My sister and I and my teen-aged niece had the joy of helping out at a local, annual, “Shop with a Cop” event.

About a dozen or so police men and women and some helpers took a number of area youngsters on a foray for Christmas presents at a local store, then went to the town’s City Hall for food and gift wrapping.

It was big fun for the kids who got to ride in a “police car parade” on the way to and from the store, sirens blaring and lights flashing on the big, black and white cruisers.

Then to the Hall for sub sandwiches, chips, soda, donuts, Christmas candy, and holiday-decorated cupcakes while officers and others helped the young gift-wrappers measure, cut, wrap, tape, and label stacks of gifts the kids purchased for family members, although it was about shopping for themselves, too.

Due to popular demand, there were also a couple of hand-cuffing demonstrations.

I was a wrapping, ribbon curling, spell-checking, and clean-up elf. My niece and her friend manned a table in the back of the room. My sister helped in the Hall and assisted in the store.

By the time the event was finished, some 5 hours from the start, all the presents were wrapped, taped, be-ribboned and labeled; kids were smiling; helpers were feeling the joy; and a few police officers, one who had come straight from graveyard shift, were, I strongly suspect, heading for a long winter’s nap…

I can’t wait until next year.

And the officers I spoke with and thanked for this wonderful contribution to the community, responded in like manner.

In the meantime, I will savor several “gifts” I, too, received that day, especially when the spirit of Scrooge from whatever corner threatens to spoil any season of the year and I need a little lift:

The look of, for lack of a better term, utter adoration on the face of the little guy who stood in the midst of the festive hubbub for a few minutes just staring at Officer So-and-so, looking him up and down in his uniform and shiny badge. I can’t help but wonder if some future-career seed was planted in that little boy in front of my very eyes as I wrapped, curled, spell-checked, and cleared tables.

The fresh–faced, bright-eyed, sweet little thing who belted out, to the great amusement of those nearby, “Hey, cop, when are ya gonna ‘cuff me?”Several times.

The exquisite patience of the officers helping little fingers deal with easily-torn wrapping paper, slippery ribbons and bows, and unwieldy tape—especially after the candy and cupcakes kicked in.

But here is my favorite, “It’s a Wonderful Life,” “Miracle on 34th Street,” and “Little Drummer Boy” kind of gift, a sort of two-for-one gift, actually, that made the day for me:

My sister’s young charge on the shopping trip, a boy of about ten years of age she figures, had this to say to the policeman with them who, at the entrance to the store, asked the kid, “And what do you want?”

“Let’s talk about me at the end,” said the boy, as he brought out his list of what he wanted to buy for his parents, step-parents, siblings, and step-siblings.

Then, said my sister, after each selection, the boy, with the precision of a young whiz-kid, calculated the balance carefully in his head, rounding up as needed.

At the end he was short, however. He never did get to choose something for himself, worried as he was that he didn’t have quite enough for the batteries he realized he’d also have to purchase for a couple of the gifts.

“Don’t worry,” said the officer, quietly. “There will be enough.”

So I’m sure you know how this story ends… up at the checkout…where someone reached into his own wallet to help the kid with the big heart…

And, of course, add that to the donations of food, wrapping paper, ribbon, tape, time, and goodwill from multiple sources in a community with a big heart.

In all the “bah, humbug” these days about a young generation thought more selfish than most and a few bad police officers (among tens of thousands of good ones) garnering all the press, I will savor this doubly-blessed gift in particular.

And in all the bah, humbug these days about the season itself, I will also savor the original message, still spelled

M-e-r-r-y C-h-r-i-s-t-m-a-s.

***

Ornament and wreath photographs by Andrew J. Beveridge, used with permission.

Note: my sister, who worked for several years as a sexton in an Episcopal church in Fairbanks, Alaska, recalls her ”up close and personal” with one of the state’s (large) famed animals. It was an event that gave her a new understanding of various aspects of the local culture and environment, such as “village time,” “Chinook winds,” the Alaskan version of “road kill,” and “flavor”. It was an event she knew she would, in time, remember with its humorous elements, too.In the midst of the flurry of your mid-winter, mid-holiday-season activities, we hope you take a moment to enjoy.

The State Trooper parked his truck outside the Second Avenue entrance of St. Matthew’s where I worked at the time as a sexton. As I approached and glanced at the back of his rig, I noticed large, hairy legs with hooves sticking out at decidedly odd angles from the bed of the pickup. BIG legs. Bullwinkle-style legs.

As I followed the trooper into the office I jokingly said, “Um, Sir? In case ya didn’t notice, there’s a large dead animal in the back of your truck.”

But of course, I knew he knew that. I was just hoping against hope that this was not for us, a gift from the beneficent State of Alaska: frozen moose parts, found dead on the side of the road.

THE (ALASKAN) ROAD KILL

Moose and caribou elk are not, shall we say, the Einsteins of the animal kingdom. They are more like the possums of the animal kingdom. (Think: commonly seen road kill in America.) It is the generous custom of the State of Alaska to distribute the meat from road kill moose and ‘bou, when found ‘fresh,’ or quick frozen at 40 below (as this jumbo moosicle had been), to needy folks, agencies, and churches. A nice custom in theory and great if you have a meat processing plant on site. However, imagine a 1,000 pound animal, frozen in the position it assumed immediately after being taken out by a truck. Ya, not a pretty sight. Not a small sight either. The trooper turned and smiled… a generous smile, a giving smile.

“It’s for YOU!” the trooper smiled, “for the New Year’s Potlatch at St. Matthew’s.”

Great, I am thinking, road kill moose for New Year’s Day dinner. Only in Alaska.

Sigh….

