The birth of Jesus provides an insight into God’s ways. His only son was born into this world in poverty, to a laborer and a young virgin. Though Jesus was the “king of kings”, neither his birth nor his life bore any semblance of an earthly king. His kingship can best be realized in the Sermon on the Mount. “Blessed are the poor in spirit …”
The annual celebration of his birth does not resemble in any way the sparse nature of his birth. Christmas has evolved into a frenetic, consumer driven shopping season, especially in the western world. While developed countries in Europe and in North America continue a secular effort to remove the spiritual meaning from Christmas, the insatiable drive for more and more consumption soars. Skilled companies create a buying frenzy by introducing the latest, greatest device or toy. They announce the availability of the new device, providing the date and often the time it will be sold in stores. Crowds gather outside Wal Mart, Target, etc., hours before the stores open, in an effort to be among the first in line to buy the gift for their children. There have been instances of fights breaking out among the crowds because someone tried to sneak into line. What’s happened to Christmas?
Christmas has been hi-jacked by large corporations who rely upon the season to shore up the bottom lines. Christmas is a money making event. Often, Christmas season sales can make or break a company for a given year.
I don’t deny anyone the pleasure of buying gifts for their loved ones or friends. However, it bothers me that for so many, the focus is on buying rather than praising. Somewhere between the many-colored decorations and the buying frenzy, we seem to have forgotten him whom we should be honoring. I believe it is time we make Christmas the solemn, yet joyful event it should be. We should celebrate Christmas by honoring Jesus. The path to such reality is in the spirit of poverty. Those who are fortunate to have should be among those who give and share the most with those in need. If we were to do so, then our examples would reflect our faith. Our children would benefit by being shown what it really means to consider oneself a Christian.
© December 2006
William Charles
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
My Brother The Eagle
We buried an eagle yesterday. He had no pinions with which to loft his body and soar above the earth. He had no talons with which to pluck a meal from a clear, sparkling lake or river below. His beak was toothless. How many great birds wear dentures? This eagle wasn't feathered and had no wings. He walked on legs and feet and used his hands to guide food into his mouth. He couldn't even fly until a few days ago when his spirit was released from his frail and worn body.
The eagle was my brother.
It's funny but I never thought of Jim as an eagle until recently. My younger sister told me only last week that Jim had an affinity for eagles. Perhaps his love of country and his 20 year career in the United States Navy nurtured his affection for the eagle. This magnificent and proud bird was his favorite symbol. Eagles adorn the living room of his warm and humble home in northern Wisconsin. Some of the porcelain and metal figures are small, almost unnoticeable. Others are much more obvious. His funeral announcement featured an eagle soaring with a vague, opaque image of the American flag in the background. It was a fitting touch for such a sad event.
Make no mistake. Jim was a mere mortal in body. But, he was undeniably an eagle in spirit. The bald eagle has been the national bird since the inception of our nation. This magnificent bird symbolizes the fierce pride of our free republic. But, the eagle is more than just a national symbol and source of patriotic pride. The eagle is also a symbol found throughout the bible.
The Old Testament features the eagle in several books, most notably Psalms and Proverbs. It is a symbol of strength, courage and a nurturing parent.
In the past year my brother was the epitome of strength, courage and nurturing in his battle against a formidable foe: cancer.
After the shock of his illness wore off, he dug his talons into the edge of the cliff of fate, courageously thrust out his breast and faced a superior enemy head on. He was strong in the face of adversity and pain. He was courageous enough to hope against all odds. And, despite the pain and discomfort of radiation and chemotherapy, he tended his nest and his flock like a protective eagle.
Despite the debilitating effects of this insidious illness, he maintained his wonderful and childlike sense of humor till the end. No doubt to comfort his loved ones. No doubt, also, because that is the nature of an eagle. He was defeated but he never gave in. He refused to surrender.
When I was just ten years old, Jim left home. He was seventeen. He enlisted in the navy and began a career that would take him to Italy, Spain, Africa and other ports of call and military bases. He married a woman from Wisconsin and returned home to New Orleans only a handful of times.
I learned more about this man in two days than I learned about him in a lifetime. He was loving. He was generous, as generous as a man of his modest means could possibly be. His family, friends, and co-workers loved him. So did I. I simply didn't know him very well.
I've known only a few eagles in my life: a friend who died bravely and with dignity in his late twenties, a mother who suffered silently with excruciating pain before dying in the home of her sole remaining sibling. And now, a brother, who fought valiantly until the end. All died eagles, proud and courageous, struck down by an illness named cancer. (August 1996)
© August 1996
William Charles
The eagle was my brother.
It's funny but I never thought of Jim as an eagle until recently. My younger sister told me only last week that Jim had an affinity for eagles. Perhaps his love of country and his 20 year career in the United States Navy nurtured his affection for the eagle. This magnificent and proud bird was his favorite symbol. Eagles adorn the living room of his warm and humble home in northern Wisconsin. Some of the porcelain and metal figures are small, almost unnoticeable. Others are much more obvious. His funeral announcement featured an eagle soaring with a vague, opaque image of the American flag in the background. It was a fitting touch for such a sad event.
Make no mistake. Jim was a mere mortal in body. But, he was undeniably an eagle in spirit. The bald eagle has been the national bird since the inception of our nation. This magnificent bird symbolizes the fierce pride of our free republic. But, the eagle is more than just a national symbol and source of patriotic pride. The eagle is also a symbol found throughout the bible.
The Old Testament features the eagle in several books, most notably Psalms and Proverbs. It is a symbol of strength, courage and a nurturing parent.
In the past year my brother was the epitome of strength, courage and nurturing in his battle against a formidable foe: cancer.
After the shock of his illness wore off, he dug his talons into the edge of the cliff of fate, courageously thrust out his breast and faced a superior enemy head on. He was strong in the face of adversity and pain. He was courageous enough to hope against all odds. And, despite the pain and discomfort of radiation and chemotherapy, he tended his nest and his flock like a protective eagle.
Despite the debilitating effects of this insidious illness, he maintained his wonderful and childlike sense of humor till the end. No doubt to comfort his loved ones. No doubt, also, because that is the nature of an eagle. He was defeated but he never gave in. He refused to surrender.
When I was just ten years old, Jim left home. He was seventeen. He enlisted in the navy and began a career that would take him to Italy, Spain, Africa and other ports of call and military bases. He married a woman from Wisconsin and returned home to New Orleans only a handful of times.
I learned more about this man in two days than I learned about him in a lifetime. He was loving. He was generous, as generous as a man of his modest means could possibly be. His family, friends, and co-workers loved him. So did I. I simply didn't know him very well.
I've known only a few eagles in my life: a friend who died bravely and with dignity in his late twenties, a mother who suffered silently with excruciating pain before dying in the home of her sole remaining sibling. And now, a brother, who fought valiantly until the end. All died eagles, proud and courageous, struck down by an illness named cancer. (August 1996)
© August 1996
William Charles
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