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Moment of Zen: Home

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Back at Home

I’m back at home with Isabella. I got back around 12:30 am, got settled in, spent a little time with Isabella, and went to bed.

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Homeward Bound 🤞

My flight out of Montgomery is supposed to leave around 2:30. If all goes well, I should land in Burlington by 11 pm, which means I probably won’t get home until well after midnight. I have no doubt that I will be exhausted by the time I get home, but I will ge glad to get to see Isabella in the flesh. I have a camera set up so I can check in on her, but she doesn’t know that. I don’t try to speak to her through the camera, even though I could. The last time I tried that, it upset her and me because I could hear her crying trying to find me. 

I’m ready to be out of Alabama and back in Vermont. This trip, more than any before has cemented in me that Vermont is home. Alabama no longer is, and I am perfectly fine with that. I’m just ready to be home.

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One More Day

One more day and I then I’ll be heading home to see Isabella. My trip has had moments of good and bad, and I just need to get back to my own life. Yesterday, I visited with my aunt and that was nice. I got to see one of my two cats that she kept when I moved to Vermont. Edith allowed me to see her and seemed to recognize me, but Lucy hides from everyone. If I’d stayed and spent the night, Lucy would have heard my voice and came out, but I wasn’t there long enough. My aunt and I went to lunch and then saw some old neighbors and some elderly relatives. 

My aunt is conservative in some ways, but she hates Trump, and even though she’s a huge fan of Auburn football, she thought Tommy Tuberville was too dumb to be elected to the Senate. She’s also liberal on a lot of things that the rest of my family is not. It’s not necessarily that she’s liberal as that she doesn’t judge other people for being happy. Several times she pointed out men she knows and told me about their husbands. One is even an interracial gay couple, and while in most places that wouldn’t be much of an issue, gay and interracial is horror inducing to most people in Alabama. My aunt was very matter of fact about it as if she was talking about a straight couple or anything else. Trust me y’all, this is not the attitude of most Alabamians, but it should be. 

My aunt has always been gay friendly. She’s been a dental assistant for the past 40 years, and back in the 1980s, she worked for a dentist who was gay. He as forced to quit his dental practice when he contracted HIV. He eventually passed away from AIDS. I never heard her say anything disparaging about the fact that he was gay nor that he died of AIDS. My aunt has her faults. We all do, but for the most part, she’s a good-hearted woman who does not discriminate. She only gets upset with people when they are unkind to others. 

She undoubtedly knows I’m gay. We lived together for several years before I moved to Vermont. She also kept most of my books that I couldn’t take to Vermont with me. A lot of them are gay history or gay fiction. There is no mistaking what they are. I’ve never officially come out to her, but I know I could. I’ve just never known how to tell her. I’ve never been good at coming out to people. If I ever get in a serious relationship with a man, she’ll be the first family member to know because I know she’ll be accepting.

Anyway, I’d started out wiring this post planning to talk about how much I wanted to get home to see Isabella. It turned out to be quite different. It happens, but I’m keeping the title and picture I started out with for this post.

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When the Year Grows Old

When the Year Grows Old

By Edna St. Vincent Millay - 1892-1950

 

I cannot but remember

  When the year grows old—

October—November—

  How she disliked the cold!

 

She used to watch the swallows

  Go down across the sky,

And turn from the window

  With a little sharp sigh.

 

And often when the brown leaves

  Were brittle on the ground,

And the wind in the chimney

  Made a melancholy sound,

 

She had a look about her

  That I wish I could forget—

The look of a scared thing

  Sitting in a net!

 

Oh, beautiful at nightfall

  The soft spitting snow!

And beautiful the bare boughs

  Rubbing to and fro!

 

But the roaring of the fire,

  And the warmth of fur,

And the boiling of the kettle

  Were beautiful to her!

 

I cannot but remember

  When the year grows old—

October—November—

  How she disliked the cold!

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‘Twas the Day After Christmas

So far, I have survived Christmas with the family. I’ll be running errands and seeing other family members and old neighbors tomorrow, which should be nice. I’m looking forward to seeing some of them. It will get me away from my parents for a while. Yesterday was our family Christmas, and for the most part, things went well. I couldn’t do all of the cooking because of my broken hand, but what I couldn’t do, I was able to direct what should be done. It all turned out pretty well. I was pleased with most everything. I’m just glad it’s over with for another year. The next few days will see if my parents are on good behavior. Hopefully, they will be. They’ve been aggravating because they fuss at each other so much, but I’ve been able to get away from them when they are at their worst, so that’s helped. I just go to the other end of the house.

