Shopping for bunnies, not bargains

Catholic New Times, May 4, 2003 by Sharon Fraser

As I write this, we are preparing--spiritually and otherwise--for Easter. My husband, Dan, and I are teachers of religious education to the eight-year-olds in our parish who will be receiving their first Communion in a few weeks. It adds another dimension to our Easter preparations and renews our own experience of this religious season.

The lessons have been getting more intense as we've now talked to the children about the Last Supper, the washing of the feet, the denial and the betrayal, the passion, the crucifixion and, of course, the resurrection.

And so, last week, when Dan asked the children what Easter means to them, we were momentarily taken aback when, in one voice, the children cried out, "Chocolate eggs!"

Momentarily, it's clear that the commercialization and commodification of Easter continues apace and when we gave it a moment's thought, we realized that the children are, after all, a part of the larger society around them.

A few years ago, I was in a taxi when I heard a commercial done by one of those private radio guys who sounds as if he's on speed. He was talking about a mile a minute and I didn't pay much attention until finally, he carne to his point: "Come on down," he gibbered, "and hurry! Remember; only two more shopping days 'til Easter!"

I confess this took me completely by surprise. How long can it take, I asked myself, to buy an Easter lily and a chocolate bunny? But I made a point of looking around and sure enough, Easter had become simply another day to sell stuff, another day in which we were encouraged to take seriously our societal responsibility as high-spending consumers.

The next day, I did a commentary on CBC Radio about turning the most sacred observance in the Christian calendar into a shopping spree, in which I pushed the idea a little farther than the malls had; I suggested the merchants might advertise something like "Resurrection Reductions" or "Last Supper Specials."

I regret to say that some people in the radio audience were more offended by me than by the sales themselves. They said I was sacrilegious.

This is the kind of anecdote that comes to me when we increasingly hear paeans to "our way of life." We're told that the terrorists attack Western society because they're jealous of "our way of life," and we have to go to war to preserve "our way of life." In fact, if we choose not to go to war, we may be jeopardizing "our way of life."

It's such a bankrupt phrase and one that grows more meaningless the more it attaches itself like a leech to our definitions of what makes our lives significant, what gives value to and receives value from the time we spend here.

Here in Nova Scotia, Premier John Hamm--the gentle, country doctor, some people still call him--mused aloud about our government's decision not to join the invasion of Iraq and wondered if this would affect border crossings into the U.S. Shipping lobsters across the border is a significant part of our provincial economy, said Dr. Hamm. This decision not to go to war could cost money and business. Similar messages are heard across the country, from the leader of the opposition in Ottawa to the business elites, as the outcome of the determination not to go to war is daily measured in dollars and cents.

I have harsh and unkind questions that I ask of anyone who expresses such thoughts: exactly how many dead or injured Iraqi people are you prepared to accept in order that our economy or way of life won't he affected by American pique? What is the cut-off line of money lost that you will accept in exchange for not joining an illegal war? It seems incomprehensible to me that so many people--with no evident embarrassment--can talk money when the issue is war and can talk shopping when the subject is Easter.

Sharon Fraser writes from Halifax, N.S.