Clairvoyance

Many of us probably wished we had some degree of clairvoyance. Think of the all the problems we would be able to anticipate and prevent only if we could be clairvoyant. Unfortunately, in our modern understanding of clairvoyance, only “special” people have this capacity and therefore, only they can “see” more that what meets the eye.
In our lives, we do meet individuals who sense more, sometimes they say they see, other times they hear, and other times, it is more of an overall experience. In reality, most of us have an experience like this at sometime or the other. We call it gut feel or hunch or even intuition. What it seems to indicate is that possibly, just possibly, we might experience the world in a much broader sense then we normally do through the five senses. I remember reading something once which said the humanity generally experiences the world primarily through sight. However, this accounts for less than 10% of the total experience. When we see how much visual bombardment we endure on a daily basis, we can also understand why sometimes, we need to take a rest and not see. We’re just too tired.
But what does all this have to do with clairvoyance? Looking at the word, it is possible to see two words in this one word. The first is “clair” which is related to clarity and means clear. The second part of the word is “voyance” which, with a stretch of the imagination, is related to “voyeur” which means seer or the one in the act of seeing. So it is also possible to understand clairvoyance as meaning “clear seer” or one who sees clearly. This only raises more questions. What does it mean to be a clear seer? And what is it that they see? Let us look at a practical example.
I was in a school meeting once and was asked by a fellow parent why a certain “religious” painting was placed in the classroom considering that the school was secular. The painting was there and I picked it up and showed it to all the parents and asked them what did they see. Right away many blurted out that they saw the Madonna and child, that they saw angels, etc. Of course, it didn’t help that many knew the title of the painting. So I repeated the question and asked them to tell me what they saw. By this time they thought I had lost the few marbles I had in my head because the answer was obvious. Then I asked them how did they know it was the Madonna? How did they know that these cute chubby looking kids were angels? How did they know or is that what they saw? What became clear to them was that there were several experiences occurring at the same time. They physically saw the painting. They called up memories and compared these with the painting. They formulated conclusions that it was a Madonna, it was the Christ child, they were angels. They also actually saw a painting of what appeared as a female holding a child floating in the clouds, and so on but no one actually said that this is what they saw. Following the exercise, we returned to the original question. What makes the painting religious as opposed to spiritual? Everyone had a particular feeling experience when they saw the painting as well and no one even brought this out. It was only slightly reflected in their tone of voice. In other words, there was more to the experience of seeing this painting then simply saying it is religious. So what happened to all those other experiences? Were they forgotten or were we all simply blind to them? Did we see clearly or were we happy to see what we had as memories? Tough questions. Is it possible that what we see is only what we want to see and not what we really see? Is it possible that this is similar to prejudging something? If we prejudge, is it safe to say that we are prejudiced?
The exercise is not meant to deny the application of our memory to our daily experiences. However, the exercise underscores how limited our view, our sight, of the world could be. Imagine the old days when people could not read and they depended on pictures, paintings in churches to tell them the story of the Bible. Can we even try to imagine what they saw? For them every detail, every plant, every color on clothing, every gesture of every image spoke volumes. To us, it’s just a painting and we apply our own experiences of beauty to experience it. What happened to this capacity see clearly what is in the painting?
Is it possible that clairvoyance was a capacity to see the world clearly, unclouded by alternative imagery and prejudice? If this is so, then all of us could be clairvoyant; we have simply forgotten. Modern life has filled our world with visual images, often even replacing our own memories. Our daily experiences are so full that we choose to ignore some just to get through the day. But do we ignore the correct ones? Often we choose to let our daily experiences “be responsible” by saying we have to no choice to do a certain deed because the circumstances force the situation. When this happens, and when we have no choice, we cannot be responsible. But what did we really see that made us say we had no choice?
On office mate once asked me how is it possible that I can leave the office early. I said, “Its simple. I pack my bag and walk out the door.” Of course they thought I was joking and they repeated the question. I gave the same answer. Then the question of responsibilities arose. I said, by choosing to pack my bag and walk out the door, I have also decided to be responsible for the consequences of my decision.
Our daily lives are full, crowded, stressful. We do need to be clairvoyant, to see clearly what happens and to try to understand the experiences we encounter. We need this to know what is important for the moment so that we can still the other images for just an instant. Then we can cope and be responsible for all our actions. And it is possible. Then, we can all go home early.

