The War on Christmas

A religious organization recently announced that they were urging their members to boycott Radio Shack for one month.  The reason for this was that Radio Shack uses the phrase ‘Holidays’ rather than ‘Christmas’ in its advertising.  A popular television pundit has declared that there is a ‘war on Christmas’ and that there is a group of people who hate Christmas and are trying to eradicate it. 

I find it perplexing that religious people now decry the current diminishing use of the word ‘Christmas’ in the marketing of merchandize as a ‘bad’ thing.  I say this because having grown up in the Bible Belt and having spent many years as an active participant in evangelical Christianity, I remember that every year, the Christmas holidays brought thundering condemnation from preachers who said that a secular society was ‘co-opting’ Christmas in order to sell merchandize.  “Christmas is a manufactured holiday,” they would say which just gives people a chance to overindulge in spending as well as participating in all other manner of excess.  “Christians should shun such hypocrisy!” they admonished. 

One Christian denomination forbids it members from even celebrating Christmas in any religious manner (Rudolf is OK).  They do so because the Bible does not admonish Christians to celebrate Jesus’ birth (cannot deny this) and because there is no evidence to support the belief that Jesus was born on December 25, that in fact December 25 was originally a pagan holiday that was adopted as a date to celebrate the birth of Jesus (also true). 

I am approaching 60 years old, so I remember when America was much less diverse than it is today.  We had very few people around us who did not follow Christian traditions.  Expressions associated with the Christian holiday were everywhere present.  Society is quite different today.  Ease of travel between continents has brought to our country individuals who may not celebrate Christmas, but who bring other equally rich and interesting traditions.   Isn’t adjusting our greeting to something like ‘Happy Holidays’ saying to them that we want to accommodate their traditions and make them feel welcome in this country.  This seems consistent with the admonition of Jesus to treat others as we wish to be treated.

I am certain that the mission of Christianity is in no way advanced by insisting that Radio Shack or Wal-Mart use the word ‘Christmas’ in their advertising or that their employees say ‘Merry Christmas’ rather than ‘happy holidays.’  A couple of weeks ago, our neighbors invited us to their home for a ‘holiday party.’  They happen to be Jewish.  We were honored that they valued our friendship enough to include us in this event. Had we insisted on saying ‘Merry Christmas’ to them it would not only have been rather absurd, it would also have been unkind. 

I remember the Christmas parties and gatherings that my family attended when I was a child.  I suppose ‘Merry Christmas’ was spoken rather than ‘Happy Holidays’ but I don’t recall any talk of worshipping the babe in the manger.  Truthfully for many in those days, the holiday was just as secular as it is now.  It was mostly about gifts, parties, eggnog, yule-logs, deck the halls, Frosty the snowman, Kriss Kringle, fruitcake, Charlie Brown, etc, etc. Some, not all, may have attended a church service.

As much as I love to hear “Merry Christmas’ I also welcome ‘Happy Holidays’ as an expression of kindness and a wish of good will.  And that makes me feel good!  People waging ‘war’ usually do not want to spread cheer.

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Senior Citizens Drive too Slow!

Mr. and Mrs. Brown were the kind of elderly couple that struck you somewhere between amusing and annoying. Everything about them seemed out of date.  Their car, one of those massive behemoths of the 1970's, signaled that a senior citizen was about, driving slowly, cautiously, easing from place to place. You might think they were such a cute old couple, unless you happened to be behind them in traffic.  Mr. Brown always did the driving since Mrs. Brown had very poor eyesight. 

Mr. Brown's clothes, while neat, appeared to be the ones he had been wearing when he met Mrs. Brown.  He had worn them for so long that the fabric had taken on the shape of his wallet, pocket knife, and keys.  Mrs. Brown, smelling of powder and hair spray, wore thick glasses and carried a giant purse.  They were a perfect match.  

The Browns seemed to be one of the myriad of senior citizens that have been largely passed by as the world had changed.  They no doubt had to watch their money very closely and probably didn't ask for much.  Like so many retirees with time on their hands, they are regulars at the bank, the post office, grocery, and pharmacy.  When they stop appearing at the pick up window at the pharmacy, this will largely go unnoticed.

