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Archive for December, 2007

"It is cold tonight!" said the oldest shepherd. He pulled his ragged blanket about his shoulders.

The youngest shepherd had been out gathering sticks and twigs and thorn bushes.

"Shall I build a fire for us, Grandfather?" he asked. "See, I have gathered a good bundle of firewood."

"A fire would feel good!" shivered the middle-aged shepherd. "The wind in these hills is cruel tonight!”

The youngest shepherd worked for a long time with dry kindling and tinder. His hands were stiff with cold.

But finally he got a small fire started. "Ah!" Sighed the shepherds, holding their hands over the little flame.

The sheep on the hillsides rested quietly, lying close together to keep each other warm.

"The golden stars are very bright tonight," said the middle-aged shepherd, looking up into the sky. "I don't know that I ever saw them so bright."

The other shepherds looked up, too.

The youngest one stopped blowing on his fire. He pointed.

"There is one which is brighter and bigger than the others," he said. "See what strange, long beams it makes!"

"Those big bright stars in the sky make the earth seem colder," sighed the old shepherd. "My bones are old. This frosty weather makes them ache!"

"Wolves and wildcats like this winter weather," said the middle-aged shepherd. "They get very hungry. Their empty stomachs make them fierce and bold."

The boy laid a thorn stick on his fire. "My fire will scare the animals away," he laughed. "Run away, wolves and wildcats, or your whiskers will get scorched!"

"It is a strange thing," said one of the shepherds after a while, "but the wild animals are quiet tonight. Not once have I heard a wolf howl."

"Nor have I heard that fierce wildcat scream," said another. "It has become very still!"

"So it has," said the third shepherd.

"Even the wind has died down."

The bearded old man nodded.

"There is a hushed feeling in the air, as if everything waited quietly."

"Even my fire burns in a quiet way," said the boy. "Thornwood usually pops and crackles. This burns like a candle favor in the temple!"

"The smoke has a sweet smell, too," said the oldest shepherd. "Something about this night makes me think of a story which I have heard all my life."

"Tell us that story, Grandfather," said the boy in a soft voice.

The old man spoke in a low voice.

"All my life I have heard that a great king will come to the world some day. He will bring joy. He will help the poor and sad. He will set us free from the cruel kings who rule us now."

"The world would be happy to have a kind king instead of a cruel one like Herod," thought the boy. He looked about the frosty hillside.

Suddenly his eyes grew wide. He began to tremble.

"Grandfather! Uncle! Look. Look all around us. Do things look strange to you?"

The older shepherds looked. Their hearts beat faster.

A minute before, the world had looked cold and frosty. Now, suddenly it seemed to be springtime.

The frost had melted away, leaving soft green grass. The trees were filled with leaves and blossoms. The air was sweet with flower perfume. Bright birds sat on the trees and sang like little angels.

"It is a miracle!" whispered the shepherds. The boy looked up toward the sky. "How bright it is! Are the stars singing?"

A warm, glorious light shone all around the shepherds. I t became brighter and brighter. The shepherds hid their faces on the ground because they were frightened.

Then a voice spoke to them out of the light. It was a sweet, strong voice like music.

"Fear not!" said the voice. "Look up!" The shepherds raised their heads. It seemed that the skies had opened. In the brightness stood a great, shining angel. He spoke again:

"Fear not! I bring you tidings of great joy which shall be for all people!

"It has happened, then," murmured the old man. "Our promised king has come at last."

The angel said, "Here is the sign. You will find the baby wrapped in white linen strips and lying in a manger."

The heavens opened wider. Now there were more angels standing behind the messenger angel. They all sang, and the stars seemed to be singing, also.

"Glory to God in the highest! Peace on earth!

Good will to men!"

The glorious song rang like great silver bells in the night. It was the most beautiful song ever heard on earth. The shepherds bowed their heads and listened while they trembled with joy.

Then the sky closed. The angels disappeared. Only one great star was left shining in the dark sky.

"What of our sheep" asked the boy? His grandfather answered, "This is a holy night. The Lord will look after our sheep."

"The Lord visited us!" thought the boy.

"The angel of the Lord came to us-just three poor shepherds."

"He spoke of peace, and of good will," thought the middle-aged shepherd.

And the old man gave a prayer of thanks. "0 Lord, I am so thankful that I have lived this long. I have seen the great promise come true!"

Ahead of them the big star shone steadily. It seemed to move ahead of them, guiding their way through the night.

And so the three shepherds came to the city of Bethlehem.

"See, the star is pointing down toward that stable behind the inn," the shepherds said to one another.

"Here is where we will find the new king," said the old man as they entered the stable.

It was quiet and dim in the stable. Only the starlight shone down on the inside.

"Is there a new baby here?" called the old man softly.