What's with the sequence

The sequence of the documents published actually occured in line with the festivals that they discussed. I uploaded them all at once hence they appear with the same post date. I have written one on clairvoyance and plan to write one on math. I am open to your thoughts on what else I should write about.

Advent and Christmas

The wonder of Advent and Christmas
When I was about 5 years old, I was convinced that my father was Santa Claus. So I planned to catch him in the act of placing presents in our stockings. I appropriated the sofa in the living room as my bed and brought out all my blankets and resolved to stay awake until I actually caught him in the act. Needless to say, I fell asleep.
Then, in the middle of the night, I stirred. I sleepily scanned the darkness of our living room, trying to remember what I was doing there. The darkness filled the room. And then I saw him; not my father, but another man, moving about with purpose. He was large with white hair, dressed in a deep red that, in hindsight, seem almost purple in the darkness. He was putting “things” into the stockings! He wasn’t anyone from within the household. I felt no fear; but a great sense of peace. In my mind, he was absolutely, irrefutably, Santa Claus. And I knew, for sure, that it wasn’t my father.
It would be nice of if all us, or our children could grow up to have such a wonderful memory such as this. Like an eternal ember that burns within in me, it continues to warm me with the experience of Santa Claus. The modern world challenges our experiences of this sort greatly and we all seek to find a meaning in the festivals that mean so much in our lives.
Advent
The build up to Christmas is of course Advent. Advent clearly marks the period that, from one point of view, is the official countdown to Christmas. What could Advent really mean? Like my experience, trying to catch Santa Claus, we need to prepare for Christmas and Advent helps us prepare. my experience helps get an insight into this. I prepared for the visit of Santa Claus by making sure I had a space, I was warm, and … it was dark. Yes, the focus was very much inward. In this darkness, a light was to come and show me (in my case hopefully show me that Santa was my father) something; illuminate something for me. Advent is a time of preparation; a time of preparation of oneself; a time of preparation in surrounding darkness.
The preparation of Advent spans four weeks, each corresponding to the preparation of the world; first the physical world, then the life world, followed by the world of movement or experience to culminate lastly with the ego or man. Each week allows us to focus on preparing a part of our lives for this great event. Here, wonder plays a key role as our imagination must now work to allow us to experience these events and prepare for the coming of Christ.
Christmas
We wait in anticipation and excitement for this day. Suddenly, we are filled with warmth, our heart glows happily, it spreads through our being and we feel safe, loved, and sure. We know. It may be but a fleeting moment in the midst of the daily travails and challenges; but it is there. There is the impulse to share, to bring this warmth to others. When I saw Santa Claus that night, I had never felt more safe, and loved, and sure. Something inside me told me that I knew. Thus it is not surprising that our most common image of Christmas is the family because there we experience directly this sense of security, love, and warmth. That imagination kindles and rekindles something within us all the time and actually makes us recognize Christmas.
Christmas has and is always a day of great wonder. Modern life challenges this aggressively and it is up to each of us to nurture that wonder within us. Without that wonder, the enchantment that is Christmas will cease.
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Today, my family lives very much with the memory of my Christmas adventure to catch Santa Claus. It is this memory that breathes warmly on my heart. It gives me hope, and strength, and love to meet my shortcomings, my fears and me. Christmas reminds me always of this, and fills my year with the warmth of Christ’s presence on earth and in me.