So, we wrestled heavy, large, hairy, hooved, frozen moose parts into the only place St. Matthew’s had enough room to accommodate them: the enclosed porch room/arctic entry to the kitchen. Now, this porch gets a little heat from the rest of the building, but at zero degrees and colder, the room still stays frozen. And it was 40 below and looking to stay that way until spring. But since the porch was rarely used, the moose could safely, and most importantly, “frozenly,” stay out there until the village guy, known as “Village Guy,” who had the saws and expertise in processing large, dead road kill could come and take it away with all of its mangled body parts.

THE CHINOOK

Now, in Fairbanks and other parts north there is an interesting climatological phenomenon called a “Chinook”: the temperature can rise as much as 60 to 70 degrees or more in an hour or two if a Chinook wind blows. It is a lovely thing, this sudden warmth, refreshing everyone for a few precious days imparting a breathable and spring-like softness to the normally frigid air.

Yes, you guessed it.

It went from 40 below to 35 above that night. I awoke at 2:00 a.m. in my little apartment above the church hearing the wind and thinking only, “how lovely, a Chinook.”

How naïve.

Only half-awake, I had completely forgotten the 1,000 pounds of dead, frozen moose parts in the kitchen entryway.

(How long, you may be wondering just now, does it take for a large moose frozen at 40 below to thaw? Well, parts of it thaw a lot quicker than you might think. This is not just an academic observation on my part. It has a deeply personal meaning for me now.)

THE “VILLAGE TIME”

Now, there is a concept in Alaska called “village time”. It means, “whenever we get around to it.” (Although sometimes, non-locals might think it also means “I forgot.”) And when I had called Village Guy to come and dispose of the moose, I forgot just how long “village time” could actually be. Nevertheless, having made the call, I put the animal out of my mind. I went back to the demands of other aspects of my job such as shoveling heaps of slushy snow in the, now, only three hours of mid-winter daylight this far north; helping with Christmas pageant preparations; cleaning the church and so on. I had put the dead moose (melting quietly on the kitchen porch) out of my mind until the morning a few days later, when Elaine, another church employee, approached me with a very serious look on her face.

“There is a problem that is going to be a much worse problem in a very short time,” she said.

I looked at her. “What are you talking about?”

A snow storm coming in? A problem with the lighting or sound system just before the pageant?

“Remember the moose?” she asked.

“OMG!” I immediately had a vision… not a particularly religious one either if the words escaping my mouth were any indication.

“Oh, S**T… the moose!!!”

“Uh huh. It’s melting… all over the porch”.

THE FLAVOR

I called; I searched. Village Guy was nowhere to be found. The moose (now a gelatinous mess) which was supposed to have been gone by now, was still there, leaking all over the porch. And a certain odor had begun wafting inwards to other parts of the building.

Somebody told me there was a couple who also dealt with large road kill. I contacted them and frantically pled with them to cart it off. Quick! Before the smell intensifies! Before the Christmas pageant! No charge! Consider it a gift from St. Matthews!

To my relief, they were happy to do so, and grateful, although they couldn’t really see the problem with a dead moose that had only been melting a “short time”.

“It should be good for days,” they assured me. “We age moose for weeks; it improves the flavor.”

Improves the flavor?

“I grew up in town,” I told them, “and if it doesn’t come packaged in plastic and Styrofoam I don’t understand it. All I know is that it is melting and soon will be smelling much worse and now the cleanup is gonna be nasty.”

They blessedly removed the thing and I proceeded to clean the horrid mess.

For several hours.

(Did I mention this was a very large moose?)

THE SEXTON AND THE VILLAGE GUY ON VILLAGE TIME WHO FINALLY SHOWED UP AND HAD A HARD TIME UNDERSTANDING WHY THE SEXTON WAS LOOKING AT HIM LIKE THAT

Just about when I finished with the clean up, Village Guy came in.

“So, where is the moose?” he asked.

I glared at him across the room full of the last traces of, now bleached, moose leavings.

“It. Has. Gone. Away,” I said. Glaring.

“Didn’t you know it was for the New Year’s Potlatch?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. “It melted,” I said. “I got rid of it,” I said.

“Dang!” he said. “I knew I should have picked it up yesterday But I forgot…”

He left, bereft of his road kill, maybe a little puzzled by the odd look of the sexton, but nevertheless confident there would be more, many more, road kill moose for distribution.

THE TALE END…

The sexton, seeking consolation from her siblings in the “lower 48” was assured that she would, one day, see the value of her expanded cultural awareness, see the value of another Alaskan tale to tell the family…see the humor.

Yes, she thought (while cleaning up and putting away the mop, the shovel, the buckets, and the bleach which had almost, but not yet completely, obscured the odor of heavy, large, hairy, hooved, melted moose parts), perhaps one day I will…

In my Christmas-themed redux series, my next favorite post is from last year. With inspiration and help from my brother Andy, who started us off on this fun topic (predictable, stock Hallmark Christmas movie plots and variations thereof), came, below, the light-hearted look at the films I’m sure by now have hooked millions of viewers–and sold a lot of Christmas cards, books, DVDs.ornaments, and other movie-related merchandise.

Of course there are many reasons for addictions to such lighter viewing fare.

Most people who celebrate Christmas enjoy a “fairy tale” dressed up, this time, in Christmas romance movies. For the devotee there is a lot of eye, ear, and heart candy to sup on in these stories as the days grow shorter and colder in at least this part of the globe, and minds and hearts linger longer at seasonal–and universal–themes centered on desire, hope, and fulfillment.

There are no end of imaginative ways to finesse the stock plots (as detailed in the original post), and the season is a long one, starting in some places even before Halloween as merchants anticipate their most lucrative financial season where gift-giving is the reason for the season.

