Author: djpasternak

Returning home from our Thanksgiving dinner with family some miles away, we noticed a number of homes arrayed with Christmas lights. It reminded me of my childhood when returning from my grandparents during the holiday season, my siblings and I sat staring out the car windows at the array of lights trimming the majority of houses along our route.

Have you wondered where this custom came from? Of course we know Jesus was born to be ‘a light to the world’. We know He was born in the town of Bethlehem in Israel that happened to lie a few miles south of Jerusalem where high on the platform of the Second Temple Jews were celebrating the Feast of Lights on the 25th of the month of Kislev which corresponds to our December 25th, Christmas. The following passage from my novel describes the history of the Feast of Lights/ Hanukkah.

Excerpt from: Daybreak From On High

With the feast of Tabernacles past, the crowds in the Temple dwindled. In a couple of weeks, another festival was to arrive, the Feast of Lights, also known as the Feast of Dedication. It was celebrated on the 25^th of Kislev. In my studies I learned on this date more than one-hundred and sixty years ago the re-dedication of the Temple occurred.

Forty years before, Israel was a state of the Seleucid Empire ruled by the King of Syria. It was a Greek State, and they worshiped Greek Gods, the highest of whom was Zeus. The king at that time allowed the Hebrews to practice their Jewish faith. When a new king, Antiochus IV, took the throne, he wanted everyone to be Greek and worship Greek gods. He called himself Antiochus Epiphanes meaning Antiochus the visible god.

The brother of the High Priest bribed Antiochus to appoint him High Priest, and killed his brother to avoid opposition. Three years later another man gave Antiochus a higher bribe and then he became High Priest. Sadly some of the bribes came from stolen gold objects used in the Temple.

Antiochus brazenly put up a statue of Zeus on the 25th of Kislev. To rid himself of the Jews he burned some of their homes and slaughtered many of them. Matthias, a Jew named like my father, began a rebellion which finally succeeded under the leadership of his son, Judas Maccabee. Judas and his men lived in caves during those years.

On the 25th of Kislev three years later, they tore down the statue of Zeus and cleansed the Temple. The men worked eight days and nights restoring the Temple to purity even though there was only enough oil for one night at most; miraculously the oil lasted for eight. For that reason pilgrims processed each year through Jerusalem holding lighted torches. In the Court in front of the Temple, eight impressive torches on lampposts were lit, making it one of the most beautiful festivals.

NOTE: Some two-thousand years since the birth of Jesus millions of Christmas lights dispel the ‘dark winter’ of 2020 in our country and in the world.

Some months ago on waking in the middle of the night, I recalled a dream of being blind: total darkness, as if my eyes did not exist, nothing just the blackness. Opening my eyes, realizing it was not real, the fear remained with me like a little child afraid of the dark.

Is it coincidence that the ‘perhaps in-coming president’ used the phrase “the darkest winter” and “the dark winter” repeatedly referring to the corona pandemic. In fact the campaign revolved around this virus as if it has the power to destroy all light including the sun and moon and stars. Is this meant to instill fear, despair, and helplessness in us poor peasants?

Wherein lies the answer to this present darkness? Let us turn to St. Paul while during his imprisonment he wrote to the Ephesians: 6:11-12 “Put on the armor of God so that you may be able to stand firm against the tactics of the devil. For our struggle is not with flesh and blood, but with the principalities, with the powers, with the world rulers of this present darkness, with the evil spirits in the heavens.” St.Paul calls for action in Ephesians: 6:14 “With all prayer and supplication, pray at every opportunity in the spirit.” This call to pray is expanded in his letter to the Philippians: 4:4-9.

The corona virus did not create the sun and moon and stars. Nor did it create us who have been given the light of Christ Jesus. who said to Peter and you and me:”Do not be afraid.” Pray little children and do not fear the dark.

The next post will be on The Festival of Lights.

Many years ago when our fist grandson was barely three years old, he and I walked to the library just a couple of blocks away from his house. The crisp air, bright sunshine and blue sky perfectly fit the joy of walking with this dear child. Holloween decorations ranged from pumpkins and smiling Casper-like ghosts to ugly monsters and black shrouded witches, the usual scary dark trappings of the day soon to arrive. Little Matt was not the typical three year old and the makings of a philosopher were already implanted in his soul. This was evident to all those around him.

As I remember there were several teenagers dressed in black and smoking and spewing a few swear words. It was typical for that time; sadly oblivious of the hazards of nicotine or defying the norm, which in their all dressing the same, smoking and using bad language they were instead conforming to the group. My companion looked up at me and with a knowing expression said, “They are that way because they don’t know God.”

