Tradition, Tradition . . . . . . TRADITION
In the great musical "Fiddler on the Roof", there's this great song that mentions roles for every member of the family based on tradition. The roles for the Papa, the Mama, the Son, and the Daughter. It is completely politically incorrect, and less and less applicable to today's world, but the song itself is a blast.
I've begun to wonder what has happened to the family traditions through the ages. Beyond that, what of cultural traditions? Have they ebbed and flowed and changed as people have changed? Or are they simply fading away all-together for some reason? I ask this as I see the world in a state of flux where what once was considered the norm and expected is now considered old-fashioned, quaint, old-school, or just old.
For example, let us begin with the tradition of family meals. There was a time I remember when all of the families I knew would gather for 1 meal a day (sometimes dinner, sometimes breakfast, but SOMETHING). Everyone would be expected (often times required) to gather round the table and break bread together. People would reconnect through this process. In my home we had a daily devotional every morning (just my mother, sister, and I). We would read a small Bible passage, read some thoughts on it, and recite a quick prayer (a prayer I recite daily to this day as I shower or drive to work).
[Edit, due to popular requests, I'm adding the prayer already, so stop pestering me! "Oh Holy Father, most merciful redeemer, may we love thee more dearly, may we know thee more clearly, and me we follow thee more nearly, day by day."]
Then we would streak off in our respective directions, emboldened from the strength that we had drawn from each other, and ready to take on the day! (Ok, that's not quite accurate. We were dragged out of bed, grumbling and complaining and tried to stay awake at our tiny dining table while mother or I would read the devotional. Afterwards we staggered off to school or work wondering why we didn't get enough sleep or why we didn't go to bed earlier.)
Later we reduced this to a Sunday morning ritual, where chorizo would be prepared every week (and it was delicious), and my father would play Tom Waites at high volume while sweeping and mopping the floors. Not quite as spiritual, but still very therapeutic and healing in its own way.
I don't know many people who continue in these traditions these days. My mother attempted to revive something like them with Sabbath meals and prayers every Friday night at sundown (this lasted for a few years actually, so it was somewhat successful), and my wife and I continue to have some concoction of eggs with our sons every Sunday morning, but that's about it. What happened?
"The world went and got itself in a big damn hurry." (Shawshank Redemption, remember?) That's what happened. We're to driven by our needs to achieve and control and guard our own personal spaces and time (and who of us really owns our time anyways? I should blog on that later) that we don't take time anymore to smell the roses, or play with our kids, or share our dreams, thoughts, or concerns with the people closest to us anymore. It takes too much time. It's too inconvenient. We want to drive through and super-size it, and we're done.
Here's another example. There was a time when after dinner people would go out for a walk around the neighborhood and connect with their communities. People expected every evening to go out and see their neighbors, their families, and catch up with what's going on in their lives. They would usually find them on their front porch or just waltz in through their un-locked front door. Now days the doors are always locked, and the houses have no porches. Now they have garages with automatic doors that you briefly open to get your vehicle in, and then shut it closed behind you immediately lest some random neighbor you don't know pesters you with their life!
Finally, let me give one of my favorite examples. My father's parents hold a rosary every Christmas. They do this to honor an event in the history of the family. My grandfather's brother came home from World War II on Christmas Eve, while his mother, my great-grandmother, was holding a rosary and praying to God that her son would return safely. When he did she promised to hold a rosary every year to give thanks. To this day every year this tradition is held, and it's an absolutely beautiful and wonderful piece of family history to cling too.
I haven't attended in at least 5 years.
Not only that, but the family has gathered to consider giving up the tradition on at least 1 occasion I can remember. Why? It's too inconvenient. Too much time. Too much of a pain. The last one I attended I was soured by a number of . . . . I'm not sure how to describe it . . .. gaffs? Many family members had great difficulty in looking up Bible verses. I don't mean finding something appopriate for the setting or their hearts, I just mean looking up the dang thing when someone told them John 3:16. Some branches of the family had all sorts of drama that took away from the occasion (recent fights, disagreements, getting out of jails, going BACK to jail, things like that). Finally, when it came time to sing some carols, there were a total of 4 us who knew any of them (4 out of 20 plus).
I thought to myself through this, "This is how we honor our ancestors?" Is this the same event with the same purpose and same goal as the original rosary was held all those years ago? Probably not, but it could be. Am I willing to put forth the effort and energy it would take to make it so again? Nope.
So, lest anyone think me high and mighty, I've got my failings as well. And I'm sure we all do. What other traditions are not what they once were? Thanksgiving dinner with the family? Midnight Mass on Christmas? Visiting friends and family when they're infirm or in the hospital? Welcoming new neighbors with some sort of baked good? Trick or Treating? Housewarming parties? Bar-Mitzvah/ Bat-Mitzvah/ Quincenera/ First Communion/ Baptism events? How much do we lose of ourselves as this traditions slowly ebb away? How many of our children or grandchildren will be able to remember how to sing Christmas carols?
More importantly, how many of them will remember why?
I'll make sure mine will. And they'll learn that you immediately start singing them the day after Thanksgiving. And they'll learn that it doesn't really matter how well you sing or even how many songs you know, but that you're bonding with some other people, and that together, you're making something greater than yourself. You're making a community. You're building something good, investing in something that will pay you back many-times over, and most importantly, you're having a little fun at the same time while you share.