Raph
2005

Easter

Easter

When I was a little boy, I always thought Easter was quite a special holiday. We would look for these wonderfully sweet Easter eggs, delivered by the Easter bunny. I was too young to question the biological uniqueness of bunnies bringing eggs. Eventually, I grew up and understood that it was not a bunny but a hare, and that the eggs meant something more than just being a sweet treat. While all that changed, one thing didn’t: I still had this experience that Easter was a most wonderful of festivals. True, I must admit, it did not have the suspense of gift receiving at Christmas time, but it did have a much more wonderful quality, difficult to explain, that even Christmas did not have.
For most of us, Easter is a “relief.” Lent is over and the heaviness of that period is lifted in one instant. It is a time of family gatherings, good eating (to offset all the abstinence followed during Lent), and general good feelings. And yet, this greatest of Christian mysteries is also not so understood. It challenges modern society, with its tremendous faith in science and technology. How could some one rise from the dead? In a certain way, focusing on the events of Easter make us easily overlook the tremendous preparation that went into this event.
All we have to do is take a look back across the entire Holy Week beginning with Palm Sunday. On Palm Sunday, Jesus Christ was hailed as king. By mid-week, He is betrayed by one who is close to Him. By week’s end, the same people who hailed Him as king, screamed for His death and chose to free a well-known criminal instead. At face value, we believe that this was the path for Jesus to complete his task on earth. And yet, the story of the whole week sound quite familiar, something about it resonates from an earlier time in humanity’s existence. When else did we recognize an almighty Being as king? When else did we, as humanity, betray Him? When else did we put Him to death? Surely, humanity could not be so dense as to have totally missed the previous lesson. And yet, it appears that humanity did.
A long time ago, our ancestors embodied in all of humanity’s stories as the first man and woman, did live in the loving grace of an almighty Being. To them, this Being was king. After all, everything in the lives of the first man and woman was a gift from their Creator. For a long time, the first man and woman lived in harmony and without want. One day, an impulse moved them to betray their Creator. In the story of Adam and Eve, the serpent lured Eve to break a promise to God. This too is a form of betrayal. As a result of this, Adam and Eve were suddenly homeless. And, with this betrayal and subsequent homelessness, humanity set in motion the journey of the Christ to earth culminating in His death and resurrection. In many ways, Holy Week repeats this journey of mankind. On Palm Sunday, He is our king. By Thursday, He is not only betrayed but also eventually denied. By Friday, we kill Him. Is it possible that Holy Week, as a preparation for Easter, is a reminder of our cosmic history and a reminder to us of why Christ came?
Easter then must stand for something quite significant. If Holy Week is a condensed replay of humanity life story in relation to Christ’s mission on earth, then Black Saturday and Easter Sunday would have to be a continuation of this story. On Easter Sunday, the resurrected Christ is once again king; but He is now king in a different sense. He is a new king for a new condition for humanity. Something great must occur on Black Saturday to allow this transformation to come about. Looking again at the Easter events, it is possible to see the initial steps to redemption. The first people who actually encounter the risen Christ are women. This is important from a redemption point of view. Looking back at the story of Adam and Eve, one may argue that Eve, the female quality of humanity, started the downfall of man. If this point of view is true, then the “redemption” of this deed would have to start with the female quality of humanity: the women who first seek and meet the risen Christ. Whatever transformative force was at work on Black Saturday, its outcome is first experienced by humanity’s female qualities. And what about the male quality? Well, that took a little more time but revolved around recognizing their master. This too liberated Adam’s deed of eating the forbidden fruit at Eve’s suggestion.
Easter then is also about choice. Choice as to who is king; choice as to who do we follow; choice as to learning from the mistakes of humanity. Two thousand years ago, the people in Jerusalem chose to deny God and His Son; the Romans chose to vacillate and be weak; the disciples chose to be cowards, to deny, to betray, to hide; and most important of all, Jesus Christ chose to accept His destiny on earth.
Modern life is also about choices. But choose is not as clear as we would like it to be. Is one product better than another; is one ruler better than another; is one religion better than another. We like to think that there is a best choice; but is the best choice at the expense of another’s opportunity to choose? Tough questions, undoubtedly. The answers? Who knows. But perhaps, in understanding the transformative qualities and powers of the Christ on Black Saturday, and how this weaves into the entire fabric of humanity, we can take our first steps towards understanding the greatest of Christian festivals, and, more importantly, understanding the mission of humanity as the disciple of Christ.

What is Ceasar's

What is Ceasar’s?

