I set out on this journey to write a tale of Easter from the unique perspective of the Easter Bunny. It was fun, hard, touching, and deeply moving. There were things lost and much gained. It was an odd Lenten journey, but it was the one I was called to travel.
We left bunny world in boxes yesterday, leaving behind an empty bunny patch and wondering if we should say a few words. The bunny won't be returning...at least not until next year. There will be no angels sitting on the green picket fence letting kids know that the Bunny is alive and will meet them at home, the story is now in the hands of parents. The faith is in the hearts of kids.
Our Bunny is in boxes, I know. Some have even questioned the intersection of pastoral ministry and the peddling of the Easter Bunny myth, but I have emerged believing. As I sat there in the bunny suit holding kids and hearing about what they wanted in their basket or taking the pictures they drew for me, I represented an ancient story. As parents stayed up late last night fixing baskets and hiding eggs, they held the tender hands of their children and helped them keep believing.
It's what we do. We keep faith alive. They will need their faith because in learning to love and believe in the Easter Bunny - loving and believing in the real thing will make sense.
I don't believe easy. I'm a skeptic by nature. I honestly don't know what I believe about many things, but I believe that this morning, a dead man got up and walked to prove that love is real and that someday I'll walk too. I can't shake that faith. I heard him again as the sunrise came through my window.
He is risen.
Because He emerged from his grave, I'm a man of faith. Each time I reach out in love, it's his hands. If you are held by me and feel love, it's his arms you feel. My laughter is his, as are my tears. My heart often breaks and my legs buckle, but the hands that always catch me are oddly nail-scared...even if they look like yours.
See, today we continue telling an ancient story. I've given my life to this. I do my best to paint the tale of Jesus every place I'm given opportunity. Our job in each others' life is to keep being the story of the ressurection. We keep giving new life to one another.
We do this with joy because the object our faith is not packed in cardboard this morning waiting for a truck to come take him back to the warehouse. He is here. He is real. He is love.
He is risen indeed.
Amen...and thank you Easter Bunny.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Thursday, April 1, 2010
scatter
We started the bunny world at a disadvantage today. Someone who said they would be with us till the end quit because it got too hard. We had to scramble, making an already difficult situation all the more challenging. He left very negatively and it had a huge effect on our day.
It's funny how work can be difficult and we get through it, but when humans betray us and abandon us it just cuts deeper.
The cool thing was to realize that the people who are left will be the people who we know will stay to the end. They have proven their worth and
Today is Maundy Thursdsy. It's the day we consider the last supper.
Today Jesus has with him the people who stayed.
It's funny how work can be difficult and we get through it, but when humans betray us and abandon us it just cuts deeper.
The cool thing was to realize that the people who are left will be the people who we know will stay to the end. They have proven their worth and
Today is Maundy Thursdsy. It's the day we consider the last supper.
Today Jesus has with him the people who stayed.
broken
His name was Thomas. A kid like that deserves to have his name remembered. He was so excited to see the bunny - his face told the whole story. His face was the only part of him that could. Thomas' body was twisted by MS. He got through life with a small motorized wheelchair and two loving parents. These two parents were here to make sure that Thomas could see the Easter Bunny.
When something like that happens, you know you've entered a sacred moment. I was to be a sacrament to Thomas. As they lifted his broken body - useless by our standards - onto the lap of the bunny I could feel the weight of angels looking on in wonder. Why is the God of the universe in love with this coney island sideshow of creation?
In that moment I believed we were beautiful.
No one chooses to have their body broken...useless. Unless, of course, it's for love.
Last night Jesus died.
Broken
His body, by our standards, useless
No one would choose this...unless it was for love. When love is involved, the useless becomes powerful and the broken will rise again.
Today the King rests.
Tomorrow it's a whole new day.
When something like that happens, you know you've entered a sacred moment. I was to be a sacrament to Thomas. As they lifted his broken body - useless by our standards - onto the lap of the bunny I could feel the weight of angels looking on in wonder. Why is the God of the universe in love with this coney island sideshow of creation?
