indoctrination, starting young…beware!

“Without education, we are in a horrible and deadly danger of taking
educated people seriously.”
G.K. Chesterton

(the Pteranodon family from PBS Dinosaur Train)

I was the only one left behind that Christmas Eve day…
that being myself and The Mayor of course.

One of our numbers was still at work, one had to run to the bakery and the other to
run errands…
I learned a long time ago, you never ask too many questions on Christmas Eve.

As my daughter-n-law was dashing out the door, she volunteered to turn on the television
so I could be somewhat entertained… that is if caring for the Mayor is not entertaining,
let alone consuming, enough!

I normally don’t watch TV during the day…albeit with the exception being during
the Bowl season…
yet sadly there were no bowls to the season currently bowling due to the
Christmas observation….so I was more or less nonplused regarding a
TV on or off.

Plus The Mayor is not really one to “watch” much television herself, of which I pray
will be a habit which will carry on throughout her life…
However…I must confess that my dad was a TV junkie and, in turn, aided in turning
his number one partner in crime, aka my son and The Mayor’s dad, into a bit of a
TV aficionado.

So as everyone went their merry way this merry day, The Mayor and I found before us
what appeared to be a cute little cartoonesque show airing on PBS.

Television options for children, airing throughout the day, leans toward either a Disney
channel or a Nickelodeon channel…
and I must confess, my days of watching Disney and or Nickelodeon
went the way of the growing up of our son.

And for the record, I tend to like PBS—that would be if we could scratch out their money
raising marathons, of which I totally understand when it comes to maintaining a relatively
commercial free world, however, it usually cuts into my enjoying Andrea Bocelli
in mid tenor beauty.

So we settled ourselves into watching Dinosaur Train.

A mini parental seal of approval promo introduced the show informing viewers that this
particular couple’s son actually learned his ABCs by watching Dinosaur Train.

Hummmmm…

The show’s intro begins with a catchy little tune as the shot zooms in on a nest of 4 eggs…
three eggs suddenly hatch into what I thought were pterodactyls but I was mistaken,
they were pteranodons…so much for my dinosaur knowledge!

The 4th egg hatched into what looked like a little orange T-rex while
Mother Pterandon sang that despite this orange oddball mixed in with her obviously
biological winged group, they were all about being an inclusive family embracing
differences because different species don’t matter in a family because their
family is all about inclusiveness… (eyes now rolling)

Hummmmmmm I mused as I sensed a nod to culturalism…

I was simply waiting for the ABC lesson.

Since it was Christmas Eve, I wondered if there’d be some sort of Christmas theme.
We had just caught the tail end of a cartoon cat singing about Hanukkah, so surely
dinosaurs could be singing about Christmas.

However, there were no ABCs nor anything about Christmas.

As cute as the show was, complete with a real human paleontologist, popping in with
some neat little fun facts about dinosaurs, I quickly learned that Dinosaur Train
was a victim of…or maybe that should be more like an accomplice to,
our modern culture’s obsession with all things anti-Christian
with a heavy pro-progressive left leanings to quasi inclusiveness while turning
out all remnants of Christianity…
SIGH.

The theme of the day for the dinosaurs was celebrating not Christmas nor Hanukkah but rather
the Winter Solstice…
REALLY?

Here it was Christmas Eve for crying out loud and this was a children’s show…
and yet the programming gods in their infinite wisdom found the need to celebrate
all things, Pagan.

Winter Solstice has been celebrated in cultures the world over for thousands of years.
This start of the solar year is a celebration of Light and the rebirth of the Sun.
In old Europe, it was known as Yule, from the Norse, Jul, meaning wheel.
Today, many people in Western-based cultures refer to this holiday as “Christmas.”
Yet a look into its origins of Christmas reveals its Pagan roots.
Emperor Aurelian established December 25 as the birthday of the “Invincible Sun”
in the third century as part of the Roman Winter Solstice celebrations.
Shortly thereafter, in 273, the Christian church selected this day to represent the birthday
of Jesus, and by 336, this Roman solar feast day was Christianized.
January 6, celebrated as Epiphany in Christendom and linked with the visit of the Magi,
was originally an Egyptian date for the Winter Solstice.
Circle Sanctuary

Gotta love the Pagans who continue with their not so veiled attempt at connecting the
dots between early Christianity to that of the day’s pagan heritage…
It seems they think once a pagan, always a pagan…God forbid there could
be any true conversion to the belief in the Grace of Salvation.

