Like Christmas, Easter can be a complicated time for me. I don’t think that a Jewish rabbi was slaughtered on a Roman torture/execution device 2000 years ago. That same rabbi didn’t come back from the dead three days later.
But I know people who do believe all of that happened. Out of respect for their beliefs, I tend to keep to myself on this holiday. Well, that’s not entirely accurate. Some of it also has to do with fear of belligerence, and not wanting to prompt long discussions about the existence of a demigod that had to be sacrificed for humankind.
Such potential hostility is wasted. There’s nothing old or new that changes my mind on the matter. There’s nothing I can say which will change their minds on the matter. The only thing such exchanges promote is a lasting sense of hopelessness on my part.
Easter was a happier time when I didn’t have an idea that the celebration was for something that never happened. Now it’s just another reminder of lost time. It’s hard to fake happiness when that happens.
I know a bunch of people are having a happy Easter right now. I don’t begrudge them their moments of cheer. I wish them all the happiness they can stand. As for me, I’m going to try to remember to be kind to myself, to forget the creeping darkness behind the festivities. And maybe I’ll get through another Easter without too much fuss.