When I was a kid, Christmas was my favorite holiday. I suspect that’s pretty typical in American culture, and I was no exception. I liked Easter too, of course, but it wasn’t hyped the same way, and (if I’m going to be honest here) presents beat candy, even by the basketful. Also, I didn’t have to dress up for Christmas, whereas Easter meant putting on my kid-level finery, and while I can rock a clip-on tie (“Like FBI agents wear!” I was told) with the best of them, it still wasn’t really my thing.
But now… ah, but now. My life has finally caught up with theology, I suppose. The promise of Easter, that this is not all we have, that one day even our greatest fears — death, isolation, despair — will shrink in defeat… that’s better than any gift I wanted in my youth. I don’t even mind skipping the candy.