Monday, January 24, 2011

Another Poem2

I wrote this for my wife at least five years ago, but I've always liked it.
For Only You

In far off France
The people dance
Whenever happiness shows.
They whirl and twirl
Boy and girl
Joie vivant to their toes.

In old Israel,
I hear tell
Whenever shalom seems near.
They sing aloud
Chests out, proud
And let the heavens hear.

In every land,
When glee is at hand
Good people find a way
To show their feelings,
Rocking and reeling,
Throughout the sun-lit day.

I am happy,
Very finger snappy
But usually silent, it’s true.
I simply rejoice so quiet
Without causing a riot
Because I always have you.





Friday, January 21, 2011

Another poem

My wife's birthday was last week.  I wrote her the following poem.  I thought other people would like to see it. 

Some people dream
Of soaring like a bird
Through the cool air
In some balmy clime.

Some would prefer to be a tree,
Tall and straight
Giving food to all:
Orange, apple and lime.

Others would roar like lions,
Growl like bears:
Be firm and strong,
And feared in their prime.

For me the choice is easy:
I’d rather be a Snuggy
And have my arms around you
All the time.

Happy Birthday!

Friday, January 14, 2011

Some thoughts about Belief


I’ve been having a discussion via e-mail with my younger brother about belief.  It grew out of a book I’m working on for a client who believes the biblical Exodus from Egypt is accurate.  My brother, who is not overwhelmingly religious, said that he accepts the story of the Jewish escape from Egypt under Moses regardless of archaeological evidence. 

“I believe,” he wrote.  “Isn’t that something?”

Good question, but it can also be taken two ways: isn’t it something that he would believe such a thing or isn’t his belief worth something.

Later, he told me he was making a light comment, but I think the whole question of belief is worth pursuing.

With belief, we can accept anything: my uncle can be reborn as a cow; a god died for my sins; heaven awaits believers; etc.  However, that belief is the result of happenstance: what did the family I was born into believe?  If our parents were Catholic, we would have been taught something totally different.  And, we would have believed it.  I'm not in favor of chance.  I would like to know what I believe actually has some validity.  That's why the Da Vinci Code was so devastating to Christianity: millions worldwide believed the book was valid because previous stories about Jesus have been shown to have little historical base.  Christians quickly accepted a novel as being real. 

A recent book explaining why such tales gain credence – the text was focused on conspiracies that people take as gospel – pointed that that whatever is claimed must be believable while the actual truth seems to have some gaps.  The idea that Jesus married Mary Magdalene and that their lineage affected world history seemed plausible in contrast with Christian beliefs.  It didn’t matter that the Priory of Sion, a supposed secret religious group protecting Jesus’ distant relatives, was invented in the 1960s or that the existence of any children fathered by Jesus would immediately destroy the claim of his divinity, which remains the whole point of the religion.

I find validity by studying and reading about archaeology and history.  What I believe requires that kind of underpinning.  As such, I can discard what does not fit into known historical evidence.  Take the cow and my uncle.  That's belief.  No amount of history will show that people are living multiple lives or come back as cows, mosquitoes or other humans. 

That's not true with the Exodus.  It had to have taken place in a particular time and place.
The Bible is our only source for this important event since no Egyptian records mention it.  The holy text provides some details that can be examined and verified.  Unfortunately, all the known facts simply do not match up with history.  No known pharaoh ever drowned.  Slaves did not build Egyptian cities.  No evidence of anyone living in the Sinai around 2,500 years has ever been found, even though evidence of prehistoric man has.  No mountain fits the description of Mt. Sinai.  Jews never went back to Mt. Sinai, the only known people who did not have regular pilgrimages to the site of an epiphany with their god.  Canaan was never invaded by Jews.  Cities supposedly destroyed were sometimes burned down in different eras; were already in ruins; were never destroyed; or did not exist then.  Cultural artifacts in Israel show no change over more than 1,000 years, conclusively indicating no influx of new people.

The latest theory on the origin of Judaism is that an impoverished portion of Canaanite society rebelled under the banner of a different god and succeeded in achieving some freedom.  Scorched wealthier sections of some cities support that theory.

As such, I cannot "believe" in something that did not nor could have taken place, any more than I can "believe: in Noah's ark, Saul talking with the ghost of Samuel or any other lovely biblical story.  Besides, I do not know how to pick and choose between one thing I'm supposed to believe in and something I can't.  If I can believe in the Exodus, where do I stop?  Why not believe in Jesus, Mohammad, Joseph Smith etc.?  If I draw a line, then I'm being capricious -- accepting one thing for no reason while rejecting another without any better reason.

I can’t use the Bible as bedrock.  After all, the Jewish section differs from the Christian portion.  In The “Old” Testament, for example, God condemns human sacrifice and demonstrates that by stopping Abraham from ritually killing his son.  Yet, in the “New” Testament, he blithely sacrifices his own son.  That’s one of a legion of discrepancies.

That leaves only facts and one question for my brother or anyone coping with the unfathomable idea of belief:   If I cannot base my belief on known facts, what could I possibly base my belief on?

Thursday, January 13, 2011

What's a little snow?

Everyone in Daytona Beach appears upset by the cold weather -- 28 degrees last night.  Windchill must have been 10. I'm the exception. I think it's pretty nice.  After all,  I was born in Maine and remember walking through snow tunnels to school.  I was much smaller then, of course.  In Northeast Ohio, where I live for more than 20 years, we often had 100-plus inches of snow every winter.  Try delivering newspapers in that kind of weather.  I did.  Our superintendent never closed school.  My brothers and I once walked to school is -23 temperatures.  My mother tried to drive us during that unusually severe cold spell, and her car engine froze at an intersection.  One day, after we arrived, school was canceled because of the cold, so we walked the 1.5 miles home in -21 degree cold.  While living in Cleveland, I recall seeing snowdrifts by the side of the road that looked like mountains.  One trip come home from Pennsylvania, we slid on ice for what seemed like miles.  A little cold?  Nothing to even think about.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Poem for the coldWinter Time Anyone can love in spring As the Earth revives, And soft breezes caress the trees While the gentle skies Evoke gauzy memories. Love naturally flowers in summer When the sun is high. Anyone can sit in the shade, Hold hands and sigh That love will never fade. Autumn has a certain charm That clasps the willing heart. Fall always excites and amazes, Setting itself apart To stir amorous gazes. But, when in the winter, All of us swaddled from head to toes Comes the truest test When all that’s visible is a nose Of who loves who the best. I love you so, My parka-clad Eskimo.


Winter Time

Anyone can love in spring
As the Earth revives,
And soft breezes caress the trees 
While the gentle skies  
Evoke gauzy memories.

Love naturally flowers in summer
When the sun is high.
Anyone can sit in the shade,
Hold hands and sigh
That love will never fade.

Autumn has a certain charm
That clasps the willing heart.
Fall always excites and amazes,
Setting itself apart
To stir amorous gazes.

But, when in the winter,
All of us swaddled from head to toes
Comes the truest test
When all that’s visible is a nose
Of who loves who the best.

I love you so,
My parka-clad Eskimo.