Here's the problem with Easter. The Catholic Church needs to pick

The words of Denis Leary — “Here’s the problem with Easter. The Catholic Church needs to pick a date because it keeps moving. And I think the reason they always have Easter moving to different dates is to catch us” — are spoken in jest, yet beneath the laughter lies a keen reflection on the tension between human order and divine mystery. Leary, a comedian by craft and observer by instinct, takes a tradition that seems confusing to the modern mind — the ever-shifting date of Easter — and transforms it into humor that masks a deeper truth: that mankind longs for control, even over sacred things that were never meant to be fixed by his hand.

In the style of the ancients, we might say that Leary, though jesting, has stumbled upon the paradox of faith — the yearning for stability in a world ruled by cycles, seasons, and the unknowable rhythm of the heavens. The movement of Easter, tied to the phases of the moon and the vernal equinox, reminds us that the Resurrection itself is not a moment imprisoned in time, but a living event that transcends calendars. It comes not when man decides, but when creation itself bears witness — when the balance of night and day mirrors the balance of death and life. Yet to the modern heart, accustomed to predictability and routine, this shifting date feels like chaos. Leary’s quip — that the Church “moves Easter to catch us” — captures the discomfort of those who wish the sacred to operate on their schedule, rather than to summon them out of it.

The origin of the quote is comedic, but the truth it points to is ancient. Easter has moved through time and controversy since the earliest centuries of Christianity. The Council of Nicaea in 325 AD, convened under Emperor Constantine, first sought to unify its celebration, declaring that Easter should be held on the first Sunday after the first full moon following the spring equinox. Yet even this divine arithmetic — a mixture of astronomy and theology — ensured that Easter would forever move, as if to remind humankind that the mystery of the Resurrection cannot be pinned down to human order. What Leary mocks in jest, the Church preserves in reverence: the rhythm of heavenly cycles, not of human calendars.

Throughout history, man has always sought to fix the sacred, to carve eternity into stone. But faith was never meant to be convenient. The prophets wandered, the saints waited, and even the Son of Man declared that no one knows the hour or the day. The movement of Easter, then, becomes a metaphor for life itself — the way grace comes unannounced, the way resurrection meets us not when we expect it, but when we most need it. Leary’s humor — his suggestion that Easter “catches us” — speaks more truth than perhaps he intended. For indeed, Easter does catch us: it arrives in our weariness, in the quiet of spring when the soul has nearly forgotten how to hope, and reminds us that rebirth is always at hand.

Consider the story of the early Irish monks, who, in their remote coastal monasteries, would spend the long winter months studying the heavens to determine the coming of Easter. Their calculations were imperfect, and often their Easter did not align with that of Rome. But they watched the stars and waited for the signs of dawn, believing that God’s calendar was written not on parchment, but in the turning of the world itself. They did not complain at the shifting of the date; they saw in it a reflection of divine mystery — that God’s timing is never our own, and that faith must remain flexible enough to move when He moves.

Thus, in Leary’s jest we find an unintentional sermon: that modern man, with all his clocks and algorithms, must still bow to the unpredictability of the sacred. The Divine does not conform to our deadlines. The shifting of Easter is not a mistake, but a message — a gentle reminder that spiritual truth resists human scheduling. It refuses to be domesticated, for resurrection is not an event to be controlled, but a miracle to be witnessed.

Let this be the lesson for all who hear: do not seek to trap holiness in your calendars or routines. The things of heaven move by rhythms unknown to earth. When Easter comes — whether by the Church’s reckoning or in the quiet renewal of your heart — let it catch you, as Leary says. Let it surprise you in the midst of your busyness, and call you once more to life. For that is the true wisdom behind the laughter: the sacred always moves — not to confuse us, but to awaken us — to remind us that faith, like resurrection, is never still.