Description: For every thing there is a beginning.
Of Two Easters -------------------------------------------
Through lips of flesh you spoke to us
of living water, endless days
deemed fantastic, peace ecstatic
Tree of Life you hung to die
God whose spirit with us stays
help us few who wonder why
such death you chose from which you rose
Great Teacher, can we now suppose
the Three in One and One the Same
your power ours to claim?
Will your angels tend to us your garden gate to find?
Will your angels cry with us for loved ones left behind?
What of those who laugh at us and say we've lost our mind?
for death to self and born again's the practice of our kind
Such practice does make perfect for a resurrection day
but Heaven as a kingdom seems so very far away
As Easter morn we hide some eggs that children have their play
What of the hare our goddess chose
Eostre most fair put in the moon
to lay the cosmic egg of life
that immortality prevail
for every dawn and every Spring
and every new moon born again
becomes the Easter Bunny tale
as now those gods we must curtail
while seeking still our treasures
This piece is interesting. And the timing of it too. . . all the little children around me at Christmas (nieces and nephews ages 5-8) knew all about the story of the birth of "baby Jesus" but I wonder what they know of Christ's Resurrection.
I think we adults might get such a laugh out of that bit in Talladaga Nights where Will Ferrell prays to "baby Jesus" for just that reason. As absurd as it is, it is much easier to focus on the myth of the beginning of the life of Christ than to fathom a real person making such a sacrifice later on.
And yes, so many of us are ignorant of the origins of our Easter celebrations and rituals (even the word Easter--coming from the goddess Eostre).
People rarely think of the rabbit and the eggs as being symbols of a fertility goddess that has long been forsaken. And even when they do know, people still seem to prefer that their children run around looking for colored eggs and eating sweets, while believing in a magic bunny, rather than imagining a man nailed to a cross.
I know when my oldest son went to preschool at a Lutheran church I was shocked when I saw a bulletin board that said, "HE DIED FOR . . . ." and then held little crosses below it with the names of all the little preschool kids (a cross of Sean, and one for Lucy and one for Tristan etc.). I remember telling the teacher, "This is just too much guilt for a three year old to bear!" I might have added that it was too much pressure too, and too much violence for them to hear about.
I wonder where Christianity will end up someday. Will it someday be a long-lost religion from an ancient time? So much of it must be so distorted from the way it was in its inception.
My 14 year old son who styles himself a budding comedian does a whole bit about "Zombie Jesus" and how that's what he must have been when he rose from the dead after three days in a tomb.
It's quite offensive, I'm sure, to many Christians, but I can't help but laugh. Not so much at the jokes themselves but in his delivery of them. He seems so sure of himself, so cocky and disdainful when he tells them . . . at 14. And yet he goes to church on Sunday. . .
I get the feeling that the ambivalence my son has is in all of us at times. It seems to be showing here in your work.
You go by "Blue Monk" but you seem to be more into exploring beliefs than espousing them. I am not accusing or judging. It is just an observation, and it could be way off.
I just want to say that I admire you tackling these "big questions". Too few poets do.