Showing posts with label Christmas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christmas. Show all posts

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

A holiday dispatch from Spain

The cathedral in Seville, which Jim visited with his family over Christmas holidays. Image found here.

I'm presently in the middle of preparing for the spring semester, so I don't have anything of substance to post on here. But if you have ten minutes or so to spare, I want to encourage you to visit Jim's place, This Analog Life, and read his how-I-spent-the-holidays post. His family flew to Spain to visit him there, and so he found himself in the dual roles of someone still learning his way around Spanish culture and language, on the one hand, and trusted guide on the other. Long-time readers of this blog know I have been a fan of Jim's writing for a long time, and if you visit his place, you'll see why.

Here's his musing on how familiar religious language, when heard in Spanish, prompts him to ponder anew their English equivalents:

The mishmash of ancient Hebrew, old Greek, & Sumerian translated into Vulgate Latin translated into King James’ English is what, unavoidably, I think of when I think of the Word of God, so I felt a shock of almost Brechtian alienation to hear a different language retranslate translation into the vernacular. It’s all wrong, you kneejerk unconsciously, and then catch yourself.

Spanish, for instance, doesn’t distinguish between ‘meat’ & ‘flesh’ - it is all carne, and the Word Made Flesh is la Palabra hecho carne, the word made meat. ‘Our Lord’ comes out as SeƱor, the most basic term of address. The word for ‘people’ strikingly, is pueblo, which means not just the town, but a people, a nation, a comprehensive & communal group linked by mutual responsibility & obligation. “The people of God” becomes “el pueblo del Dios” (’We the people’ in the U.S. Constitution becomes Nosotros, el pueblo de los Estados Unidos), so that there is an identification at the basic, root, moral center of the godly language with the village, and not the City, of God. There is no such word in a Spanish Catholic mass as elevated as mankind. We are all hombre, man at the most basic. The language of the mass as a whole seemed more stripped-down & everyday than that of the Anglican English, words at their simplest, without the archaic flavor of, for instance thee and thou, or forgive their trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.
Jim also proves to be an able and observant guide as he describes how Christmas and New Year's and Epiphany are celebrated in the places where he happens to find himself with his family. Most such reports, we all know, seem two-dimensional and monochromatic besides, even if there are color pictures accompanying the text. Jim supplies only one picture, but his language doesn't make you miss them.

I hope you'll set aside some time and read the whole post.

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Sunday, December 16, 2007

Christmas music

Via Mary of Either/Or comes this public service, "Christmas music that doesn't make you groan."

I hope you'll give a listen to the songs she's linked to over there, but I want in particular to draw your attention to this song, Sufjan Stevens' "That Was the Worst Christmas Ever." I hope you'll listen closely. Not that it in any way resembles my life--not even close, thankfully--but as Mary notes over at her place, the song reminds us that the holidays are not jolly for everyone. And yet, even for them . . .

While I'm on a bit of a Stevens kick, I thought I'd also reprise, via a link, this post on him from last year. It raises some themes in Stevens' music that fit "Worst Christmas," I think.

Yet more grading for me, by the way, but the end is in sight.

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Saturday, December 15, 2007

Stomping the Blues

(I earlier posted this, with some small revisions, over at Clusterflock)

A Christmas story:

This past Wednesday, I received a call from the current occupant of my former apartment about a mysterious package addressed to that apartment delivered via UPS . . .

As many of you know, I'm enrolled in the Witness Protection Program under false pretenses--I'm in hiding from my creditors and I just made up my Mob connections to facilitate said hiding; so far, the Feds are none the wiser, so don't rat me out to them--and feared that I'd been found out, that contained in said package would be something like a horse's head (apparently, some of that made-up stuff has been pretty accurate; the Feds haven't yet told me to fend for myself, after all), or yet more overdue bills, or some other form of bigger-than-a-mail-box bad news requiring a large brown truck to deliver it.

Anyway, the current occupant said he sent the package over to the complex's office, so the next morning I went over to pick it up. It contained a book: Albert Murray's classic work Stomping the Blues, a work that literally less than a week ago I had added to my Amazon Wish List (hint, hint, Flockers (and visitors to this blog) with disposable income). From my brother.

I'll let you write your own narratives, but the blurb for that narrative is that my brother and I have never been especially close, though that state of affairs has improved some of late. You also need to know that he is in the Army Reserve and is presently serving in what is euphemistically called Kurdish-controlled northern Iraq: "Kurdistan"--The Other Iraq--is an official no-no, you know. But you get the idea: he is safe(r) there but still has Things To Do. He's been there since February and has been told (we'll see) that he'll be coming back this coming February.

And yet, he somehow has the time (and inclination) not only to learn that I have an Amazon Wish List but order me something from it. Embarrassing (because I'm nowhere near financially able to reciprocate) and humbling (see above), let me tell you.

And the kicker: the packing slip enclosed says this was a partial order. More is on the way.

"Stomping the Blues," indeed: what a wonderful surprise. Those blues weren't stomped, though, without my feeling a pretty strong twinge of guilt over years of less-than-brotherly behavior.

Christmas is not traditionally figured as a season of atonement, but Advent is a time of preparation--in its own way, a time to get right with God. So: I have some Things to Do, too.

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