It's Christmas!
Having grown up in Canada, I have a rather precise view of what 'Christmas' is, because Canada is a country which is very 'Christmas'-y, in my very scientific opinion. Canadians are generally known for their politeness and kindness, and everyone's a little kinder during Christmas. Canada is very snowy, and I think a Christmas without snow would be lame. (Sorry, vast majority of the human race.) Christmas has a lot of red and white, so does the Canadian flag. Where's the green? In the vast evergreen forests.
Yup, if every country got a holiday, Canada would have Christmas. Wait, every country has a holiday? Canada Day? Not important, you know what I mean.
As we approach the holiday, it's easy to get a warped idea about what 'Christmas' really is and really means.
Note: I'm not talking about commercialization here. Every year there's a deluge of people/movies/media devoted to talking about how commercialized Christmas is, and I think that's mostly silly. Yes, Christmas is commercialized, and so is every holiday, life event, tragedy, and trend in our society. Christmas isn't overly commercialized, that is to say more so than any other event, and so to some extent I don't care much about that.
Christmas 2006. I was literally on the other side of the world, living in a small apartment above some stores in Gyumri, or Kirovakan if going by the Soviet renaming of cities, in Northern Armenia with my companion, Elder Ryan Leavitt. Being part of the Eastern Orthodox branch of Christianity, Christmas and New Year's are kind of lumped together in a single holiday season in early January. Still, American Culture being as pervasive as it is, a kind of pseudo-Christmas is now celebrated on the 25th. As a missionary, spending every day talking about Christ, it was easy to get to feeling the 'reason for the season.' For me, this Christmas would become unforgettable because of one important lesson learnt.
Elder Leavitt and I went to church and we knew it would be pretty awesome, and not just for the normal reasons -- church in Armenia could always get really exciting really fast, due to the relatively new concept of communal participation in services -- but because the District President would be visiting. This man was an inspiring story and was serving as the religious leader for all Armenians. We were excited to here what he had to say, and he didn't disappoint. President Poghosyan gave me my favorite Christmas lesson of all time:
"Everyone loves Christmas, because Christmas is easy to love. It is about love! It is about kindness. It is easy to love baby Jesus, because baby Jesus is a cute baby, sitting in a manger. Baby Jesus does not require us to give of ourselves to others, to forgive our enemies, to follow his commandments, to love all of our brothers and sisters. It is easy to love baby Jesus, but we must do better. We must remember that baby Jesus grew up, and became Jesus Christ the man, the man who taught us how to live and challenged us to become better versions of ourselves, was the ultimate example, and gave His life for us."
I love this idea, because it highlights the most important point of Christianity, in my mind, and it's not the point that most people think Christianity is trying to make. Christianity is all about Christ, because he was never all about himself. The Christ that baby Jesus grew to become taught us the most important theological lesson of this world: Talking about your religion will never, ever, ever, ever, ever, come close to being as valuable as simply living your religion. This generates a 'light,' a light that will 'shine forth' if only generated. And this all brings me to the point I really want to make, which I will make by hijacking a quote from Charles Spurgeon:
"Defend [Christmas]? I would as soon defend a lion! Unchain it and it will defend itself."
Originally about the Bible, I take Spurgeon's excellent wording to make the same point about the King of Holidays. If you'd like to live Christmas, live Christmas! But don't worry about defending Christmas -- it's a big boy. It can take care of itself.
So don't join in on the conversation currently in the media about the color of Santa's skin. It would be hard for anything to matter less. Drawing attention to race when talking about a man who, in modernity, represents the generosity of the season by visiting all children of the world without distinction -- that wouldn't be very Christmas-y.
Don't waste any time talking about how it's important to affirm Christmas as the main holiday and to try and prevent other holidays from joining in. Don't let anyone's faith go unnoticed, unappreciated, or pushed against. It wouldn't be very Christmas-y.
During the holiday season, don't let a TV celebrity's comments about homosexuality be the basis for an online tirade against either side of a complex ethical and religious division. Don't speak unkindly of those who, in whatever way they see fit, are pursuing the same goal we all are: happiness. It wouldn't be very Christmas-y.