I knew the Browns because she was our children's piano teacher.  When we had first moved to that community, we were told that a particular piano academy was the best place for our children to study, that piano students there had one many awards.  But the teachers that had been recommended to us were all full and were not taking new students.  Only Mrs. Brown had room for new students.

I suspect some thought she might not be a good teacher.  I said earlier that she had poor eyesight.  In truth, she was almost blind.  She had a large magnifying glass mounted above the piano so that, looking through it, she could see the notes as she pounded out the beat with a stick.  She had an antiquated system of rewarding students for effort that used terms like, "Super," and "Super-duper."   Mrs. Brown was about as 'un-hip' as a person could be, but her young students held her in high esteem and I am about tell you why I believe that was the case.

Mrs. Brown's recitals were elaborate affairs, featuring students from kindergarten to adults.  Mr. Brown was always her helper, handing out the 'super-dupers' and snapping photos.  Mrs. Brown would often leave messages on our home answering machine, reminding the children that there was going to be a a rehearsal for the dress-rehearsal for the recital.  Because our answering machine had our daughter Margaret's voice on the greeting informing the caller that they should leave a message, Mrs Brown always addressed her message to Margaret.  Speaking with what must have been a South Carolina or Georgia accent, "Mawgret Darrrling, don't  forget to bring $3.50 to your lesson for your  music book. 

During a certain period of time, we had a lot of expenses and were trying to find ways to trim our budget.  We decided to cease having our children take piano lessons.  The strain of reminding them to practice, the time taking them to lessons and recitals, along with the cost, were all things we felt we could do without.  Stopping piano lessons seemed to be the thing to do.

Mrs Brown called me to ask why the children were no longer coming to lessons. I told her that we were trying to cut expenses and had decided that piano lessons could stop.  Mrs. Brown wouldn't have any of that.  She said that she would teach the children for free.  She went on to explain that as a little girl, her parents couldn't afford piano lessons and that her teacher had taught her anyway.  She had vowed she would do the same for children that wanted to learn to play the piano. 

I was so stunned and frankly humbled by this that I hardly knew how to respond. It was not difficult to see that the Browns were not prosperous people.  I am certain that I could afford to pay for the lessons more easily than Mrs. Brown could affrord to do without our payments.  But, I reluctantly accepted her offer saying that we would allow the children to continue, and that we hoped we could begin to pay for the lessons again in the future.  And this is what we did.

People like Mrs. Brown do not get much recognition in the world.  They don't stand out in such a manner so as to draw the attention of society.  But, most of us think and behave in ways that have been modeled for us by people we have encountered in our lives.  When I have a chance to do something for someone else, even though it doesn't benefit me, I think of Mrs. Brown.  If I had never been the recipient of such kindness, then I suppose I could justify never extending it to another.  But, I have experienced that,  just as Mrs. Brown experienced it as a child, and together with her, I vow to extend it to others. 

I wonder what kindness was modeled before the teacher who gave Mrs. Brown free piano lessons as a child.


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I Am Commanded to Love Them!

Some issues that currently being debated in the media often result in individuals expressing their opinion based upon their religious perspective. Rights for gays and lesbians and particularly legalization of marriage for gays and lesbians have brought forth vocal opposition from individuals characterized as "evangelical" or "conservative" in their religious affiliation.

I grew up in the "evangelical" religious tradition and spent many years of my adulthood heavily involved in the same, so I believe I understand where these individuals are coming from. The comments coming from such individuals vary in attitude and intensity: from those who politely express reservation to others who use cruel epithets in referring to gays and lesbians. It would be unfair to lump these all into one.

I have heard spokespersons from conservative religious organizations speak heatedly about how these individuals (gays, lesbians, or the "liberal media who advocates for them") are trying to corrupt our culture, destroy the home, defy god, etc. On several occasions I have heard such individuals pause mid-sentence to say, "Yes, I love them, because I am commanded in the Bible to love them" and then continue their diatribe against such individuals.

This has caused me to ponder what is meant by loving someone in this manner. It is true that there are commands in scripture to love others whom we may not find all that lovable, e.g. enemies, our neighbors, spouses :-), even those who hate us! So, to love is not just to hope a feeling comes upon us, rather it is to will ourselves love someone. But how would such love look?