And the best person we should look to who actually did a phenomenal job of incorporating
the current day’s beliefs while teaching the new Christian faith to the local
pagan population would be St Patrick…

In a previous post that I wrote regarding dear St Patrick, I noted that
Patrick spent 40 years of his life wandering the mystical Pretanic Island,
preaching and teaching to the Druids and the Celts.

The Celts were actually a fierce warrior nation comprised of the bloodlines of Vikings,
Danes, Druids, Picts, and members of the northern regions of ancient Albion
(northern Great Britain). And as an island people, these superstitious tribes
were deeply connected, attuned to, as well as dependent upon the land.

Ireland was a rich and fertile island due in part to being on the receiving end of
the warming and wet energies of the Atlantic gulf stream.
Patrick knew that the best way to get the attention of the Celts was to utilize
those things that were common and entrenched in everyday life.
A prolific example being the humble clover.
The clover was a perfect teaching tool as it so beautifully manifests the image of
the Holy Trinity.

To this day the shamrock is synonymous with Ireland’s Christian spirituality and heritage

In another post, we learned a bit more of Patrick’s teaching…

It is said that the pagan Celts considered the sun to be an integral part of their worship.
Circles have been found etched and carved on many excavated Celtic ruins.
I think it’s rather easy to understand the importance behind worshiping the sun for the Celts—
if you’ve ever spent much time in Ireland, you know how wet and grey it can be.
There are parts of Ireland which receive up to 225 days of wet rainy weather each year,
in turn, making any and all sunny days a rare and treasured commodity.

Patrick had to be innovative if he wanted to get the Celt’s attention and gain their trust
as the ultimate goal was total conversion and allegiance to the one true God.
So Patrick set about with a brilliant plan combining both a component most important
to the Celtic nation, that being the sun–a revered circle,
bridging the abyss to the most important image to Christians,
the Latin cross, with the addition of a circle ringing around the cross–a
combination representing both sun and Son as the circle is also a Christian
symbol representing God’s endlessness.

As a teacher, I can honestly say that there is no better way of teaching something new than
making connections with what one already knows and understands.

(both full posts found here:
https://cookiecrumbstoliveby.wordpress.com/2016/03/17/la-fheile-padraig-sona-dhuit/

https://cookiecrumbstoliveby.wordpress.com/2015/10/23/good-for-the-goose/)

So yes, there was a great deal of overlapping with what had long been entrenched
with the superstitious and very keen people who were linked to all things seasonal
while introducing the new religion of Christianity. The overlapping has melded into
the Christian faith we recognize today.

But the premise, for these past 2000 give or take years, remains consistently the same.
Jesus Christ is the resurrected son of God….as is stated in the Nicene Creed.

WE BELIEVE in one God,
the Father, the Almighty,
maker of heaven and earth,
of all that is, seen and unseen.

We believe in one Lord, Jesus Christ,
the only Son of God,
eternally begotten of the Father,
God from God, Light from Light,
true God from true God,
begotten, not made,
of one Being with the Father.
Through him all things were made.

For us and for our salvation
he came down from heaven:
by the power of the Holy Spirit
he became incarnate from the Virgin Mary,
and was made man.

For our sake he was crucified under Pontius Pilate;
he suffered death and was buried.
On the third day he rose again
in accordance with the Scriptures;
he ascended into heaven
and is seated at the right hand of the Father.

He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead,
and his kingdom will have no end.

We believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the giver of life,
who proceeds from the Father and the Son.
With the Father and the Son he is worshiped and glorified.
He has spoken through the Prophets.
We believe in one holy catholic and apostolic Church.
We acknowledge one baptism for the forgiveness of sins.
We look for the resurrection of the dead,
and the life of the world to come.

Amen.

Yet most theologians and Christian scholars agree on one thing…
that December 25th was most likely not the exact date of the birth of Jesus.

The extrabiblical evidence from the first and second century is equally spare:
There is no mention of birth celebrations in the writings of early Christian writers
such as Irenaeus (c. 130–200) or Tertullian (c. 160–225).
Origen of Alexandria (c. 165–264) goes so far as to mock Roman celebrations of
birth anniversaries, dismissing them as “pagan” practices—a strong indication that Jesus’
birth was not marked with similar festivities at that place and time.
As far as we can tell, Christmas was not celebrated at all at this point.
biblicalarcheology.com

I say all of this as I actually recalled a few past posts written by two more learned
individuals than myself…more learned in regards to the theology and history of our faith.
It’s those two favorite across the Pond clerics…Pastor David Robertson, aka the Wee Flea
and that rouge Anglican Bishop, Gavin Ashenden.