In that moment I believed we were beautiful.
No one chooses to have their body broken...useless. Unless, of course, it's for love.
Last night Jesus died.
Broken
His body, by our standards, useless
No one would choose this...unless it was for love. When love is involved, the useless becomes powerful and the broken will rise again.
Today the King rests.
Tomorrow it's a whole new day.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Wednesday
It's Wednesday...at least for a few more minutes. I've been on a 48 hour run that is ending with me at a diner contemplating, well, Wednesday. It was a busy day in the bunny suit. Nothing extreme...just a day spent working hard and loving the best I can.
It was a good day.
Wednesday is the last day of any kind of normal in the holy walk of Christ to the cross. Tomorrow is the last supper, Friday is the cross, Saturday Jesus rests, and Sunday he gets up to come get me. After today, nothing will be the same.
Tonight he walked home to Bethany for the last time to spend the evening with Mary, Martha, and Lazurus. He had worked hard all day and loved the best. I imagine it was an evening filled with laughter...but in his mind he knew that it was going to be different tomorrow.
Tomorrow it will be time to go to work, but today we enjoy Wednesday and make the most of every moment we have been given.
May we enjoy Jesus, and each other, on the normal days as much as we do on the high holy days
It was a good day.
Wednesday is the last day of any kind of normal in the holy walk of Christ to the cross. Tomorrow is the last supper, Friday is the cross, Saturday Jesus rests, and Sunday he gets up to come get me. After today, nothing will be the same.
Tonight he walked home to Bethany for the last time to spend the evening with Mary, Martha, and Lazurus. He had worked hard all day and loved the best. I imagine it was an evening filled with laughter...but in his mind he knew that it was going to be different tomorrow.
Tomorrow it will be time to go to work, but today we enjoy Wednesday and make the most of every moment we have been given.
May we enjoy Jesus, and each other, on the normal days as much as we do on the high holy days
Monday, March 29, 2010
ouch
For some reason, being the bunny hurt today. Maybe it was the day, the line, or the indulgence of a day off yesterday, but my back and my shoulders ached and my legs were stiff. I was a decidedly less animated bunny than usual. I looked forward to being replaced today - though because of the rush it was an hour late.
The interesting thing about being in the suit is the isolation. I can see people and hear them, but I am just not me. I are restrained, set aside to be the Bunny. Granted, being in the suit gives me a power that I do not have otherwise. No one would want a picture with the Easter Michael and I don't inspire the same kind of wonder dressed in my usual skin. That being said, being alone in the suit makes life confusing at times. I had no idea when my shift was going to end and had no way to find out.
I was sore...but endurance became the name of this game.
I've decided I can endure a lot when I know the finish is in sight. I would have sprung at an opportunity to shed my synthetic skin, but I had a job to do. Pain was not something to be heeded. There were kids to love and I knew it wouldn't last forever.
Today begins holy week.
Jesus, our faith teaches, bore his own distressing disguise. The beauty of the incarnation was that God put on mankind so he could do something he could not do in his own familliar form. In the person of Jesus Christ, God would feel what it is to be human first hand while inviting us to get a little closer.
The divine experienced moments of great joy while bearing the unfamiliar skin of humanity. However, this week, it's going to hurt.
The reason it's called "passion week" is because of the pain. This week we will see the God of Israel, the God who has been loving this group of people since the begining of time, hurt bad. Really bad.
The skin he put on to experience humanity is going to be ripped and bruised. The muscles that embraced the poor and the sick will be pulled and strained. He will know what it's like to be totally isolated. Totally alone in the universe.
The heart that loved all the way will be broken...
...and stop.
Today that heart was already feeling sore. He would have taken the opportunity to get out of the skin if it were possible. He prayed that way in the garden.
It was not possible because he had a job to do. Pain (or the temptation to avoid it) could not be heeded. There were kids to love and he knew it wouldn't last forever.
Today, in my small way, I wish to honor his holy week by enduring with honor - whatever my journey brings.
