Easter Letter from the Rector
April 2025
Dear people of Trinity,
When I sold my home on Pick Street, in Wheaton, Illinois, I knew I would miss a lot of things about that place. It was the house I bought after becoming a single parent, the house where I raised my child from toddler stage to adulthood. It was the place I painted and renovated to suit my needs and taste, and it sat amidst a beautiful yard filled with shrubs and perennials for which I’d dug each and every hole. And then there was my favorite plant, a tree: a redbud. I’d planted it as a tiny sapling, and watched it grow until it was taller than my house. Each Spring, it bloomed into a showy cacophony of tiny pink flowers, and definitively heralded the earth’s rebirth after the long, deathly grip of winter. A botanic resurrection.
But I don’t know that resurrection is always so obvious or extravagant. Sometimes resurrection reveals itself more like a snowdrop flower—a discreet and modest harbinger of the new life of Spring—with its tiny green shoots and white blossoms poking their way through the last-gasp snow cover.
This week, we will hear stories of the triumph of love and justice over violence and death, as we celebrate Christ’s resurrection at the Easter Vigil and on Easter Sunday. But resurrection is not only a Jesus story or a one-and-done story. Resurrection triumphs happen all the time: we just need practice seeing the patches of thaw that reveal the tender snowdrop blooms.
I saw resurrection recently in a brief video posted by members of St. Mark’s Episcopal Church in Altadena—whose church building was destroyed in the Eaton fire—where they discovered, amidst the rubble, the church’s beloved tower bell. When they struck it with a mallet, even after all it had been through, the bell still rang, “with a clear, resonant tone.” I tasted resurrection in the dozens of pies that friends and neighbors baked and brought to be the centerpiece of the funeral reception celebrating the life of longtime Trinity church member, Kent Carlander. I experienced resurrection in the renewal of a friendship, someone I’d lost touch with from before the pandemic, and happily, we were able to pick up right where we’d left off five years ago.
This Easter season, share your stories of new life—the showy and the modest ones—with each other, with friends and with strangers. Point out the chance rainbow and lovely sunset. Recognize acts of generosity and kindness. Do what you can to make love and justice a reality for someone who’s lost hope. Practice resurrection.
With faith and confidence,
Elizabeth+
The Rev. Elizabeth Molitors, Rector
Trinity Episcopal Church
