It’s Not About the Bunny. It’s About the Lamb. Pat Cirrincione

Growing up on the west side of Chicago, in our Irish neighborhood, meant that Saint Patrick’s Day was the most important event of the year. It was celebrated with the wearin’ of the green, Irish beer, mutton stew, potatoes, Irish whiskey, Irish soda bread and Irish dancing! I learned to do the Irish jig with the best of the grannies teaching me! And living in Chicago meant the Chicago River became green, and my girl scout troop was in the Chicago Saint Patrick’s Day Parade! After the celebrating, and people coming home on wobbly legs from the local pubs, the neighborhood became quiet once again, until the time we all began to get ready for Easter.

Like Christmas, Easter came with its own set of traditions and rituals. Like Christmas, when we made a visit to see Santa Claus and give him our list of gift wishes, Easter found us cuddling up to the Easter Bunny for the same reasons. Next came the search for new Easter clothes: an Easter dress, new shiny white shoes with anklet stockings, an Easter bonnet, purse and white gloves. The boys had it lots easier—a new white shirt to wear with any color slacks in their closet. After all, it was all about seeing what the women were wearing as they walked into church, so we could gossip about it on the way home.

Once home, it was all about the Easter egg hunt and Easter breakfast before dashing off to our grandmother’s house for another Easter egg hunt before lunch. The only lamb in sight was the butter lamb on the table with the food, and the Easter lamb cake served with dessert. No mention was ever made about the Resurrection of the Risen Christ, or even considered a part of our celebration! How could that be after walking through the Stations of the Cross many times over between Holy Thursday, Good Friday and Holy Saturday? I have no answers, which is truly sad.

It wasn’t until many, many years later, when I began to read about the life of Christ that I began to understand who he was, and what he did for not just me, but for all of us. Then I began to read about Jesus last days in Jerusalem, before his crucifixion. However, It took many more years before I read the Gospels and began to realize that Jesus was the Savior, the Son of the Living God. It really hit home at one Good Friday, and I finally understood that it was not about the bunny, but about the Lamb.

I didn’t know what to expect at that Good Friday service over twenty years ago. I thought it would be an evening of prayer, but not much else. While I was sitting in church that night, looking at the people, the banners, the deep purple coloring everywhere, the quiet congregation. In walked one of the pastors carrying a cross on his back. Slowly he walked down the center aisle, bent over from the weight of what he was carrying, to the front of the church. I remember him placing the cross on the steps, and then the Good Friday service began.

I was all right until we began to sing “Amazing Grace.” As those words poured over me, I began to sob. I had never cried in church before, not even at funerals, and yet there I was, sobbing! Uncontrollably! I was visibly shaken as the tears kept falling down my face, and so embarrassed at allowing my emotions to take a hold of me in such a manner. But then, as I looked around me I saw tears falling down the faces of other people. I understood at that moment that “God had saved a wretch like me,” and if it weren’t for the pew keeping me in a confined space I would have crumbled to the floor. I remembered doing the stations of the cross throughout Lent while growing up in school and as an adult, but it wasn’t until that Good Friday service I realized how little I understood of the crucifixion, and what Jesus death really meant.

After I collected my wits about me, I stood in awe, as we filed out of church in darkness and silence as one by one the candles were extinguished. It felt like I was walking out of a tomb, eerily quiet and heavy and holy.

Then Easter Sunday arrived, and I decided to attend the sunrise service. As we all followed the pastor into the church the brightness of the Sanctuary was astounding. And it hit me—Jesus had risen! The tomb was empty! The joy in my heart came close to exploding. How can I explain the overwhelming feelings that came over me or explain the joy I felt. I had trusted the Lord as my Savior months before, and I believed that he died for my sins so that I could have eternal life with him in heaven, but that Easter morning, I saw what Jesus had accomplished. The smile would not leave my face! The constant smile, that still hasn’t left me, but this, this was a joy beyond imagining!

The Lord has risen, and he will come again, and when that happens “at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth, and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.” (Philippians 2:9-10, ESV)

And that is why, it’s not about the bunny, it’s about the Lamb of God, slain and worthy.

God Centered Life

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