Isaiah 65:17-25; Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24; Acts 10:34-43; Luke 24:1-12
The Rev. Candice B. Frazer
It was my first year as a youth minister, and we were deep into planning for the Lent and Easter season. We had just wrapped up a lengthy discussion about Lent when the priest casually asked, “So, what do we think about Easter?” Out of nowhere, the children’s minister blurted out, “I hate Easter.”
Dead silence.
Then a few nervous chuckles. We assumed she was joking. I mean, who hates Easter?
But she wasn’t smiling. She sat back in her chair, arms crossed, sporting the grim expression of someone who’d just smelled a diaper in a hot car. She meant it. She really hated Easter. Color her pastel green and she could’ve been the Grinch of Holy Week.
How could anyone hate Easter? I mean sure, parts of it are objectively weird. Let’s start with the Easter Bunny. What does a rabbit have to do with the resurrection of our Lord? And why is he hiding eggs? The entire thing feels like a fever dream—some deranged bunny tossing jellybeans around while we celebrate Jesus’ conquering death. Yeah. That’s weird.
Baby animals? Adorable. Peeps? Not so much. They’re basically marshmallow Styrofoam coated in sugar sand that tastes like chewy regret—and yet, somehow, you can’t stop eating them. It’s like self-inflicted dental punishment.
And for a holiday that’s technically lower key than Christmas, moms and grandmas go hard. We’re talking months of French hand-sewn dresses and meticulously smocked yellow chicks on pastel rompers. Then comes the real battle: wrestling a sugar-hyped toddler into said outfit for twenty minutes of photos and an hour at church where they spill everything imaginable on them, only to pack it away forever because kids grow faster than your patience.
Let’s not forget the Easter Basket Olympics—no, not between moms. Between the kids. Every child at the 9 a.m. service is side-eyeing everyone else’s basket, judging size, egg capacity, and candy haul. And God help you if you forget to fill one egg—because no child on earth is falling for the “theologically accurate” explanation of the empty tomb egg. Nice try.
Sometimes Easter feels like the message is: Jesus rose from the dead so we could buy 47 types of jellybeans and fight about lunch reservations. I’m sure that’s exactly what the Bible meant.
But none of this ridiculousness was what set off the children’s minister. Her disdain was focused on what happens at church. By the time the kids arrive for Easter Sunday service, they’ve had chocolate for breakfast, turned the egg hunt into a full-contact sport, lost the ears of their bunny in the car, and are now expected to sit still and pay attention. Then at children’s church, she gets to explain the core of Christian theology while somehow dodging the finer points of torture, death, and resurrection. “So kids, Jesus died… but like, in a good way. And then he came back… no, not like a zombie…”
This is why I just let the kids tell knock-knock jokes at the 9 a.m. service. It’s easier than explaining eschatology to a six-year-old who just ate seventeen Starbursts.
And all of this is happening while she’s probably wearing Easter-appropriate pastels and is now covered in someone’s jellybean vomit. It’s like hosting a spiritual TED Talk inside a glitter-filled bounce house. Best. Day. Ever.
The truth is, she didn’t actually hate Easter. She just loathed the logistics.
And, to be fair, the first Easter had its own logistical nightmares.
At early dawn, the women were up—not hiding eggs, but preparing spices and heading to the tomb. They knew a massive stone blocked the entrance, and they were trying to problem-solve on the way, probably brainstorming increasingly unlikely scenarios. And then—surprise!—the stone is already rolled away. And instead of finding a dead body, they find two very much alive strangers just hanging out. That’s a lot to process before coffee.
So, they run to tell the disciples, who immediately respond like skeptical toddlers.
“What do you mean he came back from the dead? Like… a zombie?”
“No, he rose from the dead. He’s alive again!”
“You saw this yourself? I’m gonna need some proof.”
“Thomas, you wouldn’t believe it if Jesus walked in here right now.”
And that’s just their side of things. Meanwhile, Jesus had descended into hell, shattered the gates, and led out the captives. That’s some intense multitasking.
So yeah… the children’s minister had a point. The logistics are hell.
But here’s the thing: it’s worth it. The joke is on the devil. Easter is a day bursting with joy, hope, and jelly beans. It’s eggsactly what God wants for us—a reminder that love wins, that the worst things are never the last things, and that resurrection is real.
So go ahead. Celebrate. Laugh. Wear the itchy outfit. Embrace the chaos. And if you need help finding your joy?
Try starting with a few jokes.
Why doesn’t the Vestry ever get anything done during Holy Week?
Because every decision gets resurrected three days later.
What’s the difference between an Easter service and an Easter egg hunt?
One ends in spiritual enlightenment and the other ends in a fight over a plastic egg filled with chocolate and crushed dreams.
Why did the choir director lock herself in the music room after Easter Sunday?
Because someone still missed their entrance on the “Halleluiah Chorus,” and she just needed a moment.
Why do priests dread Easter morning?
Because they have to confidently pronounce names like Arimathea and Magdalene while wondering if anyone would notice if they just said “some guys and a few women.”
What’s the secret fear of every lay reader on Easter?
That they’ll accidently say, “Jesus was not risen” of “Jesus was in prison” and become an instant heresy meme.
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A man, his wife, and his cranky mother-in-law went on vacation to the Holy Land. While they were there, the mother-in-law passed away.
The undertaker told them, “You can have her shipped home for $5,000, or you can bury her here in the Holy Land for $150”.
The man thought about it for a while and told the undertaker he would just have her shipped home.
The undertaker asked, “Why…. why would you spend $5,000 to ship your mother-in-law home when it would be wonderful to be buried here and spend only $150?”
The man said, “A man died here about 2000 years ago. He was buried here and three days later, he rose from the dead.” “I just can’t take that chance.”
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It’s St Peter’s day off and Jesus is manning the Pearly Gates…
When an old man arrives seeking admission. Jesus starts running through the application form.
“Name?” says Jesus in bored tone of voice.
“Joseph.” The old man replies.
“Occupation?” Jesus drones on.
“Carpenter.” Jesus looks up a little surprised but he continues.
“Children?” Jesus asks hopefully.
“One boy” says the old man “but he was adopted really.”
Jesus can’t believe his senses, could his earthly father look so different now?
“Your son,” asks Jesus “did he have holes in his hands like these?” showing off the results of his crucifixion.
“Yes!” Shouts the old man in delight.
“And did he have holes in his feet like these?” asks Jesus hitching up his robe.
“Yes he did!” says the old man, his eyes shining bright.
“Dad!” shouts Jesus his eyes flooding with tears of joy.
“Pinocchio!” shouts the old man.
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What do you get when you cross Winnie the Pooh with the Easter Bunny?
A honey bunny.
Why shouldn’t you tell an Easter egg a joke?
Because they’ll crack up.
What did the Easter bunny say to the carrot?
Nice gnawing you.
What do you call a line of rabbits jumping backward?
A receding hare line.
Amen