"The spirit lusteth against the flesh and the flesh lusteth against the spirit."
Do you know it is vogue to be an atheist on university campuses? Do you know that every young person finds it interesting, modern and attractive when a professor or student says, "I don't believe in God" or "God doesn't matter." There is only one God, whether we be Muslim, Buddhist, Hindu, animist. "God is the same for all religions and, therefore, Christianity is neither here nor there," our modern intellectuals would say.
There is also a popular sophisticated agnosticism which says, "I don't know if there is a God or not; it doesn't matter, we just need to live our lives passionately."
How can I deny an inner yearning, a deep desire, sometimes a desperate desire to kneel and bow before the almighty God and simply cry out: "I place myself before you, Almighty God. I know that I am nothing." Sometimes in exultation, sometimes in desperation, but always we want to submit ourselves to the almighty God as sinners, or, as someone yearning deeply for meaning. There are times we feel empty in this lonely and selfish world of ours, but better that than giving into the world.
Christ shows the way
Christ, the incarnate God, revealing the Father's will in the flesh, serving others, forgiving sins, performing miracles, dying on the cross, restoring the brokenness of our nature, loving us and calling us to repentance and to His heavenly Kingdom, suffered rejection and death as he fixed his attention on us, of His infinite love. He shows the way in an absolute world of absurdity, while we journey to the light and everlasting life.
There is a rebellion against the Church and Christianity in our modern times. We are like sheep who have gone astray. Many of us, pastors and shepherds, have lost the central focus of life, which is Christ.
There is also the media's lack of respect and its infinite variety of pagan values and pleasures. This flesh is always crying out to be satisfied. The vulgar part of us wants everything for me, my flesh, my popularity, position and prestige, rather than the spiritual desire to be one with the eternal God.
We no longer believe in the divine, the transcendence of God, and the longing of our spirit, our souls, to go beyond ourselves. Our materialistic and hedonistic flesh wants no moral mandates or restrictions. We want to be free, we want to be on our own, we want to do what pleases us.
Happy with atheism
Christianity - and its call (if it is the true brand of Christianity) - do not go along with the craving for self-fulfilment of every appetite. The market, or the world, is happy with atheism, individualism, and self-satisfaction. Thus, it needs to destroy Christianity and free us to live a hedonistic life.
We cannot continue feeding this valley of the flesh that Europe and North America seem to be encouraging all over the world, taking advantage of the poor countries and their naïve trust of rich countries which propose self-indulgent ways of living to be progressive.
The restlessness of our worldly appetites will only bring about death. We want to destroy the babies in the wombs, the old people, the people who are defective (by some people's definition), the poor and the non-productive people our world.
Wealthy, advanced persons of our world haven't been able to solve the problem of poverty. The rich must kill off the poor in order to eliminate conscience problems.
Yet, the call to self-sacrifice and service shall not stop. Christ, the crucified one, the one true God, the only God of all gods, who lived, suffered, and died for us remains indelibly on our souls, an everlasting image stamped in the very depth of ourselves, forever and ever.
The atheistic, materialistic world finds Christ dangerous. Today, He is ridiculed and mocked in movies, the general media, and the fuzzy-headed arguments at the universities and in our homes. But His word and His ways are firm: "I am the living bread of life: without me you will die."
We might rebel for a while but, finally, we must face up to the truth: "I am the way, the truth, and the life."
Father Richard Ho Lung is founder of Missionaries of the Poor Jesuit charity.
August 29, 2011
jamaica-gleaner
An International Caribbean Online Log about the news and opinions in the Americas and World. This Caribbean Blog of global reach and appeal is maintained by Bahamian Blogger - Dennis Dames with all readers and subscribers in mind.
Showing posts with label Christ. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christ. Show all posts
Monday, August 29, 2011
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Mama make the Johnnie Cake, Christmas coming!
By Mutryce A Williams:
“Morning, morning and how are you this morning? Morning, morning this is Christmas morning! Mama make the Johnnie Cake, Christmas coming! Mama, make the Johnnie Cake, Christmas coming! Christmas coming and New Year’s morning,” he jolted forward and bellowed at the top of his lungs. Bewildered to say the least, I asked, “Are you okay?” We were sitting in his ‘drawing room’ discussing the predictions of the McDonald’s Farmer’s Almanac. The outburst seemed to come from out of thin air and, trust me, it didn’t help any that it was mid May and Christmas was months and months away. He said, “Pusa dear, draw the curtain for me. Open up de big trunk and hand me the things you see in it one by one.”
