Random Thoughts on Easter
by Wendel Potter
There is a weird irony about Easter.
Easter Sunday is one of the most devoutly observed high holy days in the
history of organized religion. It is a solemn celebration of the
glorious return from the dead of Jesus, who has been proclaimed as the
one, true King of the Jews.
And how do Christians honor the greatest Jew of all time? We serve ham.
We lay out an elaborate feast and if Jesus was to join us, he couldn't eat the meat.
I like Easter. When I was very small,
Easter meant getting up early and searching for my Easter basket that
had been filled with chocolate eggs and jelly beans and then skillfully
hidden by my parents, under the pretense that the Easter Bunny had
stopped by.
When I became old enough to go to church and began hearing the true
Easter story, I just figured that the reason Jesus got up and out of the
tomb early in the morning was so he could go hunting for his Easter
basket.
Easter was always more than just a religious observance, though. It fired the starting gun for the spring/summer fashion season.
When I was growing up, everyone trotted out their best "Sunday go to
meeting" finery on Easter. The church service, admit it or not, was
nearly as much a festival of big fancy hats and a parade of new bright
dresses as it was a worship session.
That was the women. Where men were concerned, Easter meant it was
time to put away the dingy charcoal gray suit and sport a new blazer and
lighter colored slacks.
Then, when the early 1970s rolled around, leisure suits made their
grand entrance, along with spiffy white dress shoes. "White bucks" they
called them in the 1950s when Pat Boone made them his trademark all year
round. Mercifully, their rebirth re-died after a few years, along with the leisure suit. And there
has been no resurrection since.
But the crown jewel in the Easter basket is the Resurrection story.
While the colored eggs, a mythical bunny (I'm pretty sure I saw him sneaking out of my neighbor's house last night....he wasn't home, but she was), marshmallow chicks and
white bucks have figured heavily into the holiday over the years, the
biblical account of a man rising from the dead 2,000 years ago remains
the bottom line for celebrating Easter Sunday.
I've been pondering the Resurrection of Jesus. If you read the New
Testament's four gospels closely, you'll notice they each tell an Easter
Sunday story all a bit differently, one from the other.
The conflicts
are slight:Who saw Jesus first? How many women went to the tomb? What
time of morning was it? How many angels appeared at the tomb? What
exactly did the women go to the tomb for? Were the women wearing their
new spring hats?
Some historians say that the Gospel of Mark originally had no
resurrection story, abruptly ending after the crucifixion, and that the
final chapters were added by a different writer.
The apostle Thomas got the worst rap. We've all come to know him
traditionally as Doubting Thomas, because he insisted he would not
believe in the risen Lord until he had seen him and touched his wounds.
But no one else appeared to believe, either, until they themselves
had seen Jesus. None of them really seemed to think he was coming back.
As a matter of fact, in one gospel, Jesus chides all eleven, not just
Thomas, for their lack of belief.
Of course, Thomas was disdained for other reasons. He was the only
apostle to wear white bucks and a leisure tunic before Passover.
Now what if there had been no Resurrection story in any of the
gospels? I'm not suggesting that there was no Resurrection, just
wondering how we would react if Jesus had not bothered to appear in
risen splendor to anyone?
Would any of his followers have still concluded that he had risen?
Would we today just naturally assume that Jesus had come out of the tomb
and ascended into heaven, even though no one could lay
claim to having seen him?
He said during his life that he would rise again on the third day.
For a true believer, shouldn't that have been enough? He said, "Blessed
are those who have not seen, yet believe."
The Easter story is one of the greatest stories ever told. But how
great would our faith be if that story had not been told? If we still believed, it would be great indeed.
Just food for thought. Now pass the ham.
Copyright 2013 by Wendel Potter
______________
UP IN SMOKE
Houston, we've got a problem...and a pope
by Wendel Potter
reporting live from the Vatican
March 13, 2013
The
voting process to elect a pope to lead the Roman Catholic Church turned to tragedy this morning for the sequestered conclave of
cardinals who had just completed a third round of balloting.
