#035 - Tradition - pt. 1

MAY 2024

When I was a lad of around sixteen years of age, I found myself with a beard glued to my face and practicing (and failing miserably) at a Russian/Yiddish accent. At this point in my life, I had quit playing football and began doing theater instead. My current predicament was the outcome of being cast as Avram, the bookseller at my high school, in the smash Broadway hit - Fiddler on the Roof.  So, who day and night must scramble for a living, feed the wife and children, AND say the daily prayer? The pappa - that’s who. 

Granted, I was not too keen on background research for my roles because I was too worried about remembering my lines and trying to prevent the precariously stuck beard from falling off my face. Side note: There is a product used for attaching facial hair in the theater called spirit gum, and inhaling it definitely puts the spirit in you. Due to the proximity of the faux facial hair, it was impossible not to feel woozy, but fortunately, I did not have to do the insanely difficult bottle dance slightly high from inhaling this facial glue. My part in the play was remembering a name-heavy solo part in the song “Gossip” and running around screaming “Terrible news!” the whole time. 

It was a fantastic experience, and a talented young cast sold the show. Our high school was renowned for its theatrical performances. Still, all ego aside (mainly because I know most people do not seem to care about the braggadocious behavior of teenagers), I had a very memorable Thanksgiving experience this year, and it made me think of tradition. The older I get (it’s funny that you have to get old to use that phrase), the more my mind longs for the nostalgia of tradition. 

Nowhere else can a standardized way of belonging and carrying out the order of things be so prevalent than during the holiday season. There are the annual migrations to homelands, the mass engorgement of foodstuffs, and the swelling of the waistbands from the previously stated engorgement. Then there are the decorating traditions and the consumerism traditions. The list becomes as corpulent as the swelling waistbands. Perhaps the hustle and bustle is a distraction from the loss of sunlight, but it is a byproduct of the change in season more than anything.

There are times in our lives when the seasons change for the better. Perhaps when you are welcomed back into a family, you thought you were estranged from. Perhaps it’s the realization that these tired traditions, once glossed over by eager and impatient young eyes, are now looked back on with nostalgic and tired ones. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s like God and Jesus, who have been there the whole time, just waiting on the realization of the prodigal son.

Tradition never really dies. It is always there to pick up right where it left off. To begin with, new people, new characters, and new actors. But then perhaps improvised with the next generation? Then, it improved upon. Then, it’s passed down like an Olympic torch in a lifelong marathon to the future. And so on. And so forth. As it was in my father’s time and in his father’s time and his father’s father’s time. Or in my Mother’s time and her mother’s time, too. 

Tradition may be cultural, but it must not be gender specific. Tradition is what oils the machine of the world; without it, there would be no heritage to protect. There would be no cultural byproduct of combined traditions to defend. And no point in the lives we live either. More later. So, what to say about time-honored traditions?

I like it when you call me big pappa. 

When I think about traditions, my childhood, and Southern traditions come to mind. My family was traditional because I had a mamma and a pappa. But we were untraditional because I had two half-siblings, a byproduct of my father’s previous marriage. My mother was their stepmother, and my father was their father. There was also an age difference of more than fifteen years between me and the closest sibling. When my father raised this side of the family, he traveled a lot working for the railroad and was gone more than he was home. This wore on my brother and sister to the point that my sister had to unpack it later in therapy. This led to a raucous explosion in Hawaii during a family vacation. I was on tour at the time and missed out on the fun. Childhood trauma leaves lasting adult memories. The vindictiveness of these memories are things that travel to the grave in many families. It’s sad to me - but I’m getting off track.

Holidays are the easiest things to apply tradition. Several holiday traditions are celebrated as family, such as Christmas and Thanksgiving. My family holidays were spent decorating the house, cooking, cleaning for company, and endless parties and celebrations. My mom loved hosting and entertaining, and my dad loved making my mom happy. We would decorate the house for any holiday, and my mom and I would travel into the city to watch the holiday parades. Things like always watching the same movie at the same time each year. Cooking the same foods. The smells and sights of a traditional Christmas holiday. All provide tradition.

