It is Easter Sunday: in 1916 the Irish rebelled against the British. Much blood was shed and nothing was accomplished beyond steeling the resolve of Sinn Fein to accomplish an Irish Republic. This failed, of course, and a compromise peace was arranged that ended much of the violence but fell short of complete independence.
Springtime and New Birth
This is the highest festival day in the Christian calendar: the climax of the Paschal Triduum that proclaims the resurrection of the Christ from the tomb. I am struck by not only this image today, but other precursor myths that speak of newness of life: Dionysius comes to mind, as does Orpheus. Aesculapius also comes to mind: the blameless physician that could heal the dead. Pity Zeus could not find peace with the healer’s art: he struck him dead with a thunderbolt.
For me it is the reality that death and life dance a Pas de Deux that leaves the spectator wondering where life and death begin and end. Springtime points to the virility of life, just as winter speaks of the constancy of death. Easter is a troubling time for me. I do not accept, literally at least, the myth of the Resurrection of the dead. I do not doubt that a God capable of creation is equally capable of resurrection; capability and accomplishment are quite different things. The question remains why a resurrection is necessary after all. I do not believe that spirituality is about my finding my nirvana or salvation alone. That is egoism baptized. Luther understood that, even if Lutherans don’t.
Bonhoeffer
I recall reading in Dietrich Bonhoeffer about the idea of a world come of age in which a new form of Christianity needed to be forged that looked beyond the myth to the common experience of humanity. Bonhoeffer would speak about suffering. I think that is limited; I think mortality and finitude are the key issues. A world come of age is one in which we not only feel the pain of others and seek to comfort it, but face the realities of life and death together seeking to build on that which is most common to human experience.
For me it does not matter is Jesus did or did not rise from the dead by the glory of the Father. What matters is how I live my life in a way that affirms the goodness of life and seeks to find peace and joy. My credo is not that Christ rose, but that I will do my best to help you; if I can’t help you, then I won’t hurt you. We are connected by the very stuff that makes us human or, better, terrestrial. That is enough. How the myths are articulated are is less important than that they speak of a unity of human experience.
Easter Sunday
No bunny rabbits here: just an innate wonderment at the green pushing out of the deathly nakedness of the trees in which life has waited for this moment to be born. The older I become the more I realize that I was never convinced of the veracity of the Christian myths. I respect them, but do not own them.
Life continues, even if we rise and fall. Is it not enough to stand in awe and wonder of whatever gods there may be that stand at the center of this great cycle of life? We are involved and part of something greater than any individual. To be a part of life’s great tapestry and to know that without us it is incomplete gives great value to the individual as well as the whole. We are part of something greater. We all matter. None is insignificant. Is that not a sort of resurrection?
