Dawn Before Dawn

The word of resurrection hurts the ears. Somehow at this time of year - before the first Sunday after the first full moon after the vernal equinox - no matter what religion you are, something strains in you, in the hour before dawn, to know if it is going to be allowed to walk the world again. Before, before, before - and after.  The hour before dawn - when pre-dawn and dawn mix their bloods - is the time when the body listens for its name. It listens in that eternal mixture of humor and despair which is its lot.

I return to this theme every year. It's important to know if the body is going to go on. It's important - magical - to name the wonderful sequence of cosmic events - full moon, equinox, day of rest - that signal resurrection. It's important to ask, no matter what religion you belong to, because the body itself wants to know. And it's a word which hurts the ears because, each year, there is no certainty that the victory has been won until the cosmos declares it.

According to the materialistic narrative, which science has largely adopted, the body dissolves after death and there's an end to it. Yes, no doubt. But a larger science - also an empirical one - hears the voices calling out before: before dawn, before creation, before I am. It senses the humor and despair. It allows the absurd question because the body - physical matter - itself is asking it: is there a resurrection for me? Then comes the other question of course - how am I, as an individual human being, involved in the process of resurrection? That's a narrative for another day when, perhaps, I've gained in wisdom.

Jay

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