A Christmas homily for all

December 24, 2017 by Merle Wenger Today, I find ample reason to celebrate the first days of winter the last weeks of the year, the increase of sunlight for Hannukah and Kwanza, Feliz Navidad, a very old story the birth of a king, to whom many sing a virgin birth no less, that neither implies sterility or inability but certainly emphasizes the aspect of fertility which would have pleased the country folk long ago whose pagan rituals sanctified birth's mystery a conjuring of the irrational we might defy: they blessed the four directions, the web of diversity life depended on relating to animals, the toil of the soil the constellations of the heavens were like lanterns in the dark. There's been a tendency of late you see with endless dazzling scientific discovery to downplay mystery as fodder for simple folk for once we understand meiosis and mitosis the replication of RNA, the creation of a baby's DNA genetic codes that turn us dull or bright, why should we take our eye from off the microscope-- to ponder unexplained realities the fickleness of candy canes and tinseled trees, possessed as we are with self-driving cars, intoxicated by nano-second timeliness with formulaic answers for the birds and the bees right here in our palms, our i-phones or our pads as if you have the power of a god at your fingertips-- we keep our eyes glued to facts that Google knows: oodles of answers to everyday tasks how to change your brake shoes, make homemade bombs; Why would one pause to raise their eyes to the sky to ponder a curiously extra bright star, that might draw well-disciplined minds afar; this metaphor for holy quests drew wise men as manger guests like Don Quixote or Elon Musk, imaginations taking off-- some follow uncharted dreams that others scoff. But viewing the virgin birth as metaphor As myth that fulfills a sacred text from time before A long-awaited messiah arrives on the doorstep of a new millennium Not from distant lands like many virgin births of lore Where Greek Gods gave birth in distant skies-- “No, right here on earth among the common folk Born in a barn where livestock loaf, Destined to lead throngs seeking change: He taught mankind to lay down arms Use brain over brawn Defy the old, eye for an eye, Lay up your swords, share your coat Search your own eye for fault or mote For divinity is found within ”reflects practiced humility Not in burning bush or faked piety. Yes, Jesu Christi, like divinities before Krishna, Buddha, Mithra, Horus and Dionysius All sages born sans sexual intercourse, Elevates these teachers to ethereal realms Disconnects from human drudgery and sensuality Links humanity to mystery, a medicine for the soul Truths invisible to microscope or telescope: For those with neither books or photographs Created classic epic stories and wisdom tracts Poetic interpretation of pre-scientific comprehension. But should you meet a postulate Whose faith base is more literal This is perhaps the season to pass it by For who am I to assess another’s sacredness? Instead, remember how oft we all suspend reality Dress up for Halloween as witch or ghost Wear silly togs to cheer our favorite team When Duke Dog comes along he brings applause Or when you play your favorite video game And literalism is tossed as if some foreign meme; Consider Mickey Mouse or Donald Duck Big Bird, Winnie the Pooh, Homer Simpson down on his luck A Lion King where jungle friends teach wise tales We sit entranced as talking animals prevail; To defy symbolism and metaphor You must forgo all theatre, bid adieu to Streep and Olivier Turn off the television--give up your addiction to fiction Send daily comic strips straight to the litter box Perhaps take off your smile as well-- And tell the world to go to hell. In the spirit of the holiday I say raise glasses high to holidays and holy ways the sanctified celebrations of eons past Even less dignified Amazon grins and Walmart ads for Santa Claus and yule logs, to holiday tunes by barking dogs May Kwanza fill your heart with Joy, Hannukah dazzle your days with light, when Jesus’ birthday pales, let New Year's ale fortify your body with seasoned bliss, We've made it through this year, there's much amiss, yet for today, for most of us, there's peace on earth, and I for one hope for some seeming miracle: reality, in fact, has become a bit too real. For me, it’s quite alright to celebrate the turning of the sun With polyester artificial Christmas trees Or virgin births of revered deities.