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"The Wondering Jew"

2000-12-23 - 18:15:20

December 24, 2000

'Twas The Night

Christmas Eve is a magic time for all us children, mysteriously twinkling lights in house and out in town. People are seen bustling about on secret errands. Behind closed doors is the sound of crackling wrapping paper. The air of mystery and good cheer emanates from all good people, even some of those who are in need but know there are others in more desperate situations. Some of the hardest hearted will give charity with a Scrooge like face, but will say, "I'm doing this but don't you dare let anyone know because they will expect it every year."

The kids don't want to settle down to sleep, and the parents are insistent as they know a night's rest will make Christmas Day so much more fun for the kids. Now is the time for the grown folks to sit around the fireplace or at the kitchen table in the warmth and aroma of fresh baked goodies and sip whatever it is that is pleasant and peaceable for them and reminisce about Christmases of their long ago. I remember one Christmas Eve, daughter, her husband and myself were up till the wee hours were wee-er putting together a fantastic doll house for grand daughter's Christmas. You never saw such conferencing and discussion of the kind we went through while trying to interpret the very inadequate directions supplied. We got the job done and did it well by figuring out what the writer of the instructions was trying to say and matching pieces by eyeball-- the kids awoke and came downstairs, everything was arranged around the Christmas tree. The dollhouse in all its glory, furniture installed with the dolls doing their thing on the premises. Three tired and sleepy grown ups watched the kids and Heather live it up. That Christmas day I will remember forever.

I reached almost adulthood before I found out, "the reason for the season." Through time I drew closer and then farther apart from the "reason." At the time I began my diary I classified myself as an agnostic - a noncommittal nincompoop. One who didn't know, but wouldn't be surprised at whatever. But after following many journals and conversing by e-mail with many journalists, it finally dawned on me that my stumbling block was people who professed firm belief but by such hypocritical behavior showed that what they professed was all smoke and mirrors. I was told by different people, hey they are human too and prone to err. I acknowledged that fact, but what blew my mind is the fact that those "perfect people," swore above and beyond all things that they had never sinned. One instance I remember particularly, we lived in a small town near a large one. All supposedly pure as the white on Tom Sawyer's fence. But when I was in the larger town at times I would spot a townsman and a townswoman staggering out of a bar or maybe entering one of the cheapy hotels there who let the rooms by the hour. I recognized the actions as human foibles, but what pissed me off was the big front they put up and the bad mouthing they did about other people . . . . . . . it just didn't fit. So what I am is a professed believer who reads the Bible and hasn't found a church to fit into.

What a rant that was, sorry but those thoughts boil to the surface at inappropriate times.

Makes me feel like a child too tired to cope, but trying to hang in there and expressing his discontent by ranting a bit.

This is the time I think, that all people should make an effort to dispel their own antagonistic thoughts and feelings and look on each other as members of the same family, the human one - that goes for me too.

We lived in Tampa for some years, and I have been overseas and Christmas is the same most places, a courtesy extended by Buddhists and other religions to we of other faith. I guess that the only place where the differences are still a point of contention and warfare is in the cradle of many of our faiths - it is there that, "an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth," is still rigorously in effect. Mysterious isn't it ?

I don't think I want to read the newspaper until tomorrow or the next day. Maybe I can hold that feeling close for a while, till with the feeling, "'Twas The Night" . . . . . . .

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