They have both noted, with great alarm, the insidious indoctrination of our children
that seems to be creeping in earlier and earlier.

https://theweeflea.com/2018/12/13/now-theyre-coming-for-the-nurseries/

https://ashenden.org/2018/02/28/christianity-the-antidote-to-cultural-brainwashing/

Thus the one important lesson that I learned on this Christmas Eve as the Mayor and
I thought we were settling in to watch some cute little flying dinosaurs,
be they pterodactyls or pteranodons, teaching us our ABCs…
I learned that culturalism and anti Christian rhetoric is alive and well
in children’s programming…and it seems that a heavy dose of indoctrination
is coming faster and earlier than we may have ever imagined.

Thus as Believers it would behoove us all to be ever vigilant with our children…
no matter how young they are…remember… imprinting begins very early.

Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul,
and with all your strength. Take to heart these words that I give you today.
Repeat them to your children. Talk about them when you’re at home or away,
when you lie down or get up. Write them down, and tie them around your wrist,
and wear them as headbands as a reminder.
Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates.
Deuteronomy 6:5-9

“But watch out! Be careful never to forget what you yourself have seen.
Do not let these memories escape from your mind as long as you live!
And be sure to pass them on to your children and grandchildren.
Never forget the day when you stood before the Lord your God at Mount Sinai,
where he told me, Summon the people before me, and I will personally instruct them.
Then they will learn to fear me as long as they live,
and they will teach their children to fear me also.”
Deuteronomy 4:9-10

Editors and signposts

“Let the reader find that he cannot afford to omit any line of your writing because you have omitted every word that he can spare.”
― Ralph Waldo Emerson

The safest road to hell is the gradual one – the gentle slope, soft underfoot, without sudden turnings, without milestones, without signposts.
C. S. Lewis

(tools of a trade / Julie Cook / 2015)

Many years ago when I was early on in my college career, I can vividly remember telling
my mother that I thought something was wrong with me–with the way I learned, or better yet,
the way I didn’t / couldn’t learn–that which today is referred to as a learning disability.

Often frustrated that learning, which seemed to come so easily to others,
did not come easy for me.
By all outward appearances I was quite bright and articulate, excelling in some areas,
struggling to merely get by in others.

Nevertheless, I mustered on often battling extreme frustration and disappointment.
Constantly studying, seeking out tutors, practicing, staying after class for help…
only to come up frustratingly short–
failing or nearly failing tests I just was certain I could pass.

We now know that not all learners process information the same as others.
It often takes a keen educator, who constantly observes and accesses their students,
to be able to present material, using a variety of delivery methods,
while hoping to tap into each students strengths.

I can still remember Mother simply shrugging, telling me that I was fine.
Yet today as I have watched my now grown son struggle throughout his entire life with an
early diagnosed Learning Disability and Dyslexia…
as I’m pretty certain I know from whence his troubles originated…

Math was my nemesis, as it remains so much to this day–
I made certain that I would pursue a career path which did not require Algebra or Geometry,
let alone something as obscure as Calculus.
Science, although I was intrigued by Science,
did not fair much better in my brain.
The Biology side of the Science world was more readily digested then that of Physics or Chemistry.
There were formulas, numbers, symbols and equations–
all things my brain just wouldn’t or couldn’t seem to unwrap.

Thriving however in the study of History and the study of the social sciences,
otherwise known as social studies,
I found myself enthralled by the endless stories which make history History.
Not necessarily with each and every aspect of history,
nor of the history of each and every culture,
yet for the majority of study,
history was the area in which I became a sponge.
I was equally intrigued with the political aspect of human history.
Throw in Theology and the history of the ancient faith of Judaism,
as well as that of the later emergence of Christianity,
and I was all ears.

English was ok but there were problems there as well.
Spelling was an issue, as those of you who read this blog well know.
Between spellcheck, autocorrect and my brain,
not all words in the blog posts are correct—
of which I greatly apologize.
And to my defense I never received a good foundation in sentence structure or grammar.
For whatever reason,
I never had a class or teacher who really taught grammar usage and writing as it
should have been taught.
It seemed that I usually ended up in a class where it was a given that all learners
had already been steeped in the basic foundations.
Sadly, I was the one learner in the lot who was not so versed.
Yet I did enjoy the literature aspect of English—with myself,
yearning one day, to be able to express my thoughts and ideas through writing as well.

