Wednesday
I stayed up way too late last
night. How could I not? I was out in the desert. It was a cold but
crystal clear night and the stars were painted on the sky. The moon
was dazzlingly nearby. I swam at about midnight in my wonderful
pool. As I kicked up the water, steam billowed out of it. The moon
shot moonbeams into the mist through the palm fronds. All around
me, our hundreds of Christmas lights shone green, blue, red,
orange, yellow into the steam. It was as if there were a swimming
pool on a Scottish moor but lined with Christmas lights.
As I swam, I could see meinen wifey wandering around
inside the house. It was a perfect sight.
However, this morning, I was tired and in an
embarrassingly bad mood. When my wife pointed it out to me, I
apologized at once. That’s a simple rule of a marriage: when you’re
acting like a jerk, stop it and apologize. Schnell.
We went to a glorious 12-step meeting and really felt
lifted up by it. Then, we had lunch outdoors at Pacifica in Palm
Desert, and then shopped at Brooks Brothers and noted with pain how
fat I am. Then we headed home where I took a long nap listening to
Mozart’s Requiem and Laudate Dominum, on my
ancient Sony headphones.
Outside, the Christmas lights flickered. My fire roared in
my fireplace — and I needed it, it’s cold as can be here — and
the lights on my mantel blinked. In the center of the mantel is a
photo of my late Pointer, Brigid.
My wife and I celebrate Christmas big time. I am sure we
have more decorations than anyone within miles of here
has.
Why?
On a superficial level, it’s because the lights and tree
and fire are festive. That’s innate. Man loves colored lights and
fires. When I was a child in Maryland, the Gentiles had festive
lights and we Jews had zilch. Forget that. That’s the past. Back in
1957, I saw no reason why the Gentiles should have all of the fun
and I still don’t. Having those lights and a tree — that’s what I
always wanted. To have colored lights and to be a part of the
dominant culture.
But I love Christmas for much more basic reasons. The New
Testament is totally different from the Old Testament. It’s not
about battles or migrations or plagues as the Old Testament largely
is. The Old Testament is about the emergence of a people of faith
in a God who favored that people. It also has magnificent codes of
conduct for us humans, but also some extremely savage codes of
conduct.
The New Testament is about man reforming himself and
trying to get control of his barbarous, cruel nature. There are no
battles or plagues. There is only real violence against one man.
And there is only one real message: try to arrange your relations
with your fellow man based on love and empathy rather than hate or
envy or sadism.
We used to say in law school that the development of
capitalism was because the law allowed a change from status to
contract. That is, you were no longer stuck where you were born.
You could contract to do certain things that brought you out of
your status and raised you up to a higher status.
The New Testament is about the change from status to
contract. You can be saved if you simply make a contract to believe
in God and (some add) if you act right. It has nothing to do with
how you were born or into what tribe.
This is a revolutionary, stupendous freeing of the human
spirit. This is why Christmas is such a joyous time for people,
whether Jews or Christians, or anyone else, who wants to believe
that we humans can be forgiven and go on to lead lives of triumph
no matter what has happened in our past.
That, and not shopping at all, not the retail numbers, is
why Christmas is such a great time.
Just for example, I got a text from a pal this morning who
is in financial extremis and in many other ways as well. “Help,”
she said, “I feel as if I am drowning and my whole life has been
ruined.”
I answered her, “We all often feel that way. There is one
way out. Turn your life and your will over to God. He made us with
all of our flaws and He will forgive you because He knew you before
you were even formed and knew what was in you. If you accept Him,
He accepts you and you never have to feel afraid or ashamed
again.”
Or I can put it another way. Very early today, I was
watching a famous publicity hound lawyer on TV raging venomously
against someone who had said something she didn’t like, even though
the man was acting within his rights and had apologized in any
event.
She could have said, “I think he did something wrong, but
I will pray for him and hope he gets his ideas better organized. We
all make mistakes and so do I.” Instead, she went off on him on
national TV.
What spirit do you think would make her a happier woman?
What spirit would help the world more?
Easy answers, right? Well, that’s why I love Christmas.
Because that’s when the answers started becoming a worldwide
answer. And the lights are nice and the tree is nice and the
shopping is nice. But a dominant culture that, at least for
December, says that love and peace are the highest values — that’s
what I want to honor.
We don’t honor department stores. We honor the spirit of
forgiveness and love. That’s Christmas for me.