So for the viewer, it’s to the popcorn, the cozy throw, a cheerful fire if you have a fireplace, and a little cinematic escape from ordinary life for ninety minutes or so. Hot cocoa is good too.

The Hallmark stories might not make for great literature or Oscar-worthy acting performances, yet they can lift the spirit, inspire the mind, and soothe the heart–gifts of another kind during this time of the year, particularly this Christmas season where, some argue, the so-called “war on Christmas” by those who oppose the religious aspect is already threatening to cast a “bah, humbug” pall (as arch-cynic Ebenezer Scrooge might put it) on the season’s light-heartedness–and on its (real) light.

In this year’s addendum, I explore another “gift” very needed just now as days of another kind get darker, sooner.

This gift takes off where the “happily ever-after” Hallmark fairy-tale endings conclude in all of their festive finery and Hollywood perfection, two figures leaning in for The Kiss at the finale, framed by shimmering red and green lights glowing in HD glory.

This gift is about another happily-ever-after where the main (and supporting) cast–and crew–are not perfect, the set decorations might lack some shine or might be missing altogether, and where hearts may not have experienced hope in ages, if at all. It is about a scene announced, first, by certain angels. On high. Heralding the original Gift…the Archetype of all that is desired, hoped for, and fulfilled, the One Who is the everlasting Light that will never fade.

The real reason for the season.

From December, 2017: On the Lighter Side

It’s Never Too Early To Enjoy Some Christmas Mirth: Every Hallmark Channel Christmas Movie Ever

A successful and beautiful female business executive/movie star/spoiled heiress finds herself discontent/misguided/emotionally detached and living in New York City, travels to/finds herself in/has to go against her will to a small mountain town/resort/lodge, in snow country resembling the Midwest.

Her quirky but lovable best friend/assistant/maid convinces her that she needs to stay at the resort lodge/mountain town/for a little R&R and perhaps have a holiday fling with the local lodge owner/resort manager/town mayor, who is invariably tall dark and handsome/emotionally detached/too busy to date because of his insurmountable grief over the loss of his children’s mother.

With the help of her quirky, lovable, best friend/assistant/maid and the rustic outgoing townsfolk, she realizes her romance with the local lodge owner/resort manager/town mayor is too strong to make her go back to New York City and resume her monetarily successful yet emotionally bankrupt life.

There is lots and lots of snow and miles of pre-lit garland.

Everyone has a Canadian accent

AND if the men and or women have living parents the parents have been perfectly and sappily in love and married for decades and their homes have all been decorated for the holidays by what’s-her-name Robertson. Or if the parents are deceased, a prescient, elderly aunt/grandma/neighbor fills in. Or perhaps it’s an adorable child who seems to know the fated couple will end up together after the final commercial break.

The little dogs have Christmas sweaters.

Nobody ever has a seasonal head cold, not even a sniffle.

The Christmas cookies, strudel, pies, cakes, turkeys and green beans in cream of mushroom soup with crispy onions on top are all baked to perfection and displayed on every surface not already festooned with bows and candles and bells and other holiday artifacts from Hobby Lobby and/or Home Goods. Maybe Pottery Barn.

The music comes as close to real Christmas carols as possible without copyright infringements.

The old people always know exactly what to say.

The young people are always earnest.

And nobody EVER gets into a bar fight.

Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la.

UPDATE (2017): A reader reminds us that for plot variation, a kindly, somewhat portly older man with white hair, mustache, whiskers (sometimes clean-shaven), and a name like “Nick” shows up and performs yuletide magic.

For December, 2018, and Ever After: On the Light Side

Luke 2:1-14 (King James Version of the Bible)

And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be taxed.

2 (And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.)

3 And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city.

4 And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem; (because he was of the house and lineage of David:)

5 To be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child.

6 And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered.

7 And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.

8 And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.

9 And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.

10 And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.

11 For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.

12 And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.

13 And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying,

14 Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.*

And from the “production notes,” as it were, this commentary from John 1: 4-9:

In him was life; and the life was the light of men.

5And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.

9That was the true Light, which lighteth every man that cometh into the world.

And this is Jesus, the Light of all lights, Gift of all gifts, Desire of all desires, and Hope of all hopes…

If you think about it, though, the original Christmas narrative has all the elements of successful Hallmark–and other such–tales, that is to say, it provides the perfect prototype:

Young protagonist (and husband) are forced to leave their home right before their long-awaited baby is due. They face the challenges of traveling with the crowds, no room for them anywhere but in a stable when they arrive, and the baby comes that very night.

Not what they planned for, hoped for, and expected. Nevertheless, the perfect place, time, and circumstances for prophetic fulfillment.

Like a fluttering sparrow or a darting swallow,an undeserved curse does not come to rest. Proverbs 26:2, NIV

In the world this day where people plot continuously in the halls of hatred and violence, prayerfully apply Proverbs 2:26 as you feel so led. Keep in mind also the following verses for encouragement and support:

You, dear children, are from God and have overcome them, because the one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world (1 John 4:4).

The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective (James 5:16).

… so that no one may boast in His presence. It is because of Him that you are in Christ Jesus, who has become for us wisdom from God: our righteousness, holiness, and redemption (1 Corinthians 1: 29-30). (Emphasis added.)

For the secret power of lawlessness is already at work; but the one who now holds it back (“restrains”) will continue to do so till he is taken out of the way (2 Thessalonians 2:6). Many believe this restrainer is the Holy Spirit who abides in believers; the lawless one is Satan and his minions who will rule as the Anti-Christ et al, in the prophetic Tribulation period.