He burst into song once again. This time he had the pair of shack-shacks in hand. Shaking them fiercely, tapping his foot, voice as strong as ever he continued, “Mama make the Johnnie Cake, Christmas coming. Mama make the Johnnie Cake, Christmas coming!” He passed the shack-shacks to me and said, “You got the beat right! Now pass me the banjo. One, two, three let we go. Mama make the Johnnie Cake, Christmas coming! Sing louder man. Sing. Sing a tell you, sing!” Fully immersed in the Christmas spirit, I was now strumming away at the banjo totally transformed I tell you, as if I had gone to the school of that St Paul’s banjo maestro they called Lil Tom. At that moment Papa and I had what I call an alternating string bang. We switched from shack-shack, to banjo, baha, to the big drum, guitar, to cow bell, triangle, to mouth organ and indulged in the sweet ‘feeleeleet’ of the fife. Out of breath, I plopped down on the chair, ‘Well, that was fun!’
When I thought that the excitement was all finished still humming he said, “Child, take the back way and go over the road by you Aunty Mae. Tell she a say hurry up come up here for the pork before I sell it off or give it way and tell she don’t forget to send up me black cake, cassava bread and two bottle a sorrel. I know you mother in there making hers, but is Christmas you see and you could never have too much black cake, sorrel, cassava bread and rum…and rum…and ruuummmm…ha, ha, ha is Christmas girl and me belly ain’t got no end. I going eat and eat and eat till me belly burst…aaaah. Wait, who that there out there out there over the doving pot helping she with the Johnny cake, roast pork and turning the cassava bread? Oh is she! I hope she don’t think she going go with more than wha she bring you know. Every year she do it. Who is that there calling me? I say who is that there calling me? Oh is you, Uncle Joe. Tell he I tuning the banjo and when I done I going meet he down the road and we going go round the village serenading.”
Smile on my face but with a heavy heart I knew that he thought that I was my mother. His brain has been going ‘addle’ as we like to call it, senile or now they have a word for it. It is called Alzheimer’s. Instead of trying to will him back to the present, I held his hands and allowed him to take me back there. He looked in the direction of the kitchen and shouted to my grandmother, “Woman you ain’t done cook yet? How the roast pork and Johnny Cake coming? Maude I know that woman does come say a help but no let she go with more than what she bring I tell you, mind you hear, mind.”
He looked at me and seeing me as me now but still thinking it was Christmas, he said, “Girl where you going to this Carnival thing,” He continued, “Don’t get me wrong you know is a good thing it have its place but that there itself ain’t Christmas. Yes, Christmas is for Christ and all that but it is a time of real merriment, family, sports and when I tell you sports I mean Clowns, Mummies, David and Goliath and lord them Japanese girls with they umbrella and short, short skirt. Girl you ain’t want see plenty, plenty sports, I mean Actor, Neagre Business, Indian and Cowboy, Masquerade, Bull and Them Thing. You member if I did tell you about the time I used to play Bull. Well, well, well them there was some sweet, sweet days, is so I catch she in there you know but no tell she I say so cause she would set up she face like ten rat trap and stop talk to me and I can’t deal with this this time of year here, man… any other time but not Christmas time I tell you… cause this is food, more food and belly burst down time.”
He continued, “Christmas is the time when me and boys go round serenading. Maude and she church people them do go caroling. Is the time that Maude love to fuss, paint, clean and put up she lovely, lovely curtain them. Wait there who that coming there. I sure is one she sisters them from Englandt. She don’t even tell me that they a come home. One by one they show up and the thing is you know for a whole six weeks me have to sleep a ground. We have to give up we good warm bed and be hospicable… that woman there just want turn the place into a hotel you see… in she mind I guess that is what Christmas is all about. Oh, John, me boy is you that.”
He shouted to Granny, “Hey Maude, bring me shoes there let me shine them now and don’t forget to patch the li’l hole in me jacket and starch my shirt. I have to look like a sharp boy going to church this Christmas Sunday.” He took down his tie off the ledge and showed it to John, he said, “You see this tie here is me first son George send this for me from inna America. He say is how they make them now. Tell me something John, you have anything go so? Tell me something there, you people them in a away just member you a Christmas time? Peep out there in the kitchen you see something is whole three barrel we family send from overseas. If you want a tin of sardine or two don’t ‘fraid to ask. You know we is giving people. We ain’t going eat down the whole thing we self and know you in want and ain’t give you any.” John just smiled.
