Friday, April 18, 2014
Thoughts At Dusk On Another Good Friday
It is raining still and I wonder at the ground's ability to hold tight to the roots of the great oaks even as I think of the aquifer, refilling, the underground lakes which lie beneath us here receiving the waters, filtered by clay and dirt, by the bones of animals and men and trees, by the limestone itself which holds that which we cannot live without.
It has rained a night and a day, Lloyd itself threatens to float away and yet, we will not. I should walk down to Lloyd Creek through that overgrown path in the woods to see the swollen breast of it as it runs and washes down and over the banks. Maybe tomorrow I will.
I went to town today and passed the churches with their black-fabric draped crosses, wondering, wondering why there is this need to celebrate the suffering of any one human. I grew up in a house where suffering was sanctified and vilified, all at the same time and even as a tiny child I somehow thought it was my duty to do something about that suffering. And to make myself worthy of the suffering which occurred daily and always. It wasn't until I was full grown that I realized the foolish cruelty of that belief.
No wonder I shun it even as it is elevated and made to be the main message of a religion.
He died for us and our sins that we may live life everlasting.
It didn't make sense in a sad and dysfunctional household and it doesn't make sense in this world in which we live, either.
Not to me.
The only suffering which for me has been proven to be of worth is the suffering of the pangs of childbirth and through that suffering, came life. Even then, I had to come to an understanding of why birth has to hurt so much and I have come up with a reason to satisfy myself, as a mother, as a person who believes there are evolutionary reasons for most things. And my theory has nothing to do with Eve and an apple, or a snake or punishment.
Only that with the appearance of the babe, the first sight and sound and touch and smell of it, comes the complete relief of pain, the release of its overwhelming bloody grip upon the loins and womb, and thus, the baby itself imprints unknowingly itself on the mother as a savior, one she will do anything to protect and nurture. And perhaps it is similar for the child as well. I would not be surprised to know that birth is powerfully painful for the baby and that pain is relieved and released at the first sight and sound and touch and smell of the mother and thus is born the beginnings of that bond.
Or something like that.
But this makes sense. This is observable.
The salvation of mankind through the suffering of a capital punishment (which is what crucifixion was) makes no sense to me, however, and I doubt it ever will.
And I no more believe the resurrection occurred than I believe in the possibility of a Rapture.
Easter does get me going, doesn't it?
But strangely, I am in a good enough mood. It's Friday night, spaghetti sauce is simmering, my man is just now home. I haven't gathered eggs today because when I went out to check the nest, Miss Sharon was sitting on it. It's so funny how all the hens want to lay in the same nest, even waiting impatiently for one hen to finish while there are so many other places to lay and how the desired spot changes so suddenly from one place to another. I am quite certain there is a reason for this, as well, but I do not know it unless it is a desire to throw off the predators which might steal their eggs although they seem completely unconcerned that I take their eggs.
I am a benevolent predator, I suppose.
Anyway, I am content and peaceful this evening as the rain continues to drip, the birds twitter sleepily, the drums from the Holy Ghost Revival Center next door beat out a heartbeat rhythm, even as my heart within me beats its own rhythm.
May the ground hold tightly to the roots of the trees, may the sweet water be filtered and held deep below and rest pure and cold to sustain us. May we celebrate not suffering but the joy which comes when the renewal and creation of life continues and occurs. May it continue, all, despite all of our best efforts to tame and use it for our own needs and desires.
May we someday learn not to celebrate or worship suffering but to learn to bear it as all lives will contain it. May we do more to help ease the suffering of others and do less to elevate it into something it is not.
That is my wish for tonight.