Christmas Music for Jews

No matter how much most secular pop Christmas music gets on my nerves (and it really gets on my nerves), I still appreciate traditional religious Christmas music and classical Christmas-inspired pieces.  That might seem odd, since I’m a convert to Judaism, but the traditional Christmas music touches the part of my brain that likes to think about spiritual matters, even though I don’t come to the same religious conclusions Christians do.

Consider the beloved choral piece “For Unto Us A Child is Born,” as translated for Handel’s Messiah.

“ For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.”

The lyrics are the King James English translation of Isaiah 9:6, as sacred to Jews as to Christians.  But the lyrics have a different significance to people of each faith.  To Christians, they are confirmation of the fulfillment of prophesy through Jesus.  To Jews, they are a promise that has not yet been fulfilled.  And the text is absolutely legitimate when imagined through either world view.

 

From my Jewish point of view, the idea that “the government shall be upon his shoulder” is a pretty clear indication that the literal and supposedly historical figure of Jesus could not be the promised Messiah.  But Christians have other ways of interpreting this phrase.  And in a way, it doesn’t really matter, because whether you see the Messiah as having arrived in a literal sense, or whether you see the Messiah as a metaphor for a new birth of spirituality and human kindness that is yet to take place, as I do, joy and hope are the end result.

Joy, hope, and peace are the hallmarks of traditional Christmas music.  The quiet beauty of “Silent Night,” the jubilance of “Joy to the World,” and the stately reverence of The Messiah are universal in nature, though not in the specific religious interpretations of their texts.  Rather, the large body of traditional Christmas music that has survived the decades and even the centuries has survived because it speaks to a broader spiritual yearning that the major religions all have in common. So, though I am Jewish, I still listen.

Peace and Patience

In the wake of the recent escalation in Israel and Gaza, a friend posted this reasonable query to me: "What do I do with friends from Israel who are making 5-10 [Facebook] posts everyday to 'educate' us on how all the bombing is all really OK and justified?"  I get it. It's maddening to see your friends become defensive about Israel when you otherwise believe them to be partners for peace.  Here is the response I gave her, slightly paraphrased:

Maybe gently remind them there are Palestinian civilians in pain too, and then move on. Block them temporarily if it bothers you a lot. Don't let them polarize you by simplifying a complex problem.

Both sides have terrible, childish leadership right now, and the people on both sides are reflecting that. But there's a lot of frustration and pain on both sides as well, and your friends from Israel are probably frustrated and afraid. For instance, we have a good friend who's been sleeping in a bunker for the past two nights, and it isn't her fault the Israeli and Palestinian leaders are lobbing rockets at each other. Many of your other Israeli and Jewish friends are seeing things from the not-always balanced point of view that results from having friends and family in harm's way.

A Response to Pseudo-Religious Self Protectionism

Lately I'm seeing a trend in self-help books and internet sites that promote the idea that one should alleviate one's own "suffering" in order to be one's best self.  Surely that concept itself is not revolutionary, and I fully support the idea that one must take care of one's self before one can take care of others or be a force for good in the world.

However....

I am seeing this trend more and more as an excuse to divorce one's self from the ills of the world.  I recently read an article that basically suggested that shit happens, it's supposed to happen, and it's not one's job to worry about it.  Apparently, under this theory, one's only responsibility is to one's self-protection.  I find this absolutely appalling.  Worse, I often find it stated in the context of self-centered, self-help-minded pseudo-religion.

I was raised on the heels of the civil rights movement, from a place where people of all and no faiths came together to insist that Americans of color be treated equally and have the same rights as white Americans. Civil rights leaders and their followers risked their lives (and their lives were sometimes taken) in order for this equality of opportunity be afforded.  Yes, this did cause them pain. Change sometimes requires suffering. I don't believe it needs to require the same level of suffering for everyone or for every injustice, but I do believe in upholding the ideal that sometimes one must sacrifice a little of one's own happiness, comfort, and security to achieve justice for all.

Anyone who knows the stories of Buddha, or Jesus, or the Hebrew Exodus is aware that self-actualization or group change that has any meaning is preceded by a period of suffering.  Suffering is part of the process of being a better person and of creating a better world.  That doesn't mean accepting someone else's suffering, or even accepting one's own suffering permanently - but it does mean that conflict and pain often precedes meaningful change.

There is a time for letting go. Of this I have no doubt. There is a time when one must recognize that one is suffering for no good reason, and when one must cease that suffering in order to move on.  But I also have no doubt that there is a time for struggle. I worry about a culture where we seriously seem to want to tell people that alleviating our own personal suffering - at the possible expense of helping others alleviate theirs - is a legitimate path to personal salvation. I don't want to live in a world where people are so selfish and isolated, and I certainly don't want to be that kind of person.

