.

Tis the season. Our local Tacky Christmas Lights Tour is gearing up for some big nights, and I can smell wood fires burning in the 'hood when I walk my dog at dusk. Tis the season for lights garish and warm, subtle and... well, not so subtle. What with the cheap cost of electricity and urban sprawl, we hardly feel the fall of night, much less its long intensity midwinter any more. But our lizard brains know it, and we celebrate St. Lucia Day, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, and Christmas with the awed delight of our fire-dependent ancestors. So, welcome the dark and let there be light!

Is it possible to overdue the thanks bit of Thanksgiving? -- to get a bit cynical and scrooge-y (to borrow from the holiday on deck) about all the "I'm thankful for..."? Dear Abby runs her annual prayer, comic strips go sober, and the local news features some feel-good story of triumph thanks to X (family, friends, pets) over Y (tragedy, trial, loss). It's all so... nice. And yet, and yet. We just can't help it. We're built for gratitude, it seems, well-placed or not. Thanks-giving takes us out of ourselves, if only for a minute, to recognize a personal benefit that we enjoy but had nothing to do with. By someone or something, by some peculiar grace, I am enriched. So the illogic goes. Each one of us knows that wonder and, aware of it, is grateful. But hey, for some of us, the thanks can get a bit cloying this time of year. Then, I welcome the corrective reality of winter, close on its heels -- severe, hard, dark, and cold. A reckoning season. And this native northern Minnesotan is, well, grateful for that, too.

This year, our Jewish and Muslim sisters and brothers are celebrating big holidays at the same time. Sweet New Year wishes to Jews just wrapping up the two days of Rosh Hashanah ("head of the year" in Hebrew) and embarking on the days of instrospection and repentance before the fast of Yom Kippur (Sept 27-28). And to Muslims: a happy Eid al-Fitr! ("festival of fast-breaking") -- three days of celebration following the Ramadan fast. Good wishes to all, and may your spiritual journeys be a blessing to all.