Category Archives: Celebrations

Baby Jesus, and Secret Hidden Messages Just For You

(in which I present my Christmas thoughts this year by discussing not so secret messages, which version of Jesus you prefer, The Mandalorian (Baby Yoda), The Book Thief, Death, Birth, and All Things New.)


I just finished reading “The Book Thief.” I was given the book by someone who told me that the narrator reminded them of me. It didn’t take too long into it that I realized the narrator is Death.
That’s its own thing, but given how much my head’s been swirling lately, and just how many thoughts go circling around up there, I can see the similarities.
But it’s the last line that really clinched it for me, a last note from the narrator.

I am haunted by humans.”

It’s true. Well…it’s true that that’s how the book ends. But not just that.
It’s true of me too. I am haunted by humans. One of the greatest gifts I can say I’ve gotten was stories of old, of people I never met nor knew. Letters written. Windows into just a PART of someone’s life.

But isn’t that what a story is anyway? Just a window? A person is so much more. And to know the person is SO much more than just knowing the story.

Every story ever told really happened.
Stories…are where memories go when they’re forgotten.”

I can’t speak to why memories get forgotten, but I can say with a certain conviction that stories impact us all differently, and the emotions they elicit in each of us individually can be just as varied as their impact.
But stories have themes. They may even have recurring messages. Some are poetically weaved throughout—subtle. And others are overtly stated right at the beginning.
In The Book Thief, the last line is the narrator stating, “I am haunted by humans.” But one of the first lines is this: “HERE’S A SMALL FACT You are going to die.”

Seems a bit overt, probably probing, begging you to ask yourself the question, “Am I okay with this? Am I okay with dying?” Maybe even makes you get a bit more philosophical in your self reflection and introspection, “What’s it mean to die? What’s it mean to be alive? What’s it mean to die while still living?”
But the more I read on, the more I realized that the Book Thief is less a about the character of Liesel Meminger, and more a character study of Death itself; AND as a result, a means of which causes you, the reader, to engage with the character of Death, and perhaps more subtly, your relationship to that character—to Death.

How do you relate to Death?


Well. Going back to Christmas. We’ve got a story of Birth, not Death (though, maybe as you’ll see soon, perhaps the story of Christmas is as much as story of Death as it is of Birth).
Put simply, I think the story of Christmas, of Bethlehem, and of the birth of a baby—the revelation that the most important thing in the universe is an infant—also serves to reveal more about you, the reader, and how you engage with each character.
It’s almost inescapable.
And ohhhh how we try so hard to do so. Let’s make it about making sure we say the right thing around the holiday, or do the right thing, or buy the right thing. Let’s keep busy. Let’s not think too hard. Let’s do just enough acknowledgment that we feel we’ve serviced the “heart” of the holiday, but not in a way where it changes us, or causes us anxiety about ourselves. Let’s not think too hard about it so as to ask the questions that REALLY SHOULD be asked, the ones that may just bring about the end of us.
It is, after all, simply the birth of the “Savior,” and we KNOW what name to write on the birthday cake.

And it’s the end of the story—the death and resurrection—that we’re left with.

But what does the beginning tell us? What does it reveal about ourselves?
Which version of Jesus do YOU pray to?

I started this post with a clip from Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby. It’s probably my favorite scene from that film because it presents such a real and honest display of everything I’ve been saying up to this point.
What version of Jesus you prefer and like the best says more about you than it does about Jesus.

And what’s wrong with liking the baby version the best?
Because it’s weak? Because it’s not the savior? Because it requires care and a more delicate hand on your part?

See, the grown up, bearded man version of Jesus is the one we go to. That’s the one that “carries us” when we’re struggling (why there’s only one set of footprints). The grown up version is the one that takes care of US, dies for US, saves US.
But the baby version…well…the baby version requires YOU to care for IT. The baby version requires YOU to take care of IT.

