Easter

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I am holed up in my mom’s room due to… circumstances that are not fit to post here. I will be writing about Easter; and I am not really a big fan of religion and me writing about Easter is, well, rare.

Last Friday, I attended my third Protestant service. It was an Easter Celebration. I am glad I was in it. It was, at the least, relaxing. What I like about it, apart from our Headmaster’s enlightening Easter message, is the music. Brent’s band headed by Mrs. Davis is just awesome. And she sang in Tagalog too (and Mr. Davis was behind me, singing as well. Cute.). I think she’s the coolest teacher in Brent. It wasn’t even a band that played last Friday (although I did sit in one of her band classes), but it was just gooood.

Anyway, Easter. Thank you, God, for Easter because it provided us a late-start schedule for Friday; You gave me a chance to listen to Mrs. Davis’ band, and for exposing me to this experience, which is quite rare for people like me, who are not really anywhere as of now.

I’ll tell you this. I really enjoyed the Headmaster’s speech or sermon or homily whatever you call it. It was about Easter. Of course, duh. So he talked about the origins and the significance of it to our lives. Let me tell you this: It changed me.

Before that, Easter for me is synonymous to traffic, palm leaves, hard boiled eggs and hot Sundays. Chocolate eggs never even occurred to me (sad, I know). Easter was not a celebration in our house. In fact, I dreaded the Holy Week when I was younger: no TV and my parents were in the house. And because Mom was there, I was sort of required to go to church and do the Stations of the Cross. It was penitence.

But of course I respect Jesus’ death. Thanks, Jesus. If it weren’t for you, I am sure to burn in hell. I am not being sarcastic. Thank you. But do we really need Easter Eggs for that? I mean, I get the palm and the washing of the feet routine. I even get the paganism of the Easter Bunny. But eggs?

(And the bunny said, “Yeah, would you like them fertilized?”)

So, headmaster was like: Do you know that the first Easter Egg was the cave where Jesus died?

Ah. What a humbling experience. It hit me like a Cherie Gil slap in the face: I am stupid. I mean, why didn’t I think of this before? Of course! Jesus was the toy in the egg! Jesus is the chocolate! He’s the gift! God, if they taught this in my elementary school, I would have a different appreciation with Jesus and caves. Robert Langdon would be displeased with me.

He’s right, you know. Jesus died for us. He’s the gift sent by The Father to cleanse our sins. To renew ourselves. To resurrect? I don’t even care if Jesus really existed. It’s a powerful thought, and if you believe it, it is true. We all need to realize our weaknesses and sins at some point and forgive each other too. It’s not an option, it’s bound to happen in your life, in your Easter.

Headmaster told us that the first Easter eggs were plain red eggs that symbolize the passion of Christ. Then it just evolved (from Faberge Eggs to Google Easter Eggs) and made into grand marketing schemes. Thing is, in order for you to appreciate it, you must understand where it comes from, and I do now. Thanks, Dick.

So in lieu of Easter and resurrections, I will reformat this little blog of mine. It would still be the snark/sappy one but it would be better. I am getting older after all, so might as well put a little more effort in life and living (which includes this blog). I never know when I’ll get crucified.

So here’s to Easter and new beginnings.

Easter

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