The above mentioned comments (I love them, because I am commanded to love them) seem to be merely a verbal statement of love, but one that seems contradicted by attitude and action. What of a parent who says "I love you" to children but then abuses or neglects them? How about a husband who says "I love you" to his wife, but is callous to any of her desires, needs or viewpoints? All would agree that such a statement of love is really worthless.

An adage that is often cited by religious people is, "We are to love the sinner, but hate the sin." (by the way, this phrase is not in the Bible). Sometimes it seems that individuals use this as an excuse to make very harsh and hateful statements that really do not differentiate between sin and sinner. I am reminded that when a crowd was about to stone to death an adulterous woman, Jesus, rather than attacking the behavior of the woman, instead reminded the crowd that they had all made mistakes (sins) and that they should not condemn her.

There appears to be a lack of empathy on the part of some who stridently address some of these issues in current society.  How many times have we have heard of a prominent parent who, upon learning that their own child is gay, has changed his or her view on the issue?  Apparently, truly loving someone means that we cannot escape putting ourselves in their shoes and attempting to feel what they feel.   Such a process can lead to a radically different outlook and attitude.

I am sure that some, even many who express that they love gays or lesbians because they are commanded to, are sincere.  I hope that this love will be taken beyond mere words and will also change attitudes.

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Stereotypes and the Dignity of the Individual

Recently an adolescent was brought into my counseling office for therapy.  The teen had just been released from a local hospital after being hospitalized following a suicide attempt. I noted by his appearance and name that he belonged to one of the minority ethnic groups that are common in the multi-ethnic area where I live.  This particular ethnic group is one that is often mentioned when discussions of 'un-documented' immigrants come up. 

Because individuals of this ethnic designation in this region tend to be of low socio-economic status, they are quite visible in the community, using public transportation, walking or riding bicycles.  There is a somewhat natural tendency to categorize people based on some outward characteristic, e.g. skin color, physical characteristics, etc.  Had I seen this young man prior to his coming to my office, I would likely have viewed only a 'group' of those particular kind of youth, not him as an individual. 

I have a box of assorted buttons in my office that I sometimes use to help clients describe themselves.  I dump the buttons on the table and ask the client to take their time and select a button that represents him or herself.  There are buttons of all sizes, shapes, colors and textures. Some plain, others more ornate.  This only works after children have reached a level of cognitive functioning that allows them to understand the concept of one thing representing another.  A seven-year-old will probably just pick a red one and say, "I picked this one because it is my favorite color." But, beginning in adolescence, most individuals begin to think more abstractly and can find some aspect of a button to convey their concept of themselves.  

Taking his time my client chose one of the larger and more ornate buttons, not the typical round kind.  Pleased with his choice, he placed the button on the table and looked up at me. "Why did you choose that one?" I asked.  His reply; "because it is one of a kind."  A pang of sadness came over me as I thought that to some people, even to me, he might merely have been one of scores of individuals, often lumped together due to some arbitrary categorization.  Indeed, he is one of a kind, with his own dreams, hopes, fears, and yes . . .  sadness.  

If we do not know a person, have never heard them share what they think and desire, it is much easier to dismiss this person as unimportant or even an object of derision.  But, once we have dared to open ourselves to the "human-ness" of another, no matter how different from ourselves, we are presented with the opportunity to forever view that person through new eyes, as deserving of every consideration that we afford ourselves.  




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Those Middle-Eastern Drivers!

I have owned a "Vespa" motor scooter for a number of years. If you do not know what a "Vespa" is, remember the scooter that you see in the movies when a spy in Europe needs to make a quick get-a-way and he jumps on the first thing available? The one where the beautiful girl is on the back, clutching his waist? Yes, that is a Vespa. They are made in Italy.  

I became enchanted with the Vespa when I lived in Asia where they were common and were sort of the "Cadillac" of scooters. The motor is unseen, under the seat and it was common to see women in high heels or men in business suits riding down traffic-congested streets. Years later, after returning to the U.S. I purchased one for myself and have enjoyed riding on weekends and to work on sunny days. I even got one for my wife for mothers day!

Reactions are varied. Some people in their a 50's or older remember when Vespas could often be seen in the U.S. Sears & Roebuck even sold one under the name of "Allstate." Teenagers don't quite know what to make of it. I rode up beside an adolescent on a "crotch rocket" and saw his mouth moving with the words, "What the ?*@#*!!??"

