It’s almost Easter. It’s been Easter a lot of times before, but this is the first year that I know why Easter is when it is.
When I was little I loved Easter. Of course, I was catholic. Easter meant Palm Sunday, where we each got our own little imported palm frond at church (I always braided mine and hung it on my mirror). I got a new dress and shoes. Fancy shoes. More church, where everything was draped in white and everyone was in a cheery good mood – didn’t you hear, Jesus died! Then came grandma's: Easter egg hunt, massive amounts of candy, presents, and a huge ham dinner. Easter rocked.
I never could tell you what a bunny and eggs had to do with dead Jesus.
Ah, but now of course we understand the raising-from-the-dead/rebirth – egg analogy. I still don’t get the bunny, they don’t lay eggs. But they are very spring-y.
I had a hard time understanding why Easter wasn’t the same time every year. They don’t move Christmas around. My mom always said “just cuz” or something equally helpful which meant she didn’t know either. This year (finally, whew) I learned Easter is “the first Sunday following the full moon that occurs on or following the spring equinox.” That doesn’t seem very Jesus-y. That seems very pagan. Turns out a lot of very catholic things really are also very pagan. So why do catholics hate pagans so much – don’t pretend you don’t, I’ve heard you talking.