Easter reflections, hysteria—and a bit of matzo

Tonight we hosted happy hour for neighbors. Susan’s sisters were still here, after their father’s funeral, and I wanted a chance to visit with them. My patio is so inviting and comfortable on these spring evenings—temperature just right and, knock on wood, no bugs. We had leftover appetizers—shh! They’ll never know—and a jolly good time.

There is something wrong either with Fort Worth groceries or my children, but after two trips, one to three stores, they could not find matzo. Isn’t is still Passover or has everyone already bought all they’ll need? I wanted it for an Easter dessert—topped with butterscotch sauce, melted chocolate bits, chopped pecans, and coarse salt. In extremis, I suggested graham crackers. So that’s our dessert for tomorrow. But I plan a lesson in Jewish food—my children’s father was Jewish, but he left home when Jordan was six, and I guess she doesn’t remember Seders, Hanukah, or the traditional foods. She needs to know.

Now preparing for early church. Yes, I have my clothes picked out—not the frilly Easter outfit of my childhood, but a chiffon vest that as Jordan says “screams Easter.” And we’ll have guests for brunch—pleasant to look forward to.

Not everyone has the Easter message today. This morning, the first thing I saw on Facebook was a post on nuclear war and did we have our hazmat suits and anti-radiation medicine (is there such a thing? I foresee a run on the market). Had we protected our pets? How do we do that? Tiny gas masks over their faces? The post went on about not wanting animals to die that gruesome death. Then a sensible friend of mine asked, “Will we see Easter or will be wiped out?”

I was somewhat comforted to read in a Washington Post article that China had strongly warned both the United States and North Korea to back off, advising that war costs everybody and does no one any good. Who ever thought that China would be the peacemaker? I hope both parties take the advice seriously, though I realize that our two governments are run by hotheads—a scary thought. And tonight I saw an unsubstantiated post that North Korea’s missiles proved to be duds. “We live!” wrote whoever posted that.

Still I remember the ‘60s and ‘70s when we thought nuclear attacks were imminent—all those school drills in the hall or hiding under your desk, for all the good that would do. The Bay of Pigs showdown when I urged my parents to leave Chicago and come to small-town Missouri to avoid missiles that were surely headed our way. They weren’t, and I have come to take seriously William Faulkner’s words when he declined to accept the end of man, “I believe that man will not merely endure: he will prevail.”

And that folks, is part of the message of Easter—redemption, salvation, faith in God. Yes, we live in scary times, and there are lots of rants in my mind—about Congress, about Republicans, about Trump—but I believe not only in God but in the resilience of the American spirit. We will survive and prosper.

While I’m at it, I’d like to add a word about Melanie Trump. I certainly hold no candle for her, and I believe she’s made some really bad choices, but she’s paying for them in spades. I suspect she’s one miserable, trapped woman, trapped by the man she married and by her love for her son. But posts blaming her for ruining the White House Easter miss the point.  There’s a whole staff there that could have planned the event, especially if they’d consulted Michelle Obama’s staff, but they didn’t. That’s the folly of the Trump White House, consumed by hatred of all things tainted with Obama. But to call Melanie a soulless commie hooker is uselessly mean.

Many American children, those of servicemen, the underprivileged, and others, will miss the extravaganza on the White House lawn, but hey! This is only one year. As I said above, the American spirit lives on, and there is always next year.

Be of good faith.