There is really nothing traditional that I need for Christmas. Goodness knows that at this stage of my life I do not need something else which requirescare of any type. Something to eat or drink is always nice, but I do not need anything like that either. There are many people in the world who are homeless, hungry, and without clothes whereas I have more than enough.
I was, however, thinking this morning that perhaps the larger world would benefit from some devise which would rein in my wandering mind. It does seem increasingly out of control. For example, I was on the treadmill this morning at the local gym thinking about what I wanted or needed to accomplish today and, incidentally, listening to a podcast I have stored on my phone. I had not listened to this one for some time. This particular podcast is Krista Tippett, host of the NPR program On Being, interviewing Louis Newman, the Jewish theologian, ethicist, and scholar. Mr. Newman was talking about the fact that in the Talmud, redemption preceded creation before humans which led me to think about ways in which we turn away from ourselves which then separates us from the rest of the universe which led me to thinking about the concept of sin which led me to thinking about the study of theology and philosophy which led me to thinking about Gottlop Frege, who was a philosopher of math, which led me to thinking about Ludwig Wittgenstein which led me to thinking about Bertrand Russell which led me to thinking about ontological which led me to think about studying philosophy which led me to think about how little I understood or rather how little I understood that I did not understand which led me to thinking about … Well, Santa, you get the idea. Obviously, the hours of practicing meditation and being present have had no positive affect at all. My mind is, as usual, out of control wandering around at will from here to there to here to …. It occurs to me that I should write to you about the possibility of you bringing me a leash for my mind. Then, of course, I thought about the fact that a leash has to be held by someone and/or tethered to something. It seems rather presumptuous of me to assume that you have nothing better to do that to hang around or to assign Mrs. Claus, one of the elves, or someone else to be present 24 hours a day to hold on to this leash. This, of course, would mean that Mrs. Claus or one of the elves would not get other work done which would mean that some child would not get what they wanted or needed for Hanukah or Christmas which led me to thinking about sin which led me back to redemption. Oh my! This is exhausting and, yet, it seems that my mind finds its way back to this process of returning home. The phrase returning home is, in fact, a good metaphor for redemption. When Louis Newman talks about the Jewish belief in redemption he also talks about the fact that he has, for many years, been involved in a 12-step recovery program which is also about redemption. The essence of the program is accepting and facing ourselves, including our essential goodness, and all the ways we have hurt ourselves and others. Facing this reality of us frees us to both love and be loved.
Christmas to me is about gifts. The primary gift you, Santa, can give to all of us is your reassurance that nothing we can do can keep us from the gift of redemption which leads to love. I know that the myth is that you are keeping a list and checking it twice, but I am also privy to the secret that Mrs. Claus bought you a giant shredder into which you put of those lists. I know that you never did keep my gifts, but I have the power to withhold from myself by running from myself.
Apparently the problem is not my wandering mind but my impatience with the fact that it has to go through this complicated process before it comes back to its starting point. It seems as if impatience is often my problem. In fact, it may be same issue as that child who was me eagerly awaiting Christmas morning and what you might have left under the tree. Despite my mother’s frequent admonitions that that my badness was going to insure nothing but coal in my stocking, there was always something. My favorite part was the stocking in which I might find a small toy, an orange, and an apple. In those days fresh fruit was a special treat.
Santa, I suppose that I might in a very Wittgensteinian manner now question the circular argument which leads me to posit your existence by my definition of you. Wittgenstein suggested that the futility of ontological arguments attempt to show that “we can deduce God’s existence, from, so to speak, the very definition of God.” I suppose, as is true in attempting to assign a name and a face to God, that naming you Santa and acting as if the reality of you exists outside of my wandering mind, I am avoiding the fact that real and imagined in exactly the same. Order returns to order. I do not need to reread the work of Frege or review my basic philosophy of math theories to trust this truth. Whether I assign a prime being or you as the creator Santa, this unnamable ‘beingness’ exists.
It has been great fun chatting with you. I hope that I did not take up too much of your time. Oh, by the way, as long as we are chatting would you mind terribly if …
Written December 1, 2015
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