The Silent Spring: The day in between

I never know how to behave on Easter Saturday. Good Friday is easy – eat hot cross buns and then be glum all day. When we lived in Midtown, I went to a four-hour Good Friday service at All Saints’ Episcopal Church. It was a meditative, almost silent service – I came out feeling distraught at the horror of Good Friday. And we rejoice on Easter Sunday, saying, “He is risen, He is risen indeed,” and get to eat whatever it is we’ve given up for Lent.

But there’s no playbook for Saturday. Is it Easter Saturday, Holy Saturday or Easter Eve? Fortunately, Cedric and I have a tradition that works well. We make Resurrection Cookies. You read appropriate Bible verses while you prep the mixture, for example, when you chop the pecans you use a wooden spoon to symbolize the flogging of Jesus; when you put the cookie dough in the oven, you place tape on the door to symbolize the sealing of the tomb; and when you open the oven on Sunday morning, the cookies are hollow to symbolize the empty tomb. I have small post-its to identify each Bible verse and it’s always a joy to pull out the recipe on Easter Saturday and find the post-its are still sticky enough to use.

You’ll find plenty of recipes for Resurrection Cookies on the Internet if you’ve not made them before. It’s never too late to start a tradition and you’ll never forget the year you started this particular tradition.

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