When you see your family members, try to think more about happy memories you've had and less about the hurtful ones. No need to bring up old mistakes people already feel bad about. It wouldn't be very Christmas-y.
So what's the meaning of Christmas? I think it's feeling Christmas-y. It seems like every year I hear that people aren't feeling super 'Christmas-y.' I've never had that problem. Feel free to make use of my fool-proof recipe for 'feeling the season.'
Drive past some Christmas lights with family or friends. Sing some Christmas songs. Find someone who needs some help and help them out. Tell everyone 'Merry Christmas.' Send a gift to an old friend who might think you've forgotten them. Try extra hard to not get upset about things people say, and try equally hard to not say any upsetting things. Read Luke 2. Hug more. Find somewhere to write down what Christmas means to you. Then drink so much Eggnog that you feel sick to your stomach.
That last one may not be necessary, but I haven't tried the recipe without it yet, and I don't want to try.
Thursday, December 19, 2013
Thursday, March 28, 2013
Disagreeing With Religion
When I was young, I remember sitting with my Papa (that's what we called my dad) at the table, in the car, at his office, on the couch. Papa was a very intellectual man, with two doctorates and a love of study. As his brother recently put it "This is my brother, he has more degrees than a thermometer."
We would talk about all sorts of things, and as I grew older I began to develop a desire to emulate his seemingly endless knowledge of life. I, too, began to read voraciously. I, too, began to love learning. I, too, began to enjoy the opportunity for educational, critical discussion and observation. Many of his tenets have stuck with me to this day, which are obviously not of his invention. Still, in my developmental years, he was their origin.
There are three things I would like you to do: Be kind, be kind, be kind.
The one who wins the argument is the one who says what they have to say, then shuts up.
If you don't have anything kind to say, don't say anything at all.
You can look for a new job all you like, but you don't leave the one you have until you have another.
A marriage where decisions are made equally is best -- but if the balance needs to tilt, let it tilt to the wife. In all the unhappy marriages I've seen, the husband made all the decisions. Never the other way.
You might fool someone in many things, but you can never make someone that you don't love believe that you love them.
If you're going to err, err on the side of the Lord.
Obviously the above points are philosophical in nature, but I learned plenty of the factual from him as well. Credit for my learning to read, write, and do math goes to my brother, Seth. Papa then set a standard for me, in literature, in skill, in ability, and in manhood, which I strive to attain to this day. I suspect I will do so until the day I die. In many ways, for my formative years and onwards, he was a standard of truth.
Papa made a good standard of truth because you never doubted he loved you, but he didn't hesitate to tell you when you were wrong. Because I have a hefty dose of pride in me, being told I was wrong was always a sting. Like many sons, craving the approval of my father, his every praise was gold to me, and his disagreement was a hard blow to my ego (of which I deserved and deserve many). Still, when Papa and I disagreed on a point, I knew what to do. It was time to learn and change. My father's information or opinion guide the development of my own, and I course corrected. I would not make that mistake again, because Papa told me what it was, and I knew he would guide me true.
Later on I would fly half way around the world (nearly literally) to serve as a missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (Mormons) in a small country called Armenia. Bordering Iran, Azerbaijan, Turkey, and Georgia, Armenia was about the size of Maryland. Missionary work there is much more encouraging than in the US, because the introductions are easier. The naturally friendly Armenian people invite you into their homes out of curiosity and hospitality. I never failed to find a friendly face, despite my out-of-the-ordinary appearance, in both dress and ethnicity.
In sitting with Armenians and discussing beliefs and religion, I would often hear people say: "I believe this, but this Church doesn't," or "I don't believe this, but that religion does," and on these conflicting viewpoints, people would choose to go somewhere where the theology most closely matched their personal opinion. From observation, I developed a conviction on such methodology:
If you find a religion that agrees with all of your personal beliefs, you can be certain that's not the one for you.
