Easter Feast

It's Easter in a few days. Hoorah! Time to limber up for a choc-fest feeding frenzy and not even think about work for four days (as opposed to the usual two). Oh, and celebrate the resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ of course, who emerged from a giant egg-like tomb on the fourth day, and ascended heavenwards dressed as a giant bunny. Or something.

Like all Christian holibobs, the origins have now been largely superseded by the event (Christmas is obviously a more extreme example). Ask any schoolkid what Easter means to them, and they’ll start drooling about chocolate and palling at the thought of freezing-cold bank holiday trips to the seaside etc. It’s pretty much only toothy Christians and TV executives (who will no doubt run a documentary or two on the decline of the role of the church in modern society) who serve to remind people of the true meaning of Easter, and why they’re eating ovoid cocoa products and wearing hats with baby chickens on them.

I might give off the opinion that I don’t have much time for organised religion. It’s true that religion, in its many forms, has been responsible for all manner of ills throughout recorded history – when ardent believers start blasting holes in each other, calling round my house at 9 o’clock on a Sunday morning proffering copies of Watchtower, or indeed start crucifying deluded individuals who think they’re some kind of earthly deity, it fails to enrich global society and advance mankind’s understanding of himself and the world he lives in.

Still, as long as there’s chocolate in it at the end of the day, I’m prepared to cut them some slack. You’ve got to take the (Green & Black’s) rough with the (Galaxy) smooth I suppose.