Easters weird.
It floats and flutters around the spring calendar, like a butterfly or a ruby-throated hummingbird, never sure when it might decide to land.
Like you, I have a vague recollection of whats behind its perpetual and peripatetic uncertainty, something I learned, probably in Catholic grade school.
Its all based on the first day of spring, which is always March 21.
After that, its all orbits around the lunar cycle and when the first full moon after that date occurs. Easter, then, is set on the first Sunday after that first full moon, unless it happens to fall on Palm Sunday.
In that event, do not pass Go, do not collect $200.
So you might ask yourself, what does Easter have to do with the moon?
Good question.
But you could also be wondering why bunnies and eggs are linked to the celebration, too.
After all, rabbits arent oviparous, meaning they dont hatch out of eggs.
Theyre born alive, making them viviparous.
(See. You might have learned something today.)
And yet, hippity-hop logic like that seems totally natural when it comes to Easter, which is all about mystery and belief in the unbelievable.
In the religion in which I was raised, we have a sacrament called Confirmation which is usually administered around the fifth or sixth grade.
Its a pretty big deal, with a bishop on hand to make each recipient a soldier of the faith.
But whats really cool about getting confirmed is the fact that you get to choose a new name for yourself.
And Im not talking about a stage name, like the way Paul David Hewson suddenly became Bono, the lead singer for U2, or Mary Isobel Catherine Bernadette OBriens transformation into Dusty Springfield, arguably the most talented and soulful female vocalist of her era, this side of Aretha Franklin.
Want proof?
Just throw Dusty in Memphis on the turntable ... or insert the disc into your changer ... or download it ... or do whatever you do when you want to listen to some incredible music.
Youll become a believer.
Speaking of believers and getting back to the chance to choose another name, I decided on St. Thomas.
Not Thomas Aquinas, the scholar.
Thomas the skeptic, also known as Doubting Thomas.
Are you sure about that? my pastor asked.
I have my doubts, sure I said, suppressing a smile, but thats the way its going to be.
For those unfamiliar with Doubting Thomas, he was the only Apostle to question the Resurrection, saying something like, I want to touch the wounds.
Now that took some serious stones.
It isnt every day when someone questions the validity of an occurrence thats about to become the cornerstone of Christianity for the next 2,000 years.
Yet, there he was, in the Inner Circle, saying, essentially, You guys can believe what you want ... I want proof.
Of course, the moment he confronted the reality, the second that it all became true, he said, famously, My Lord and my God, and hit his knees.
You have to hand it to Doubting Thomas.
He had a flair for the dramatic.
And Easters filled with that kind of thing.
Its hopeful on Palm Sunday, ominous on Holy Thursday, grief-filled on Good Friday, somber on Holy Saturday and joyous on Easter Sunday.
The players are equally and alternately heroic and cowardly, misguided and courageous, scared and defiant.
In short, they display the range of human emotion when confronted with events beyond their comprehension.
Ive always been fascinated by Pontius Pilate, the procurator of Judea, who is historically blamed for the Crucifixion. Perhaps its because I came of age during the time when the rock opera Jesus Christ Superstar exploded into a national sensation -- my parish practically prohibited any kid from listening to it -- but Ive always felt bad for the governor.
He didnt want to do it.
He tried to avoid it.
He even offered the thief Barabbas in an odd sort of trade.
No dice.
Nothin I do dont seem to work, he might have thought, channeling his inner Glimmer Twins. Only seems to make matters worse.
Now that was a Nervous Breakdown, 19th or otherwise.
Curiously, it was a hit for the Rolling Stones in the spring of 1966, when I was about to be confirmed.
But normally, Easter is a quiet holiday, unlike the kitchen frenzy of Thanksgiving or the shopping stupor that Christmas induces.
Its mostly about contemplative reflection.
And thats what makes it unusual.
Sure, there are Easter egg hunts held in public parks and private backyards, but those arent disruptive, normally.
Easter invites us in shyly, like a lily lifting softly toward the sky.
And if youre lucky enough to enjoy a home-cooked meal, with sliced ham and scalloped potatoes and a green bean casserole, well, thats kind of a miracle, too.