I was recently asked to be a judge in a high school science research competition. It was an interesting experience, totally outside anything I had done before. Because of this, an interesting thought came to mind; why do we compete? Surely the world is full of televised competitions from the inane to the insane and our daily lives seem filled to the brim with competition. So why do we compete?
The easy answers can range from fame, glory, the money, to survival, promotion, etc. All these we have experienced at one time or another, in some shape or form. But we have never really stopped to wonder why and ask ourselves why we do it. Why will I risk potential public humiliation, just to compete?
A long time ago, when communities recognized any champion, he or she rose in stature in that community; they might even become king or most revered priest, doctor, wise man, you name it. And that was enough. Over time, this role naturally brought prestige and eventually, to some degree, a form of corruption. Corruption certainly was not as we experienced it today (not enough money and too little government I suppose); rather, corruption in an older society took the form of some sort of hardening. I suppose you could say it was like the setting of cement over time; it just got harder and stronger.
The reason a community recognized one of its own as “champion” was because they understood that this individual, arising from within their group, was able to apply him or herself to such a degree that the entire community benefited. The champion expected nothing in return, simply the respect of his or her community and even that, the communities were free to bestow or not. Imagine a playground where there are several children of ages five to six. In the yard, there rises a gigantic tree, its lower branches inviting the children to climb. They hesitate. Then one takes it on, struggles up the tree, cheered and supported by the other children. Every step of success of this child, is the success of the entire group. This child now become the hero, the champion, and is looked on in a different light. The group now has a hero and a champion, the best, which also makes the group the best. And yet, unlike other contests, this group, and their champion are more than happy to share their experience with another group. Sure, there is some taunting that goes one but eventually, the sharing takes place. The champion is, at the end of the day, just one of them.
In ancient history, such a champion was once called a dictator. In Roman society, which abhorred monarchies, dictators were a necessity in times of crisis. His task was to ensure that all efforts of the society were, to use a modern term, centrally coordinate, to ensure the greatest success of the society. When the crisis ended, the dictator reverted to their former role. This would seem almost unthinkable in modern society. How could this be so? Perhaps, the people of ancient Rome were moved by a deeper connection to something that we today can no longer experience as readily. Perhaps, the dictators themselves were quite exceptional people, of exceptional moral fiber. Whatever the case may be, it would seem to indicate that these early dictators had the special something that made them truly exceptional. Sadly, even that changed.
Dictators in Roman society became the norm. Then, to ensure their tenure, they created the job role of emperor. And if that wasn’t enough, they proceeded to eliminate all possibilities of redundancy by getting themselves deified. To know who the current emperor-god was, one only had to look at the coinage and lo and behold, there was the profile of the current emperor-god. There, they were “immortalized” forever frozen on the face of a coin.
This perhaps gives us best insight into what happened. These once extraordinary men, men of tremendous moral and physical courage, simply froze or hardened, such as appearing on coins. By become so hardened, they lost that wonderful flowing capacity to stand balanced between what is morally just and what is only of material concern. By becoming the currency of the time, they literally stamped their beings into the material concern of their people. The small child conquering the tree retained this flexibility to be able to stand between heaven and earth. The dictator, who believed himself god, sought to stand firmly where he ruled – earth.
A long time ago, some community leaders, responsible for the moral guidance of their society, challenged a single man with a question. They were hoping to trick him into giving an answer that would clearly show that he was a trouble-maker, a law-breaker. The community leaders, just like the now corrupted Roman dictators, had taken it upon themselves to be the sole interpreters of the laws of God. They too brought a coin as part of their challenge. Not to be misled, the single man they challenged simply looked at the coin and saw the profile of Tiberius. The answer was simple. Clearly the coin belonged to the current ceasar. What astounded the community leaders was not this part of the answer (as this was quite obvious) but rather that this single man continued his answer to include a moral answer. Yes Tiberius may rule the world with this coins, but as long as he stands solely on earth, he will be exactly like the coin, just a profile and never a complete man (or god as Tiberius would have certainly preferred). Humanity is more than this, he continued, humanity has a moral side, not visible in the coin, but for which humanity is equally responsible.
Why do we compete then? Surely not to prove our “manliness”? That would seem too obvious. Perhaps we compete because deep down inside us, there arises a welling for a sense of truth, fairness, effectively, morality, that is struggling to get out. We can let the profile of Ceasar rule the day; but it would only remain a profile. In the end, to be complete, we must not forget the deepest spiritual stirrings that make us truly part of humanity. Yes, at one time, great ceasars strode on earth but at a cost. Now, humanity has the chance to redeem itself and stand balanced between ceasar and God.