I am watching over My word to perform it (Jeremiah 1:12, NASB).

In short: discern who might be “cursing” whom today and exercise your power of prayer against the effort.

My teen-aged niece and I were standing in line at the checkout in J.C. Penny’s yesterday when we noticed the young soldier striding toward a nearby exit. He looked like any raw-boned, young GI, clad in desert camo, ACU cap, dog tags no doubt tucked beneath his khaki T-shirt. One of many such soldiers one encounters these days in stores, restaurants, and airports Anywhere USA as the wars overseas drag on.

But what made this particular soldier stand out, dodging and weaving through the throng of holiday shoppers, was the home-made sign he grasped askew in his left hand that read, “I Love You Mom” while he checked messages on an iPhone in his other hand.

My niece and I looked at each other, eyes misting.

“Ohhhhhhhh…” we said, in that half-moan way emotions emerge…

“Sweeeeeet,” she said.

“And I will bet there’s a good story behind THAT little sign,” I said.

As we waited our turn at the checkout, I could only imagine…

Maybe he was headed for a reunion after an overseas tour of duty—or leaving for one—and meeting his mother at the airport or somewhere else?

I was working out other imaginary logistics when our turn came up. My niece made her purchase and we headed for the exit, the soldier’s “story” still tugging at my heart, and, lo and behold, he was standing just outside the door. I couldn’t resist.

I drew near him—he was still busy with his phone—and, after thanking him for his service, said, “Say, your sign caught our eye. Does your mom live around here?”

He chuckled. “Yeah, she does. It’s just a Christmas tradition for her. Every year I get a picture taken with Santa and I hold up a sign like this.”

(“Ohhhhhhhhhh,” My niece and I repeated, in unison.)

He looked slightly sheepish but was still smiling.

“And she cries, right?” I asked…trying to keep it light.

“Yeah,” he said. “But, I’m like, Mom, I do this every year! What’s the big deal!”

“Well she’s a girl,” I said…”Of COURSE she cries!”

I couldn’t quite say, “She’s a mother, son, and you’re a young soldier in a world very hard on young soldiers just now. And on their mothers.” So I didn’t.

He chuckled again; we wished him (and his mother) a Merry Christmas and went on our way. He went back to his phone…

~ ~ ~

Every term in my writing classes I encounter one or more young soldiers, recent veterans, many fresh from the dust and danger of Middle Eastern deserts and now taking advantage of the G.I. Bill to learn a trade and move on in life. Some sit in the same classrooms with other young men on student visas who perhaps were on the other side “over there.” I pray for them all and help them write their stories and essays.

Like other writing instructors with vets in the class, I occasionally read depictions of front line life. Memorable essays for me include a stunning description of one of those sand storms that you can see from outer space that occurred while one student was stationed in Kuwait. With his permission I’ve linked it, below.*

Another story detailed a young soldier’s experience sitting in the middle of two buddies in their Humvee during an IED attack on a road in Iraq. His buddies didn’t make it; he, barely. He told me it helps to be able to write about it. He was still on medication for post traumatic stress.

Another student just this last term had a particularly hard time processing psychological trauma he sustained through his multiple deployments to the war zones and other duty stations and with the “Dear John” letter he received in the middle of it all.

He struggled with putting it together in essay form. I suggested he might choose another topic. He told me that he really needed to finally write it all out. I extended his due date. He wrote his Hemingwayesque-styled story with clear nouns, strong verbs, and few adjectives, although he wouldn’t know it was that style.

What he did know was that he needed, for some reason, just then, to put his story down on paper. He crafted a powerful, “coming of age in a time of war” piece, detailing experiences from which he will likely continue to recover for some time. The topic for his collection of anecdotes was “resiliency”.

~ ~ ~

As my niece and I got on with our shopping trip yesterday I thought of those soldiers and I prayed for the “Christmas soldier,” as I now call the young man we encountered at the mall.

I prayed that he would someday be able to come back and get on with his life, too.

I prayed he will NOT be one of those who will have to process trauma, although there are many people including writing teachers who might be able to help, if such is the case.

But mostly I prayed that he will be able to keep the tradition alive for many, many Christmases to come. You know, the tradition of giving his mom a picture of him with Santa.

Corrupted: from miainó, “properly, to stain (with paint or dye); (figuratively) to stain (defile) the soul, i.e. like when sin taints by its polluting effects (‘moral, spiritual stains’).”

Nice idealistic sentiment, there, about remaining pure…

However, because who always–or even frequently–thinks “uncontaminated thoughts” on any given topic thus avoiding “polluted effects” no matter how one defines the concepts, the sentiment is very hard to believe let alone enact.

In a (human) race continually baited this way and that by mixed messages of good and evil, just and unjust, right and wrong–propaganda, polemics, sophistry, and verbal gaslighting (see previous post)–how is it possible to know, let alone, act upon what is “pure” and not “corrupted”!

Not to mention that we emerge as blank slates on which so many write our cultural and moral codes: parents, teachers, and others, let alone those who would exploit us for money and power such as those who roam the corridors of kings and the halls of who would be masters of the universe, locally, nationally, or globally. Not to mention cult con artists.

But even in a world seemingly flooded, just now, with more division than unity, more darkness than light, more chaos than calm, there is a way to discern what is pure and what is corrupt–despite what evils churn about. Or, to discern it as closely as is possible.

And we need to know how to do this, as the power of emotion threatens to overtake reason, logic, and common sense, let alone critical thinking.

It is possible to still see the bigger picture, the eternal one, and in that, to still have hope.