I think of little me and my relationship with Papa. I wonder who I would've ended up with if, as a child, I was given the opportunity to choose a father whose beliefs, knowledge, and opinions aligned most closely with mine. Such a father would likely have taught me that playing video games for hours at a time is awesome, that nutrition is irrelevant, that there really is no greater achievement in life than staying up all night watching a teenage mutant ninja turtles marathon, and that cleaning my room was utterly useless. Such a father would have certainly destroyed me, and I would not be where I am today.
My experience is that anyone who believes in God, believes that he is all-knowing, and that compared to him our knowledge is irrelevant. No one is questioning the intelligence or abilities of God: if He is indeed God, it is understood His power and intelligence trumps the sum total of all men on earth.
If that is true, then why would we look for a religion that agrees with us?
In fact, it can be assumed that a religion that agrees with us perfectly is definitely not truly God's, because let's face it, we're just not that smart. There could perhaps be no greater expression of pride than believing that the philosophy system that we developed in our walk of life has raised us up to such an extent, that our own beliefs and thoughts are on par with the Father of all mankind, who created us, this world, and perhaps the entire Universe.
A religion that agrees with you completely? Not God's.
And why would we expect it to be? Math isn't governed by the students, and chemistry is not decided by the chemists. Physicists have no control over physics, and history, though perhaps rewritten by historians, cannot truly be changed by them. Truths cannot be altered by the observer -- this is what makes them true.
We are not born with truth, we acquire it through study and error.
My religion has disagreed with me many a time, and just as Papa disagreed with me when I was young, I thought, I asked, I learned, I grew.
'But wait!' one might rightly protest 'How then can we avoid being taught something false in the search for truth?' That is a crucial question, to which I have found two answers.
There are two ways to assess truth:
1. Experiment.
2. Ask someone who can be safely relied on.
Of these two options, experimenting is the greatest, and easiest to use.
Is there a God? To know, I must experiment. I must read, I must ask, I must question, I must try, I must fail. I have heard He answers prayers, and it is logical that He would if He loves me, so that could be a good place to start. Ask Him if He is there.
If and once I have ascertained that He is there, I can seek His aid in determining where I might go to learn more. This has been my process in life, which I learned from Papa. I learn, I try, I attempt, and then I am told I am wrong. When I am told I am wrong, I must think, ask, learn, and grow, so that I am now right where once I was wrong. And considering how often I am wrong, I'm getting a lot of practice with this method.
But there is one road that leads to failure, and that's looking for a system that agrees with me, one where my beliefs are all held, not challenged, and those around me are all too happy to confirm to me that my every thought and opinion is true, right, and good.
A deadlier trap in which more men have fallen, perhaps we have never seen.
We would talk about all sorts of things, and as I grew older I began to develop a desire to emulate his seemingly endless knowledge of life. I, too, began to read voraciously. I, too, began to love learning. I, too, began to enjoy the opportunity for educational, critical discussion and observation. Many of his tenets have stuck with me to this day, which are obviously not of his invention. Still, in my developmental years, he was their origin.
There are three things I would like you to do: Be kind, be kind, be kind.
The one who wins the argument is the one who says what they have to say, then shuts up.
If you don't have anything kind to say, don't say anything at all.
You can look for a new job all you like, but you don't leave the one you have until you have another.
A marriage where decisions are made equally is best -- but if the balance needs to tilt, let it tilt to the wife. In all the unhappy marriages I've seen, the husband made all the decisions. Never the other way.
You might fool someone in many things, but you can never make someone that you don't love believe that you love them.
If you're going to err, err on the side of the Lord.
Obviously the above points are philosophical in nature, but I learned plenty of the factual from him as well. Credit for my learning to read, write, and do math goes to my brother, Seth. Papa then set a standard for me, in literature, in skill, in ability, and in manhood, which I strive to attain to this day. I suspect I will do so until the day I die. In many ways, for my formative years and onwards, he was a standard of truth.
