Month: December 2019

Carlos Santana, a POCA at age 72, explained his approach to life to the AARP magazine this year. “It’s like everything in life right now; it has to do with being in the right place at the right time. The universe will bring you an abundance of opportunities and possibilities. It’s really all about trusting that before you got there, when you were sleeping, the universe was conspiring to give you something to blow your mind. Would you be open to receive it?”

Later in the interview, “I wanted to sound like B.B. King and Otis Rush and all of the people I loved. [I would] go into a closet, turn the lights off and play, and try to sound like them.  And then I didn’t sound like them. I sounded like me. I didn’t realize that it was a blessing instead of a curse. But when I stopped trying to sound like somebody else and really paid attention to me, I heard that sound that goes through all people’s hearts.”

There is a rich history to the celebration of Hanukkah, dating back to Judas Maccabeus in the 2^nd century B.C.E.  One part of the story involves a miracle: a one-day supply of oil burning for eight days.  The core of the message of the season seems to me to be about freedom and the regaining of self-determination as a people.  The freedom, though, was not only of an individual but of a people who, then, in community, worshipped their God and exercised the right of self-determination.

Miracles and acting in community for common purposes we decide for ourselves; are we open to receive these?

The Christmas season celebrates the birth of Jesus of Nazareth, known to his followers as the Messiah.  Christians would substitute “God” for Santana’s “the universe.” They, too, believe in a miracle, a virgin birth, and characterize Jesus as the “Son of God,” God being defined as “love.” Jesus’ messianic mission is, through the spreading of love, to bring humanity back into the presence of God.  

Miracles and loving all people as children of God; are we open to receive these?

Kwanzaa was created by Dr. Maulana Karenga in 1966 as an antidote to the racial strife abroad in the country at that time; a way to affirm African family and social values.  There are seven principles celebrated in the observance of Kwanzaa: unity, self-determination, collective responsibility, cooperative economics, purpose, creativity, and faith.  Kwanzaa is not viewed as a substitute for Christmas.

I am not aware that Dr. Karenga cited any miracles in the formulation of the principles of Kwanzaa though his hope was that all seven principles would become common practice.  Acting in unity, in community, for common purposes we decide for ourselves; are we open to receive these?

A recent political cartoon in the Star-Advertiser featured a locomotive speeding to nowhere in particular.  On its side was the name of the train: “the Polarized Express.” How appropriate that a train so named would be speeding toward nowhere!

If Santana is right, that there is an “abundance of opportunities and possibilities,” why are we polarized? Perhaps he answers that question by noting how he tried to “sound like B.B. King and Otis Rush.” To what extent have people given in to unquestioningly echoing their favored political leaders, whose business it is to create conditions which only they can address, rather than listening to “the sound that goes through all people’s hearts” in their own hearts?

What might that sound be?

People of a Certain Age, do you remember…”I got a hammer, I got a bell, and I gotta a song to sing, all over this land? It’s the hammer of justice, it’s the bell of freedom, it’s a song about love between my brothers and my sisters, all over this land.” (Peter, Paul and Mary)

Certainly, Santana speaks about a song. Surely, the song is one we all can sing, in our own voices, sounding like our unique selves. Hopefully we have hammers of justice (equal access for all to the opportunities in our society), bells of freedom (tempered by fairness), and a love between all our brothers and sisters, no matter their race, religion, political party or choice of automobile (thank you, Ellen DeGeneres).

Song is central to the celebration of Christmas. Angels, we are told, sang “glory to God in the highest and peace to all.” Carols convey joy, awe, wonder, and the warmth of family.

Be it blood relatives or a chosen one, family is at the center of all three celebrations.

Light, too, is a constant in these celebrations, candles being a part of Hanukkah and Kwanzaa, and the Star in the East lighting the way for the three wise men.  Our society today could use a lot less heat and a lot more light.

A hammer of justice, a bell of freedom, songs, family, light, our unique voices, community, miracles, love; Santana is right about an abundance of opportunities and possibilities. The December holidays are a chance every year to answer his question: are we open to that abundance?

