The Fae of May

The Fae, by Frost Alexis

Pastor’s Epistle—May 2022

I am at my most pagan in May.

One might assume such a zenith would peak in October, or perhaps December, but no. Even with all their legends and tales and latter-day traditions, Halloween and Christmas are still deeply Christian holidays to me. They belong to the Church. It is resurrection joy that lets us laugh at death and devils. And the Christmas story—that of the Word made flesh, the Light shining in the darkness—is the Gospel of John written on space and time.

Alas, I have no such recourse in May. Here we have a bit of a dearth in regards to ecclesial holidays: Holy Week has come and gone; Pentecost is yet to be. And yet this is for me the most magical of months, bordering on the miraculous. The world comes alive in color and scent and fresh, gentle breezes. Flowers bloom, grass grows, and pastors happily amble their dogs through town and country alike. It is a joy to be out and alive.

Indeed, for most of the year, Minnesota ever attempts to kill us. From months of constant negative double-digit temperatures lashing at skin and lung and capillaries in my nose, through an April of floods and swamps and endless muck, to a summer of tornadoes and thunderstorms, wasps and mosquitoes, hail and straight-line winds, Minnesota is a predator. Only in May does she gentle. Only in May is she kind.

I exaggerate, but not by much. May is the happiest of springs, comparable only to the thrills of October evenings, in my estimation. I confess I keep a weather eye for faeries in such days. I can’t quite say that I know they exist—not with the confidence I reserve for other spiritual phenomena—but I’d certainly like to think they’re there. Many Christians wiser and more faithful and I have been ardent advocates of faerie faith, and they certainly appear to be having an awfully good time of it.

This is what I mean when I say that I’m at my most pagan in May—not in that I have any less faith in the Incarnate and Crucified God. Quite the contrary: look to the beauties of His Creation! Rather, I recall the words of G.K. Chesterton, that “pagan” is really just another word for human, for the pre-Christian and universal spiritual sentiments common to mankind. What better time of year to fall in love with Mother Nature? And when do we feel closer to our Creator, than when we find ourselves in the midst of His Creation?

All of which is to say that May is a season for flowers and faeries, long walks and long evenings, crackling fires and ready laughter, both poetry and play. Life has risen from death, light from darkness, warmth from cold; and all the world from bird to beast is singing, “Alleluia!” each in its own particular tongue. And should you happen upon a fae, remember to be polite, accept no food, and invite him perhaps to our church.

That’s what the Lutherans of Iceland still do—and up there the elf churches abound.

In Jesus. Amen.