Regardless of what we call them, the holidays of springtime are all about the same thing; the promise that life is eternal and survives behind and beneath even that thing we call death. We see it in Nature. During winter, life is hushed, dormant, buried, often beneath mountains of snow. But in spring, we see that life didn’t end. It only slowed and rested, and now it’s busting out all over again. It was there the whole time. We see in the story of Jesus’ death and resurrection. That same message that life is more powerful, and that it doesn’t end when these physical bodies do.
We see it in the old Pagan tales of how the sun ages and apparently dies as winter rages, but is reborn in spring, young and new again. In summer the Sun God mates with the Earth Goddess, and the abundance of the harvest is their offspring. We even see it reflected in the phases of the moon, ever waxing, swelling to fullness, then waning until she disappears entirely–but is never truly gone, as we see when that first silver sliver of the new moon appears.