The interesting thing about being in the suit is the isolation. I can see people and hear them, but I am just not me. I are restrained, set aside to be the Bunny. Granted, being in the suit gives me a power that I do not have otherwise. No one would want a picture with the Easter Michael and I don't inspire the same kind of wonder dressed in my usual skin. That being said, being alone in the suit makes life confusing at times. I had no idea when my shift was going to end and had no way to find out.
I was sore...but endurance became the name of this game.
I've decided I can endure a lot when I know the finish is in sight. I would have sprung at an opportunity to shed my synthetic skin, but I had a job to do. Pain was not something to be heeded. There were kids to love and I knew it wouldn't last forever.
Today begins holy week.
Jesus, our faith teaches, bore his own distressing disguise. The beauty of the incarnation was that God put on mankind so he could do something he could not do in his own familliar form. In the person of Jesus Christ, God would feel what it is to be human first hand while inviting us to get a little closer.
The divine experienced moments of great joy while bearing the unfamiliar skin of humanity. However, this week, it's going to hurt.
The reason it's called "passion week" is because of the pain. This week we will see the God of Israel, the God who has been loving this group of people since the begining of time, hurt bad. Really bad.
The skin he put on to experience humanity is going to be ripped and bruised. The muscles that embraced the poor and the sick will be pulled and strained. He will know what it's like to be totally isolated. Totally alone in the universe.
The heart that loved all the way will be broken...
...and stop.
Today that heart was already feeling sore. He would have taken the opportunity to get out of the skin if it were possible. He prayed that way in the garden.
It was not possible because he had a job to do. Pain (or the temptation to avoid it) could not be heeded. There were kids to love and he knew it wouldn't last forever.
Today, in my small way, I wish to honor his holy week by enduring with honor - whatever my journey brings.
Friday, March 26, 2010
with great power...
There are different ways to approach the Easter Bunny. There is "the cling" where you hold tightly to mom the closer you get...even looking away hoping this situation will just pass. There is the "all in" where kids come running for you like we've know each other since the world was new. There is the "invisible wall" - kids start the run then stop dead in their tracks when their brain says "Hold up! That's one big bunny!"
The most common is the "I want to but is this crazy?" approach. You can see that they want to come, but logic or experience is telling them this is crazy. They trust mom, whose hand they hold, but she's been wrong before. Remember the incident with the shot?
But the desire to see the bunny overrides the fear and kids make it to me, eventually.
This is where I come in. I now have a choice.
See, I'm an adult. I'm smart and strong. There is no way these kids would crawl up in my lap in real life. I'd be a stranger. A person to avoid. With the suit on I represent something good and pure and holy. I represent something familliar.
I have the power to give them a great experience or do irrepairable damage in the 5 min they are with me. I could growl, strike, trash bunny land, chase them, or any number of things that would require thousands in therapist bills.
In my hand I hold the power of faith. If I abuse my power...I change what they believe.
It's terrifying.
Through the mesh of the mask I see people. We all walk through this mall having had our beliefs altered somehow. So many broken hearted, struggling to trust love. Each time we get bit, our faith shrinks further. We exist in shadow and self-preservation believing that the guy in the bunny suit, no matter how good and snuggly he looks, will probably do somehing hurtful in the end.
We start to believe that it simply isn't worth trying. We consider that, even though clearly it would be awesome to hang with the Easter Bunny, crawling up in his lap and letting oneself go is just too risky. The perimiter is safe...it might be less satisfying, but I won't die by bunny attack today. It's better if I keep my options open rather than giving all to the bunny...or to love.
I know Jesus had to have felt it on his way to the cross. The potential for all of this to go very wrong had to seem high. He could have lost it all...believing in promises...and never saw his life return - never to know love again. But he kept walking, believing that he could totally submit and love would find him again.
In so many ways, a life of temporary relationships, career focus, chemical abuse, or amusement just seems safer. I don't expect them to love me or be here in the end. I know they come and go. They are for the moment...at least it's clear. When the moment is over and I'm left with nothing but the empty, there's no hard feelings because there was no expectations.
