Hobo Jungle

[MurphOnMillerAve]

Well explained, Chuck.
And furthermore, in support of one of your points, that Jesus was a Jew, permit me to add that He was such a good Jew that He did not rise from His tomb on Holy Saturday, the day after His Death on Friday, because according to the strictest rule-keepers among the Jews, such an action ,incredible as it was going to be, would have actually been criticized - condemned - because it would have been performing work on The Sabbath, Saturday . Hence, He arose the next day, giving the world Easter Sunday - Resurrection Day.

[chuck]

Good point. Hadn't thought about it in those terms. I always assumed he was busy tearing down the gates to hell.

[rogruth]

I never thought I would be interested in a religious discussion on a model train forum.
I will read but very seldom contribute to such. I am even more inadequate in religion than I am in politics.

[Rufus T. Firefly]

............... tearing down the gates to hell.

That effort usually gets put off a day..........

[Tramp]

Yes, Jesus was a Jew. And frankly, much of his teachings, wonderful as they are, were stolen from pagan Celts, which I am. Such as Easter! And Christmas! And Halloween! And the two Solstices, etc. Even Santa Claus! The list is very long.

Jesus was a great Jew. And how many churches did he build? How many cathedrals? Where did he teach?

And Catholics believe that every Sunday they should eat his 2020-year-old flesh and then wash it down with his blood. Did Jesus teach that?

[Tramp]

Chuck, I enjoyed your comment very much.

Have any of you ever considered that God might be female?

[Tramp]

Murph, did you buy a copy of HOLED UP? It is full of my hobo adventures. It is only 13.56.

[Tramp]

Murph, how could you end our long online friendship because of a difference in opinion? Do I reject you because you are a Catholic? And for the record, I have NEVER had any fear of death.

[chuck]

Have any of you ever considered that God might be female?

I think/believe that "he" is beyond that. Plus it's just one less letter to type. Prefer to view him as a "parent". One who is apparently often disappointed in the children's behavior but is fortunately infinite in patience and infinitely forgiving to those that truly repent.

[MurphOnMillerAve]

Chuck has written some profound wisdom, just above, and I have committed it to memory. Beautifully thought out. IMHO

I have come to realize that, all along, I have taken Jesus at His Word. That is, he consistently referred to his miracles and powers as coming from His Father.

He even addressed His Father at the moments of his greatest suffering and death.

Perhaps, that is symbolic or a concept and belief taught in terms we would understand .

We're dealing in beliefs, not necessarily science and/or facts, with these religious expressions.

Sexual organs or gender have not been a fixation of Christianity as it has considered God , though Jesus has always been considered the Son.

What do Judaism and Islam say about this?

[MurphOnMillerAve]

Murph, how could you end our long online friendship because of a difference in opinion? ......

You have given me too much credit. I am not that shallow.
If I broke from a friendship just because I had been in disagreement with a friend, I'd have no friends. Rather, I enjoy a person disagreeing with me as much as I enjoy agreements. Both are places and moments within which I can learn. It's enjoyable to find things upon which I have commonality with a friend, just as much as it is enjoyable to find places where we have learned things differently or have developed ideas which are contrary or shades different from each other.
daMurph

[MurphOnMillerAve]

Murph,...I have NEVER had any fear of death.

I don't currently fear death. I mean, I'd rather not die, especially since I am relatively healthy and of sound mind and spirit, but I dont sit around fearful of it. I wear my masks absolutely everywhere, especially when ministering the Eucharist at Mass, and only go out for my 2mi+ walks, and to go to the market , or to drive the restaurant which prepares all my meals, as Take-outs, for pickup.

My biggest concern, since Jan.14, 2019, has been to get all the practical aspects of my life, properties and valuables, in order. That is, I have been working on two major projects:

(1.) meeting with relatives, particularly in-laws, to have nice luncheons (done mostly pre-Covid days) during which I "bequeath" in-person to my company various precious possessions directly to those I am pretty certain my wife would have liked as heirs. I have been doing this now under the theory that there seems no good reason for folks,including dearest friends, to wait for my demise to receive and enjoy these valuables of ours. Giving them the items nowadays allows then to be happier sooner than later, and to feel how much my wife and I have valued them during our life together. These "bequeathing luncheons" have been working out very, very well.
(2.) My Will. Discerning an executor/executrix is a continuing challenge. And our heirs, the folks who will be the recipients of all of our possessions, real estate and artwork and a zillion other possessions that fill a 9-room house (plus an attic and one basement which is full of trains and a layout) is somewhat daunting, just getting it all written down. I mean, I know to whom I have decided to Will the various objects, but getting it all written down is an uncomfortable task upon which I am still focused and struggling.

There, now, see, Tramp, would i have shared something that personal with somebody I did not consider a welcome individual in my life?
daMurph

[chuck]

What do Judaism and Islam say about this?

Islam does note that Jesus was a prophet born of the virgin Mary (she is the only female noted by name in the Quran and actually has her own chapter) and that he did perform the miracles outlined in the gospels and that he will return on the last days of judgement to do battle with and vanquish the antichrist. They do not consider him to be the "son of God" nor do they recognize the concept of the trinity.

Can't find much on Judaism other than they reject the notion of the trinity and that Jesus was "the son of God". This seems to be the only line of agreement with Islam.

I can't remember where I heard/read this line

"Jesus was a good jewish boy until he decided to get involved with his Father's business"

but it kind of sums up the prevailing perspective. He was supposed to be the Messiah, fulfilling all of the prophesies BUT the prevailing population viewed him and his message as either trouble maker or a false prophet. Most of the people were looking for a military Messiah and what Jesus preached did not fit the bill so the majority turned on him. Those that did not, aka accepted his teachings, went on to found Christianity.