I hope that all of you had a “Wonderful Christmastime.” I have a few more days in Alabama before I fly back on Thursday. I think I can make it without losing my mind.

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“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”

Christ Is Born (Luke 2:1-20)

And it came to pass in those days that a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be registered. This census first took place while Quirinius was governing Syria. So all went to be registered, everyone to his own city.

 

Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judea, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and lineage of David, to be registered with Mary, his betrothed wife, who was with child. So it was, that while they were there, the days were completed for her to be delivered. And she brought forth her firstborn Son, and wrapped Him in swaddling cloths, and laid Him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.

 

Now there were in the same country shepherds living out in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. And behold, an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were greatly afraid. Then the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which will be to all people. For there is born to you this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be the sign to you: You will find a Babe wrapped in swaddling cloths, lying in a manger.”

 

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

“Glory to God in the highest,
And on earth peace, goodwill toward men!”

So it was, when the angels had gone away from them into heaven, that the shepherds said to one another, “Let us now go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has come to pass, which the Lord has made known to us.” And they came with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the Babe lying in a manger. Now when they had seen Him, they made widely known the saying which was told them concerning this Child. And all those who heard it marveled at those things which were told them by the shepherds. But Mary kept all these things and pondered them in her heart. Then the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things that they had heard and seen, as it was told them.

I want to thank Rick for the lovely Christmas image above by the gay artist JC Leyendecker.

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Santa Claus Is Coming to Town

Have you been naughty 😈 or nice 😇 ?

Moment of Zen: Warming by the Fire

🎶Later on

we'll conspire

as we dream by the fire

To face unafraid

the plans that we've made

walking in a winter wonderland🎶

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Alabama

I made it down here. God help me! I’m trying not to let them drive me crazy. As soon as we got to my parents’ house, I went straight to bed, although apparently they don’t understand that somebody is trying to sleep. They were watching tv and talking away. However, I was just too tired to let it keep me awake.

The orthopedist’s office finally called about my hand, but not until I was somewhere in the air between Burlington and Washington, DC. I had about a two hour layover, so I was able to call them back. I ended up playing phone tag with them until I was finally able to talk to someone. I have an appointment on the day after I get back to Vermont.

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Back in a Week

I’m flying down to Alabama today. I have limited internet access at my parents house, and my cellphone barely works, if it works at all. They live too far from civilization for my taste. However, that’s where I’ll be until next Thursday (12/29). I have scheduled “Pics of the Day” through Christmas, but as for daily posts, they may be a bit sporadic, if I can post at all. I will try to post some while I’m gone, but if I don’t, know that I’m okay. I may have to get on here just to rant bit or tell something funny that happened. Right now, I’m looking forward to one thing: eating at my favorite Mexican restaurant tonight. 

🎄HAPPY HOLIDAYS, EVERYONE!🎄

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Winter is here. Bundle up.

Happy Winter Solstice! ❄️

Blue

I’ve had a bad migraine for two days, and my hand is still hurting. I know part of the migraine is being caused by emotions that I just don’t want to talk about. I’d probably feel better if I did, but sometimes talking about things just make it worse, for me at least, especially when it’s something beyond my control. I’m flying to Alabama tomorrow, and I’m dreading every bit of it. There is absolutely nothing that I’m looking forward to while I’m there. So, I’m a bit blue at the moment. 

It also doesn’t help that I have to go to the dentist this morning. I hate going to the dentist.

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Mistletoe

Mistletoe

By Walter de la Mare

 

Sitting under the mistletoe

(Pale-green, fairy mistletoe),

One last candle burning low,

All the sleepy dancers gone,

Just one candle burning on,

Shadows lurking everywhere:

Some one came, and kissed me there.

 

Tired I was; my head would go

Nodding under the mistletoe

(Pale-green, fairy mistletoe),

No footsteps came, no voice, but only,

Just as I sat there, sleepy, lonely,

Stooped in the still and shadowy air

Lips unseen—and kissed me there.

 

 

About the Poet

Walter de la Mare was born on April 25, 1873, in London. He is the author of numerous books, including The Listeners (Constable & Company, 1912) and The Veil and Other Poems (Constable & Company, 1921). 

