—with this article, our esteemed Professor wishes you all Merry Christmas—
 |
| Father Time, naturally, is a Geezer. |
One of the
distinct mixed pleasures of geezerhood springs from our increasingly confident
understanding that we’re not going to live forever. Increasing age does compromise some of our
sheer physical ability to appreciate and affect the world around us: we don’t
hear quite so clearly, we don’t see quite so accurately, we cannot pontificate
quite so loudly. But to a large measure
these diminished powers are more than compensated for by the fact that we
pay closer attention—a byproduct of our increasingly obvious mortality. Ideally
the geezer looks more, notices
more and savours more. The baseball
great Ted Williams had himself frozen, hoping that help would be on the way in
a few centuries. Most geezers, though,
are quite comfortable with the fact that our lives are limited..
But we also
still long for those short outbreaks of simulated immortality—those times when
the clock seems (finally) to stop. We savor those moments where it appears there
are some things without end—even if they
are intangibles such as love, the beauty of music, or the taste of turkey on
Thanksgiving. The wish to stop time, to
be simultaneously in the past, present and future is present in all cultures,
whether it be through ritual worship, cultural observances or carnival. It is also this wish for time to stop that
lies beneath one of the most enjoyable aspects of the holiday season which is
upon us: tradition.
Anyone who
has been a parent can testify to the distinct comfort and enjoyment that
children derive from predictable traditions.
As children grow older, they can grow away from some family traditions—a
logical and healthy way of establishing their own identities. But most of us still welcome those rare
moments when we can turn back the clock and re-live past moments, when we can
pass on to the next generation the valued practices of the past, and when we
can bask in the fleeting delusion that things will always be the same—that some
things are permanent..
When a
Christian of faith participates in the sacrament of Eucharist (Mass), they find
themselves simultaneously in the past (at the time of the Last Supper,) and
present (in their place of worship). Moreover, because of the ritualized nature
of the ceremony they sense that this same meaningful activity will be practiced
well into the future. They exist spiritually
in the past, present and future; in other words: time has functionally stopped.
Holiday
traditions (which can evolve into rituals) function in a comparable way. When we sit down for our Thanksgiving dinner—with
recipes passed down multiple generations by loved ones no longer alive—and tell
stories about past Thanksgivings in a way unconsciously constructed to inspire
the younger generation, we pursue that most elusive and fulsome of feelings:
with echoes of the past, the festivity of the present, and the inspiration of
the future, we are temporarily in all three modes. Time has stopped; for just one wisp of a
moment in a lifetime otherwise characterized by slavish adherence to the clock,
we are immortal.
This is all
unstated, of course, and many who find themselves nourished by such moments are
not consciously aware of the dynamics taking place. In any event, the clock is an insistent task
master, and “real life” resumes whether we like it or not. (Anyone who has
woken up on New Year’s Day knows the existential pain of being reminded of
one’s mortality after an evening of suspended time—and in many cases, suspended
common sense.)
The
Italians have a wonderful saying roughly translated as: “you don’t grow old at
the table.” A meal is humorous, joyous
but also serious business in Italy. A
meal is firmly structured, the foods based on tradition, and when properly
celebrated it is a moment where the awareness of the clock ticking can be set
aside or at least overlooked. A communal
meal is nourishing in many ways in addition to mere calories. This effect can
be achieved when the meal is sufficiently structured, when the gathering around
the table reflects the past and echoes into the future,
The key is
understanding how the continuum of habit/tradition/ritual/obsession-compulsion works. When oppressively presented and
slavishly observed, some ossified traditions or rituals can restrict or squelch
the spirit. But when artfully constructed, joyously shared, and festively enacted, there is nothing like a well observed
holiday tradition to give us that fleeting, refreshing (and illusory) whiff of
infinity.
Happy
Holidays.
