March 27, 2016


I am not an Easter person.

I disliked catechism as a kid. One reason is that I went to catechism with kids who attended other schools, not my own. Also, my dad was Catholic and my mom refused to convert, though she went to Catholic church every Sunday. Her heathenness complicated the ceremonial aspects of being a Catholic that parents would usually participate in. I had to do them all with my pop, and not my mom. The nuns actually told my brother that he should go home and tell our mom that she was going to hell if she didn't convert. And our very modern and new church featured an enormous and stern image of Christ on the ceiling that scared me. There isn't anything comforting, warmly familiar or unstressful about church, and I still feel guilty for not getting it.

For that reason, I decided as a young adult that I would not celebrate Easter. It's not fair to participate in the party when you haven't earned it, so to speak.

I discovered recently that although I am definitely not Catholic, I am Wendish / Sorbian. My peeps, a Slavic minority in Eastern Germany and Poland, have an amazing egg-decorating tradition. They also make noodles, believe in sprites, and wear gorgeously intricate traditional garb. Perhaps I can take back Easter through its pre-Christian roots. Won't help with the guilt, but would give me something to do while others eat ham.

Sorbian / Wendish links:


Sorbian Eggs

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