May Day

Today is May Day. For most people in Western culture, this is the day when the Soviet Union trotted out their large, intercontinental ballistic missile and marched in lockstep in front of the old, grey men on the dias above. In traditional English culture, the young ladies of the village dressed in their Spring finery and danced around a large pole, decorated with colorful ribbons and celebrated Spring and the joy and abandon of life itself. I had an English professor at W&L who referred to this as the first day of outdoor sexual intercourse. Personally, I like the traditional English version. The old communist version was a celebration of raw power and death, a celebration at odds with the time of year and the usual weather of early May. The English tradition is a more appropriate celebration, which draws the villagers out into nature, where we celebrate the raw, flow of Springtime. Even in a day of grey clouds and brisk, cool winds, it is not too far beyond us to fail to consider the wisteria and the late-blooming azaleas and the remnants of the dogwoods that are still hanging around. The warmth is hidden within the tapestry of Spring. The rain comes and goes, but we are still a day away from the warmth and sunshine. The three year old colts will run on Saturday, rain or shine. It is time to feel the new life flowing through us and celebrate the life that God grants us.