Holy days, holy places, and always feeling at home

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If you spend any time on Facebook, chance are, some of that time is spent perusing memories. 

If we shared it on Facebook that same day last year or years ago, Facebook will call to mind what we were doing, who we spent time with, and in what outfit. And if we posted pictures of food, we get a pointed reminder of how many calories we ingested.

As a journalist, my Facebook memories include community events I have covered. Recently, Facebook reminded me of  Dec. 1, 2013, when I covered a Hannukah carnival, sponsored by a local Chabad. 

I posted a photo of some cookies from the occasion, and recalled that the rabbi offered to pray for me and my husband, the writer, Lawrence Carradini, who was seriously ill. 

The rabbi, Larry and I could not know that this holiday season was Larry's last -- although intuitively, I think we all understood it.

I'm a believer in letting people know when their kindness has touched me, so, when I saw this memory, I sent the rabbi and his wife a note to tell them. 

Both in my journalist and civilian life, I spend a lot of time in places of worship. As a Catholic, I've had the occasion to visit my beautiful churches and shrines, and I feel at home in them, but I feel at home anywhere someone has created a sacred space.

I've visited and continue to visit mosques, emples, synagogues, and places my Celtic ancestors surely appreciated, such as Stonehenge.

I have visited churches of many denominations, including the simple, light-filled beauty of early churches here in Massachusetts, with their foundings during colonial times.

When describing my experiences, it never occurs to me to say, "I'm not a Muslim, but," or "I'm not Jewish, but..." as a qualifier. 

If social media offers a place where it is too easy to react, it also presents its brand of peer pressure -- a phenomenon certain to follow us the human species, with the desire for acceptance written into our DNA.

Perhaps we worry that, if we're not part of a particular group, or have deicded that members of a group are everything that's wrong in our culture, we don't want our "friends" and "family" to worry that some nefarious influence has taken hold. 

Can an organization or movement exert a harmful influence? Yes. It is easy to conclude wrongly about a person or group, even if we perceive ourselves to be progressive, non-judgmental, and open-minded? Sadly, also yes.

I don't make fun of the plastic, bulb-lit nativity scenes on someone's front lawn that make it into a myriad memes. Not everyone can afford a porcelain set hand-painted by Michelangelo, and flown in from Rome. 

When a particular observance draws near, I wish for happiness, and never add the descriptor, "for those who celebrate."

I leave it to others to decide whether to participate. My one exception: the holidays of my Irish ancestors, Imbolc, Beltaine, Lughnasadh, and Samhain. Those I wish specifically for everyone Irish in my circle, to distinguish them from their appropriation in modern culture. 

Being first-generation Irish-American, I'm well aware that Christmas almost certainly takes place in December to align with festivities around the Winter Solstice. The energy expended in such didacts could be spent helping someone facing financial or emotional hardships in a time of year that can bring as much struggle as merriment. 

This I know well. At Christmas 2013, Larry and I faced a future of dark uncertainty, and on New Year's Day, he checked into a hospital, on a journey whose end was becoming very clear. 

For me, one sanctuary was the interfaith chapel at our local hospital.

A rabbi's prayers, and the uplifting of our family and friends of all faiths gave us strength. 

And I carry those memories throughout the year.

Meg Smith is a writer, journalist, dancer and events producer living in Lowell, Mass. She welcomes visits to megsmithwriter.com.









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