Rebirth

We live in times when instead of a Messiah, we get lowercase judases, instead of the Way of the Cross, we get Covid. A human, not divine, new beginning. The coronavirus forced us to keep our distance. We stepped back a couple of paces, at least one and a half meters. Space opened up for seeing. You look, you think, you listen. A bunch of meetings were canceled. Most of them were unnecessary anyway. Out of politeness, we let time flow away, from the garden of forking paths we only saw the paths, not the garden.

So, two steps back. What’s important, what’s not so important. Finally planting the flowers, watering the garden, expanding the child’s playhouse, that’s important. Listening to music while cycling in the forest, writing a novel, then rewriting it, you’re not rushing, you have a pace, slow, slowish. Relaxed. What to read is important, what not to read isn’t important. They call you on the phone in the evening, you don’t pick up. You’ll call back during working hours, it’s not important. Journalists ask questions, you answer out of courtesy, but it’s almost irrelevant what you say. They’re not really interested anyway, it’s just an alibi for them to tell you what you’re doing wrong. For a second, I envy them, they know what to think about what. I don’t know, the future is volatile, I’m poking at the fog. Whatever, today’s tavern, not important.

You do your work, you lay down your lute, and you don’t pick it up after putting the kids to bed, it’s not that important, it’ll wait until morning. Strengthening with several hundred kilos of concrete, loading, unloading, reloading, mixing, concrete fitness, because the sidewalk in front of the outbuilding was already shabby when we bought this house at the end of the world. This is important. You buy a pickaxe, shovel, spade, this is important, the set of tools inherited with the house has served its time. You don’t throw out the old ones either, they’re important, calloused palms have polished the handles to glass. As the palm gets calloused, the callus peels off the heart.

You eat what you’ve cooked. Eat it up. No waiter takes away the leftovers, you see what’s left after you, your remnants look back at you, this too is a mirror, you are what you leave on the plate. This is important too.

The two steps back could mean that I’m not where I should be. Not at all. I am where I need to be. I stand, I look, I align myself. You doubt, therefore you think, therefore you are, therefore God exists, René said. I think about this, that the last logical link is made of faith, not knowledge. But it matters what kind of faith. Ours could have been stronger after the 20th century, it wasn’t. Yet Martin said in 1966: “Only a God can save us now.” Martin, Martin, you could have phrased it more precisely, you see, the world can slip on an indefinite article.

Start living. Christ has risen!

Notes:

Religious and philosophical references:

“Messiah” vs “lowercase judases”: A contrast between the divine savior and human betrayers, playing on the biblical narrative.

“Way of the Cross”: Refers to Jesus’s journey to crucifixion, here contrasted with the pandemic experience.

René Descartes: The “René” mentioned is the French philosopher, referencing his famous “Cogito, ergo sum” (“I think, therefore I am”) and other meditations.

Martin Heidegger: The “Martin” at the end is likely this German philosopher, known for his work on existence and being.

Literary allusion:

“Garden of forking paths”: Referencing Jorge Luis Borges’ short story, used here as a metaphor for life’s choices.

Easter reference:

The closing line “Christ has risen!” (Krisztus feltámadott!) is a traditional Easter greeting, tying into the theme of rebirth and renewal.