After the holiday celebration, take some time to reflect on its meaning
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By Alice Lukacs, Postmedia News
Published Apr 21, 2025
3 minute read
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Easter Sunday has come and gone, but the message of happiness and hope lingers.
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On the counter in the kitchen sit two coffee mugs decorated with Easter bunnies. They were given to me by cousin Eva on a long-ago Easter weekend when I visited the family in London, Ont. The boys were still small, hunting for eggs in the garden. They remind me of Easters past observed in Canada and my native Hungary. And I got to thinking about other faiths, as well. I was thinking back to a pilgrimage to the Holy Land when I was visiting the places where the Easter events took place and observing Easter in Hungary. In Jerusalem, we walked the Way of the Cross and visited the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, traditional site of Jesus’ Crucifixion and burial. There’s a photo taken outside the church of our happy group led by Father Lawrence MacEachen.
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I remember once practically lifting a fish from a big tank in a store on St. Lawrence Boulevard, and the delicious fish dinner after the Good Friday service. (Who could forget attending the Easter Sunday mass and the ham dinner afterward.) I thought about how on Easter Monday it has been the custom in Hungarian villages for the fellows to douse unsuspecting girls with buckets of water. This is symbolic of the cleansing of sins and marks the end of Lent. A more gentlemanly version of the custom is for men to sprinkle women with perfume or scented water. I recall my Hungarian neighbour and late friend John sprinkling me with cologne on an Easter Monday.
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Of course, Easter has its own charming traditions rooted in Christian and pre-Christian times. The presence of the Easter Bunny and the hunt for Easter eggs, many of them beautifully decorated, continue to delight youngsters. But outside of my own faith I am an “equal opportunity employer” and enjoy contacts with other faiths.
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The great Jewish holiday, Passover, is another spring celebration. I am enrolled in the Meals on Wheels program at the Cummings Jewish Centre for Seniors here in Montreal. It all started during the pandemic. They were practically the only organization offering this service. I applied, and was fortunate to be accepted with no questions asked. I am still enjoying the well-organized program, the prompt delivery and tasty dishes; I even get little presents at Jewish holidays which I usually pass along to Jewish friends.
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I think about my Turkish friend Nuri who is of Muslim faith. They also celebrate the month-long Ramadan celebration in the spring. I met Nuri when he worked here in Montreal as an engineer many years ago. He eventually returned to Istanbul, got married, had children and taught at the university. We reconnected twice. The first time years ago when I was visiting Istanbul at Ramadan and got invited to a fast-breaking evening meal with his family. Our next meeting was in our senior years not long ago, again on a visit to Istanbul. Now a widower, Nuri and I spent a day together on an island not far from Istanbul where we enjoyed a horse-drawn carriage tour and a lovely meal at a seaside restaurant.
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As I observed Easter Sunday, I thought about being charitable. Charitable donations are on my agenda year-round, but especially so at holiday time and I try to do my small part. Here in Montreal, Welcome Hall Mission hosts an Easter dinner for those seeking help. Each year one of the participants will see my personal greetings and good wishes on his or her placemat as proof of my contribution to the mission.
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Further afield, I also contribute to CNEWA, Catholic Near East Welfare Association, a papal agency for humanitarian and pastoral support reaching out to people in places of conflict and need all over the world.
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But the need is great. There are so many worthy causes in various fields, too numerous to mention, that clamour for support.
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May happiness, hope and acceptance of others (and their traditions) continue throughout the year, carried by spring breezes after the long, harsh winter.
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— Alice Lukacs writes the Life in the 90s column
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