Prayer in the modern world

Prayer in the modern world

I had a high school teacher, teaching religion, who once told a room full of 11th grade boys in a Catholic school, “God is not a genie.” He said it with firmness and finality. It may seem like a strange statement; but at that time we are discussing prayer and why we prayed to God. Although this happened more than half a lifetime ago (for me at least) the words still ring clearly in my ears.
Recently, I was listening to another conversation on prayer. It covered, among other things, the qualities or elements of prayer. One particular thought remained from this conversation: prayer means there is a listener, an audience, so to speak, to receive the prayer. Another way of looking at it is, the one who prays, must be apart or separated from the one receiving the prayer.
In this same conversation, an intriguing question arose: “Did humanity always pray?” Of course, being good, God-fearing folk, we all readily agreed that from the very depths of time, humanity (or our ancestors) prayed – probably as fervently, if not more, than we did. Then a challenge was laid on the table: humanity did not always pray. This was such a stunning thought that we could actually not imagine it at all.
Historically speaking, one could actually imagine a primitive community of early human beings, living with great dependency on their surroundings. Whether they were hunters, gatherers, early farmers, they were clearly dependent on the world around them. So dependent were they, that they experienced their existence, literally, as part of that same environment. True there appear artifacts that such people, as they grew into more established communities, did make what appear as offerings to beings larger then themselves. But is this prayer? If we all lived in the same dormitory, and one of us received a parcel of goodies from parents, would we not naturally share it and everyone would thank the bearer of such a treat. In much the same way, perhaps, early humanity experienced the world and each other. If we were so addicted to these goodies, we would not ask our roommate for more, because we know he hasn’t got more. What we do is hope that his parents would send more. And there you have it. Those of us more desperate for the goodies will actually pray that the parents of our generous roommate would send more goodies. The roommate is present, to him we give thanks; the parents, the true source of the treat are not present, to them we pray.
If we can all imagine this scenario in a historical context, then an obvious question will arise: man had to learn to pray. And when does this happen? At least in the Bible, most of us are familiar with one of the bluntest requests humanity ever posed to a higher, spiritual being: Teach us to pray. Clearly, prayer was transforming. A growing sense of apartness, aloneness was arising in humanity of the time. Jesus Christ, as we all know, obliged: “Our Father….” Here was this spiritual being incarnate putting Himself at humanity’s level and joining humanity in addressing God. One may argue about translation and all that but one cannot deny that one possible way of looking at these two majestic words is that Christ spoke as one with humanity. Yes, in a sense, He too was apart, He was not in His kingdom. But these two words also stir in one’s deepest being a sense of warmth that is almost indescribable: I, too, am part of God, through the deed of His Son. In a certain sense, not only did Christ bring Himself to humanity’s level, but He also raises humanity’s level to be in touch with God, even if just the hem of His robe.
The pressures of modern living have made humanity pray like it has never prayed before. We pray for just about everything, from world peace to my parents not finding out that I have been sleeping with my girlfriend. We pray for success at work, to win games (or not to lose them) to pass exams, to heal the sick, to save the dying, to alleviate the suffering of the poor. Modern humanity could produce probably the largest catalog of prayers in existence. God must be terribly busy then. In the movie Bruce Almighty, Bruce, who has the opportunity to be God while God goes on vacation, is confronted by a deluge of e-mail of nothing but prayers. Exasperated, he simply chooses to grant all the prayers. Needless to say, chaos and mayhem follow. And yet, while just a movie meant to entertain us, this episode touched on a significant aspect of why we pray: when God grants our prayer, who becomes responsible for the consequences? In the movie, it was clear: God does.
The story of the Lord’s prayer, and the episode in Bruce Almighty highlights two interesting aspects of prayer that I think humanity needs to awaken to: first, when we pray, we bridge a void between us and our God; second, we need to recognize our responsibilities when we pray. Do we pray for our desires (praying for world peace could very well be a desire) or do we pray because we feel responsible for our deeds. The former will always be gratifying when granted and frustrating when not; the later will awaken within our innermost self that spark planted by Christ.
I suppose there can be many ways to say why we pray. We can even say that we accept the responsibility of the consequences of our prayers. And we must ask ourselves, honestly, whether we see God as a genie, a patron, a “God-father”, there to grant us wishes, or we see God as this wonderful being who grants all our prayers, in a myriad of wonderful, and often misunderstood ways, because He loving teaches us to be responsible. The onslaught of modern living should be enough of a gift to remind us of Christ within who has taught us truly how to pray.

