I’m feeling pretty melancholy on this Easter Sunday morning, and thought I would sit down and try to reconcile why through my writing. I mean I have a great life- in fact things here couldn’t be better. We are spending the day here in sunny Miami- just D, E and I and it will be quiet but peaceful. We plan to frolic in the pool, do a little sunbathing and cook out on the grill upstairs. But something feels missing this year and it’s not just that I’m missing S or my Mom or the rest of my family. I liken it to that feeling I imagine Jesus’ disciples had after the angel rolled back the heavy stone on Jesus’ tomb revealing that his body was missing. Imagine their anguish and confusion at finding Christ gone, wondering who would’ve stolen their Lord? In my case, I've had a similar reaction on this day that I guess can only be attributed to one thing- I think maybe I’ve lost my Faith. This hasn’t happened overnight, though. No, my faith has been chipped away at and slowly faded over time. Now it seems, it’s just somehow left the building. Gone, like an Irish exit. When I say Faith, what I mean is faith in so many things these days (and not just the Christian church). Over the last few years, my loss of faith first came in the jarring breakdown of so many relied upon structures in everyday American life- namely in our governmental policies and in people who I’ve shared history with who’re now barely recognizable to me due to polarizing politics. During Covid, I lost faith in our healthcare systems and in our lack of humanity in caring for others. Over the last decade, I’ve born witness to the surprising dissolution of marriages I once thought were rock solid, the grief and pain of those lost and to friendships that have faded or been broken for one reason or another. I’ve seen cruelty in public places and watched killings and war after war unfolding in the world. I’ve seen powerful people and leaders lie and cheat without any recourse. I’ve seen the highest court in our land be compromised and overtaken by religious zealots bent on control. I’ve seen the rise of all the worst “isms” of the world- fascism and racism and sexism rising up out of what I thought were old buried bigotries and the stripping away of our freedoms along with women’s bodily autonomy. I’ve watched a generation succumb to the evil trappings and illicit attention sapping of the digital age. I’ve watched my own girls fall victim to an epidemic level of anxiety and depression that has become the hallmark of their generation plagued by mass school shootings, cyber bullying and early exposure to the many ills of society befallen on them in the name of “progress”. Laying in the streets and polluting our oceans, I’ve seen the results of humanity’s disregard for the other float on by as I trudge on through my own life, rendered helpless and at times catatonic by the immense enormity of it all. As a result, my faith’s been replaced by cynicism and distrust of everyone and everything except that for which I hold dearest- my immediate family. It really is the only thing I know for sure anymore. On this Easter morning, I am reminded of the everyday life I used to hold dear and often still long for. Or maybe back then it was just safer and easier to live in a bubble where going with the flow and having trust in institutions was better lived without critical thinking or any realistic ponderance? Was ignorance truly bliss after all? I long for the days when I felt the shelter of these Faiths- a place in my mind I could always count on for refuge and answers. How blissful it was to be sure about so many things. As a child, I’d sit in church every Easter Sunday, my parents anchored securely on each side of my brother and I in the pew, and listen to the familiar sermons and hymns marking the joyous assurances of this holiday that Jesus had risen and saved us from all of our sins. That unwavering acceptance of the crucifixion story and revelry around the Pastor’s proclamation of this miracle felt like a pep rally cry. I remember feeling the unbridled joy and feeling of renewal, the fresh scent of the Easter Lilies lined up in a cross formation on the altar lingering in the air. Outside church, the crisp but warm welcoming air and fresh green grass promised that spring and summer would soon be here. These days, however, that naïve elation’s been replaced with emptiness and disappointment. It’s hard to believe in a Savior of any kind. Nothing is for sure in this world anymore- was it ever? Oh, how I do miss that feeling of Faith, but I want a pure, unadulterated faith that comes from within, an intuitive consciousness of what is real and right and balances my spirit with fortitude. As truths are unfolded, structures dismantled and crumbling systems repaired, all I know for sure is this- My kids are growing up and we are growing older. I will ultimately lose someone I love dearly again and again and again. There will always be someone who needs my love and care or guidance, and someone who will shun it. I will never not worry about my children. My health will eventually decline. My dogs will leave me for a better place. I will continue to evolve and change and love people and make mistakes, learn, grow and find joy in it all as I continue on life's journey. And, in the end, I will leave this beautiful planet as I originally entered it- alone. So, perhaps this is my newfound Faith- that no matter what, it’s these sobering facts of life,d love and perseverance that will continue to steady and sustain me (and hopefully this world) through the invariable storms ahead and on to the end. That I know for sure. Beyond that, I'll give it over to G-d.
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AuthorLisa Zimbler is a recovering wedding planner Archives
March 2024
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