Then the shepherds noticed brightness in a corner of the barn. It seemed to shine around a man and a woman who were sitting on some hay.

"Is there a new baby here?" called the old shepherd again.

"Look in the manger," said Joseph softly.

In the manger was a little baby. He was wrapped all about in soft white linen. Only his head was uncovered.

"See how the light shines about him!" whispered the young shepherd. "He glows with a holy brightness."

"Ah! He looks like a little angel," said the middle-aged shepherd.

"He is indeed a holy child!" said the old shepherd. The three visitors knelt about the manger. A feeling of peace and happiness came over them.

"We have heard wonderful tidings," said the old man at last.

He told of the things that had happened. Mary and Joseph listened quietly.

At last the shepherds arose. "We want everybody to know about this," said the old man. "We are going out and tell this great news to everybody we see."

As he went out, the old shepherd spoke to Mary and Joseph. "The Lord bless you and keep you," he said.

The baby's parents answered, "And the Lord makes his face to shine upon you! The Lord gives you peace."

When they were gone Mary said:

"Give me my baby, Joseph. I want to hold him in my arms and sing to him."

The baby opened his eyes and looked at his mother. He smiled at her. Mary's heart was filled with love and joy.

"He smiled at me!" she cried. "He smiled like a little loving baby angel."

She held the baby close and sang to him, rocking him gently back and forth:

"Sleep my little Jesus! Sleep, my blessed baby!"

On Valentine's Day you were feeling a little lonely. I guess the commercialism of the day got to you. You told me something I found interesting: you are afraid of a romantic attachment because it would signal a loss of freedom and autonomy. Did you get this idea from watching your father and me? I certainly hope not.

Marriage does not mean the loss of autonomy.

Marriage means becoming part of a unit. With children, the size of this unit grows. It may not be run along democratic lines-indeed, ours is not-but belonging to our family unit means that there are three people who care for you more than anyone else. We expect the same in return.

So, my dear, do not fear romantic attachments. One may be the start of your own family unit. Your marriage will be completely different from mine. You will have more choices. You will also not be able to blame your husband if you make the wrong decisions. I taught you to think for yourself but not to put yourself first. I love you.

Mom

For many of us, November is the month of football-either piling on warm clothes, grabbing a packet of hot coffee, and joining the throng on the bleachers or collapsing in a chair in front of the TV. What else is there to watch over Thanksgiving? For the Romans, November was an equally frenetic sports month in which athletes paraded their finely honed skills before crowds of cheering, avid fans shouting on their favorite team or champion. One difference is that the ancient Roman athletes performed before the gods and goddesses. Sports were a component of the religious ritual - the Ludi dedicated in November to Jupiter.

An ancient author, Dionysus of Halicarnassus, leaves us a colorful description of the parade and the athletic games. Young men, most likely of leading Roman families, led the procession, riding horseback or driving two- or four-horse chariots. Then came the competing athletes attired only in loincloths. Groups of dancers with flute and lyre players passed by next in the procession. These dancers wore red tunics with bronze belts, crested helmets, and swords and carried short spears. Behind them came other men dressed in goatskins playing the role of satyr and mimicking the warrior dancers. More groups of musicians and dancers followed, together with individuals carrying burning incense and sacred gold or silver ritual urns.

Images of the gods were then carried in procession, including the twelve Olympians as well as Saturn, Ops, Themis, the Muses, the Graces, and the semi-divine Hercules, Aesculapius, and others. Finally came the sacrificial animals. The Roman magistrates, serving as priests, officiated over the sacrifice of oxen; then the games would begin.

The events in the Circus Maximus, which could hold 150,000 people, were well attended and began with four-, three-, and two-horse chariot races. In one race, the driver had a companion riding in the chariot; as it crossed the finish line, the companion would leap from the chariot and run the track himself, competing against the other runners to win the whole race. The chariots raced for seven laps around the Circus Maximus, which is equivalent to about five miles and less than fifteen minutes. Then came boxing and wrestling matches, with the winners receiving crowns.

To the ancient Greeks and Romans, athletic skill was a gift of the gods and athletic competition was a form of worship that was taken very seriously-sport and religion were united. Athletes at the Olympic Games in
Greece traditionally offered sacrifice and prayer to Zeus/Jupiter before the events, swearing an oath against cheating, which was on par with blasphemy. It was the priest who gave the signal to start the race, while the victor officiated at the sacrifice to the god. When athletes trained hard and performed well at the games, they were hailed as heroes endowed with a divine blessing-a strong, fit body. The gods and goddesses attended the games and enjoyed a good rivalry and athletic competition; their images were carried in a parade through Rome just behind the athletes. Who could ask for better fan support?