Thursday
Up and out the door
for a grueling long drive from Rancho Mirage to Camp Pendleton near
San Diego. Southern California is so immense that this drive took
three hours, all on magnificent freeway. I stopped at a Chick-Fil-A
for a fabulous sandwich of fried chicken breast, then went on my
way to the immense Marine base.
The occasion was the Christmas party for the 5th Artillery
Battalion, 11th Marines, or the 511. Rain was falling so most of it
was held in a huge open room in a Spartan building. Inside the room
were hundreds of Marines, many with wives, and many with babies —
many, many, many babies — laughing, joking, eating turkey. A jolly
crew. Outside, there was — in the drizzle — a knot of Marines on
a bouncy platform hitting each other with highly padded pugil
sticks — four-feet-long fighting weapons — and then wrestling
madly with each other.
They looked terrifyingly strong. I was glad I was not
fighting against them. They really threw themselves into the
fighting.
“Marines like to test themselves against other Marines,”
said a Marine watching the scene with me.
Two Marine Sergeants offered to show me the ordnance their
unit fires, mostly in Afghanistan. There are two main
items.
The first is a 155 mm. cannon that is so highly
computerized it staggered me. With the combined use of satellites,
the radio, or maybe the Internet, computers, and very fancy
explosives, the 511 can send hugely damaging projectiles about 18
miles with pinpoint accuracy, as a serious Master Gunnery Sergeant
explained to me.
The topper, though, is the Hi-MARS rocket. When a good
target is found whom the Marines want to “affect,” as they call it,
a satellite sends the co-ordinates of the bad guys. The rocket’s
trajectory is plotted instantly. Then, the rocket is shot 50,000
feet up into the air so it’s right above the target — then it
comes STRAIGHT DOWN at way above sonic speeds so the people it
“affects” never even remotely hear it coming. They are just
gone.
This monster can hit targets 90 miles away within one
meter. It’s unbelievable.
Anyway, inside the big building, I walked up to just about
everyone, stuck out my hand and talked to them. Everyone, every
single one, was incredibly friendly.
My favorite was a young girl whose dad is a Marine. I told
her she was adorable and I bet all of the boys at her school had
crushes on her. She shrugged. “Some of them do,” she said with her
smile and her braces.
The event was sponsored by Saddleback
Church, an immense church whose pastor is the super famous, super
best-selling book, The Purpose Driven Life. The turkey
dinner was provided by a nearby church named Calvary. Frankly, the
scene outside that room looked like Calvary or Golgotha with the
rain and the barren terrain. The formidable missiles and cannon
added to the somber mood.
But, as I said, inside all was festive. You would never
guess that most of them are going to fight in Afghanistan in a few
weeks. They asked me for a speech and I said,
“Of the seven billion men and women on the earth, the most
vital are the men and women of the United States armed forces. You
stand guarding life and liberty for all the good people of the
world. And of the armed forces, none are braver and more resolute
than the United States Marines. And of them, none is more
indispensable than the military wife. She is the backbone of the
free world. God bless you all.”
When I got back, I read that Christopher Hitchens had
died, 5 years younger than I am, of throat cancer. I only met him
once. He was paid by the producers of Expelled to debate
an evangelist preacher at Stanford about evolution. I thought the
preacher mopped up the floor with him.
The most interesting thing, though, was how Mr. Hitchens
at one point described Jews as “a greedy little tribe.” I was the
moderator of the debate and asked, “Aren’t you a member of that
tribe, Mr. Hitchens?” He looked straight ahead and said
nothing.
Of course, his mother was Jewish. She was a troubled soul
who later committed suicide and I can understand why Mr. Hitchens
would want to put some distance between him and her. He once
famously said that his mother had told him to cover up his
Jewishness because, “if there really is a ruling class, I want you
to be in it…” A perfect comment from a Jewish Momma.
Of course, he never got into the ruling class. You have to
be rich to be in it and he was not rich. He was, like many writers,
often short on dough. We writers want to live like landed gentry
and it’s always a stretch. It was a sad sight to watch him asking
the producers of Expelled to do more debates so he could
be paid for them. Maybe not sad. I am sure I would do the same.
Money is a big thing when you need it.
Well, de mortuis, nihil nisi bonum. He found
faith a burden and a sham. I find I cannot live without it. Faith
is my rock. For him, it’s, well, we don’t know what it is to him
now.
What I do know is that neither Chris, nor I, nor anyone I
know does anything nearly as important as what the youngest Private
at Pendleton does for the human condition. I give Chris credit. He
knew that and was a great supporter of the fight against Islamic
terror. Let’s remember him for that.
