In our new church this year, I was approached by a member before Easter: Do Easter lilies bother you? No more than my beloved daffodils on Daffodil Sunday. Don’t worry about it. The headache and nausea would only last a day.

When did we start to acknowledge that people are more important than things? In the church of my childhood, a life-sized, rough-hewn crass stood before the altar on Easter morning. A tree split in half and laddered vertically and horizontally with Easter lilies given in memory or celebration greeted sunrise worshippers. EASTER WAS… opening the church door to the scent of Easter.

We celebrated Easter quietly at our house. There was no fancy Easter dinner. By the time my mother, the organist, had played for all three services she went directly to bed with a sick headache. Nausea rose in my own throat an Easter, but I refused to make the flower connection. It was the holiest time of the year. I knew, however, that the best part was getting out into the fresh air again. I waited for the traditional Easter afternoon long walk by the lake.

I detest artificial flowers in a church. Only the finest, real flowers are good enough – nothing fake. That attitude changed when a choir member in a parish early in my ministry said he would have to stop singing because the autumn flowers overpowered him. He could not catch his breath. From that point on, all flowers in that church were plastic.

Later, and for the eight years we were in another church, there were silk Easter lilies of such a high quality that only the absence of their scent gave them away. An earlier member had to “get those lilies out of here.”

In our new church this year, I was approached by a member before Easter: Do Easter lilies bother you? No more than my beloved daffodils on Daffodil Sunday. Don’t worry about it. The headache and nausea would only last a day.

EASTER IS . . . the scent of lilies as we enter the sanctuary. I would not deprive one worshipper of that. We will position them so that I will be upwind, but the people can still smell them. I was at once moved by their concern and chagrined at myself. They were so far ahead of me in caring. I could have been the fall guy for someone else in the church with scent sensitivity. As my discomfort grew throughout the service, I wondered if I had placed the Easter lilies too close to someone in the pews.

Do same folks not come at all to church because of another person’s overpowering perfume or aftershave? How necessary are scented specialty candles, scented deodorizers in restrooms, and stuffy rooms that never know the refreshment of an open window? How can we learn to practice the fine art of being considerate of others in our churches so that we will have a chance to be considerate of others elsewhere?

Slowly, even in the middle of summer, Easter dawns on us. People are always more important than things.

EASTER WILL ALWAYS BE… far more than the scent of lilies greeting us at the church door. – db

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