From my perch as a literature instructor, first lessons focus on how any given novel, play, poem, or essay usually comes with a pre-determined influence, that is, the writer presents his or her view through a specific “lens,” also known as a “school” of literary criticism.

Literary criticism, or analyses, includes determining where the writer is “coming from,” i.e., his or her theory, what philosophy, ideology, or belief system he or she infuses in the work. A short list of such influences includes writing from the following views: historical, , gender, sociological, psychological, and political (see here and here for more).

I emphasize to my students that where there are always certain truths incorporated into literature, it is important to remember what kind of truth it is, lest an assumption is made that it is necessarily the student’s own truth (or should be, if the work is a persuasive essay), or a universal truth.

Those are a few of the issues and controversies of literary theory and criticism that are constantly discussed in that world.

But sufficient for a student to know is that the lens through which an author or poet or playwright views the world is generally the school of literary criticism he or she writes from and promotes, and may not, perhaps should not, apply to all readers or writers, all causes, relationships, or institutions–or all literature.

Specifically, and to my focus in this post, are the political views promulgated in both fiction and non-fiction writing, whether it’s propaganda disguised as news reporting or any other genre of writing espousing a particular form of, say, politics or gender, or race.

And the political lens of lit crit is very popular these days.

On Political Lenses

Narrowing my topic further, and for anyone who has ever wondered why it is that in the past fifty years or so, college students in particular seem to have been so influenced away from how to think about history, sociology, math, science, politics, and so on, to what to think*, I believe one of the major influences in college education, particularly an abiding ideology in university education coursework since the 1960s, is a specific educational theory called Pedagogy of the Oppressed, by Paulo Freire, a leading proponent of Marxist class analysis. He is one of many such academic proponents of this view, however.

Whereas the view through Freire’s political lens does reflect some truth in that, as he noted, “education could not be divorced from politics; the act of teaching and learning are political acts in themselves,” by politicizing the content of education as the goal to “help the oppressed liberate themselves” as opposed to teaching the information as objectively as possible as the goal, the door is left wide open, it can be argued, for class warfare, anarchy, and totalitarianism.

When I was an undergraduate beginning my college coursework in teaching back then, Friere’s book was very popular, and through the years I’ve seen coursework gradually reflect his and his apologists’ views.

For example, a math story problem might now feature a situation where the students might have to calculate the loss of the polar bear population as it relates to fossil fuel consumption (based on the controversial political view of “global warming,” now dubbed “climate change,” any alternate analyses likely not cited in the math problem).

A psychology class might feature an article focused solely on “right-wing extremism” as the only example of some category of PD (Personality Disorder), the DSM (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders) discusses, left-wing extremists left out of the writer’s thesis.

Sometimes what information is missing has as powerful an effect as what information is promoted has.

It is my observation that Friere’s view of society through the dichotomous political lens of oppressor and oppressed and his philosophy of teaching through that lens has been one of the enabling influences of the rise of politics-infused readings assigned in writing, literature, sociology, psychology, education, math, and even science courses.

In my perspective, such an ideology infused in pedagogy, or the “art and science of teaching,” can eventually lead to informational lessons becoming social and political engineering workshops.

I believe his view has gained popularity and power particularly where it is paired with other modern theories such as moral relativism (good and bad depends on what is currently acceptable thought and behavior), which is to say, in effect, we can be cut loose from old-fashioned absolute truths in this new era, through this limited lens of analysis now in vogue.

Side note and case in point regarding the power of the influence of theories: if anyone has also wondered why it is that so many “educated” people are talking about a “living U.S. Constitution” these days, as opposed to our Constitution based on the standards of set law (amended as determined by due process), the above is one of the major influences, that is to say, “lens'” by which certain people now view the founding documents. The culturally-relativistic, Marxist-infused view has filtered down to the legal arena where such thinking is referred to as “reflexive law” (my contribution to this discussion–and warning–is here). This is something few are yet talking about but which is an undercurrent gathering precedent steam beneath those who would fundamentally transform the United States of America.

Back to Freire’s lens.

Outside the classroom, I can see his much expanded influence today in the mushrooming (and divisive) proliferation of victim groups demanding special rights in more of a zero sum effort as opposed to a traditionally American inclusive one.

They are often pitted against a denigrated “majority” (now called “privileged”) group. If left unchecked, the resultant genocide of the hated group is one of the most tragic of outcomes, as history reveals when the facts are at length exposed.

A modern case in point, many would argue, is what is being called the White genocide in South Africa.

Of the most famous examples in recent history is, of course, the Holocaust spawned by hatred of the Jewish race, although Stalin’s purges in Russia, Mao Zedong’s in China, and Pol Pot’s in Cambodia are of like depravity, all influenced by the Marxist worldview as well.

And, of course, the reality of what was really going on in those years of the last century was also suppressed and obfuscated by political “spin” at the time, similar to what is happening today in certain media circles and online venues.

I can see Freire’s expanded ideological influence in the sharp resurgence, in the past 10 years or so, of racial tensions such as we haven’t seen in America since before the time of Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr. and in the increasing degradation of E pluribus unum to its opposite: “out of one, many,” a condition that can quickly and violently degrade to Balkanism, by the old “divide and conquer” method of warfare primarily via what might be termed wordfare and lawfare.

I can even see his influence in the speech-restricting, though-controlling effects of the PC movement (see here for a very clever, fictional adaptation of how the restriction of free speech can destroy a community and it starts with just one opinion, one theory, one view that, if not taken seriously and subjected to careful thought and action, quickly expands and escalates).

Back to non-fiction today, people who once had opposing views on, say, homosexual marriage, are now not merely holding a differing opinion, they are given a “phobia” diagnosis.

People who desire to return to–and maintain–law and order are re-labeled “fascists”.