That's what traditions are for. To build a little bond, make a little community, and have some fun while you share a little of yourself with those around you. They remind us that there's other people out there, and we should peek into their worlds from time to time to appreciate them. And remember the worlds of those who have touched us in the past, and touch those who will carry on our legacies in the future.
I've begun to wonder what has happened to the family traditions through the ages. Beyond that, what of cultural traditions? Have they ebbed and flowed and changed as people have changed? Or are they simply fading away all-together for some reason? I ask this as I see the world in a state of flux where what once was considered the norm and expected is now considered old-fashioned, quaint, old-school, or just old.
For example, let us begin with the tradition of family meals. There was a time I remember when all of the families I knew would gather for 1 meal a day (sometimes dinner, sometimes breakfast, but SOMETHING). Everyone would be expected (often times required) to gather round the table and break bread together. People would reconnect through this process. In my home we had a daily devotional every morning (just my mother, sister, and I). We would read a small Bible passage, read some thoughts on it, and recite a quick prayer (a prayer I recite daily to this day as I shower or drive to work).
[Edit, due to popular requests, I'm adding the prayer already, so stop pestering me! "Oh Holy Father, most merciful redeemer, may we love thee more dearly, may we know thee more clearly, and me we follow thee more nearly, day by day."]
Then we would streak off in our respective directions, emboldened from the strength that we had drawn from each other, and ready to take on the day! (Ok, that's not quite accurate. We were dragged out of bed, grumbling and complaining and tried to stay awake at our tiny dining table while mother or I would read the devotional. Afterwards we staggered off to school or work wondering why we didn't get enough sleep or why we didn't go to bed earlier.)
Later we reduced this to a Sunday morning ritual, where chorizo would be prepared every week (and it was delicious), and my father would play Tom Waites at high volume while sweeping and mopping the floors. Not quite as spiritual, but still very therapeutic and healing in its own way.
I don't know many people who continue in these traditions these days. My mother attempted to revive something like them with Sabbath meals and prayers every Friday night at sundown (this lasted for a few years actually, so it was somewhat successful), and my wife and I continue to have some concoction of eggs with our sons every Sunday morning, but that's about it. What happened?
"The world went and got itself in a big damn hurry." (Shawshank Redemption, remember?) That's what happened. We're to driven by our needs to achieve and control and guard our own personal spaces and time (and who of us really owns our time anyways? I should blog on that later) that we don't take time anymore to smell the roses, or play with our kids, or share our dreams, thoughts, or concerns with the people closest to us anymore. It takes too much time. It's too inconvenient. We want to drive through and super-size it, and we're done.
Here's another example. There was a time when after dinner people would go out for a walk around the neighborhood and connect with their communities. People expected every evening to go out and see their neighbors, their families, and catch up with what's going on in their lives. They would usually find them on their front porch or just waltz in through their un-locked front door. Now days the doors are always locked, and the houses have no porches. Now they have garages with automatic doors that you briefly open to get your vehicle in, and then shut it closed behind you immediately lest some random neighbor you don't know pesters you with their life!
Finally, let me give one of my favorite examples. My father's parents hold a rosary every Christmas. They do this to honor an event in the history of the family. My grandfather's brother came home from World War II on Christmas Eve, while his mother, my great-grandmother, was holding a rosary and praying to God that her son would return safely. When he did she promised to hold a rosary every year to give thanks. To this day every year this tradition is held, and it's an absolutely beautiful and wonderful piece of family history to cling too.
I haven't attended in at least 5 years.
Not only that, but the family has gathered to consider giving up the tradition on at least 1 occasion I can remember. Why? It's too inconvenient. Too much time. Too much of a pain. The last one I attended I was soured by a number of . . . . I'm not sure how to describe it . . .. gaffs? Many family members had great difficulty in looking up Bible verses. I don't mean finding something appopriate for the setting or their hearts, I just mean looking up the dang thing when someone told them John 3:16. Some branches of the family had all sorts of drama that took away from the occasion (recent fights, disagreements, getting out of jails, going BACK to jail, things like that). Finally, when it came time to sing some carols, there were a total of 4 us who knew any of them (4 out of 20 plus).
I thought to myself through this, "This is how we honor our ancestors?" Is this the same event with the same purpose and same goal as the original rosary was held all those years ago? Probably not, but it could be. Am I willing to put forth the effort and energy it would take to make it so again? Nope.
So, lest anyone think me high and mighty, I've got my failings as well. And I'm sure we all do. What other traditions are not what they once were? Thanksgiving dinner with the family? Midnight Mass on Christmas? Visiting friends and family when they're infirm or in the hospital? Welcoming new neighbors with some sort of baked good? Trick or Treating? Housewarming parties? Bar-Mitzvah/ Bat-Mitzvah/ Quincenera/ First Communion/ Baptism events? How much do we lose of ourselves as this traditions slowly ebb away? How many of our children or grandchildren will be able to remember how to sing Christmas carols?
More importantly, how many of them will remember why?
I'll make sure mine will. And they'll learn that you immediately start singing them the day after Thanksgiving. And they'll learn that it doesn't really matter how well you sing or even how many songs you know, but that you're bonding with some other people, and that together, you're making something greater than yourself. You're making a community. You're building something good, investing in something that will pay you back many-times over, and most importantly, you're having a little fun at the same time while you share.
That's what traditions are for. To build a little bond, make a little community, and have some fun while you share a little of yourself with those around you. They remind us that there's other people out there, and we should peek into their worlds from time to time to appreciate them. And remember the worlds of those who have touched us in the past, and touch those who will carry on our legacies in the future.
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