[Tramp]

I raise a glass to all of you and yours! Cheers!
NOVEMBER, NEW ENGLAND, AND RITUALS OF SEASON
Weather affects me, and this time of year always seems extra charged. That clear vivid sunlight, the first frost or snow, glimpses of ocean and the actual terrain revealed by downed leaves, the dramatic skies and early darkness, Thanksgiving and Christmas approaching, it all adds up to quite an emotional broth.
The fall seems to carry added weight for New Englanders because most of us need to prepare for winter. Sealing up the house and basement, fixing any roof leaks, relocating freezables, storing firewood and pellets, pruning trees, carrying porch furniture to the barn, tarping the old Chevrolet in the yard, these are some of the things on my list. Now in the evening I detour into my basement and gloat over my neat rows of oak and the four tons of pellet sacks, and I'm a happy squirrel.
Not many people understand the pleasure a basement can give. But when you've done the work yourself—remortared the foundation's granite blocks, stone and brick, replaced rotted cellar window sills, reglazed the muntins, run new wire to outlets above, removed the asbestos and reinsulated all the hot water and heating pipes, laid sections of fresh cement floor over dirt, not to mention hauling out a hundred years of collected debris including the final layer of forgotten coal—it can be satisfying. On the phone I tell my girlfriend I'm going into the salt mines for the day, and she knows what I mean, but you have to be cautious, or you can get to feeling like a mole after a while.
I consider November the most visually beautiful month with its subtle coloring and austere barrenness, but it also has a seriousness because of winter's approach, and I'm reminded again that we live pretty far north. Maybe Christmas lights are an attempt to penetrate the gloom. I prefer the multicolor bulbs (more cheerful) and hang them about two weeks before the day, and for some peculiar reason I prefer a cold even snowy afternoon for installing. Some years I've had to pour myself a whisky to warm up though I rarely drink whisky.
In January, on the below zero nights, I like to crank my wood stove and look at the lacey firmaments of ice on the window glass. These are usually moon-lit because the coldest nights are cloudless and windless, leading to an unearthly quiet if I step out onto the porch. Strangely, for the first few minutes, it never seems that cold, and then it seizes you, that arctic grip, and you dash for the comfort of the stove, even more cozy by the contrast. I always think of Jack London, the Yukon, and the story about the voyager trying to build a fire.
March is the cruelest month (it could be chucked right out of the calendar in my opinion), but I do have one ritual in March or early April. One Easter weekend thirty years ago, I spent the holiday at my godmother's Victorian in NH; the only holiday I've spent with that family and therefore special. The last afternoon, as everyone got ready to head out in various directions, we screwed a few remaining beers into the spring snow and sat out on the fieldstone steps in the sun, saying good-bye. Remembering that, every year I wait for a sunny day and drink beer chilled in the last tongues of granular snow. I drink to the end of winter, the joy of that caressing warmth on my face, all the friends and family that are gone.
May is the most wonderful month with its fresh greens and rain. I had a tradition for twenty years called "The Spring Green Run," when I drove from Maine to Vermont and back just to see those grass greens and young buds along the road. I'd wind my way west on 3, snake through the Augusta rotaries, motor the lakey isthmus of Wayne, turn left on 219 (does anyone remember the pre-repaved era of the maddening bumps?), up into Bethel where I'd locate Route 2, past my hometown of Gorham and the White Mountains, across the rise and dip of 115 (A nice rest area for a lunch at the crest), through Bethlehem, then the relaxing section of interstate past the dammed up Connecticut River called Moore Reservoir, and so on to Vermont. That drive really opened up the heart after being cooped inside the for five months.
I need rituals in my life, and I prefer those that bring me closer to nature. As a culture I think we've moved away from nature and have fallen into commercialized rituals. There is a grounding force in nature unrivaled by anything else. When we really feel nature, we must also recognize our own smallness and insignificance, and I believe this humbling is positive. A ritual is something that gauges each year, something to look forward to during difficult times; it focuses a specific season into a moment, forms a lasting memory, and reconnects you to other periods in your life. These memories then become like an emotional cache that can be used when needed, a reminder that better times exist, a raft past the bleak and hopeless peninsulas that can jut into the current.
On Thanksgiving, I brine and baste a turkey, and when everything is about ready, I walk around the yard a couple laps and look at the house in the cooling twilight, lit windows and cheerful activity inside. As I walk I reflect on what I've accomplished and what I still need to do, kind of a meditative overview of that year. Everything outside is tidy, trimmed, raked, battened, closed, ready for months of snow and ice. My life is rarely as organized, but it's the holiday to be thankful for what you have, not desirous of what you don't. I take one last lap in the near darkness to get good and cold, then I head back inside—that wondrous smell of warm supper and hot rolls—and sit down to eat with those I care about.

[robert.]

This thanksgiving seems a little nicer. Less of a frantic rush. No panic of did i forget somebody? do i need to run over there? How will traffic be to Aunt Betty's house. Who will pickup aunt Margaret? Will Uncle Jack be wearing his Ole Granddad cologne ? as strange as it sounds i have check in on these people more this year then ever before. Not one of them wants to see me or anybody else this year. Through out the spring, summer and fall. I had more time to help them. Like Tramp said " wood pile ,windows, grocery store and just well being". Maybe it's the way it should be. A smaller better time. Not a large we need to meet rush for 3 hours.