In the town of Bay St. Louis, Mississippi, there is a church named Lagniappe ("lan-yap"). It is an old Creole word that means "something extra." Pastor Jean Larroux explains, "Down here if you go into a seafood shop and order a pound of shrimp and they put in an extra handful, that's the lagniappe. It's something you can't pay for. Something for nothing. Something for free."

In an area devastated by Hurricane Katrina, Jean began this church, in his words, with people "primed for grace."

Accustomed to teaching church people how to celebrate, Jean was surprised to find himself in a community of people who already knew. Even in the middle of their hardship.

Here's the good part.

This celebration--from lagniappe--is not predicated on life as we expect it.

The party doesn't start when our fear is gone.

The party doesn't start when our beliefs are unadulterated.

The party doesn't start when our circumstances make it feasible.

Most likely, if we wait for all that, we miss the resurrection every time.

Just like the twosome on the Road to Emmaus. Looking for "answers," they missed the resurrected Jesus. "But were not our hearts burning within us?" they said.

Lagniappe is what Easter is all about. When I was a kid Easter was about believing the right things (even when I wasn't sure), and saying the right things (it helped to speak loudly) and pointing fingers at those who didn't see it the way I did. And then after church we hunted eggs and ate enough chocolate to make even our Baptist parents pray for Happy Hour.

Did you know that the Greek translation of the Gospel of Mark stops in the middle of a sentence? It's not so neat and tidy as we want to make it, and ends oddly, like a great TV-season-finale, leaving us wanting more.

But maybe that's good. We get hung up on our need for control and a future we can predict.  

I appreciate Rev. Brian Hiortdahl's take. He says, "It's scary to think that God is alive and able to do things so far beyond our prediction and beyond our control. The future is wide open. We can participate in it, but we're not in charge, and we are a people who like to be in charge of stuff. We like to predict. We like to figure out when the economy is going to get better and plan for it. Resurrection just blows all of that away."

Robert Capon is unequivocal, "(The religious man) deals God a king and an ace and God pushes the cards away and says, 'Look, I don't want to take your money. You can't play with me. The odds are always on the house here and besides, no matter how full you think your deck is, you haven't got a full deck and you can never win playing this game of cards with me. So why don't you just be like that fellow over there who is looking at his shoes and the two of you go over and have a free drink and enjoy yourselves because you can be home free here if you will only stop this nonsense of trying to sell me, trying to win over me, trying to get an arm up on me, to do something to me to prove that you are okay. I don't care that you are not okay. I will raise you from the death of your lack of okayness. I will raise you up. Just trust me. That fellow over there, all he said was he was no good. He threw himself in trust on me. He's home free because all the dead are home free in my working of the universe, in my reconciliation of the world. All you have to do is recognize that death is the key to your salvation.'"

Lagniappe.

It means that the party has been staged on our behalf. While Christians celebrate Easter, our Jewish brothers and sisters celebrate Passover and the Seder meal.

Remember this day, on which you went free from Egypt, the house of bondage, how Adonai freed you from it with a mighty hand. Book of Exodus  

So. The party is on. Regardless.

And here's the deal: There's only one requirement--bring who you are.

This is not about who you are supposed to be.

Or who you should be.

This is not about the denial of pain and suffering.

Or the denial of grief and loss and hardship.

Or even the denial of death.

It is about what the people of Bay Saint Louis knew. If there's a party, jump in with both feet. Jean says, "they take every drop of juice out of the lemon that they can get, and they love it."

Jean's story reminded me of the One More Time Around Marching Band (OMTAAMB). They march every year in the Portland, Oregon Rose Parade. The OMTAAMB is believed to be the largest permanent marching band in the world. Made up of former high school, college and military marching band members, the ages of its 500 members range from 19 to 85. Members come from far away places just to perform with the band each year--in recent years there are members from California, Florida, Ohio, Japan and New Zealand. Their uniform? White pants and a yellow (or red) t-shirt. Their prerequisite? Love of music. 

Lagniappe.

Today the thermometer read 72 degrees. Which is like saying July arrived 4 months early. Which is another way of saying, especially in Seattle, "This is too good to be true. And we're going to pay for this down the road."  Lord have mercy. The hoops we jump through to convince ourselves that we are undeserving of any drop of grace.

So. I jumped into the day with both feet. And spent much of it fussing and futzing--and delighting--in my garden. When it was time to sit a spell, I'd watch the pair of mallards float on the pond. (Our cats watched too.) Finches flocked to our feeders. In the garden, the flowering-red-currant has begun to bloom, extravagant, with nodding raspberry red blooms; and great clumps of mango-yellow daffodils glow and shine, even in the fading dusk light.

Note: Jean Larroux story from Sin Boldly, Cathleen Falsani