And now, I hope this isn’t too presumptuous of me, but I wanted to put in a brief appeal to any priests who may happen to be reading our blog this Triduum. It comes from a number of Easter Sunday memories from a number of different parishes which have led me to believe that what I’ve seen may be a widespread phenomenon. Of course, my experience may not be representative of the whole, and even I have not found the problem I’m about to mention to be universally the case. Still, it is common enough that I thought it would be worth offering this humble appeal to priests everywhere…

Could you try, if at all possible, not to be cranky and irate on the morning of Easter Sunday?

As I say, I’ve just seen this pattern so many times that it’s hard to believe I’m the only one. I recall well one Easter a few years back in which the priest stepped up to the pulpit following the joyous Gospel reading and virtually roared at us, “Please leave immediately following the Easter service, as parking space is needed for (people coming to attend a massive Evangelical service being held in a very large venue in the neighborhood.) I don’t know why we should have to kowtow to these people who think churchgoing is just a big party held twice a year, but apparently it is our legal obligation to do so.” And then he glared at us under bushy brows as though we personally had sponsored the offending event.

Happy Easter to you too, Father!

Another year, I remember being treated to a lengthy Easter homily on how people think they can believe anything they want and still get to heaven, but guess what? It’s not true! And those people will get what’s coming to them soon enough! Etc. etc. It would have been an all right homily for Palm Sunday, I suppose, or some other day in Lent, but for the most joyous day of the Christian calendar? The day when God’s mercy and grace have been poured out in abundance over all His people? Seems like a happier theme would have been in order.

Then, of course, there are the classic anti-commercialism rants, all about how candy and fluffy stuffed bunnies have taken over what should be a day of holiness and peace and sublime faithful reflections. Again, not a totally illegitimate point. But I think the desired end might be served better by example and not by irritable complaint. After all, the sorts of people who come to a Traditional Latin Mass for Easter are generally not the sort whose Easter plans were predominantly focused on bunnies.

Now, let me say right now that I can easily imagine how it might be. Holy Week is very exhausting for parish priests, I’m sure. There are all sorts of things to coordinate and to do, plus extra services and extra confessions, and then they are up late on Holy Saturday for the Easter vigil, after which they snatch a few hours of sleep and start in on a whole slate of Easter Sunday Masses. For those priests who get double the turnout on Easter from what they’d see in a normal week, it must be even more irritating, and I suppose it’s understandable that they would feel inclined to vent their spleen against those people who really do seem to think that it’s perfectly all right to make it to Mass only twice a year.

I can understand all that. Still. I would never say this to an individual priest on an individual occasion, but speaking generally on the basis of multiple experiences, I have to say that it’s a real downer to get an angry, irritable homily from your priest on the most joyous of Christian holidays. Maybe some people have just stumbled into a church for the first time in months, but some of us really have tried to observe six weeks of fasting and penance, and now we need to hear those “alleluias” and to be reminded of Christ’s mercy and love. If you can’t bring yourself to write a joyous homily, perhaps you could read something instead? If you’re not feeling upbeat, then perhaps, on this occasion, you could pretend?

Anyway, as I say, I hope it’s not too presumptuous of me to mention this. Thus concludes my humble appeal.