It’s the baby version that requires YOU to die for IT.

The baby version requires more on your part. More questions. More self reflection. More introspection. More anxiety. Maybe even the end of you. It requires honesty. Vulnerability.
It requires being an adult. Being a parent. Care. Tenderness. Protection. Realness. Stress.
You feeling weak, frustrated, open to hurt.
It requires you being human.

How do YOU relate to BABY Jesus?

See, I don’t think that’s a question we want to ask ourselves. So we project. We know the end of the story, after all. And the holiday celebrating the birth of Jesus becomes more about what the end of the story means.

I am haunted by humans.”

Recently—much like most redblooded Americans—I began watching Disney+’s “The Mandalorian.” It didn’t take long to reveal the big shocker of the series: a baby Yoda.

Image result for baby yoda
Friggin adorable. You should see him eat a frog. Or play with spaceship controls. Or disobey.

Whoa! Spoilers!” You say. To which I respond with, “Welcome to the internet.”

But the series turns heel at that moment. And what you THOUGHT was a story about one character and his history, becomes about how he relates to an infant.
See he doesn’t know baby Yoda, or what a Yoda species means, it’s power, rarity, bigger narrative implications. He just sees an infant. An adorable one.
And come episode three, the titular Mandalorian abandons everything to take care of the infant.

It’ll be interesting to see what happens at the story’s end, because we the audience don’t know what this baby is, or how important it is, or what will happen to it in the overall narrative.
Like we do with the infant born in a middle eastern cave, and laid in a food troth.
We know the end there. “It is finished.” (Though I don’t think all of us understand the end…)

What if all we had was the beginning (of the story)?

Over the course of my teaching career, I’ve had countless times where students have approached me to say they’re convinced I said something in class just for them. Like I was speaking for their benefit, and speaking directly and only to them. Like I was coding secret messages in a general message JUST to reach out to them.
Funny thing about truth is that sometimes it pierces in such a personal way that it feels as if it’s talking to JUST US. And I won’t lie, sometimes I DID code secret messages in a general message JUST to reach out to specific individuals.

But sometimes a story can feel so personal simply because we think we know the ending. Or maybe that the storyteller does. We think we have it all figured out, the story. It’s like that with people too. We think we know the ending. Or that the other person does.
When in reality, it’s just the beginning. And what that means to us is that we don’t know the ending.
We only know that the story has truly just begun.
And that lack of knowing what happens next, well…if we think we have it figured out, what do we need the story for? What do we need another person for?

Personally, this year has brought about a lot of change. Like…a LOT.
This year has brought about the end of me in so many ways, it’s impossible to fully get into without long, drawn out conversations that stretch far into the night.
And anyone that knows me well enough knows how difficult and challenging this season has always been to me. Not just Christmas, but my birthday as well (which happens to be coming up soon, and falls prior to Christmas). This whole season, just difficult no matter WHAT else is going on in my life.
And I can always tell the struggle has begun because—without FAIL—my lower back begins to hurt to the point of debilitation. This year it hit two days ago. And each year I think, “Gah. What did I do? How’d I pull my back THIS bad??” And then I realize this happens EVERY YEAR.

But something clicked this year that has changed what I view this season to be. No, not that it cured my lower back pain.
The theme. What’s at the heart of the story of this season? The birth? Baby Jesus? All the questions and self reflection and introspection that relating to Baby Jesus brings?

Do not be afraid.” Zacharias. Joseph. Mary. The shephards. “Do not be afraid.”
This is one of the first lines of the narrative in both the Gospels of Matthew and Luke that provide us the Nativity Story, the birth of Jesus.
Do not be afraid.”
THIS is the theme of the story. Each of these characters may have been told the importance of Jesus, what Jesus will be, all of it. But what they were facing in the here and now was this: an infant. A baby.
“A baby changes everything…”

How much responsibility. Care.
The END of you. A NEW relationship.