Granny shook her head, sat down beside him and rubbed his hands. He was zoning in and out. He looked in my direction and shouted, “Hey wait there, Pusa you done praptice you recitation? I hope so you know ‘cause you have to say it good in Church this Sunday at the Christmas concert. Say it hard and clear you know. Make me proud. You know as soon as you done is me first going stand up and clap the hardest and say hey that is mine there… mine… You know wha’, stand up and say it now let me hear you. Stand up straight and watch the people in they face no bend you head.” At this point there were tears in Granny’s eyes. She shook her head and said, “Boy, this Alzheimer’s thing, well, well, well.”
Alzheimers is a horrible disease. It was eating away at him however it allowed me to see Christmas through his eyes. I envied the Christmases that he had. The look on his face said it all. One can tell that it was his favourite time of year. It wasn’t about Santa. It wasn’t about decking the halls with holly. It wasn’t commercial. It wasn’t about Carnival. It wasn’t about how much money you had or how many gifts you got. It seemed like a time of merriment and joy that he shared with his family and friends. It was a time of butchering pigs and sharing what you had in your cupboard or barrel. It was a time of roast pork and Johnny Cake, black cake, sorrel, cassava, lovely curtains, sports/folklore, serenading, caroling, string band and church going. It’s now Christmas. What does this Christmas mean to you? How would you compare your Christmas now to the ones you had then? Were they better? What’s missing and if anything how do you intend to fix it? Do you have that Christmas spirit? Are you in a zone of merriment strumming your banjo, shaking your shack-shack and singing, “Mama make the Johnny Cake, Christmas coming!”
December 23, 2009
caribbeannetnews
“Morning, morning and how are you this morning? Morning, morning this is Christmas morning! Mama make the Johnnie Cake, Christmas coming! Mama, make the Johnnie Cake, Christmas coming! Christmas coming and New Year’s morning,” he jolted forward and bellowed at the top of his lungs. Bewildered to say the least, I asked, “Are you okay?” We were sitting in his ‘drawing room’ discussing the predictions of the McDonald’s Farmer’s Almanac. The outburst seemed to come from out of thin air and, trust me, it didn’t help any that it was mid May and Christmas was months and months away. He said, “Pusa dear, draw the curtain for me. Open up de big trunk and hand me the things you see in it one by one.”
He burst into song once again. This time he had the pair of shack-shacks in hand. Shaking them fiercely, tapping his foot, voice as strong as ever he continued, “Mama make the Johnnie Cake, Christmas coming. Mama make the Johnnie Cake, Christmas coming!” He passed the shack-shacks to me and said, “You got the beat right! Now pass me the banjo. One, two, three let we go. Mama make the Johnnie Cake, Christmas coming! Sing louder man. Sing. Sing a tell you, sing!” Fully immersed in the Christmas spirit, I was now strumming away at the banjo totally transformed I tell you, as if I had gone to the school of that St Paul’s banjo maestro they called Lil Tom. At that moment Papa and I had what I call an alternating string bang. We switched from shack-shack, to banjo, baha, to the big drum, guitar, to cow bell, triangle, to mouth organ and indulged in the sweet ‘feeleeleet’ of the fife. Out of breath, I plopped down on the chair, ‘Well, that was fun!’ When I thought that the excitement was all finished still humming he said, “Child, take the back way and go over the road by you Aunty Mae. Tell she a say hurry up come up here for the pork before I sell it off or give it way and tell she don’t forget to send up me black cake, cassava bread and two bottle a sorrel. I know you mother in there making hers, but is Christmas you see and you could never have too much black cake, sorrel, cassava bread and rum…and rum…and ruuummmm…ha, ha, ha is Christmas girl and me belly ain’t got no end. I going eat and eat and eat till me belly burst…aaaah. Wait, who that there out there out there over the doving pot helping she with the Johnny cake, roast pork and turning the cassava bread? Oh is she! I hope she don’t think she going go with more than wha she bring you know. Every year she do it. Who is that there calling me? I say who is that there calling me? Oh is you, Uncle Joe. Tell he I tuning the banjo and when I done I going meet he down the road and we going go round the village serenading.”