I could only think of the words of Jesus: “… out of the mouths of babes and nursing sucklings you have perfected praise…”. Matt. 11:6 As this now young man enters a world where many do not know God, I pray he will continue to see the simple truths and light the way for some of them.

OOPS!! Fact check by your devoted blogger: Melania did not name the White House Rose Garden after Pope John Paul 11 just added a John Paul 11 rose by that name. I should have empathy for the people responsible for the bogus news that our present First Lady actually had historic cherry trees cut down as well as removing historic roses from past administrations the latest of which was done by Jacqueline Kennedy. Actually fact check tells us that the trees were dug up and were crab apple trees that would be planted elsewhere in the Rose Garden because they had grown to a size giving too much shade for the sun loving roses.

Sorry, I realize we don’t really need any more untruths in internet postings. Will be more careful in the future. I apologize to my Polish friends and be assured of my devotion to our beloved Saint.

Perhaps the two or three avid fans of my blog have noticed the absence of posts these past few weeks. Nothing inspired me although much is happening in the world we live in. I sat staring at the blank page day after day. Perhaps this glorious day in the seventies, sunny with low humidity, opened a door to more than one happy moment of creative joy. That is my reason for writing two blogs on this last day of August.

As my husband and I listened to the news this morning, a number of excerpts from last night’s RNC convention were rolling over the air waves of our radio which only has one station that comes in without static. We were eating breakfast as my husband shot back comments to the BBC commentators as they in their calm British way refuted any positive input on the convention. I munched along until I heard the name, Melania, and put some emphasis in my wifely command, “Be quiet!!”

She gave her speech in the White House rose garden. And I admit listening to her lovely voice my mind wondered thinking of what she wore and how I’d look her up on you-tube as I dutifully shushed my mate several times during the comments, one depicting her speech as ‘presidential’ in a reasoned but derogatory way, of course as only the British can. As they finished with the First Lady, I ran to the computer and found the news I sought. No picture of her in the first article about her overseeing the renovation of the White House Rose Garden, but it grabbed my attention none-the-less. Melania added a new rose named for Pope John Paul 11 to commemorate his visit there in the 1970’s. ***

I read on and never did see her on you-tube. I was shocked (and delighted) she blatantly (and beautifully, I thought) combined both politics and religion. Chesterton would love it!

*** Note correction that the rose garden itself was not named after the saint but a rose. This is also mentioned in the next post. ooops!!

If you want to win friends ‘never discuss politics or religion’. This reminds me of a story about G.K. Chesterton. When he was applying to a newspaper in London as a columnist, he was told to write about anything except politics and religion. From what I surmise he did not reply to the employer; however, he said as it turned out he wrote about nothing but politics and religion. And yet he kept his job for many years.

He was a particular genius in that he was able to intelligently discuss such matters with a large dose of humor and his trademark ‘common sense’, as well as, that elusive thing called truth. He, at the same time, endeared himself to a number of atheists of his day along with a particular Catholic priest (said to be his inspiration for the Fr. Brown mystery series) . After a number years he converted to Catholicism and in turn his writings were responsible for the conversion of an unknown number to the Church of Rome.

If you read about him whether you agree with his politics or religion or not, this giant of a man, both in body and soul, cannot fail to steal your heart as he has mine.

Luke 17: 20 ”The kingdom of God is in the midst of you.”
24 “…For as the lightening flashes from one end of the sky to the other, 
so will the son of man be in his day.”

When the Light Comes

Just nodding off a piercing brightness intrudes
Sound of a million choirs reverberate the eardrums
Roses of another world fall to precede the Holy One
Their scent is delicate and all enticing.

Trumpets sound pure in pitch and clear in note
They announce the Master’s return to His beloved.
All is revealed in the twinkling of an eye
And all former knowledge pales when the light comes.

Ever notice when one news station uses what seems a new phrase, every news station picks it up. One of the most recent is “re-imagining’ the police”. Imagine that? Well I imagine this as a call to fictionalize an occupation made up of individuals we call police, an organized multifaceted institution to keep law and order in a town, city, county, state or country. In the history of this law enforcement body there have been times in various places in our country when through the efforts of police and even federal officers themselves, corruption has been brought to light and routed out.