And it’s scary. It’s frightening. There’s SO many what ifs. And it will more than likely be the end of you. But all of this is GOOD NEWS. The END of FEAR. Which is good news in itself.

You have everything to fear, and yet you’re told, “It’s okay. You have nothing to fear.”

This is how the story starts. Overtly.
And if anything is subtly weaved throughout the rest of the story, it’s this message.

So I may not know the future. I don’t, actually. Just like I don’t know what’s gonna happen in The Mandalorian, or if having a baby Yoda is somehow going to play into The Rise of Skywalker.
I don’t know it. And not knowing the story can be very scary. And present the end of me.

But I’m not afraid.

And no, this isn’t me making a subtle secret message. (But then again, I’m not that good of a storyteller.) I’m not being poetic, I’m not being mysterious or obscure.
I’m saying this directly and overtly.

I bring you good news. And it’s this: You don’t have to be afraid.

This will change everything, sure. It’ll be the end of you, sure. But you don’t have to fear it.
You don’t have to fear anything that causes you fear.

Merry Christmas. Happy Holidays.
For this is only the beginning. And it’s not just a season. It’s a new life.
THIS is the new year. And none of us have anything to fear.

It’s true. WHEREVER you find love, it feels like Christmas.”

And Christmas means YOU HAVE NOTHING TO FEAR.
So…WHEREVER you find love…DON’T BE AFRAID.
THAT’S good news.

There is no fear in love…perfect love casts out fear.” – 1st John 4:18


And I believe THAT is worth giving thanks.

Let’s all give thanks to tiny, 8lbs 6oz, newborn infant Jesus, who doesn’t even know his shapes and colors.


(UP NEXT:What is Love? Baby Don’t Hurt Me… A Reexamination of the Film, Warm Bodies”)

->and the world WILL be better for this…

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Filed under Celebrating, Celebrations, Christmas, God stuff

When is a Birthday Worth Celebrating (And is it THIS Year)?

It always has fascinated me just how much celebrations are connected with music. Maybe it’s simply because I’m musically minded. But I do believe there’s deeper symbolism somewhere in there.

In his first volume, “The Raw and the Cooked” (Le Cru et le Cuit), French anthropologist Claude Lévi-Strauss wrote that music is “the only language with the contradictory attributes of being at once intelligible and untranslatable…” Songs are a story, which is something we know inherently. They’re a musical story of us.

Maybe that’s why we often sing songs traditionally without any thought or regard put into what’s being sung. Songs connect us to something deeper than even the lyrics may convey.

Ever been to a birthday party and someone doesn’t sing “happy birthday” with everyone else? It doesn’t even have to be your birthday for it to give you this incensed feeling. Even though if you were to really think about the lyrics of the birthday song, we’re singing nothing of any value. All we’re really conveying in that song is, “Hey you were born today. Hey you were born today. Hey you, specific person I’ll name by name you were born today. Hey you were born today.”

And you might say, “Well…it’s not the lyrics themselves, but the symbolism. It’s not the lyrics themselves, but the sentiment behind the song.” And so if someone is at a birthday party and REFUSES to join in singing “Happy Birthday” with everyone, we ask ourselves “then what are they even doing here at the party??” Because we correlate their lack of singing as a statement on their part that whomever’s birthday it is isn’t worth celebrating. So why are they even at a party focused on that individual?
I don’t know. This is just a hypothetical.
MAYBE they’re there not for the birthday, but for the rest of you. Who knows.

It IS weird to me though, how we just mechanistically we DO these customs and traditions without even thinking about them.
Or how often we sing songs because of “tradition” without really considering the lyrics we’re singing. But isn’t that…KIND OF what so much of our lives have become? How many (metaphorical) songs do we find ourselves “singing” without even once stopping to consider (or in some cases, reevaluate) the lyrics we’re singing?