 

Walter de la Mare is considered one of modern literature’s chief exemplars of the romantic imagination. His complete works form a sustained treatment of romantic themes: dreams, death, rare states of mind and emotion, fantasy worlds of childhood, and the pursuit of the transcendent. 

 

He died on June 22, 1956. 

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My Wrist

When last I wrote about my arm, I was waiting to hear back from the clinic for the results of my x-ray. They never actually called me back, so I called them. As soon as I got my name out, The receptionist said, “Oh, I’m so glad you called. We didn’t have your number.” I was told that the woman I had seen the day before did not have my cell phone number and had called my office number. She apparently couldn’t find my cell phone number even though I had given it to them and they had texted me. Anyway, I was able to talk to the other PA at the clinic and he told me that I had a small fracture in my wrist. Of course this would be the day when we were getting a foot of snow. He said they needed to put a splint on it. He said if it was any other day of the week other than Friday, he would let it wait for the next day. However, he said that it could not wait until Monday. So, in the snow, I drove up to the clinic to get a splint put on my wrist. He referred me to an orthopedist to have a cast put on it. I’m hoping the orthopedist calls today. I’m not looking forward to having a cast on my wrist, and all of this is going to make it difficult to carry my bags in the airport, but I will manage.

I don’t think I realize how dependent I am on my right hand. Learning to use my left hand more has been difficult. It’s just another thing to get used to. Anyway, I wanted to give y’all an update on what was happening with the results of my fall on the ice.

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The Magi Returned Another Way

J.C. Leyendecker cover for Success Magazine, 1906. 

On coming to the house, they saw the child with his mother Mary, and they bowed down and worshiped him. Then they opened their treasures and presented him with gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to go back to Herod, they returned to their country by another route.

- Matthew 2:11-12

 

I love getting emails from Queer Theology. They always make me think, and sometimes they become inspiration for my Sunday posts. This week’s devotional is so perfectly worded, that I did not need to adapt it to my experiences. Often, their emails are geared more towards transgender individuals but can be adapted for all of us. Like I stated before, this one needed no adaptation, but there were a few things I wanted to add to it, so you will see that in italics. The rest was written by Brian G. Murphy, the Co-Founder of Queer Theology. As a historian, I find the story of the wise men to be particularly fascinating, mostly because of the inaccuracies most often portrayed in imagery of the wise men. At the end, you will see my own commentary about the wise men.

 

The nativity story has a message that LGBTQ+ Christians (and our allies) need to hear.

The scene of the “wise men'' coming to visit the baby Jesus is imprinted on our collective consciousness—whether from church pageants or Christmas movies or front yard nativity scenes. In most tellings of this tale, the wise men are supporting characters. They are there to reinforce the magnificence of Jesus. They arrive and then they disappear, never to be heard from again. The story of Matthew’s Gospel follows Jesus, not these travelers.

But let’s stick with them for a moment.

These Magi (whom patriarchy reinterprets as men) see a new star in the sky and are moved to find out what it means.

They set out to find the one whose birth the star announces. And they find Jesus.

The author of Matthew’s Gospel is laying out his case that right from the beginning, there was something special about Jesus. Even Magi in a foreign land recognized him as King of the Jews. Jesus, not Caesar, is king, the gospel writer is emphasizing here; a treasonous claim.

The wise travelers could have encountered the baby Jesus and gone back home, from whence they came. That’s what many of us do. For instance, we are stirred to attend a Black Lives Matter march or Pride protest by current events, and then a few months later, our lives slide back to normal.

That’s not what happens here, though. The Magi have an encounter with Jesus that so transforms them that they cannot possibly go home the way they came. They are changed. They “returned by another route.”

Has that happened to you? You encountered something so meaningful that you could not help but be changed by it? Your life could not help but be eternally altered?

Perhaps it was the first time you met a transgender person and you realized “Hot damn! That could be me?!”

Or maybe it was an injustice that cemented your calling as an activist or ally.

Perhaps it was your first queer kiss, when you realized there was no denying it any longer.

We are all shaped by our life experiences. With a little bit of distance, we can sometimes see just how big a difference the smallest moment made. In the hustle and bustle of life, it’s easy to miss them, to let them pass by without a second thought.

