On Easter

It is Easter Sunday. Christ is risen.
Or possibly not. I do find the Easter story impossibly moving, far
more than Christmas which has always seemed like a syncretic
confection.
Except that it too does seem to be uncomfortably allied to other
religious themes – Osiris, pagan birth and renewal in the spring…
I do at this time of year try to meditate on the reality of the Christ
figure. Jesus was, I believe, what we would now call a millennial
fundamentalist. He said the kingdom of Heaven, which is the end of the
world, would occur in his lifetime. He believed this.
Hence render unto Caesar – why struggle against doomed temporal power?
Hence the seven last words on the cross – why have you abandoned me?
Why do I die and the world goes on?
Sorry if I trample on your faith on this the holiest of days. All my
adult life I have struggled to believe, and mostly I have failed.
And then. The Sermon On The Mount. The most sublime text in Western
thought, and the real heart of the Christian message. This is how you
should live your life. Go forth and practice it.
So if trying to live your life according to Christian principles makes
me a Christian, then so be it. In that respect Christ is risen, if the
day reaffirms that belief.

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