It is a tradition of the church that, after the ballots have been
counted, they are burned in a stove. When the faithful watching the
chimney in St. Peter's square see dark smoke rise through the chimney atop the Sistine Chapel, they know that a pope has
not yet been selected. White smoke means that a new pope has been
elected and a formal announcement is imminent.
Today, as the ballots burned, no smoke of any color was
seen. Italian fire marshals later determined that an obstruction in the
flue prevented the smoke from venting, resulting in carbon monoxide
poisoning that left 114 of the conclave's 115 cardinals dead.
Only one cardinal survived the mass tragedy, which means that he
will be named Pope by default. I caught up with him at the emergency
center of Gemelli hospital where he was treated and released.
His name is Cardinal Guido Sarducci, known better to American
television audiences as Father Guido Sarducci, the priest who regularly
appeared in the 1970's on the NBC-TV hit series, "Saturday Night Live".
Cardinal Sarducci looked pale and shaken as he stood in the
hospital's rear parking lot, leaning against an ambulance and smoking
his trademark cigarette.
"Cardinal Sarducci, can you tell me what happened on this tragic morning in the Vatican?"
"Well, we had been sequestered since yesterday, shut off from the
outside world. They even installed electronic jamming devices in the
floor so nobody could call out on their cell phones and leak any
information to the media.
"It was driving me crazy. I mean, I have been the Vatican's gossip
columnist for a number of years and calling in a hot story is part of my
life. The other cardinals had their own issues as well. Some of them
needed to call their bookies, others their lawyers. For whatever
reason, I don't know.
"We decided enough is enough, let's get the show on the road and get us a pope before lunch."
"So you cast your third round of ballots first thing this morning," I said.
"First we celebrated the Mass. "
"Then you got on with the voting."
"No. Then we had coffee and doughnuts."
"Then you voted."
"We kicked a few names around, then narrowed it down to three candidates."
"How did you decide who were the best candidates for the papacy?"
"We do it this way." Cardinal Sarducci pointed a dancing finger
back and forth. 'Mother-Mary-told me-to-pick-the-very-best-one'."
"That's a rather unorthodox method. So you narrow it down to three cardinals who hope to become the next pope."
"Popefuls, we like to call them. Yes, then we cast our ballots and
the contestant with the 2/3 majority of the votes wins the beanie and
the big ring."
"So this morning you voted. Then the ballots were put into the
stove and burned. Then what happened that led to this awful event
leaving 114 cardinals dead?"
"While the ballots were burning in the stove, I began to feel a
little light-headed, so I asked if I could step outside for some air.
Nobody answered, so I figured it was okay. I went outdoors, got some
air, had a cigarette. It was only when I returned that I noticed
something might be wrong."
"What did you find when you returned to the conclave?"
"All of my colleagues were stretched out on the floor, face down. I
felt terrible. I immediately thought I was late for worship service.
"Eventually, I realized that the cardinals were dead."
"So you called the police or the paramedics or what did you do?"
"I called no one. Remember, we were forbidden to use our cell
phones. Anyway, I began feeling sick again, so I went back outside and
alerted one of the Swiss guardsmen by throwing up on his shoes."
"And he called for help?"
"Later on. He's not allowed to move until after the changing of the guard."
"I understand that the authorities think the stove's flue was obstructed."
"Yes. It seems a large white dove with a golden halo had built a nest over the smoke stack."
"With the other cardinals dead, this means that you will become the next pope. How do you feel about that?"
"I like the Popemobile. I can't wait to get it out on the road and see what she'll do."
"What name will you choose. Will you be John Paul III?"
"No. No more John Paul. I'm going with Pope George Ringo."
"My condolences on the loss of your colleagues and best of luck in your papacy."
"Bless you."
There we have it. A new pope. Pope George Ringo I. And the Holy
Father told me his first order of business is to return to "Saturday
Night Live" where he will ceremoniously rip up a picture of Sinead
O'Connor.
Copyright Wendel Potter
Unfair...unbalanced...inaccurate
