Easter Joy!
Preached 4/12/2020 at SouthWest UU in N. Royalton OH
By Rev. Meg Mathieson
In 1922, TS Eliot famously began his epic poem the Wasteland with the words, “April is the cruelest month.” Eliot was experiencing the glowing, gorgeous renewal of life that April brings from the perspective of Europe 100 years ago, freshly broken and ravaged by The Great War. The mourning and hopelessness in the air seemed to be being mocked by April, or in Eliot’s words, “breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain.”
In the best of times, April, and Easter in particular, is a time of renewed hope after a dark winter. In the best of times, Easter invites us to get our hopes up, to believe in miracles, to witness renewal, regeneration, even dare to believe in resurrection.
But if you’ve ever experienced a tragedy in early spring, you know that the playful invite of April can also be a cruel demand. If you have lost a loved one, received a devastating diagnosis, or had a love affair fall apart in April, you are forced to witness the giddiness of spring bursting into being, relentlessly, with its blinding colors, reminding us that Mother Gaia marches on with or without us.
April is the cruellest month. In a time of struggle and pain, it can feel like we are looking out of a window at a party that we can’t join. Many of us are literally doing that now, stuck inside for much if not all of the day.
When TS Eliot christened April the Cruelest Month, he was speaking not only of his own experience, but naming an international hurt. There was something comforting in this. Recognizing the commonality of our humanity in suffering is in itself healing. Or said more plainly, misery loves company.”
At about the same moment, a contemporary of Eliot’s Edna St Vincent Millay composed an equally Anti-April message:
To what purpose, April, do you return again? Beauty is not enough.
You can no longer quiet me with the redness
Of little leaves opening stickily. I know what I know.
It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,
April Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.
Stupid April. Babbling and strewing flowers. A time when sweetness can feel too sweet, when we need space to process our anxieties. Back off, April. Take it down a notch, April. You’re embarrassing yourself, April.
This may all sound very cynical, but it is a truth that we need to acknowledge, validate, and process our anxieties before we can open ourselves to cheering up. We need to feel our negative feelings before moving on to happier feelings. Basically what I’m trying to say is, don’t feel bad, if you feel bad! That’s normal.
Easter is here, a day when historically humans have found joy and hope. If you are feeling joyful and hopeful too, that’s wonderful! But for those of us who feel scared, lonely, anxious, angry? All of the emotions that Easter does not celebrate, those feelings are valid too.
The good news is that you are in good company. There is not one of us. Not a single one of us that is blithely unconcerned. We are all worried.
****May we find a way to exist in both places, finding in our hearts space for both anxiety and hope. Space for both anger and loving-kindness.
May we breathe. May we know that we are in this together.
May we be at peace. May we be well.
May we be well. May we be well.
Happy Easter. Easter is a day of bright sunshine and bunnies and Jesus loves me and candy. But remember also that Jesus suffered horribly and that too much candy will hurt your stomach! There is no thing on this gorgeous complex plane of existence that is uncomplicated, not when viewed through human eyes.
I am so heartened to know that I am not the only one who has cried about this virus. So glad to know we are together in our worry. May we be well. May we find joy.
Nevertheless, may we persist in finding joy.
Thank you April. Thank you Easter. Thank you to Mother Gaia, who decides how long the age of humans will extend. Praise to the unnameable that some call God.
Preached 4/12/2020 at SouthWest UU in N. Royalton OH
By Rev. Meg Mathieson
In 1922, TS Eliot famously began his epic poem the Wasteland with the words, “April is the cruelest month.” Eliot was experiencing the glowing, gorgeous renewal of life that April brings from the perspective of Europe 100 years ago, freshly broken and ravaged by The Great War. The mourning and hopelessness in the air seemed to be being mocked by April, or in Eliot’s words, “breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain.”
In the best of times, April, and Easter in particular, is a time of renewed hope after a dark winter. In the best of times, Easter invites us to get our hopes up, to believe in miracles, to witness renewal, regeneration, even dare to believe in resurrection.
But if you’ve ever experienced a tragedy in early spring, you know that the playful invite of April can also be a cruel demand. If you have lost a loved one, received a devastating diagnosis, or had a love affair fall apart in April, you are forced to witness the giddiness of spring bursting into being, relentlessly, with its blinding colors, reminding us that Mother Gaia marches on with or without us.
April is the cruellest month. In a time of struggle and pain, it can feel like we are looking out of a window at a party that we can’t join. Many of us are literally doing that now, stuck inside for much if not all of the day.
When TS Eliot christened April the Cruelest Month, he was speaking not only of his own experience, but naming an international hurt. There was something comforting in this. Recognizing the commonality of our humanity in suffering is in itself healing. Or said more plainly, misery loves company.”
At about the same moment, a contemporary of Eliot’s Edna St Vincent Millay composed an equally Anti-April message:
To what purpose, April, do you return again? Beauty is not enough.
You can no longer quiet me with the redness
Of little leaves opening stickily. I know what I know.
It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,
April Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.
Stupid April. Babbling and strewing flowers. A time when sweetness can feel too sweet, when we need space to process our anxieties. Back off, April. Take it down a notch, April. You’re embarrassing yourself, April.
This may all sound very cynical, but it is a truth that we need to acknowledge, validate, and process our anxieties before we can open ourselves to cheering up. We need to feel our negative feelings before moving on to happier feelings. Basically what I’m trying to say is, don’t feel bad, if you feel bad! That’s normal.
Easter is here, a day when historically humans have found joy and hope. If you are feeling joyful and hopeful too, that’s wonderful! But for those of us who feel scared, lonely, anxious, angry? All of the emotions that Easter does not celebrate, those feelings are valid too.
The good news is that you are in good company. There is not one of us. Not a single one of us that is blithely unconcerned. We are all worried.
****May we find a way to exist in both places, finding in our hearts space for both anxiety and hope. Space for both anger and loving-kindness.
May we breathe. May we know that we are in this together.
May we be at peace. May we be well.
May we be well. May we be well.
Happy Easter. Easter is a day of bright sunshine and bunnies and Jesus loves me and candy. But remember also that Jesus suffered horribly and that too much candy will hurt your stomach! There is no thing on this gorgeous complex plane of existence that is uncomplicated, not when viewed through human eyes.
I am so heartened to know that I am not the only one who has cried about this virus. So glad to know we are together in our worry. May we be well. May we find joy.
Nevertheless, may we persist in finding joy.
Thank you April. Thank you Easter. Thank you to Mother Gaia, who decides how long the age of humans will extend. Praise to the unnameable that some call God.