Smile on my face but with a heavy heart I knew that he thought that I was my mother. His brain has been going ‘addle’ as we like to call it, senile or now they have a word for it. It is called Alzheimer’s. Instead of trying to will him back to the present, I held his hands and allowed him to take me back there. He looked in the direction of the kitchen and shouted to my grandmother, “Woman you ain’t done cook yet? How the roast pork and Johnny Cake coming? Maude I know that woman does come say a help but no let she go with more than what she bring I tell you, mind you hear, mind.”
He looked at me and seeing me as me now but still thinking it was Christmas, he said, “Girl where you going to this Carnival thing,” He continued, “Don’t get me wrong you know is a good thing it have its place but that there itself ain’t Christmas. Yes, Christmas is for Christ and all that but it is a time of real merriment, family, sports and when I tell you sports I mean Clowns, Mummies, David and Goliath and lord them Japanese girls with they umbrella and short, short skirt. Girl you ain’t want see plenty, plenty sports, I mean Actor, Neagre Business, Indian and Cowboy, Masquerade, Bull and Them Thing. You member if I did tell you about the time I used to play Bull. Well, well, well them there was some sweet, sweet days, is so I catch she in there you know but no tell she I say so cause she would set up she face like ten rat trap and stop talk to me and I can’t deal with this this time of year here, man… any other time but not Christmas time I tell you… cause this is food, more food and belly burst down time.”
He continued, “Christmas is the time when me and boys go round serenading. Maude and she church people them do go caroling. Is the time that Maude love to fuss, paint, clean and put up she lovely, lovely curtain them. Wait there who that coming there. I sure is one she sisters them from Englandt. She don’t even tell me that they a come home. One by one they show up and the thing is you know for a whole six weeks me have to sleep a ground. We have to give up we good warm bed and be hospicable… that woman there just want turn the place into a hotel you see… in she mind I guess that is what Christmas is all about. Oh, John, me boy is you that.”
He shouted to Granny, “Hey Maude, bring me shoes there let me shine them now and don’t forget to patch the li’l hole in me jacket and starch my shirt. I have to look like a sharp boy going to church this Christmas Sunday.” He took down his tie off the ledge and showed it to John, he said, “You see this tie here is me first son George send this for me from inna America. He say is how they make them now. Tell me something John, you have anything go so? Tell me something there, you people them in a away just member you a Christmas time? Peep out there in the kitchen you see something is whole three barrel we family send from overseas. If you want a tin of sardine or two don’t ‘fraid to ask. You know we is giving people. We ain’t going eat down the whole thing we self and know you in want and ain’t give you any.” John just smiled.
Granny shook her head, sat down beside him and rubbed his hands. He was zoning in and out. He looked in my direction and shouted, “Hey wait there, Pusa you done praptice you recitation? I hope so you know ‘cause you have to say it good in Church this Sunday at the Christmas concert. Say it hard and clear you know. Make me proud. You know as soon as you done is me first going stand up and clap the hardest and say hey that is mine there… mine… You know wha’, stand up and say it now let me hear you. Stand up straight and watch the people in they face no bend you head.” At this point there were tears in Granny’s eyes. She shook her head and said, “Boy, this Alzheimer’s thing, well, well, well.”
Alzheimers is a horrible disease. It was eating away at him however it allowed me to see Christmas through his eyes. I envied the Christmases that he had. The look on his face said it all. One can tell that it was his favourite time of year. It wasn’t about Santa. It wasn’t about decking the halls with holly. It wasn’t commercial. It wasn’t about Carnival. It wasn’t about how much money you had or how many gifts you got. It seemed like a time of merriment and joy that he shared with his family and friends. It was a time of butchering pigs and sharing what you had in your cupboard or barrel. It was a time of roast pork and Johnny Cake, black cake, sorrel, cassava, lovely curtains, sports/folklore, serenading, caroling, string band and church going. It’s now Christmas. What does this Christmas mean to you? How would you compare your Christmas now to the ones you had then? Were they better? What’s missing and if anything how do you intend to fix it? Do you have that Christmas spirit? Are you in a zone of merriment strumming your banjo, shaking your shack-shack and singing, “Mama make the Johnny Cake, Christmas coming!”
December 23, 2009
caribbeannetnews
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