Easter

Easter Sunday. A day when everyone assumes they are obligated to act more holy, but find themselves inclined to act more hellishly selfish. From the moment they arise and see their calendar reminder say “The one day you go to church!” on today’s square, their whole weekend has been ruined. I, too, find that I get ‘holier’ and more ‘loving’ on Good Friday. But by the time that Jesus has conquered the grave the joy has faded. And what the deuce does a large, multi-color egg-laying rabbit have to do with anything? It sounds like the product of a bad acid trip. People will go to church. They’ll sit quietly in the front row and wrinkle their programs. Anyone less than 9 years old will simply be anticipating the end of church so that they can go hunt for candy filled plastic eggs in their grandparents’ yard. The married women are devising plans to rebuttal against the in-laws obsessive degradation. Men calculating the cost of all that lamb they bought for tonight’s dinner. And everyone in between just wants to suffer through another showing of The Ten Commandments with a box of Peeps. Why do we eat lamb on Easter anyway? The Christ is often symbolized by a lamb, no? “Hey everybody! Christ rose from the dead. LET’S EAT HIM!” And why does the actual Easter date change every year? A cruel trick perhaps? Normal day, normal day, normal day BAM! EASTER DAY! BAM! CHRIST IN YOUR FACE DAY! These are just observations about this most holy of days.