And if they claim they are merely patriots, the opposition is quick to co-opt the definition by spinning back around to a synonym, “nationalist,” which is quickly narrowed to really mean the dog-whistle term, “National Socialist,” aka Hitler’s Nazi party, leaving off the socialist part, of course, as this ideology has recently been spun around to mean a “positive” political movement by the self-labeled Democrat Socialists…

(Oh, what a tangled web of sophistry we weave when we first begin to deceive…).

And the power of the mind-numbing, thought-stopping, name-calling chants (very like the repetition of certain religious mantras), in an emotion-charged “protest” fire up the crowds now more often than not infiltrated by paid thugs who collect their cash later from the ideological collective out not for freedom, but power by intimidation and growing brute force.

But how does all this relate to discerning purity and corruption?

How we view something through the “lens” we choose, or are handed without explanation or reflection, is what influences our own worldview and from there, our behavior.

If we believe hatred and violence is the only way to success in a cause, we join some resistance movement trusting they are working in accord with our view (and not, where corruption clouds clarity, just to use our emotions to help someone or some group gain power).

If we believe there is a set of universal truths that promote a more peaceful society we operate through that lens and its attendant standard of conduct founded on law and order.

The big trouble is, however, in a world where corruption always battles with purity, evil with good, in both temporal and spiritual arenas, there is “always a little truth in every lie” because it sells much better.

Due to naiveté, lack of facts, or ignorance of the ploys of those who would trap and corrupt us by “going about as sheep in wolves’ clothing,” it can be pretty hard to discern.

History reveals that wars are often the result of the mess and confusion that accompanies the quest.

And the good guys don’t always win.

But for believers, here is some encouragement for today and henceforth from that view which is outside the limits of time, space, and frequently flawed mortal analysis, and that emanates through the lens of an eternal reality:

For the Lord gives wisdom;from his mouth come knowledge and understanding (Proverbs 2:6)

But the wisdom that comes from heaven is first of all pure; then peace-loving, considerate, submissive, full of mercy and good fruit, impartial and sincere (James 3:17).

Be very careful, then, how you live–not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil (Ephesians 5:15-16).

Be wise in the way you act toward outsiders; make the most of every opportunity. Let your conversation be always full of grace, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how to answer everyone (Colossians 4:5-6).

Here are many more encouragements and directives from the same source.

My friends, it is so important to keep our eyes on the prize and our hearts affixed to God’s wisdom and instructions, for what evil brews, enlarges–and would consume us all–might be of more (prophetic) “biblical proportions” than most realize.

We might, in fact, as many prophecy scholars warn, be closing in on the end of this Biblical Age and ramping up for a time of evil unparalleled in history: the Tribulation period that follows the Rapture of the Church. (Note: the links represent my view of a Pre-Tribulation Rapture, though there are other views of the event recognized in the Church at large.)

Yet, we can still let the love of God reign in our hearts because in His love is also clarity of sight and clearest focus. And this view still has the power to heal so many old and new victim–and victimizing–groups, both genuine and politically engineered, as well as to reconcile the tragic division polarizing ideologies cause among communities, friends, and families.

I encourage all of us to stay awake, aware, and alert–in Him–and to choose our battles carefully and prayerfully through the lens of eternal ways and means toward the ultimate goal: redemption for all who will choose it; redemption through placing faith in Jesus Christ as Savior and Lord.

This is the same Jesus, the pure and sacrificial Lamb of God Who paid the price for all the corruption that was, is, and will be both globally and locally, both without and within.