Most Americans know these traditions and participate without knowing their origins. Christmas is a particularly Christianized holiday that started with a pagan Yule celebration—a celebration of the winter equinox. Halloween is more a spiritual celebration of the occult, which is why some religious organizations hold fall festivals instead. All to uphold time-honored traditions. These are all really good things.

Trauma cave in.

I've written about our emotional baggage and situations that leave scars. But why does it hurt more when these are family-triggered? Logically, it makes sense. These people you are told from birth by social programming are supposed to love, care, and support you no matter who you are. So if these people hurt you, and they're supposed to be the ones supporting you, then it is hard to open up and trust anyone. It's like being in Plato's cave, but this time, a cave built on emotional abuse. The cave is a good metaphor because it is something people are trapped in from birth. They are born into emotionally traumatic situations caused by families who are supposed to love and support them but instead find themselves gaslit. To use Plato's metaphor, shadows on the wall. (Allegory of the Cave)

If you find yourself in a traumatic situation, there is always an escape ladder, even if it doesn't seem like it. If you have lived in a cave from birth, and it is all you know, the outside world is scary. But to live inside a palace is not the experience that grows a person. In a trauma cave and disconnected from the outside world, there is no perspective of connection. So, if you are in a traumatic situation, connect with others who are in the same. We live in a world connected by the internet; empathy can easily be built from the written text but will never be able to replace the love of a traditional family, even if that family has same-sex parents. But my ADHD is getting away from me.

This applies to tradition because most blindly follow the traditions established by previous generations, and traditions come and go. But tradition is the cave we all gather in once a year, regardless of its trauma or uncomfortableness. It's only once a year at Thanksgiving for three hours; you can stomach that relative for that long, right? And if you can't, you need mental help because you must come together and show your support of family tradition. If this habit is repeated, you become estranged from the tradition, and often, your family is too. This is why I sometimes support traditional family values and connection, no matter what the tradition looks like. But if you have a Powderkeg family like mine, maybe hide the matches.

Back to pastor.

I’m not a pastor. I’m not a religious communicator. I speak on the truth presented in my life like a testimony. The testimony of Jesus Christ and our Heavenly Father’s power in and over my story. It is strong, it is powerful, and it is tangible to me. The Jesus juke in the traditional situation is what traditions Jesus came to abolish and what new traditions were established in the aftermath of his death and resurrection. The old traditions of Jerusalem and Rome were destroyed with the new tradition of the way of truth and light of the world. I will never stop posting about these wonders. 

I feel convicted by modern music to make a statement about my life, my choices, and the dichotomous nature of most humans. You see, I drink sometimes, vape, and have been known to share a blunt with a homeless person. However, my life choices do not separate me from God or Jesus; they merely show me more powerfully every time the power of God and Jesus is genuine and real. When well-meaning Christians surround me, my inner spirit is warmed and affected. When I am far from the source, I am empty, tired, lonely, and depressed. Pastors would call this being a slave to sin and would encourage you in a convicting way to shed the shackles. 

But when Pastors don’t empathize with the sin they are preaching against, they become hypocritical. They become separated not for a reason or a cause of unity but for disunity. You see, I can argue for drinking and smoking weed to connect with others to help them connect with God. I feel that is why people who have been in the well make better preachers and communicators than those shouting from false mountaintops. Religious traditions are more like hollow bastions and palaces of mediocrity when held to an indisputable point. I’ve written about the Bible’s role in this. Modern music seeps in anti-Christian sentiment with phrases like I’m a sinner, oh well, f--- it. We’re all sinners, trying not to f--- ourselves or others up. 

So maybe Postie and Wallen need to go to church today. 

If we, as humans,  join together and see that Christianity is not absolute other than the commandment to love one another as God has loved you, perhaps we can begin to transform this world. We could unite for the cause of traditional connection rather than rock-hurling from one emotional fortress to the next. This is a thought based on traditional Christian values, some of which need to change. You know, to prevent trauma cave-ins.