Athletic skill is a wonderful and unique gift. In classical thought, it was as important to develop the body as the mind, so that there was a balance between the two. Our bodies are indeed expressions of the divine. Sacred games and sports under the auspices of the gods and goddesses were the ultimate tribute to the sanctity of the body. The combination of physical dexterity, strength, determination, and drive with hard work and hours of training shows itself in the moments of competition, whatever the sport. Those moments when the runner crosses the finish line, the charioteer pulls ahead of the rest, the wide receiver catches the touchdown pass, the striker puts the soccer ball in the net-those glorious few moments of achievement are moments of euphoria and awe. For the Greeks and Romans, these were sacred moments when the gods gave approving nods.

We honor the spirits in November by turning our attention to the passing of time and in doing so acknowledge the essential human spirit with all its frailties. Yes, we grow old, and in November we accept the process of aging. We revel in the peak moments of human achievements in art and sport, for the mind and the body. We lay back and observe the passing of the month and the end of the year. It is all good. And, most important, it will come again, with subsequent years, new playwrights, and new athletes striving to surpass the current records.

So this year as you are celebrating the accomplishments of your favorite athlete or star quarterback, be sure to ponder those Roman athletes (as you chug your beer and enjoy some gourmet nuts of course).

For many, especially women, confrontation through direct competition is uncomfortable and best avoided. We too quickly repress our drive to win, our aggressive and competitive side. Yet, in antiquity, there were models of competitive women who were honored and esteemed for their physical prowess. In myth, Atalanta wrestled, hunted, and required her suitors to compete against her in a foot race. In the classical world, we learn from inscriptions that "eleven priestesses of Bacchus put on a running competition." "Tatia directed a gymnasium for women," "My lovely sister Nikegora won the girl's race," and "Kyniska won the chariot race." Every four years, at Olympia, sixteen women together with female assistants put on the games to the goddess Hera, the Heraia. "Here is the method of running. The young women let down their hair, allow their tunic to reach just above the knee, and uncover their right shoulders as far as the breast". They then race through the Olympic stadium. The victorious women received statues with their names inscribed and wreaths of olive leaves.

Support for women's sports is growing with more girls actively participating.  At high schools at college campuses, women are now participating in sports that were largely considered just for men such as soccer and hockey.  A professional women's basketball league also shows just how much women in sports have grown.  If you've got a daughter or friend that is a sports fanatic, be sure to check out the All About Gifts & Baskets line of sports gift baskets which make great gifts for birthdays, get well, and just because.

Not only can we encourage our daughters to compete, but we also can look for ways to express our competitive side and acknowledge our aggressive and assertive nature. We too can feel the struggle to achieve, the rush at winning, and the agony of defeat, which on a lesser scale parallels the mortal agonies, the cosmic struggle of life and death.

The cold winter months are upon us now. It is the season when "icicles frozen by bitter winds hang down."

On October 3, 1931, Universal Studios finished shooting Frankenstein. Some notes about the motion picture that is continually one of the top 100 video rentals:

• After the surprising hit of Dracula earlier that year, Universal wanted another film that would feature the Hungarian actor Bela Lugosi - minus his loopy accent. They bought a theatrical adaptation of Mary Shelley's novel. (The chief difference is a relatively mute monster; the book's creature is a gas-bag who has monologues running for pages.)
  • The actor, who saw himself as a romantic lead, hated the makeup and the role. He said, "I was a star in my country... Anybody can moan and grunt."
  • In the studio cafeteria, director James Whale noticed a fellow Briton: Boris Karloff. (Born William Pratt, Karloff was a black sheep from an unloving family of diplomats. His parents died when he was a child; he was raised by siblings. He took his acting name from a maternal relative.)
• Karloff's acting, a black-and-white film that was tinted green, and a shocking story (for the time) created a hit film.
• After test screenings, Universal cut one sadistic scene in which the monster, thinking a friendly little girl will float, throws her into a lake. (Ironically, little Marilyn Harris enjoyed being chucked into the water by Karloff. In real life, her adoptive mother - who picked her out of an orphanage for her looks, motivated her acting with beatings and other sadism, writes critic Forrest Ackerman.)
• Karloff said later he got much sympathetic fan mail, especially from children, who said they understood the monster's feelings.
• Nineteen-year-old Mary Shelley started her novel after hearing a discussion about life between her husband-to-be, Percy Shelley, and Lord Byron. Mary's mother died 11 days after giving birth (Mary was courted on her mother's gravestone) and she was raised by a cruel father who barely tolerated her. Critics have noted the parallel between her childhood and the monster's life. (Sources: Behind the Scenes, The Dead That "Walk, Universal Filmscripts, news services.)

If you are commemorating this Halloween with a haunted house full of scary monsters like Frankenstein, then a Boo Mania Halloween Gift Basket filled with scary treats and ghosts might be the perfect centerpiece for your party!