…All Show, No Substance…

When you’re out at a restaurant and “Happy Birthday” is sung at another table, do you join in singing? Or do you refrain because you don’t know the person? What if the party is incensed because of your refusal to join in song?
Would it be ridiculous for that part to say to you, “Well if you’re not going to sing and participate in celebrating this individual, why are you even AT this restaurant?”

What makes someone worth YOUR singing about?
What makes someone worth YOU celebrating?

“Please stand for OUR National Anthem”

The song’s about a Spanish guy!

Not really.
The song is about a flag.
It’s honoring a piece of cloth.
Glorifying fabric.
Worshiping a glorified bed sheet, or board shorts, or tank top, or a pair of crocs.

But no…because it’s not about the lyrics, but about the symbolism and sentiment behind WHY you stand and sing it. You’re not celebrating the flag, you’re celebrating “the land of the free and the home of the brave.

It’s not the words, it’s what’s behind them.

“The land of the free and the home of the brave.”
Interesting description.

It’s not about the lyrics, but the meaning behind it. We’re not celebrating the flag, we’re celebrating freedom and bravery.

Are we free? Are we brave?’s the HOME of those that are. Okay, how many? And how many does it take to make the whole land be known as the “home of”?

What makes it the land of the free? What makes it the home of the brave?
Is it “The land of the Free American Citizens,” “Home of American Citizens who are brave?”

What’s it take to COME to this “land” and make it “home”? What agency? Autonomy? …Freedom?
…What bravery?

Does THAT still count?

There’s a document we tend to honor and celebrate, kind of like a birth certificate. That says things like “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” Who does that apply to? JUST American Citizens? Or was this supposed to be the country where you CAME TO in that pursuit?
Do these rights REALLY apply to ALL, or does “all” simply mean American Nationals…CITIZENS?

…All Show, No Substance…

Another song we love hearing a good rendition of on particular celebrations?
America the Beautiful.” (LINK TO LYRICS) Ohhh. SO Good!

Now there’s a lot to unpack in this song as well, but the question is still the same: What are we singing about in this song? The land itself? LAND? Worshiping LAND?? No? Something deeper?

Alabaster cities…(jars that have symbolism in Christianity of being completely poured out and EMPTIED onto Jesus)

And just what the hell does it mean that “God shed His grace on thee”…?

God crowns good WITH brotherhood (interesting that it’s not “IN” brotherhood, but WITH it…)


In 1852, Frederick Douglass delivered a speech now referred to as “What to the Slave is the Fourth of July?” Given in reflection of the Celebration of American Independence (it’s birthday…) the day prior. This was delivered a good 10 years prior to the abolition of slavery.
Analysis of the speech will convey Douglass’ desire to to address what TRULY makes an “American”? Where’s the fight? In a sense, what IS that “American Spirit”?

And yeah, Christianity plays a HUGE part in his speech. Not partisanship. Not the “moral majority.” Christianity. Where Christians SHOULD find their identity. As Americans? As Nationalists? As Republicans? Or as followers of Christ?
And his point was that this “Christian” Nation of ours wasn’t behaving very Christ-like.

This “Christian” Nation of ours ISN’T (currently) behaving very Christ-like…

But Douglass had hope that while he stated we as a Nation weren’t worth celebrating, we CAN be…


We may sing hollow songs because of the meaning and substance IN the song. But I like to believe we don’t sing songs that have a meaning we don’t at all agree with and believe.

America. An “Honorable Christian Nation, Land of the free and home of the brave” that currently ISN’T behaving bravely, freely, honorably, Christlike, or even AMERICAN.

I believe in the symbol America stands for, but the substance is lacking.
…A white-washed tomb…

And until we bring back that American Spirit, I may be a the party, but I’m not going to be singing.

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Filed under 4th of July, America, America the Beautiful, Celebrating, Celebrations, Christian Nation, Fourth of July, God stuff, National Anthem, Patriotism, Political (as such), The Star Spangled Banner