Carry on.

~~~~~

*BONUS:

And have you ever wondered how Social Justice Warriors, another university-spawned collective, came about? A related movement beginning about the same time Freire’s ideology came off the presses, was “liberation theology.” It began in the churches–no better place, right? But it is arguably another Marxist-infused ideology painted up to look like a sanctuary…”sanctuary cities” are one result of this particular ideology…for example…

As defined by Mirriam Webster online, “prudence” is: 1: the ability to govern and discipline oneself by the use of reason, 2: sagacity or shrewdness in the management of affairs, 3: skill and good judgment in the use of resources, and/or 4: caution or circumspection as to danger or risk.

A Scripture passage (of many) dealing with both practical and spiritual prudence that struck me recently as the way out of and away from the powerful pull of high emotion that, on the current geo-political scene, seems to be getting more and more intense, all-consuming–and blinding–is the following, from Proverbs, chapter 14, verses 15-18, NIV (emphasis mine):

The simple believe anything,but the prudent give thought to their steps.

16 The wise fear the Lord and shun evil,but a fool is hotheaded and yet feels secure.

17 A quick-tempered person does foolish things,and the one who devises evil schemes is hated.

18 The simple inherit folly,but the prudent are crowned with knowledge.

There is hope in those verses, and innumerable others, that, as all-consuming as political rage seems to be just now, by employing prudence there is wisdom and knowledge of how to discern not only a way out of what evil brews both abroad and within but also a way forward.

It’s not easy, though.

It requires attention, discernment investigation, and the ability to know when to act, if at all, and how, which is hard to do when rage can so easily overpower prudence, as it is wont to do.

Ragenado

“Ragenado”–is a derivative of “tornado” (that “violently destructive windstorm…characterized by a long, funnel-shaped cloud extending toward the ground”), only in a ragenado, it is high emotion and severe anger that characterizes the violence and destruction.

I would add one other weather comparison to what seems to be happening in the ragenados brewing and “touching down” today. There is a phenomenon called a “supercell” where a large swath of the atmosphere is affected by rare and highly destructive combinations of thunderstorms, rain, hail, and tornadoes.

A supercell can last several hours and travel across a wide area, sometimes hundreds of miles. This is the kind of weather drama that destroys whole neighborhoods, even towns, in minutes. Fortunately, it is rare.

People are advised to exercise prudence by protecting themselves in storm shelters or in emergency accommodations away from the affected area until it passes. And it will, at length, pass (even as rage and its attendant lawlessness and chaos burns itself out at length).

The Power of Prudence

As I think about how easy it is to be swept up in the ragenado of the current geo-political scene that seems to be growing into an international supercell of evil as it sweeps up more and more minds and hearts in a swirling tempest of irrationality, fear, and hatred, I try to keep prudence in mind not only as a way of life but also a way of mental, emotional, and spiritual survival.

There are very practical measures I remind myself of to avoid being swept up in the ragenado:

As my late father always advised: “get your news from more than one source;”

Consider cautiously when to speak or act and when to refrain from speaking or acting, when to remain with–and when to leave–a given scene, person, or situation (aka, choose your battles with guidance and discretion);

Study closely how Jesus dealt with the evils of His time of earthly ministry, e.g., when and why He confronted the money changers in the temple at their tables, and when He called out the verbal con artists as the “snakes” and “white-washed tombs” of His day;

Study perhaps even more carefully when Jesus remained silent or, having said His piece, left the scene or allowed the one to whom He spoke to leave, e.g., His few words during His “trial,” when he left the presence of the rich young ruler to whom He had given simple instructions, and of course, His last words to Judas as a means of speaking the prophecy concerning that traitor. There are also several recorded incidents of when Jesus simply left the midst of an angry mob who wanted to kill Him then and there. He knew that His time to allow them full vent of their hatred of Him was not just then.

The Portents of Prophecy

Spiritually, in addition to Jesus’ example, I keep in mind that prophecy is always in operation behind the scenes and in that there is a time and a season for all things–even ragenados, if you will. This idea is summed up here:

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

2A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;

3A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;

4A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

5A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

6A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;

7A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

8A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace. (Ecclesiastes 3:1-8, KJV).

Prophecy points to beginnings and ends, the calms before the storms (as well as the storms before the calms), and to different seasons and eras. And here on earth, none lasts forever.

Prophecy also points to an eternal reality of peace beyond the temporal machinations of dominance and control that are ginned up by mere mortals engaged in an ever-expanding supercell of evil in their seemingly all-consuming quest for power, that, in its wake, leaves the destruction of nations, towns, homes, relationships, minds, and hearts.

In the interim, however, back here on terra firma, it can get very dark. The geo-political scene requires the best we’ve got of discipline, vigilance, shrewdness, wisdom, discretion, street smarts, clear-headedness (and so on).

But–good news–there is another prophecy that applies, even in the midst of what ragenado swirls and growls in the world or in your world, today:

When these things begin to take place, stand up and lift up your heads, because your redemption is drawing near (Luke 21:28, NIV), a prophecy that is very encouraging, emboldening–and prudent–to look into just now..

I pray you will.

And be of good cheer–because we can, believe it or not. Jesus said so. See here:

These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world (John 16:33, KJV).

Five years ago I posted this story written by my brother-in-law Gene Taylor. I re-posted it two years later.

I think it’s time, again, not only because it is an ageless story of hope lost, then found, but also because in an increasingly polarized and polarizing world saturated with so much anger and violence this simple tale uplifts the spirit of anyone thinking darkness prevails. For the truth is, it needn’t, and all it takes sometimes is just one, even small, light to overcome it.

May your heart be lightened today by what continues to shine here.

The Travelers: A Thanksgiving Story

By Gene Taylor

My mother, Rosemary, was an angry person. She didn’t know why and that bothered her, not so much that she cared about how her anger affected others but that it was a facet of her being that she was not in control of.

The day I met the three travelers in this story my wife Nancy and I were on our way back from Reno where we had visited my mother at a very nice care facility. The Hospice folks and my wife, who also works in health care, had found a way to help Mom find peace on her death bed, which was our main concern. The sure-fire solution for patients with anger, anxiety, depression and pain was 20 mg of morphine accompanied by 2 mg of Valium every two hours. That med combo seemed to cure everything for Mom except for the anger.