What if you took some time to see—truly see—the moments that shaped you? To think about that time on the dance floor or the church retreat or the picket line or summer camp or whatever it might be for you. And to name it holy. To remember that there you encountered the divine and were forever changed. (Want some help seeing how the Gospel is queer? Check this out)

These moments aren’t limited to your past. There are “manger moments” waiting ahead of you, if only you’ll pay attention. If only you’ll see the star in the sky and follow your curiosity and see where it leads and be open to being transformed by what you find there.

Onward you go, in a new direction.

If you enjoyed this reflection, there are 39 more where it came from in Queers The Word: a 40 day devotional for LGBTQ+ Christians. You can learn more, read some reviews, and pick up a copy here.
 

Waiting with you,
Brian
Brian G. Murphy
Co-Founder, Spiritual Practices Coach
connect@queertheology.com

 

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Traditional nativity scenes depict three "Wise Men" visiting the infant Jesus on the night of his birth in a manger accompanied by the shepherds and angels, but this should be understood as an artistic convention allowing the two separate scenes of the Adoration of the Shepherds on the birth night and the later Adoration of the Magi to be combined for convenience. The single biblical account in Matthew 2 simply presents an event at an unspecified point after Christ's birth in which "wise men" visits Him in a house, not a stable. The text also does not specify the length of time between the birth of Christ and the Magi's visit. Artistic depictions and the closeness of the traditional dates of December 25 and January 6 (Epiphany or Three Kings’ Day) encourage the widespread assumption that the visit took place the same winter as the birth, but later traditions varied, with the visit taken as occurring up to two winters later. This maximum interval explained Herod's command in Matthew 2:16–18 that the Massacre of the Innocents included boys up to two years old. It's always been my belief that the Magi visited Jesus sometime before he turned two years old.

 

Many of the stories we so popularly see about the Magi depicted in paintings and nativities are most likely inaccurate. Even the name "magi" was conceived later. The "wise men" may have been magi, and if they were, they were priests from another monotheistic religion. The term "magi" refers to the Persian priestly caste of Zoroastrianism. These priests paid particular attention to the stars as part of their religion. They gained an international reputation for astrology, which was at that time highly regarded as a science, and the reason why they would have seen the Star of Bethlehem as a sign of a significant birth, that birth being the King of Kings, the Jewish Messiah. 

 

Although the Magi are commonly referred to as "kings," nothing in the account from the Gospel of Matthew implies that they were rulers of any kind. The identification of the Magi as kings is linked to Old Testament prophecies that describe the Messiah being worshipped by kings in Isaiah 60:3, Psalm 68:29, and Psalm 72:10, which reads, "Yea, all kings shall fall down before him: all nations serve him." Early readers reinterpreted Matthew in light of these prophecies and elevated the Magi to kings. 

 

The New Testament does not give the names of the Magi nor how many Magi visited Jesus. There is no evidence that there were three wise men. This belief has always been conjectured from the three gifts given to Christ. There had to be at least two because the gospel uses the plural, but the exact number is never specified. However, traditions and legends identify a variety of different names for them. In the Western Christian church, they have all been regarded as saints and are commonly known as Melchior, a Persian scholar; Caspar; and Balthazar, a Babylonian scholar. According to Western church tradition, Balthasar is often represented as a king of Arabia or sometimes Ethiopia, Melchior as a king of Persia, and Gaspar as a king of India.

 

I could also go into detail about the reasoning behind the three gifts, gold, frankincense, and myrrh; however, I've gone on about the Magi for too long already. It does, however, show that what we commonly believe about the birth of Christ has little to do with what is in the Bible. Many Churches of Christ, including the one I grew up in, do not celebrate Christmas (though we did outside of church, just not as part of an official church gathering). The date of Jesus’ birth is not given, and it could just as easily been in the summer as in the winter. The celebration of Christmas started in Rome about 336 CE, but it did not become a major Christian festival until the 9th century. The origins of Christmas stem from both the pagan and Roman cultures. The Romans actually celebrated two holidays in the month of December. The first was Saturnalia, which was a two-week festival honoring their god of agriculture Saturn. On December 25th, they celebrated the birth of Mithra, their sun god. The early Church used the dates of local traditions, holidays, and festivals to set dates for religious holidays as a way to appeal to a wider group of people.

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Moment of Zen: Pineapple

Pic of the Day: Vintage Christmas Edition