I Am Not Hamlet

If you haven't celebrated Christmas by now, you're not likely to start. Conversely, you don't have to quite let it go yet. Fight the ahistoricity! It's a feast of twelve days and depending on how you count, this is eleven or Epiphany Eve. In the Christian East, tonight is the vigil of Theophany. Theophany/Epiphany are two different sides of the same coin. East vs. West The West honors the Magi--who represent all of us goyim--and the miracle at the wedding at Cana (water for wine, anyone?) The East honors Jesus' baptism, and in more minor ways his circumcision and the Magi, too. It's all about a manifestation, a revealing, a shining forth. The Trinity is revealed (at the baptism), salvation is revealed to all the world (the Magi), the start of Jesus' public ministry (Cana). Just as the Incarnation honors all bodies, as the Son suddenly was born with one, so Theophany honors all the Earth's waters. Paralleling the Jewish Festival ...

     I was not at my home church for mass this morning (not that I feel like I have a home church since becoming Popish), but nevertheless my mood was buoyant.  After all, how could it not be.  Here we were standing as brothers and sisters commemorating one of the top five greatest events in the history of reality: the Incarnation.  Yet looking out and listening to the participation of my Roman brothers and sisters, one would think that something less than mundane had happened.  Something BORING, even.  We gathered to remember the God of the universe condescending to take on human dress and all we can do is half-heartedly sing and mumble ancient creeds that people died for?  I remained buoyant despite the lack of mutual awe.      Annie Dillard said waggishly that when people go to church they ought to be wearing crash helmets.  Do they really know who or what they are summoning?  Something more terrible, me...

Christus est natus ex Maria virginie!

Yes, it is still Christmas in the Martin household. Perhaps one of the few Protestant economies still practicing in its twelve-day splendor. Though, now, on the feast day of St. john there's only about 15 minutes left. The Martin offspring are equivocating--all presents now!--save some for later--all presents now!--save it for later (they aren't really familiar with the English Beat). Here is the inculcating of virtue in action. Can this newly minted four-year-old and fiver hold out for all their gifts through Epiphany Sunday? Only time, that strange, strange teacher will be able to report it to you. Anyway, raise a glass with the Martins--I drink to you the love of good Saint John.