One day, my Vespa was parked in my driveway and I was working in the front yard. A car stopped and a dark man of apparent middle-eastern descent walked up to me and, with heavily accented English  said, "In my country, when I was a boy, I rode on one like this everyday!" I enjoyed reminiscing with him about this common interest of ours. He was from Pakistan and lived just a few blocks from me.

We became good friends. He would always wave when he passed, often with his veiled wife and several children in his car with him. Occasionally he would stop and chat. We talked about the weather, the economy, or whatever. Several times I offered to let him ride my Vespa, but he always declined.

Last summer my Vespa was stolen from in front of my office. When I saw my friend driving by my house I flagged him down to tell him the bad news. I knew he would care about my loss. He just shook his head and seemed genuinely grieved. We talked for a while about whether I would try to get another one and he went on his way.

This experience with my Vespa has been repeated often. At the Starbucks where I often hang out, there is a group of people that appear to be from an African country who like to drink coffee and chat there.  I see them often. Once when I parked my Vespa out front, I could see them nodding admiringly, like American men might look with awe upon a Harley Davidson or a pick-up truck with all the extras. One man, who told me he was from the country of Eritrea became nostalgic when sharing with me that his uncle was the first person in his village to own a Vespa. Once, as I started-up the engine (a sound which some have compared to a sewing machine), one man had such a satisfied look on his face as he said, "I just love that sound."

It is great to have found these friends with whom I can share my interest. I also feel privileged that I can share theirs.


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To Be a Third-Grader Again!

On Saturday, my wife and I decided to go out for brunch.  By the time we got to the restaurant, it was almost noon.  The restaurant was crowded and we were seated next to a group of 12-15 third-graders who were having a birthday party.  By this point they had consumed their cake, ice cream, and beverage and they were feeling the effects.  I imagine some patrons would not appreciate being seated next to such a rowdy group, but for some reason on this day, I found it to be quite entertaining.  They giggled and squealed and were oblivious to the fact that they were in a restaurant and not on the playground.

I am not around groups children this age on a regular  basis, so I was fascinated with their constant movement, exuberant laughter and pure joy at just being together.  Standing around the table were their mothers each of whom wore a broad smile.  This was not the obligatory smile often seen in polite company, but the irrepressible grin, just like my own, that was the result of seeing their own child so excited and happy.

These children and their mothers evidenced the diversity that is characteristic of the Washington, DC area where we live.  There were Asian, Hispanic, African-American, and Middle-Eastern as well as caucasian children.  At this age children appear totally unaware of any difference between each other.  They are drawn together by their love of life and are capable of thoroughly experiencing the moment, something that becomes harder for adults as we grow older, take on responsibilities of various kinds, and have difficulty putting aside thoughts of what must be done later today or at work on Monday.

As I watched the children disperse and as I saw the mothers stand and chat, I realized how much more similar they were than they were different. Jumping, wiggling, laughing with their birthday hats and favors, I'm sure they could have continued in this fashion for a few more hours.  Each parent obviously took great joy at seeing their child happy, lost in the sheer exuberance of being with their peers.  Each was devoted to making their child's life a full as possible, evident by their willingness to spend a Saturday morning at a birthday party.

Often, when I hear immigration issues discussed, various national and ethnic groups are mentioned and if one is not mindful, it is easy to forget that those being talked about are these children and their moms who are much more like us than they are different from us.  Immigration, legal and illegal, are complex issues that require thoughtful decision-making.  I just do not want to think of immigrants as nameless groups to be dealt with.  They are the giggling children and their moms at a birthday party on Saturday morning.


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No Welfare for People with Tattoos?

I frequently hear comments from people/posts who complain that a person who is apparently receiving government assistance of some form, has a cell phone, has a nice pair of tennis shoes, a nice purse, or an apparently new tattoo.  I've given a lot of thought to this.  Does receiving welfare mean that a person should not have any expression of individuality or dignity?  For many people who have almost nothing, their appearance may be their one and only vestige of self-respect.  Granted, a tattoo many not be the wisest investment (in the interest of full disclosure, I have one), but it is a relatively cheap method of some self expression (if you can't afford a car or house) and as Jimmy Buffet says, it is "a permanent reminder of a temporary feeling."  And a cell phone?  I recently purchased one at Wal-Mart for $24.95.  A cell phone is cheaper than a land line and if you don't have your own house, where would you even install a land line? How are you expected to ever secure a job if you don't have a phone number to list on the application?

