Spring and the Wu Wei Moon
Shabbat gratefuls: Counting the Omer. Shadow time. 5:15 am today. Nap later. Shabbat shalom. Nathan and the Greenhouse. Snow. 6 inches. 15 degrees. Easter. Resurrection. Mussar. The Days of our Lives. Fawns. Calves. Kits. Cubs. Birthdays in the Mountains. Puppy energy. Breakfast. Early Morning on Shadow Mountain.
Sparks of Joy and Awe: National Park Week
Week Kavannah: Sensibility. Daat.
One brief shining: Rubbing my sleepy eyes I rose before Mother Earth revealed Great Sol, a darkness into which my Shadow slipped, needing to be out in the Snow, the cold for reasons of elimination, I imagine.
Easter. Resurrection. A difficult thing to believe. Yes. The story until the rolling away of the Stone? A Jesus story, a Jewish story. An against the Roman occupiers and the perceived rigidity of Jewish leadership story. A believable story of a young Jewish man who captured the hearts of many with his gentle message of love and compassion, his radical insistence on caring for the poor, the widowed, the left out.
His popularity his downfall. A threat to Roman overlords. Who even after arresting him, tried to let him go free. Even believable up to the crucifixion, a cruel punishment. Even up to his death and burial.
Sure, the miracles. But who hasn’t imagined one they love able to walk on water, heal with a kiss, drive out the demons of yesterday. Or, just give him the miracles. He was not the only miracle worker ever.
Where it gets hard. Impossible? That great wakin’ up morning. An empty tomb. Empirical Thomas putting his fingers in Jesus’ wounds. An ascension.
Why do some people believe it? A lot of people. 2.38 billion Christians according to PEW research. More than any other religion with Muslims next at 1.9 billion.
Let me say. Resurrection has that whole death is not the end thing going for it. A powerful idea. Responds to the hidden fears of so many. What’s next? Is there life after life?
There’s the butterfly after all. That creepy leaf-munching wiggle worm weaves a chrysalis and thanks to the magic of imaginal cells becomes a beautiful Swallowtail? Why not us? Are we not as worthy of transformation?
A story of death’s defeat. Remember Max Von Sydow playing chess with death? Checkmate, Jesus.
Always seemed a bit too far for me. A punchline delivered long after the hero had already died. He was great, wasn’t he? Well then. If anybody could come back? Eh?
Still. It’s a great metaphor. Take that beaten down mother. Show her kindness. See a resurrection. Or, take a cruel despot like Trump and overthrow him. Resurrection. Look at the Gardens, the Mountain Meadows and Hillsides in Spring. Resurrection.
If believing in life after death helps you get through the day? Why not. Not for me. Though if it could be. If I could see Kate again. Tor. Celt. Kona. I’m ok with it if it’s there. Not counting on it.
Whatever you believe, I hope you have splendid Easter.