Being able to express myself was always important. I found that writing,
first in a journal / diary form as a young girl, then as I grew older,
through the writing of letters.
It was in the writing of letters where I was finally allowed to fully express my thoughts.
It was a place my often frustrated brain could and would freely soar.

In the days before computers, word documents, pdf files, jpg images…
I alone helped to sustain the United States Postal Service by keeping them busily in business.
I loved buying and sending cards.
I would spend hours writing letters–especially letters that I would write,
more like epistles, to my godfather–
who is now 92 and a long retired Episcopal priest.
I have often referenced him and his influence in my life in previous posts.

The letters were often written with a myriad of misspelled words despite the large
dictionary by my side.
There were gaping gaps in the written thought as I thought much faster than I wrote.
The letters were laced with outrageous sentence structure,
which in turn would make any english teacher cringe,…
yet they were letters written with passion, honesty and humility.
And despite the holes, the poor sentence structure or the youthful angst,
my godfather would receive each letter expectantly, happily, and lovingly…
all without judgement of content or the editing of grammatical structure–
this from a man who made a living writing and speaking.

Our correspondence began when I was around the age of 15.
My early letters were laced with the pangs of innocence and adolescence.
Yet as I aged and matured those letters became more complex,
even troubling, as I fought my way, often with fraught emotion,
through the often tangled jungle of life.
I wrestled with my faith and beliefs.
Life was not always easy nor kind.
There were obstacles, illnesses, deaths, disappointments, poor choices, grave mistakes,
coupled with a few triumphs, glimpses of joy and moments of contentment.

Always with love and often, no doubt, with great frustration,
he would offer words of either encouragement, warning, or mere advice…
yet his words were always laced with love.
It was here, within the correspondence of a young girl, now grown woman, where I learned about unconditional love.

I never filtered my words or emotions yet perhaps today, looking back,
I see that it would have behooved me to have used a bit more restraint—
yet he never faltered or expressed disappointment.
My Godpoppa, the busy world at large Anglican leader,
would never specifically tell me what to do,
despite my often desperate queries.
He never would say yes or no but rather he’d offer wisdom woven with advice all of
which he hoped would allow me to eventually find my own way.
He was a signpost of guidance, of the miles thus traveled and of miles yet to be traveled.

So on this new day of this new week, in the early days of a brand new year—
do you need an editor or do you need a signpost?
Are you in need of direction or correction on this journey of yours known simply as life?
Or are you like most of us, simply indeed of both—
sometimes needing to be pointed in the right direction while receiving a bit of
much needed revision to your plots and plans…
May you make the most of the guidance, advice, love,
direction and assistance you receive along the way and may you be blessed,
as I have been,
with more signposts than editors.

Christmas Gifts and Mystery

“And when we give each other Christmas gifts in His name, let us remember that He has given us the sun and the moon and the stars, and the earth with its forests and mountains and oceans–and all that lives and move upon them. He has given us all green things and everything that blossoms and bears fruit and all that we quarrel about and all that we have misused–and to save us from our foolishness, from all our sins, He came down to earth and gave us Himself.”
― Sigrid Undset

(close-up of a portion of a hand carved wooden German Christmas Pyramid)

The Birth Of Theology
No priest, no theologian stood at the cradle in Bethlehem. And yet all Christian theology has its origin in the wonder of all wonders, that God became human. . .Theologia sacra arises from those on bended knees who do homage to the mystery of the divine child in the stall. Israel had no theology. It did not know God in the flesh. Without the holy night there is no theology. “God revealed in the flesh,” the God-human Jesus Christ, is the holy mystery which theology is appointed to guard. What a mistake to think that it is the task of theology to unravel God’s mystery, to bring it down to the flat, ordinary human wisdom of experience and reason! It is the task of theology solely to preserve God’s wonder as wonder, to understand, to defend, to glorify God’s mystery as mystery. . . Surely Christmas Eve (and Christmas Day) can kindle in us again something like a love of sacred theology, so that, seized and compelled by the wonder of the cradle of the Sone of God, we are moved to consider again, reverently, the mysteries of God.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer
Taken from A Testament to Freedom 448
A Year With Dietrich Bonhoeffer
(parenthesis mine)