Daniel E. White

December 23, 2019

A feature of church, school, and Boy Scout camps I attended was the evening campfire.  Sometimes campers helped stack the wood in a cement ring, filling in lower spaces with twigs, leaves, and other materials that would serve as the starter. Once the evening meal ended, campers gathered around to hear stories, sing songs, cook s’mores, and drink hot chocolate.

The fire gave light that cast shadows off the faces of those gathered.  Since most camps were in the foothills where temperatures dropped after sunset, fire also provided warmth. As the time around the fire extended, campers would, at times, bunch closer together to stay warm.

Not a few puppy love crushes were spawned at such fires, a magical internal fire kindled.  It did not take long for campers to develop a connectedness, the cohering of a group through shared experience, both illuminated and warmed by fire. When the camp ended, we campers parted with pledges to keep in touch that, if my case is any example, seldom happened, no matter how solemnly promised.

While we were at camp together, though, we were part of something bigger than ourselves, a community.  That felt good. Neither our political beliefs, if we had any, nor our ethnicity mattered.

I never served in the military.  Several of my friends did, a few in combat circumstances.  In the context of battle, being under fire is not a good thing.  The obvious purpose of the fire is to kill, or at least deter one from advancing toward whomever is doing the firing.

From what I have read, seen depicted in movies, and heard from my friends, the basic instinct when under fire, apart from not being killed, is to do your best to protect your comrade in arms.  So many of the stories about battlefield heroism derive from the actions of one soldier to protect the lives of others.  And no soldier would willingly leave a wounded comrade if there was any chance to bring that person to safety.

Under fire, a community forms, rooted in the training soldiers receive and the time they spend preparing for battle. But, if what I have learned is accurate, it is the fire to which soldiers are subjected that forges the lasting bonds of community.  Under fire, no one asks about political beliefs, and bullets do not discriminate by race.  Those levels of community seem to last beyond combat, even when veterans don’t often see one another.

Our friends lost their home in the Thomas Fire in Ventura County, California in December 2017. So did over 500 others.  We visited them a few months later and saw silent testimonials to the random destructiveness of fire in the many cement slabs filled with charred remnants of many lives.  These houses and people had formed the well-tended upper middle class neighborhood winding up the street we had visited only a few months before.

Some families decided not to rebuild and put their lots up for sale.  Others eventually decided to rebuild after a period of recovery from the shock and grief.  Our friends never hesitated about building a new home on their land and began to gather their burned-out neighbors into a group that moved forward together, learning about insurance, contractors, building codes, etc.

Our friends observed that their pleasant-enough neighborhood had coalesced into something different following the fire.  People who were once content just to know a neighbor’s name now shared stories in the manner of good friends.

We visited them again when their new house was well under construction. They invited us to join the group on its monthly tour of each other’s new houses, completed or in process.  As they milled about looking at structural and design features, they chatted about kids and jobs and Ventura happenings.  Each family seemed to know a lot about the others in the group.

I could not help but feel the warmth of that community forged from fire. No one talked about political or religious beliefs. In the circumstances, they didn’t matter.

The Dalai Lama once noted that, “as we recognize others’ suffering and realize we are not alone, our pain is lessened…you realize that you are not a solitary cell.”

Our friends hope the new community endures beyond the end of construction, morphing into a small interest group that can advocate for the neighborhood, becoming one of the historically American building blocks in politics. Time will tell whether the effect of the Thomas Fire on that community is more like the campfire or being under fire.

Perhaps it doesn’t matter.  People of a Certain Age, we have all experienced community in some form or another.  We understand that, despite our seemingly innate drive to individuate, we value being part of something bigger than ourselves.

Camp fire, enemy fire, wildfire; all can be catalysts for community that does not depend on our politics, religious beliefs, ethnicity, nationality.  That is the community of humanity.

Sometimes, it takes fire to forge a community and force us to see what really matters.

Daniel E. White

December 9, 2019