Lent

Lent
When I was a young boy, I always found Lent to be one of those dreary festivals. It involved lots of praying, abstinence, fasting, and, during Holy Week, seriousness (no TV, no music, no laughter). It is easy to imagine how this could readily impact any young person more interested in learning and enjoying life than in contemplating its deeper secrets.
Now that I’m grown up, it feels like all that “sacrifice” as a juvenile was for nothing as today, eateries are open, tourist spots are booming, and, except for the services that are on-going in churches, there appear no visible signs of Lent.
Such a contrast naturally raises some questions in my mind: what is Lent? What do we really know about Lent? It starts with Ash Wednesday when we are reminded that we are dust and to dust we shall return; and it culminates on Black Saturday (although for most of us, Good Friday already provided the necessary relief). It covers the final days of Christ on earth. It is a good time to watch Ben Hur. So it does have a number of characteristics and yet none really tell me what it is.
Clearly something extraordinary happened during this time. Perhaps the clue to Lent is found in Easter. In Easter, there is the complete transformation of the physical being of Christ. This body, literally changes, as previewed in the Transfiguration. And while it may easy to say that such happens because He is Christ, it does not diminish the greatness of the event. After all, it was not a magical trick. It required considerable preparation, at least 30 years on earth with three years of ministry. The preparation required 12 assistants, one of whom was to betray Him. It also involved a number of women, thieves, blind people, cripples and yes, even the dead. The highest priests of the time were involved as they challenged and sought to discredit Christ’s work, and ultimately, just to ensure His execution, totally deny the existence of God. There was even an invading power, the greatest at the time, that was dragged into the quagmire of local politics. And through all this, Christ endured and ultimately resurrects.
With such a range of events, therefore, it would seem impossible to look at Lent as just another festival, albeit somber. In fact, it is the first of four festivals (Lent, Easter, Ascension, Pentecost) that span about one-third of the year. Like its three related festivals, it is also the remaining Christian festival that is dictated by the moon and the sun and not on a fixed date. All this adds to the mystery of Lent.
What happens during Lent, then, that makes it so deeply special. One way of looking at it was to consider what we would do if we knew we were going to die. The average person would go through various stages, including denial, and finally acceptance. If one was to be executed, however, this brings about additionally reactions including, for some, a sort of repentance. In both these cases, something interesting happens to the human being: death and evil become extremely real. Yes, you will die; and yes, your life is rife with evil. It may sound amazing because it inevitably points to the other side: in our daily lives, we deny our mortality and we deny that evil is part of our being. Interesting but most likely true. In our daily lives, it is as if a veil of some sort shrouds our vision of how much death and evil are part of the human being. It underscores our inability to totally grasp our true nature. We often speak of our mortality or our evil ways in an almost abstract sense, as if we were totally removed from it. Nothing could be further from the truth. Death and evil are very much part of our human nature. It is the cause of our daily struggles: we want live and we want to be good. However, we never actually confront these two facets of our lives. Lent provides us all the opportunity to do so.
During the Lenten season, by reliving the experience of Christ, we come to an experience about our mortality and our own evil ways. Christ meets both not only with confidence but with equanimity. This comes from a deeper understanding about the role that death plays in material existence and the role that evil plays in our daily lives. Modern challenges and modern science seem to work hand-in-hand to make it more and more difficult for us to understand how much death and evil are part of human nature. To this is added another realization: we face these facets of our being only as individuals. While it is true our friends may provide support, in the end, we, as individuals, must come to grips with our true nature, including our mortality and our evil ways.
Lent has a certain heaviness to it; not necessarily because it is a sad time, but perhaps because it is a time of serious preparation for our journey back to our spiritual origins. To prepare properly, we need to know who we are, down to the smallest nook and cranny of our being. This to most of us will be an almost impossible task. But we can start with what one may call “quick wins.” And these include the lessons we learn about ourselves during Lent.
Thus Lent is not all about darkness and gloom. In fact, in Lent, there radiates the greatest light of all humanity: true courage. Courage born from within creates a space for Christ to be part of our lives. Then, hand in hand with Christ, this courage may radiate to others and through this courage, others will learn to face their own true nature. By showing us the way, Christ already showed His deep understanding of the nature of humanity. He provides a helping hand. In Lent, we take the time to prepare for the future by understanding the present. Hopefully, the material temptations of our modern world, are used creatively in bringing about this understanding as well.

