Sunday, March 31, 2024

Origins: Easter and April Fool's Day

 Easter is what’s known in Catholicism as a moveable feast—that is, it doesn’t occur on the same date every year.  This religious holiday had been observed on different dates and days of the week until the Council of Nicaea in the year 325 decreed it would be observed on the first Sunday after the first full moon on or after the vernal equinox (the first day of spring.)  So it never falls earlier than March 22 nor later than April 25.

 Easter is the most important holy day (or holi-day) in Christianity, commemorating the resurrection of Christ after his crucifixion.  In my Catholic schooling in the 1950s, it was the end of a drama that began four weeks before with the beginning of Lent, with the liturgy supplying the events and observances between. 

As for the timing of the observance and even the name, the early Church superimposed it on the Saxon festival to the goddess of spring, whose name was Eostre.  Some theorize that persecuted Christians celebrating their holy day at the same time as Eostre made them less conspicuous. 

 In any case, most of the other familiar elements of Easter echo the fertility rites and symbolism of the original holiday, like the rabbits (as in “breeding like,” the hare was the animal associated with the goddess Eostre in Saxon lore) and eggs (an ancient custom of exchanging actual eggs turned to chocolate in the nineteenth century.) 

 Some Easter eggs are worth more than others, like the gold and diamond décor of the Faberge egg, or the decorated eggs in Germany inscribed with a child’s date of birth, which functioned legally as a birth certificate in the 1880s. 

My Italian grandparents had various Easter traditions involving pastries and baked goods, but for the first time this Easter I had a Hot Cross bun, courtesy of our local Quaker meeting, of which Margaret is a member.  This bun tradition goes back to the Saxon feast of Eostre.  When the Catholic Church absorbed it, the bun indeed carried the design of a cross. 

Because of this year's calendar, Easter was celebrated just one day before another spring holiday.

April Fool's Day

 April Fool’s Day is always April 1, and that's a key to its specific origins. It has roots in many cultures that reach as far back as history goes, and probably farther. Part of its complex pedigree is a meaningful relationship to the American Bill of Rights.  But most directly, it's about New Years.

The historical roots of the day include ancient festivals of spring which often had some component of comedy, trickery and release from ordinary rules, which in the western world at least usually included orgies of gluttony, drunkenness and sexual licentiousness.

 The probable direct ancestor of April Fool's Day is more specific—when France adopted the Gregorian calendar in the sixteenth century, New Year's moved from April 1 to January 1. But old habits are hard to break, especially if they began in 45 B.C., when Julius Caesar set up the old Julian calendar. Some gullible Parisians were tricked by clever neighbors into celebrating New Year's on what was now the wrong day.

Out of this was born the classic cry, April Fish! Which is something that did not cross the Atlantic when the calendar was later changed in America. No one is quite sure what the fish thing is about, but the day is still celebrated that way in France.  Still, the first April Fool's Day jest was probably, "Happy New Year!"

But the more important aspect of this history relates to the tradition of the licensed fool. For centuries, most European and some Asian countries had them, popularly known as court jesters. From imperial Rome through the medieval period and the Renaissance, official fools were not only a popular and well known presence in royal courts, but for part of that time were also employed by cities, clergy and wealthy families.

Their duties ranged from song and dance to pratfalls and acrobatics, ribaldry and general foolishness. At times no fashionable dinner party was complete without a fool hired to insult the guests. But the key element of the "allowed fool" was his (and occasionally, her) freedom to do and especially to say anything to anyone.

The official fool also has roots in an aspect of the aforementioned festivals, which featured a Lord of Misrule— a commoner who took on the trappings of the king or bishop or town mayor for a day. As far back as the tenth century, these became elaborate performances, mixing entertainment with social comment, and topical plays or burlesque sermons that satirized the real rulers of state and church, who had to at least pretend to enjoy it. These events became hugely popular, but nobody was fool enough to criticize the powerful if there were going to be reprisals. So the tradition included immunity for the fool.

When kings hired permanent court jesters, political satire as well as pointed personal remarks were part of their repertoire, and the tradition of immunity came with them. Archibald Armstrong, one of England's last and most political jesters replied, "No one has ever heard of a fool being hanged for talking, but many dukes have been beheaded for their insolence." So it happened that the only people in Europe with the absolute right of free speech were kings and queens, and fools.

This fact was not lost on others who were agitating for that kind of freedom for all. The original document of the Magna Carta, England's first great challenge to absolute royal power in 1215, was decorated with the figure of a court jester. From the late 15th century until well into the 17th, "societies of fools" flourished in France, composed of young men who criticized the government and agitated for freedom while wearing the traditional court jester motley.

America never had court jesters, though some of its first expressions of freedom and identity were in the foolery tradition, from the burlesque of the Boston Tea Party (a bunch of Anglos badly costumed as Indians who struck a blow for political independence by dumping tea into cold water) to some early symbols such as Yankee Doodle and Uncle Sam. 

 "Yankee" was a British ethnic slur which New Englanders turned into a badge of honor, and Yankee Doodle Dandy was a clown figure (what else can you say about a guy who sticks a feather in his cap and calls it macaroni?) made immortal in the song sung at key moments in the American Revolution, including at the British surrender. A similar figure, a Yankee "wise fool" stock character popular in early American stage comedies, was a source for Uncle Sam.

Americans also pride themselves on being straightforward, so there's a companion tradition of mistrusting the tricky. But today our Zeitgeist depends so heavily on some forms of deceit--spin, disinformation, oversimplifying and the straight-faced lie--that selectively moralizing about other forms rings hollow.  Injustice wears clothes of obscurant nomenclature, and success by any means necessary is our guiding morality. Mendacity is a trick of power.

The heart of the fool's relation to free speech is speaking truth to power. For awhile we may have thought that serious journalism was going to do that, but when the most powerful owns the most presses, and the line between editorial and advertising becomes more and more imaginary, it's looking like a piquant hope.

The rich and powerful can easily ridicule the countrified (the original meaning of "clown") and unsophisticated, but the figure of the fool deflects the ridicule back upon the pretentious and corrupt. Freedom to criticize the powerful is at the heart of both the fool tradition and free speech.

The pretensions of power are automatic, perhaps the inevitable product of consciousness equipped with opposable thumbs. Our particular social systems depend on some forms of deceit while moralizing about others. Historians are dishonored for missing quotation marks, but not if the history they write is dishonest bunk. Paradox or irony shade into hypocrisy as we deny freedoms in the name of protecting freedom.

Today April Fool's Day is just about our only nod to this tradition. You can play tricks on people any day of the year, but the idea is that on this day, you are allowed to.  But since most of today’s jokes will be made online, it looks pretty much like every day on the Internet, where intentional misinformation is standard. This is the scarier side of information without authority, and often without conscience.

Since laughter seems to override anger, wit is often its own protection, at least temporarily. The cosmos itself seems designed with persistent uncertainties, which is perhaps why many religious and cultural traditions make the trickster a major myth.

Historically and perhaps in practice, the freedom of the fool makes way for freedom of speech in all its aspects. Humor often seems to make the truth clearer and perhaps easier to acknowledge. We have to be tricked into seeing what we would rather not see. We can have tricksters without truth, and in our entertainment-dominated society we mostly do. But rarely can we fallible humans have truth without tricksters.