It is true in the human condition nothing is perfect: free of injustice, prejudice, hate; in fact, every inhuman vice we can name. However, what the current and so obviously well organized protests nationwide is not about is routing out such things through reasonable channels but creating more chaos than already exists. Think of spending fifty days camped out on the streets of Seattle: yelling, burning, disrupting the life of innocent citizens, destroying the property and rights of others. And also doing so with the protection of the mayor with the police prevented from restoring peace by arresting law breakers.

There is something going on beneath the surface that is perhaps diabolical fueled by forces concealed and disguised as good deceiving decent altruistic, mostly young people of all races. These are victims of the imagination gone wild. Someone suggested that instead of the Star Spangled Banner we should change our national anthem to John Lennon’s song Imagine. You might want to look up the lyrics. One of the things it imagines is a world without religion. Is this in fact what this whole movement is about after all?

What is liberty? Is it destroying someone else’s peace and freedom because our own is sadly damaged? Is it dividing for any reason: white from black, men from women, rich from poor, young from old etc, etc. No it is not. The division we need to recognize is truth from lies, love from hate. Would any of those who are tearing down the history of our country opt to live in Hong Kong and exchange places with one of its residents as their freedom is being swiftly taken from them against their will? In 1997 after living under British rule Hong Kong officially returned to China with a sort of grace period when they continued to live with freedoms they were accustomed to having.

Now the Chinese government has rescinded those freedoms sending in thousands of military troops. The generation that inhabit the country grew up in a free society where they owned businesses, prospered financially and enjoyed a respected place in the world marketplace. Many saw what was coming under the rule of communism as it exists on mainland China. Their parents and grandparents generation escaped to Hong Kong to avoid what many saw as bondage.

Here in the US there has arisen a kind of liberty that chooses to destroy our history and to forget our country has already passed trough a revolution to become free of British taxation, a civil war to end slavery, and the rise of each new group of immigrants attaining their potential. It used to be said our greatness lie in the idea of a great mix, a melting pot. It still is true. Greatness comes from individuals living and working not in receiving their reward on a silver platter of government handouts. The problem with dependence on government is that dependency limits our liberties; communism is a brand of evening out so that everyone shares equally but in reality the wealth and power is in the hands of a few and liberty is a victim of the systematic removal of rights.

Her name was Geraldine. She became the second wife of my Great Uncle, my maternal grandmother’s younger brother. His first wife died many years before and he remained alone until he met and married Gerry. The couple and their boxer, Boots, lived a simple life and enjoyed their well kept home located in an idyllic suburban neighborhood with tree lined streets, manicured lawns, and flower gardens. They lived in upper New York state and after my uncle died we kept in touch with her through cards and letters and traveled to visit just a few times through the years.

As often happens his widow, our Aunt Gerry, had to sell the lovely home and move to an apartment, actually relocating several times but remaining in the same area. She suffered through the years from diabetes having one leg amputation after another and finally resulting in a total loss of both legs.

I want to tell you about a particular encounter with this woman. My mother, who was a favorite with her aunt, asked if we would drive up to pay Aunt Gerry a visit. We arrived mid morning at her ground level apartment in a duplex on the edge of town. Her aid answered the door greeting us warmly and showing us into a small but cozy living room illuminated by several windows facing a back yard with several bird houses and feeders.

Our aunt sat in a wheel chair and, of course, the first thing we noticed was her missing limbs. Secondly, it was her familiar voice and warm smile that held our attention. The three of us talked easily about the family, our uncle, the past and the present. We watched various birds through the windows as we chatted. I felt comfortable and could have remained for hours more.

Noon came and the aid returned from the kitchen. She sat down for a while and told us how independent our aunt was taking care of her own bills and finances, dictating letters to friends and relatives, and having visitors. The caretaker spent several hours a day with our aunt and obviously admired her. She said a meal of boiled chicken was prepared for all of us and took my mom and me into the ten by ten kitchen.

She asked if we would clean up after the meal because she had to leave, My mom said we didn’t want to impose and we planned to eat out. The woman was emphatic telling us how much people who lived and ate alone loved to have someone to eat with. I immediately said we would stay. Mom agreed and we gathered snugly around kitchen table. We sat down and Aunt Gerry bowed her head and folded her hands with eyes closed. That moment became forever fixed in my heart. It was not what she said, but how she talked to God that impressed me. We always say grace but this was the ultimate grace. She spoke to Him as if He too was dining with us. I felt His presence.

Before we left that day she showed us an old shoe box filled to the top with hospital wrist bands from her numerous hospital stays. It was our last visit but she is one of those I keep in touch with even now and pray for the grace of my Great Aunt.