Even experienced Hospice personnel there had rarely witnessed Mom’s kind of anger. And I was amazed and saddened by it, too. I had been hoping to be present for the magic end-of-life transition I had heard about where I might see my mother become one of us non-angry people. I was hoping she would reveal some part of the real Rosemary that I’d never seen, share some side of her I knew must be there, tell the secret of her pissed-offedness, if you will, or in some other way become genuine.

Didn’t happen.

Nancy and I headed home without the kind of closure I so hoped for.

Early that Monday morning at the start of our return trip, we stopped at an AM PM Gas Station/Mini-Mart outside of Reno to fill up the gas tank and get some hot coffee on this frosty fall morning. The usual Mini-Mart crowd of construction guys were milling around. I noticed a rag-tag white pickup truck parked a short distance from the apron. It had a cardboard sign affixed to the tailgate. The handwritten lettering said something to the effect that the occupants of the truck were stranded and needed money to continue on to California.

A folded up mattress, old BBQ grill, and cardboard boxes filled the pickup bed to overflowing. It was a real “Dust Bowl look” going on. A young man, handsome, with a lean, wiry look, dressed in worn Carhartt coveralls was soliciting money near the rear of the rig; he was trying to make eye contact with the people going in the store. A couple of people walked by him and spread their arms out with palms up indicating a no-sale. In fact, I didn’t see him collect any money and frankly he wasn’t very good at it. I knew this was a common scam but he did have the look of fear and desperation, and that truck and its load did look genuine.

I was busy filling up when I noticed a young woman get out of the cab of the truck with something in a blue blanket held close to her. I thought it was a baby at first and was kind of mad that they would put a child in that position as it was very cold outside. Then I saw it was a cat! Okay, heart melting time. I walked up and gave her $10. The man came around and thanked me and immediately pulled the truck up to the pumps and began filling it with that ten spot.

They were beside our car, now, and I asked the young woman, a pretty brunette with clear eyes and a quiet manner, what her cat’s name was. She responded, “Velcro”. Clever. I got it. We exchanged smiles and I started to check my oil. The young man asked me if I thought his quarter-tank plus that $10 in gas would get him up and over the Sierras and on to Yuba City, a journey that included the infamous—and high elevation–Donner Pass, not someplace on which you wanted to be stranded in the cold. I really didn’t think he had enough.

He told me they started out from someplace in Colorado, the name of the town escapes me, with $180 hoping to make it to Yuba City where his family lives. They just ran out of money. I fished out a $20 bill and gave it to him. Immediately, the expression of fear and worry on his face vanished. He jumped around a few times and hugged me while thanking me.

From our brief interactions, it was clear they were both country folks. I loved them. They were so freaking genuine and authentic. While the young man jumped with joy, the girl just looked at me with a look of amazement as if this was the first time a stranger had ever befriended her.

We were now preparing to head off over the hill to California ourselves while they finished fueling up. The young man said, “I wish there was something I could do for you.” I told him, “You have done plenty already.”

I’m not sure he got it; perhaps he did.

I do stuff like this often but rarely do I get this kind of reward. I was still thinking about my mother and her perpetual anger, and in that moment I knew what my mother missed her entire life by being angry, which influenced her attitude toward people in need. She would not have done—and never did—anything for people like these two beautiful travelers. If I had that void in my life, it would make me angry, too.

She missed so much…

I’ll never miss that $30 but it lifted the cares of the world off that young man at least for a moment, and a moment is all we really have isn’t it?

I’ll never lose what I felt that cold morning and I doubt they will either. We all changed, in some way, just then.

Even though it was early in the day and still freezing cold, there was no ice on either the passes or bridges over them although the elevation is over 7,000 feet and the ground atop was dusted with a second-week-in-November snow. And I wondered a little about that “gift,” too…

My wife and I met up with the Mini-Mart travelers at the Donner Pass Rest Stop and I asked their names. He was Joshua and she was Haley. The cat was still Velcro.

We hear this statement from both/all sides. We view its impact through history and in today’s headlines.

Those on the “winning side” smile, claiming to be the right choice for all; those on the “losing side” groan, and gear up for a future rematch.

And thus the world’s governance systems cycle.

But allow me to encourage any believers who may be discouraged today by the results of yesterday’s midterms in the United States, whatever outcome of whatever “race” is the cause of your dismay: don’t take your eyes off the prize.

There is a whole other world we are invited and urged to remain attuned to that supersedes any/all politics of a given day, nation, mind and heart. It is the world of the Spirit that generates both seen and unseen, the genesis of ideas, ideologies, and faith.

This world encompasses not merely the thirty-thousand foot view of what politics spin below of a given day or era, but the measureless, timeless view of beginnings and ends, good and evil, love and hate, and we can read in the Bible of its outcome in prophecy both for nations and in hearts.

This, eternal, world has at the apex, Jesus Christ, “through Whom all things were made,” and through Whom all are redeemed. He would, I believe, want to encourage us thus:

“In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world” (John 16:33, NIV).

But what does that mean, exactly, when it comes to post-election stressors?

Consider and be heartened–and emboldened–to carry on with what message “of “righteousness” you have been entrusted to reach your corner of influence in the world, be it in your family, neighborhood, work, and/or society at large, for each and all “occupying posts” are important.

And in these prophetic days that may get darker before they get better, may I also encourage you by “looking up” to Jesus’ soon return, as prophecy scholars teach, and to resist being mired by the discord “below.”

May I remind all of us to fix our gaze on Jesus Christ, pressing forward in the world and worldview that matters not just for now, but for eternity.

Carry on in Christ, Whose ultimate solution for all the ills on every winning–or losing–side of whatever, wherever, and whenever mankind’s “elections” are held, is eternal righteousness–and rightness–for those who put their faith not in world systems, but in Him.

Thus, no matter the temporal outcomes, we can be of good cheer and retain His “peace that passes understanding,” even now, and who knows? this might be one of those “witnesses” that draws some away from the encroaching darkness of the world’s political fray into some hope–for the very first time, or, for others, it may renew hope.

Here is a little background music to go with:

Source: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jMYZICnV2Ys

]]>https://pnissila.blog/2018/11/07/on-the-consequences-of-elections-rightness-and-righteousness/feed/0pnissilaOn Political Lawlessness–for Those Who Still Have Ears to Hear: Votehttps://pnissila.blog/2018/11/04/on-political-lawlessness-for-those-who-still-have-ears-to-hear-vote/
https://pnissila.blog/2018/11/04/on-political-lawlessness-for-those-who-still-have-ears-to-hear-vote/#commentsSun, 04 Nov 2018 16:39:28 +0000http://pnissila.blog/?p=7172Continue reading →]]>The following radio program aired Saturday, November 4, 2018, on Jan Markell’s “Understanding the Times,” and is entitled, “Defiance: The Consequences of Government as God.”

Her guests are former Congresswoman Michelle Bachmann, R-MN, and retired, former Homeland Security Officer, Phil Haney.

I believe they have very important things to say for our serious consideration particularly just now ahead of the U.S. midterm elections but also for the future of America.