Yesterday was Easter in North
America. For some, it is a religious holiday, marking the Christian belief that
Jesus was raised from death by God and spent time among his followers
demonstrating that he truly was the “Christ” – the anointed one of God. Of
course, for many more people, Easter
is simply another long weekend… a four
day long weekend. A bit early in the Canadian season for outdoor camping,
but not for family gatherings, drinking parties and general relaxing. On my
morning walks, I note that there are usually one or two cars left overnight in
the Boston Pizza parking lot, their drivers having been obliged to take a cab home
because they were unable to drive because they were drunk. On Friday morning –
Good Friday, remember – there were nine
cars in the lot! Thursday: eve of a long weekend; big drinking night!
Many Churches in North America
have a special time of worship on Good Friday, as I mentioned previously. Many
also have a vigil over night on Saturday, ending on Sunday morning with the
lighting of the “new fire” to symbolize the return of ‘light’ to the world
symbolically in Christ. The ‘new fire’ is usually a large metal bowl, which,
when ignited, bursts into a leaping tower of flame, before settling down to,
well…burn.
Easter worship in most Churches,
both Protestant and Roman Catholic, focuses on the belief in resurrection, the
return of new life through Jesus, the Christ (the Greek word for Messiah). Now
and then there are some amusing mistakes made.
Most of you are probably aware of
the cultural tradition here (and elsewhere, I assume) of celebrating Easter
with the Easter bunny, often made of chocolate, and lavishly distributed to
children (and adults who love chocolate!) The candy maker and the card
companies foster this practice, of course. Easter cards abound, and sweets of
all kinds are shamelessly marketed to children. Everyone has a great time with
all this!
Not many realize that this
practice bears a direct relationship to the worship of an old, pre-Christian
Goddess, Eostre, the great Mother Goddess of the Saxon people! You will have
seen “eostre” before, in words like “estrogen,” a feminine hormone. Doing the
Easter egg and bunny thing is a delightful way of reaching back in time to our
north European ancestors, and worshipping the Great Mother’s ability to bring
new life into the world in spring! Very pagan!
What gives me a giggle is the
practice of a local conservative Protestant congregation. These folk are
extremely narrow in view, condemning all kinds of cultural practices as pagan
and evil. In complete ignorance (I am assuming), they hold a huge Easter egg
hunt for children on the Saturday of Easter weekend! I have been tempted to
write to their pastor, or better, one of their elders, with information about
the origin of their children’s party, just to hear the squeals of horror that
would ensue.
A word about recovery: I have
been doing quite well with the swimming, and not bad with walking. My knees
protest a little more these days when I walk. Do you think they are aware that
I’ve had another birthday? The swimming is currently being interrupted by an
annoying occurrence in the water last week. As I was plowing along in the
water, I felt a twinge in my left bicep, which faded as I swam. When I was
done, and cleaned up, I noticed that my upper left arm was a bit sore. “Pulled
muscle,” I thought. I swam the next day as well, another kilometer. This time,
it felt much worse, and afterward was really
sore.
The soreness continued and spread
until by the weekend, the whole upper arm and
shoulder were more than tender, and hurt sharply whenever I tried to put on
a coat, or even swing my arm as I walked. By now, the constant pain though my
shoulder and arm is tiring, and makes it difficult to find a comfortable way to
sleep. I still think ‘pulled muscle’ with affected other parts. I have an
appointment with a Physiotherapist on Wednesday, so I can have it checked out,
but it seems wise to not swim again until after I have a diagnosis and
treatment plan.
The first thing I think of is, “This
doesn’t happen when you are twenty two…only when you are eighty!” Sigh…the
wonders of aging. I’ll let you know what comes of all this. Until then, my
knees will get more work, my arm, less.
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