Papa made a good standard of truth because you never doubted he loved you, but he didn't hesitate to tell you when you were wrong. Because I have a hefty dose of pride in me, being told I was wrong was always a sting. Like many sons, craving the approval of my father, his every praise was gold to me, and his disagreement was a hard blow to my ego (of which I deserved and deserve many). Still, when Papa and I disagreed on a point, I knew what to do. It was time to learn and change. My father's information or opinion guide the development of my own, and I course corrected. I would not make that mistake again, because Papa told me what it was, and I knew he would guide me true.
Later on I would fly half way around the world (nearly literally) to serve as a missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (Mormons) in a small country called Armenia. Bordering Iran, Azerbaijan, Turkey, and Georgia, Armenia was about the size of Maryland. Missionary work there is much more encouraging than in the US, because the introductions are easier. The naturally friendly Armenian people invite you into their homes out of curiosity and hospitality. I never failed to find a friendly face, despite my out-of-the-ordinary appearance, in both dress and ethnicity.
In sitting with Armenians and discussing beliefs and religion, I would often hear people say: "I believe this, but this Church doesn't," or "I don't believe this, but that religion does," and on these conflicting viewpoints, people would choose to go somewhere where the theology most closely matched their personal opinion. From observation, I developed a conviction on such methodology:
If you find a religion that agrees with all of your personal beliefs, you can be certain that's not the one for you.
I think of little me and my relationship with Papa. I wonder who I would've ended up with if, as a child, I was given the opportunity to choose a father whose beliefs, knowledge, and opinions aligned most closely with mine. Such a father would likely have taught me that playing video games for hours at a time is awesome, that nutrition is irrelevant, that there really is no greater achievement in life than staying up all night watching a teenage mutant ninja turtles marathon, and that cleaning my room was utterly useless. Such a father would have certainly destroyed me, and I would not be where I am today.
My experience is that anyone who believes in God, believes that he is all-knowing, and that compared to him our knowledge is irrelevant. No one is questioning the intelligence or abilities of God: if He is indeed God, it is understood His power and intelligence trumps the sum total of all men on earth.
If that is true, then why would we look for a religion that agrees with us?
In fact, it can be assumed that a religion that agrees with us perfectly is definitely not truly God's, because let's face it, we're just not that smart. There could perhaps be no greater expression of pride than believing that the philosophy system that we developed in our walk of life has raised us up to such an extent, that our own beliefs and thoughts are on par with the Father of all mankind, who created us, this world, and perhaps the entire Universe.
A religion that agrees with you completely? Not God's.
And why would we expect it to be? Math isn't governed by the students, and chemistry is not decided by the chemists. Physicists have no control over physics, and history, though perhaps rewritten by historians, cannot truly be changed by them. Truths cannot be altered by the observer -- this is what makes them true.
We are not born with truth, we acquire it through study and error.
My religion has disagreed with me many a time, and just as Papa disagreed with me when I was young, I thought, I asked, I learned, I grew.
'But wait!' one might rightly protest 'How then can we avoid being taught something false in the search for truth?' That is a crucial question, to which I have found two answers.
There are two ways to assess truth:
1. Experiment.
2. Ask someone who can be safely relied on.
Of these two options, experimenting is the greatest, and easiest to use.
Is there a God? To know, I must experiment. I must read, I must ask, I must question, I must try, I must fail. I have heard He answers prayers, and it is logical that He would if He loves me, so that could be a good place to start. Ask Him if He is there.
If and once I have ascertained that He is there, I can seek His aid in determining where I might go to learn more. This has been my process in life, which I learned from Papa. I learn, I try, I attempt, and then I am told I am wrong. When I am told I am wrong, I must think, ask, learn, and grow, so that I am now right where once I was wrong. And considering how often I am wrong, I'm getting a lot of practice with this method.
But there is one road that leads to failure, and that's looking for a system that agrees with me, one where my beliefs are all held, not challenged, and those around me are all too happy to confirm to me that my every thought and opinion is true, right, and good.
A deadlier trap in which more men have fallen, perhaps we have never seen.
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