I've decided I want love. I don't say that with confidence...I say it like my young friends come to the bunny. I move real slow staring straight ahead for clues indicating if it's safe.
The most common is the "I want to but is this crazy?" approach. You can see that they want to come, but logic or experience is telling them this is crazy. They trust mom, whose hand they hold, but she's been wrong before. Remember the incident with the shot?
But the desire to see the bunny overrides the fear and kids make it to me, eventually.
This is where I come in. I now have a choice.
See, I'm an adult. I'm smart and strong. There is no way these kids would crawl up in my lap in real life. I'd be a stranger. A person to avoid. With the suit on I represent something good and pure and holy. I represent something familliar.
I have the power to give them a great experience or do irrepairable damage in the 5 min they are with me. I could growl, strike, trash bunny land, chase them, or any number of things that would require thousands in therapist bills.
In my hand I hold the power of faith. If I abuse my power...I change what they believe.
It's terrifying.
Through the mesh of the mask I see people. We all walk through this mall having had our beliefs altered somehow. So many broken hearted, struggling to trust love. Each time we get bit, our faith shrinks further. We exist in shadow and self-preservation believing that the guy in the bunny suit, no matter how good and snuggly he looks, will probably do somehing hurtful in the end.
We start to believe that it simply isn't worth trying. We consider that, even though clearly it would be awesome to hang with the Easter Bunny, crawling up in his lap and letting oneself go is just too risky. The perimiter is safe...it might be less satisfying, but I won't die by bunny attack today. It's better if I keep my options open rather than giving all to the bunny...or to love.
I know Jesus had to have felt it on his way to the cross. The potential for all of this to go very wrong had to seem high. He could have lost it all...believing in promises...and never saw his life return - never to know love again. But he kept walking, believing that he could totally submit and love would find him again.
In so many ways, a life of temporary relationships, career focus, chemical abuse, or amusement just seems safer. I don't expect them to love me or be here in the end. I know they come and go. They are for the moment...at least it's clear. When the moment is over and I'm left with nothing but the empty, there's no hard feelings because there was no expectations.
I've decided I want love. I don't say that with confidence...I say it like my young friends come to the bunny. I move real slow staring straight ahead for clues indicating if it's safe.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
endurance
You might be able to title this entry - "what I learned from the bunny flu; part 2". The illness spread to every bunny - 24 hours of suffering and one day of shakey recovery and we were all back in buisness.
Well...not all of us.
Suffering produces lots of different reactions in people, but there are two main categories - keep going or quit. I've been struck by the concept of quitting this week. Anything worth doing in life will have adversity. Adversity challenges our love our commitment and our joy along the journey. Some people give up their spot because they get challenged or get tired or it stops being fun or they come down with a nasty case of Bunny Flu. Others see it as an opportunity to prove who they are and demonstrate the value of who they journey for or why they journey at all. These are the ones who, at the end of the path, find a crown.
The rest....it's an endless cycle of starting but never finishing. They never get to see the end of any road or have much to show for the time spent on the road.
Jesus' journey toward Easter had more than it's fair share of hard things...even without the cross. He kept going. He never gave up his spot. He saw his journey to completion.
So, it's another day. I'm going to go put on my furry petri dish and pray for the grace to finish my walk.
Well...not all of us.
Suffering produces lots of different reactions in people, but there are two main categories - keep going or quit. I've been struck by the concept of quitting this week. Anything worth doing in life will have adversity. Adversity challenges our love our commitment and our joy along the journey. Some people give up their spot because they get challenged or get tired or it stops being fun or they come down with a nasty case of Bunny Flu. Others see it as an opportunity to prove who they are and demonstrate the value of who they journey for or why they journey at all. These are the ones who, at the end of the path, find a crown.
The rest....it's an endless cycle of starting but never finishing. They never get to see the end of any road or have much to show for the time spent on the road.
Jesus' journey toward Easter had more than it's fair share of hard things...even without the cross. He kept going. He never gave up his spot. He saw his journey to completion.
So, it's another day. I'm going to go put on my furry petri dish and pray for the grace to finish my walk.
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