Epiphany

Epiphany
The feast of the Epiphany traditionally marks the end of the Christmas season. This is the festival that we generally envision as the visit of three kings from the east bearing gifts for the newborn “King of Kings.” It occurs 12 nights after Christmas eve and brings with it quite a different quality from the visit the shepherds make at the birth of the Jesus child. In modern times, this festival seems to be lost in the hustle and bustle of the ending Christmas season. Surely, there must be something more to this festival than the simple visit of three wise men, traveling from afar to reach Bethlehem.
One way of framing this festival to look at the trinity of images, a sort of triangle, that the story creates: on the right corner of this triangle, there are the three wise men from the east; on the left corner, there is Herod and his prophets; and at the apex of the triangle is the holy family. Let us look at the elements of this imagination to see what possible insights we can gather to better understand this festival.
The three wise men
The men who traveled from the east are wise men; they are not necessarily kings although our traditional imagination is that they are three kings. Herein lies the first possible insight into something special about these three men. They were scholarly men who studied the stars among other things. When the brilliant Christmas star appears, they know enough through their studies that this is not an ordinary event it humbles them. Hence they prepare for a journey. How do they become kings then in our imagination? Let us go back to the time of these events. Many communities still lived under the guidance of powerful rulers, men who were generally portrayed (or liked to be portrayed) as in touch with gods. For the average person, kings and priests were almost synonymous. A good king was one who could intercede on behalf of his people with the gods. Additionally, this was a time when the average person still saw the stars the messages of the gods; in other words, it was a means of communication between the godly realm and earth. The event these three men witnessed was so extraordinary that it moved them to journey to search the source of this brilliance. In many ways, only kings had the wherewithal to do this. In the subconsciousness of our language, we continue to recognize an inherent capacity former kings used to have, the capacity to read the stars and act as conduits for the messages of the gods. Thus, through our language, we transform the story of three wise men into the story of three kings.
Coming from the east reveals another possible insight: these men are not Israelites or chosen people. They are from outside that community. The east is beyond the borders of the know world of the chosen people. This also means that they are outside the know prophecies of the coming of the king of kings. They are total outsiders to the events in Bethlehem.
Herod
The three wise men are not the only wise or kingly men in this story. On the other side there is Herod and his prophets. They make an interesting entry to the story. The three wise men have now reached Jerusalem in their travels and for some reason they lose sight of the star. They meet Herod. Herod is totally unaware of the star even though he is practically under it and is a Jewish king. He is a bit perplexed that these three men have traveled this far in search for a king and that king is not Herod. This is a worrying time for king Herod. He summons his “wise men” and they remind him of a prophecy that fulfills Herod’s worst nightmares: there is a rival king. Unfortunately, unlike the three wise men, he sees no star and doesn’t know where to look. This would probably compound the worries he has. Here he is, king Herod, in touch with God, and conveniently left out of the loop. He recruits the wise men’s assistance to locate his potential rival and gives the pretext that he too wants to worship or recognize this new king. The three wise men oblige. When they leave Herod, lo and behold, the star appears once again and they find their way. As we know, an angel then appears to them and tells them not to pass Herod and they return home by a different way.
Herod, a man of the chosen people, comes to an extremely disheartening realization: he is no longer in touch with God. This has not only clouded his vision (and hence, he can no longer read the stars) but more critically, hardened his heart. To achieve his objective, once he realizes the three wise men are not return, he engages in a mass slaughter and becomes the villain in the entire Christmas festival story. Thirty-three years later, his descendent would have the chance to deny the Christ with finality.
What does this tell us
So what could all this mean? Let us consider Herod as the image of the current or past situation. He is a Jewish king, leader of his people, surrounded by his own set of wise men versed in Mosaic law and the prophecies of their ancestors. With all these advantages, he does not see the new king; in fact, he had even forgotten the prophecy. This prompts him into at least two unspeakable acts: the first is to attempt to deceive the three wise men and obtain their collaboration in weeding out his competitor. He almost succeeds; the second, is the mass slaughter of all male babies less than two years of age. The destruction of these innocent children may also be seen as the end of the innocence of the chosen people. No longer will God speak freely and openly with them; they are not innocent anymore, and, like little children who group up, the Israelites must now learn to meet God through their own efforts.
On the other hand, there are the three wise men. They see quite clearly. They see the star, they understand its meaning, they see the Holy Family and they even see the angel that warns them not to return to Herod. That they are scholarly men (wise men) tells us that this capacity to see is also the result of their scholarly work and devotion to learning what is true about the world. True scholar-scientists of their day, they are so moved that they journey, as long as necessary, even when Herod’s presence occludes their sight, with a devotion and persistence that underscores the search for the truth.
In some European countries, gift giving occurs on the Feast of the Epiphany. This coincides with the wise men bearing gifts. They bring gifts in recognition of He who will be King of Kings. This is the practice. However, there is an even greater gift that they bring, one that Herod missed, and underscores the deepest meanings of “King of Kings”: they brought sight. Yes, through scholarly, reverent, devoted work and reflection, the three wise men showed that the coming of Christ will be for everyone. No longer will the appearance be through tradition to “chosen people;” that time has passed. Now is the time for a new beginning; one where everyone, not just “chosen people” will have a chance to meet the Christ. The three wise men showed a path that was to recur through the life of Christ on earth: that His message of love and hope would be for everyone. The world was already changing even then. And this is what the three wise men saw. For me, this is the greatest gift they have brought for all mankind: we can all see the Christ.

