Easter: A Time for Friends, Family, Chocolate, or God?

Today is Easter Sunday, the celebrated day (for Christians) when Christ was risen from the dead to sit at the right hand of God the Father. It is also a time for family and friends, for fun and games, for egg hunts, for chocolate.
To unbelievers, a time for thinking about a new spring filled with new life in the form of baby chickens and bunnies. But why think of new life? Several reasons. First, the Spring brings with it the start of new life in the form of plants bursting into bloom, animals peeping out from hibernation, and other animals giving birth to more little creatures. Second, and more important, Christ has given us new life. But how many pagans think of that?

So here I am, listening to most of my family (extended and all) trying to re-construct the Easter story with small ziplock bags filled with symbols from the Bible: A cross, a sponge, two dice, a crown of thorns, etc. etc. But what is the real point? Of course we know what it should be: Christ, and what He did. However, most of the time, its just people having fun, trying to celebrate with the family or friends, eating a LOT.

I personally think that we should all just sit down with some vinegar and unleavened bread and watch Mel Gibson's "The Passion" until we're all crying.

After this, we should all eat, soberly, our dinner of ham. Then we can celebrate that Christ went through a lot more than just drinking some liquids that make you sick and then enduring a giant ham. We can celebrate that he died for us, and then we can celebrate the fact that he rose again, and showed Death what's what. For as it says in the amazing movie "Wit", Death only gets a comma.

"Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so,
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure: then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell;
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die."

-- John Donne