Friedman is Not Sponsored by Anyone

I don't always agree with Thomas Friedman. For a guy who's supposed to be knowledgeable about the world, he often seems out of touch with life in the US.  He displays this naivete in the following New York Times column, but the important thing is that he finally gets it. Marketing Is Us. And we're taking it to an extreme that is destroying our civic identity:  This Column is Not Sponsored by Anyone - New York Times, May 12, 2012

Lizz Winstead FTW

I'm finally reading Lizz Winstead's collection of essays, Lizz Free or Die, which was her gift to me for allowing her to use a joke I made on Facebook in her stand-up act. She's a funny woman, and though I can't quite relate to her Catholic upbringing and her bouts of popularity and deserved but also lucky rise to fame, I do relate to her sense of humor and her frustration with the apathy and wrongheadedness in modern American culture. She has some damned good stories, especially that of the evening she realized she could still be funny while experiencing the ultimate wardrobe malfunction on stage.

And she legitimately and correctly uses the word "smegma" -- while referring to one of her dogs. The dog stories particularly crack me up. Especially the part about how she finally gave in to Sarah McLaughlin's caterwalling.

I haven't gotten to the part where she works with Rachel Maddow, but I can't wait.

Why you want to read Rachel Maddow's Drift even though you aren't a fangirl

(and might even be libertarian or conservative)

When I picked up my copy of Rachel Maddow's first book, Drift, I knew perfectly well I would be reading a book I'd mostly love. Everyone who currently knows me knows I am a Maddowfan of the first degree. On her eponymous television show, Maddow often reflects views I've long held, and with a delivery similar to my own attempt at humorous snark, but she's miles better at communication than I will ever be. So I knew going in that Maddow wouldn't be saying much to contradict my own opinions. She'd just be saying it better, and with more forethought and direct, intense research (Maddow has been working on the book for several years).

But as I read Drift, I also came to realize that Rachel Maddow and I (and many of the Maddowfans I've met in the past two years on Twitter and elsewhere) aren't as liberal in some respects as even I thought we were. Maddow and I share an appreciation of the military, drawn in part from having been associated with people in it, and in part from an enthusiasm for American military history. We are not pacifists, but would use war far more judiciously than the American government traditionally has done.

We also share a distaste for government waste. (*Gasp!* Liberals are against government waste!) Just like everyone else, we don't want our tax dollars going down proverbial rabbit holes. We just have different opinions from conservatives about what our tax dollars should be doing. (Here I leave out the purest of libertarians, of whom there are truly few in my experience, who sincerely want government out of everything... but I will come back to them.) Traditionally, the conservative versus liberal spending priority debate could be summed up as "save our asses from (mostly) external communists and fascists" versus "save our asses from (mostly) internal poverty, ignorance, and institutionalized inequality." But unlike some of our more radical leftist "comrades" (wink wink), Maddow and I share an appreciation for a lean, mean, fighting machine. Those first two adjectives are the key. Defense = good. Military Industrial Complex (to use Republican President Dwight D. Eisenhower's expression) = not good.

In Drift, Rachel Maddow outlines the history of that Military Industrial Complex (MIC) Eisenhower warned us about, in addition to that Imperial Presidency we so often hear told, and she pulls no partisan punches. While she describes the Reagan Administration's overreach in Panama, Granada, and Nicaragua in appalled detail, she begins her tale of MIC folly with the Johnson administration's political bumbling in Vietnam. She continues her harsh criticism of Democrat executives by explaining Bill Clinton's part in it, especially questioning his methods and decision to poltically sidestep some direct military action in the Balkans. She also does not hesitate to point out how President Obama has continued many, if not most, of Bush II's imperialist policies, and she calls out Democrat and Republican Congresses alike for what she calls "chickenshittery" in their unwillingness to put a stop to unnecessary MIC expansion. Rounding out the discussion, naturally, is her analysis of the Bush presidents' and MIC complicity in encouraging the MIC, especially the prolonged wars in Afghanistan and Iraq.

In criticizing government treatment of the military during the past decade, she is quick to point out that less than 1% of the population of our country has been fighting these wars, complete with multiple deployments for most troops, leaving a different 99% than liberals usually discuss to largely ignore the pain of war and instead fight over the meaning of yellow ribbons displayed for people many of us don't even know.

On the back cover of the book, Fox News head Roger Ailes and liberal author Naomi Klein are both quoted recommending it. I think this says something about its reach. Even if it comes to conclusions with which various partisans disagree, Drift documents the history of the most important confluence of domestic and international policy: the modern history of the American military and how the executive has brandished it, and she documents it with nonpartisan panache and occasional (wry) humor. And even if libertarians are reluctant to agree with Rachel Maddow's previously-expressed opinions on use of the government's ability to tax, spend, and regulate, they are likely to find her commentary on military and MIC government spending to be largely aligned with their views.

I'd like to see all the smart people read this book. Drift should begin a discussion that is long overdue. I'm grateful my pundit-of-choice has decided to attempt to start it.