History of the Day: 12/17

Today commemorates the opening of the Inquisition: Part II in Lisbon Portugal. After the raging success of the original one in Spain, Pope Clement VII opened the parallel body to continue the good work of persecuting Jews and Protestants in other kingdoms. 7 years later, Pope Paul III excommunicated Henry VIII of England for divorcing Catherine of Aragon. Henry avoided further excommunicative action by killing his later axes ... I mean exes. They don't live in Texas.

Ulysses S. Grant, wanting to prove that anti-Semitism was alive and well in the New World, issued General Order 11 on this day in 1862, expelling Jews from Tenessee, Mississippi and Kentucky. The order was meant to end the black market trade in cotton, run "mostly by Jews and other unprincipled traders". After Lincoln revoked the act, Grant said a subordinate had written it and he had just signed it. Sounds like something I heard in the news recently ... it'll come to me.

On this day in 1944, German soldiers executed about 90 American POWs in Malmedy, during the Battle of the Bulge. In 1957, the US launched the first, intercontinental, ballistic missile. After amassing hundreds pointed at one another, the US and the USSR met on this day 12 years later for the first of the SALT talks.

And last year, The Republic of Lakotah (a proposed American Indian country) declared independence from the US. The borders adhere to the 1851 Treaty of Ft. Laramie. The current administration is deciding whether to try to find the ashes of that treaty, or to make a new one to ignore.

Today is the International Day to End Violence Against Sex Workers. Initially begun as a commemoration of those murdered by the Green River Killer, it expanded to encompass all those on whom the Red Light shines. The symbol for the movement is a red umbrella, which makes me wonder about Faith Hill's song of the same name:

Your love is like a red umbrella
Walk the streets like Cinderella
Everyone can see it on my face

Happy Birthday to John Greenleaf Whittier; American poet, hymnwriter and abolitionist; born on this day in 1807. He was a Quaker, one of the few Christians whose faith actually affected his life and views. His poems include many ideas which have entered into the common lexicon, such as this one:

Alas for maiden, alas for Judge,
For rich repiner and household drudge!
God pity them both! and pity us all,
Who vainly the dreams of youth recall;
For of all sad words of tongue or pen,
The saddest are these: "It might have been!"

One truly excellent poem, the The Brewing of Soma, points an accusing finger at other Christians who speak much of faith, but lack the simple love for their neighbor that Christ commanded.

And yet the past comes round again,
And new doth old fulfil;
In sensual transports wild as vain
We brew in many a Christian fane
The heathen Soma still!

Part of that poem was lifted to become the hymn Dear Lord and Father of Mankind. Another of his hymns outlines his simple, Quaker faith:

O brother man, fold to thy heart thy brother;
Where pity dwells, the peace of God is there;
To worship rightly is to love each other,
Each smile a hymn, each kindly deed a prayer.

Yet another poem, Our Countrymen in Chains, declares his staunch abolitionism. Another poet who seemed out of step with the members of his faith died on this day in 1273. His name was مولانا جلال الدین محمد بلخى, which is pronounced Mawlānā Jalāl ad-Dīn Muhammad Balkhī, although you can just call him Rumi. I like to call him Rumi and Coke, but that's ust a little joke between us. (He prefers Vodka.) He's a Muslim, but quite a friendly guy.

Come, come, whoever you are,
Wanderer, idolater, worshiper of fire,
Come even though you have broken your vows a thousand times,
Come, and come yet again.
Ours is not a caravan of despair.

This reads quite a lot like Silverstein's Invitation at the beginning of Where the Sidewalk Ends:

If you are a dreamer, come in.
If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar,
A hope-er, a pray-er, a magic bean buyer . . .
If you're a pretender, come sit by my fire,
For we have some flax golden tales to spin.
Come in!
Come in!

Rumi was a mystic. He saw Allah everywhere, especially in himself. Some of his poetry is so explicit in this idea, that it almsot seems pantheistic:

I died as a mineral and became a plant,
I died as plant and rose to animal,
I died as animal and I was Man.
Why should I fear? When was I less by dying?
Yet once more I shall die as Man, to soar
With angels bless'd; but even from angelhood
I must pass on: all except God doth perish.
When I have sacrificed my angel-soul,
I shall become what no mind e'er conceived.
Oh, let me not exist! for Non-existence
Proclaims in organ tones,
To Him we shall return.

But one of the best things about him is, in a world and a time when the varied religions competed for most horrific attempt to wipe everyone else out, Rumi was a voice of reason and love in the midst of all the insanity and hate:

Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field.
I'll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass, the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase each other doesn't make any sense.

Today is the beginning of two, somewhat connected, though wildly disparate, feasts. The older one is Roman festival Saturnalia in honor of the god Saturn (or Kronos). The festival sounds very much like the modern day celebration of Giftmas. It involved sacrifices (layaway), a couch set in front of the temple of Saturn (a couch set in front of the temple of Television), the untying of the ropes that bound the statue of Saturn the rest of the year (the untying of the belt that barely contained your "bowlful of jelly" the rest of the year), a school holiday (2.5 days left!!!), etc. Small gifts were exchanged. The Roman poet Martial spoke about them in a series of short poems in Book 14 of his Epigrams which reads like a Latin 12 Days of Christmas. People would eat, drink, be merry and wear gaudy clothes instead of the traditional toga. And, most importantly (because it explains the insane behavior of our students recently), there was a reversal of social roles in which slaves and masters would change places, with the slaves even treating their masters disrespectfully.

But, like our modern-day Saturnalia, the "reason for the season" was forgotten. Saturn/Kronos is best known for eating his children. His wife had to hide the youngest, Jupiter/Jove/Zeus, until he could cut open his father's belly and rescue his siblings. Here are some representations of Saturn by Goya and Reubens, and a Swedish statue called Kindlifresser (child-eater), to remind us all of the true meaning of Saturnalia.

And the other feast? Ever heard the song O Come, O Come, Emmanuel (2)? Each verse of the song is based on one of a series of prayers called the O Antiphons which are, in turn, based on Old Testament titles for Christ. The first, O Sapientia (Wisdom) is read today and they continue for a week until the 23rd, the last day of Advent. Here are all of them:

• December 17: O Sapientia (O Wisdom)
• December 18: O Adonai (O Adonai)
• December 19: O Radix Jesse (O Root of Jesse)
• December 20: O Clavis David (O Key of David)
• December 21: O Oriens (O Morning Star)
• December 22: O Rex Gentium (O King of the nations)
• December 23: O Emmanuel (O Emmanuel)

Here's what's really cool. Each of the titles forms a reverse acrostic which spells, in Latin, "ERO CRAS." That means, "Tomorrow, I come." And that last title, Emmanuel, is Hebrew for God with us. "Tomorrow," the hymn says in two ways, "I will be with you."