The harshness of some attitudes bewilders me.  Because of my work, I have heard the stories of some people who receive government assistance in some form.  I suppose there are a few who receive this paltry subsidy who may not fully deserve it (I'm more alarmed by some of the defense contractors in the Washington, DC area where I live who are gouging the Federal government for services that would bring a tenth of the price in the private sector).  But most of these individuals receiving government subsidy are doing the best that they can.  They often come from extremely difficult backgrounds and don't have the safety net of  family or friends who have means to help them like I would if I fell on hard times.   Rather than resent them, I commend them for trying to look nice and exhibit some self-respect.  OK, OK!! Tattoos are not the best method of self expression!!  I get it.  But, if a person had a tattoo on every limb and three on the torso and each cost $100, that would not be enough to rent a one-room apartment in the Washington, DC area where I live.

The people who loudly complain that someone in the grocery line ahead of them used a welfare card to by chips are just hateful people and probably will never change their attitudes.  My hope is that the rest of us will not give audience to this kind of hateful intolerance.  I hope that such comments will increasingly be met with silence, whether it is on Facebook or in everyday conversation.


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My View on Gay Marriage

I am a mental health therapist.  As you would imagine, people talk to me about themselves and do so more honestly than they do with other friends or even family.  Having done this for a number of years I  have certainly been stretched mentally as I attempt to empathize with the experience and feelings of my clients.

I have had numerous gay clients, both male and female.  Usually, at some point in the therapy process, a client will discuss their sexual orientation and how they came to grips with it.  This is a discussion that few heterosexuals have had with a gay person.  It has been extremely enlightening to me.  Many times, a person is well into adulthood before finally coming to grips with their sexual orientation.  Attempts to deny or change this have failed. In nearly every case, a person's disclosure that he/she is gay has made life quite difficult.  They have experienced being ostracized by friends, rejected by family and often treated cruelly.

In the national controversy about gay rights and gay marriage, some of the comments one hears seem to suggest that this is a choice that individuals have made (to be gay).  Some religious viewpoints see homosexuality as a sin from which a person needs to repent.  I asked a gay person onetime about the view that this is a choice that someone has made.  This person's response was that he had experienced rocks thrown through his windows, graffiti painted on his car and been shunned by some friends and family.  He said that his was not something that he would have chosen.

I have grown to admire such individuals who, despite the difficulty they have faced due to their sexual orientation, are positive, cheerful people who are trying to contribute to the world the best way can, just like the rest of us.  Just like heterosexuals, gay people want to formalize their relationship with the person to whom they have committed their life so that they can, not only experience the benefits of formalized marriage, but can also better fulfill the responsibilities of such a relationship.

Gay couples in states where gay marriage is not recognized have to plan carefully what they would do if one of them had to be unexpectedly hospitalized and was unable to make health decisions.  One person told me that the plan was to say that this was a step-sibling, since there was no blood or legal relationship that would permit accompanying a partner in the hospital during a life-threatening situation.  This is but one difficulty that a gay couple might encounter.

I have come to the conclusion that allowing gays to formalize their relationship and gain the benefits associated with marriage in no way negatively impacts traditional marriage.  I am well aware of the views of those who oppose this from a religious viewpoint.  However many biblical prohibitions are no longer observed, e.g. a man with a missing or damaged testicle cannot enter a place of worship, women menstruating are restricted as to what they can do or where they can sit, clothing that is made of certain mixed fabrics cannot be worn, women cannot speak in church, etc.  It is clear to me that a person's sexual orientation is not something that the individual voluntarily chooses.  Therefore, teachings that would lead to treating gays differently than heterosexuals is unfair and unkind and therefore inconsistent with the ideals of today's society.  My hope is that the 'love for one's fellow human being' that is enjoined upon the religious by their faith would enable them to extend tolerance rather than judgement.

I see the issue of "gay marriage' as an issue of the pursuit of happiness. As a therapist I have observed that it is an almost universal longing in people to have a committed relationship with someone who will share life with them. Such relationships are not easy and they do not always work, but nearly everyone longs for them.  In continuing the American ideal of providing an opportunity for individuals to pursue happiness, I believe it is appropriate to allow gay marriage.


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