Easter in the Valley

Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin … Matthew 6:28

Boy, Easter is almost upon us once again. A lady complained the other day that it seemed to come awfully early this year, but actually it is just about smack dab in the middle of where it belongs.

I did some research and it turns out that Easter is not scheduled by Hallmark, but rather by the moon and the sun. Easter is celebrated on the first Sunday following the first full moon following the spring equinox. Spring falls on or about March 22 each year, and this year the first full moon of spring takes place on Saturday, April 4 so, voila, Easter is the following day (Sunday, April 5)!

So Easter moves around, unlike Christmas, which is always December 25, or Thanksgiving, which is always the fourth Thursday in November (or the Fourth of July, which, interestingly, is celebrated annually on July 4).

Easter moves around, but it does feel early. Easter is a spring-time festival, and yet no matter how sunny it is, the weather is still pretty chilly (so why isn’t the main Easter dish chili instead of ham or lamb?).

I remember being outside for our annual family Easter photograph (as a child). It was a beautiful day in Seattle. The clouds had parted for a nanosecond and the sun was shining.

My brother and I were wearing suits, with starched white shirts and narrow black ties; our sisters had on flowery sun-dresses and bonnets; dad looked quite dapper in his green suit and a much more stylish wide tie (that only hung about half way down to his belt). We were not a very fashion-savvy family; we were much more at home in jeans with holes torn in the knees, short-sleeve checked shirts with pockets half-ripped-off, and wearing dress shoes with white socks, or tennis shoes with black dress socks. Our skills in fashion were a large reason I became a priest!

Mom however, was the fountain of elegance in our family. She always dressed sharp. She was a seamstress, making her own clothes. She also dabbled in millinery; she had one broad-brimmed hat she would fix up every Easter (for ladies were expected to have their heads covered in church back in those days). She would change the ribbons and decorations that would give those who noticed such things the impression that she had a new bonnet every year.

It seemed a silly tradition (both the “wearing a bonnet” and “making it look new”) and yet it was important to her. As she explained, “When we come into the House of God, we should dress in a manner that shows no less honor than if we were visiting the mayor or president.”

Getting back to my story, it was a beautiful day in Seattle, but it was still very chilly. I remember thinking, “It’s Easter! How can it be so cold?” Somehow I thought the day should dictate the kind of weather we’d have, but it didn’t. I thought it SHOULD be warm, but it wasn’t. Weather is an independent sort of thinker and, quite often, a sneaky sort of stinker!

It is what it is, and that’s what’s important. It turns out we can’t control the sun or the moon or the weather, but we can control how we respond.

I will admit that I still dress up for church – even when I’m not working. I still prefer to dress formally for worship. I have learned to wear dress socks with my dress shoes. I know that God is less concerned with the state of my clothes and more with the state of my heart, and yet I also think church is about God more than it is about my comfort – and if I look the part on Sunday, I may be more likely to act the part the rest of the week.

There are 168 hours between Sundays. For 167 hours, I can dress like the slob I am and pretty much go where I want and do what I please (within the limits of law, culture, and finances). But for the one hour I am called to stand, sit, and kneel before the King, I want to shine as best I can – a lily in God’s own Garden, and that warms my heart here in this, our valley.