“Feed My Peeps”

Now, this never happened when I was in Sunday School: marshmallow Peeps used to illustrate a Bible story. You just gotta love hip, creative Sunday School teachers. Especially when they ply their trade at your parish as opposed to the “competition” across town (just kidding St. Mary’s, Trinity, and St. Paul’s).

Inspired by a link I forwarded about the Diocese of Maryland’s Peep-based Biblical diorama contest, our elementary school-aged kids were treated to a tasty lesson about the Feeding of the 5,000. They listened to the story and then re-created the scene using Peeps. Jesus was a yellow bunny, the disciples were pink bunnies, the crowds were every other unnatural color you could imagine, the “loaves” were jelly beans and the “fish” were Swedish fish. Brilliant!

The kids had a blast and, more importantly, this is now a story that they will never, ever forget. And isn’t that really the underlying point in all of this?

Of course they also got to eat their fill of Easter candy along the way. As Coffee Hour was winding down, the edible Scripture was deemed fair game. I can’t imagine why my boys had absolutely no desire to eat lunch after church. Hmmmm. I think Ben alone had about 13 Peeps. Including, I’m slightly mortified to admit, Jesus. As we were leaving he proudly announced, “Dad, I ate Jesus.”

Hah! Can’t get a rise out of me that easily. This is, after all, what eucharistic theology is all about. Perhaps that’s a future Peep-inspired lesson…

Hip Hop

I’m afraid that when the Temple curtain was torn in two this year, Ben and Zack got a glimpse behind another curtain: they no longer believe in the Easter Bunny. Now I admit I’m not a big fan of the Easter Bunny. We’ve had our run-ins in the past — which I can’t go into (though “egg hunts” on Good Friday were involved). But generally I take a “don’t ask don’t tell” approach to the Easter Bunny: Bryna is welcome to encourage the arrival of the bunny on Easter morning; I just don’t want to hear anything about. Nor will I enable the Easter Bunny by abetting her like some sort of Paschal elf.

This year, however, I overheard a great conversation between the boys a few days before Easter in which they agreed there couldn’t possibly be any such thing. Ben: “A big bunny hopping all around the world delivering candy? Yeah, right.” Zack: “Plus bunnies can’t even swim. How would it be able to take Easter baskets to China?” Good point.

So they know. Which is fine with me since it’s not a myth I care to perpetuate. Bryna just smiles and uses that old parental cliché, “You have to believe to receive.” In reality, I don’t think they care about the delivery system as much as the end result. They certainly “believe” in Peeps, jelly beans, and chocolate bunnies.

Funny, though. There’s been no talk about that other gift bearing icon; the one who shows up in December. I guess his sleigh helps him get to China. Plus, at this stage, not even our guys want to mess with a good thing.

Cathedral Easter

It’s very strange to wake up on Easter Monday not feeling completely spent. By this time my head’s usually still spinning from leading eight intense services in four days. And I’m ready to crawl into a cave and roll a large stone in front of the entrance. Hey, he’s not using it anyway.

Easter morning was glorious. We worshiped at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine in NYC. We actually needed to get tickets in and, while I was curious about what they’d bring on the open market, I didn’t scalp them. Though I had fun imagining the headline in the next day’s edition of The New York Post: Priest Scalps Easter Tix, Spends Night in Overcrowded Tomb.

A friend at the diocese hooked us up with four great seats in the Great Choir — reserved seating at that (my name was plastered on the back of them). Which meant we could go to the world-famous Hungarian Pastry Shop across the street and then waltz in during the prelude.

Easter morning at the Cathedral is everything you’d imagine. Bishop Sisk was the preacher and celebrant, the music was stunning (choir, harp, timpani, brass, etc), two flaming pots of incense, four sets of crucifers and acolytes, various liturgical functionaries. All in one of the most beautiful settings in the world. Not a bad place to be a priest without a parish. And it was very special to be there sitting in the pews with my family. I even wore a suit and tie rather than clericals — it’s been awhile but, yes, I remembered how to tie it.

When you attend a nearly two-hour service with kids, you’ve got to come prepared. We were armed with the usual accoutrements — grapes, cheese sticks (things that don’t crunch!), and lots of art supplies. During the bishop’s sermon (all about living a life of hope and peace in the midst of ongoing conflict) Zack was very actively coloring an elaborate Star Wars battle. There were light sabers and lasers flying everywhere resulting in large-scale death and destruction. At The Peace I handed it to the bishop’s wife (who was sitting behind us) and said, “Here’s Zack’s response to your husband’s sermon.” She loved it.

One more note about the service. During communion Judy Collins sang something — this is the kind of thing you get at the Cathedral on Easter morning. Now I’d heard of her (and she was only sitting about eight people over from us) but when I asked Father Patrick Ward what he knew about her on our six-mile run this morning, I inadvertantly shed light on my inexcusable ignorance. He was staggered by my lack of musical knowledge and metaphorically slapped me. Evidently she’s bigger than I knew — 1975 Grammy winner for “Send in the Clowns,” has recorded with Arlo Guthrie, and is the “Judy Blue Eyes” of Crosby, Stills and Nash fame. She’s also the Artist in Residence at the Cathedral. 

Oh well. Perhaps I’d better book her now for next year’s Easter service.