12 Holy Nights

Twelve Holy Nights

Most of us are probably familiar (or tired of) the song The Twelve Days of Christmas. Not only is it repetitive but also we tend to forget what comes after the “five golden rings.” A quick search on the internet reveals, among other possibilities, that this song was a secret code for Catholics in England, allowing them to pursuing the deeper meaning of Christmas while avoiding persecution. Each of the 12 gifts representing some symbol of Christianity. The 12 days represented the days between the birth of the baby Jesus and the festival of the Epiphany. These cover the last six days of the old year and the first six days of the incoming year. Could there be more?
Of course, the number 12 has some obvious applications in our daily lives: there are 12 months in the year, there are 12 hours in each half day, there are the 12 signs of the zodiac, and yes there are 12 disciples (including Judas). Clearly, 12 plays quite a significant role in our daily lives. Surely, the fact that 12 nights (traditionally referred to as Holy Nights) cover Christmas Eve to Epiphany, could not be mere coincidence. Instead, these 12 nights could be replete with significance; a significance that is currently lost to modern man.
Let us look at the two festivals separated by these 12 holy nights: at the start is the birth of the Jesus child, and at the end the visit of the three wise men who seek the new king. Let us now look at our personal lives, at a point of transition: adolescences. In English, there is a clear marker: you become a teenager; in other words, you have completed the first 12 years of your life, as a youth, and now enter into the world of pre-adulthood. A transition from dependency or partial independence in the pre-teen years occurs as one moves into the teen years or pre-adult years. During this time, as all parents with teenagers know, the impulse to express freely who they are, independent from their parents, could not seem stronger. In much the same way, one could say that the 12 holy nights cover the transition of the infant Jesus to king. On Christmas Eve, the birth of the infant Jesus is heralded by angels and recognized by shepherds. The image of innocence, warm family surroundings, and love could not be more pronounced. On this night, we feel the security of a newborn child, safe in the loving embrace of his family. Over the twelve nights, this will change to a new feeling, one where this infant Jesus is now recognized by “strangers” and is also recognized as king; and then, He is under threat as Herod wants to eliminate all possible rivals. No longer is the safety of His immediate surroundings sufficient. He must flee to safety and to find a new home. This too is what we experienced as we turn into teenagers and suddenly awakened to the fact that we were not the lovable, cuddly children of our parents. Thoughts of flight cross our minds; we want to discover who we really are.
Could it be then, that these 12 holy nights is a chance for us to reflect on the 12-year cycles in our own lives? At 12, 24, 36, 48, 60…all these seem to represent turning points in our lives, through adolescence to mid-life, to retirement. During these 12 nights, six from the old or the past and six from the new or future, we have the chance to reflect on where we are in our lives, situated between past and future, understanding our relationship to the past and our responsibilities to the future. There is no other point in the year where the festivals we celebrate, the number of calendar days, the images of the two festivals, seem to come together in such a harmonious way. Somehow, in the hustle and bustle of the season, it would seem truly appropriate for us to provide a little time and space for this reflection. Over 2000 years ago, the Christ-child was born. What does that mean to me? Tomorrow is another day; can I meet this day with the living Christ within me? We need not be at start or end of a 12-year cycle to reflect on these thoughts.
So, instead of looking at these 12 days between Christmas and Epiphany as simply “time to pass between 2 holidays,” let us work to meet them in a manner befitting their traditional name of 12 Holy Nights. Surely, in a quiet corner of our homes or workplaces, we can find the chance for this reflection…. Either that or we sing The Twelve Days of Christmas.