The high holy days have once again come to pass: Easter has divinely fallen on 4/20 this year.
Whether you worship the messiah la Ganja or that Jewish carpenter from the big ol’ book, we’re all going to get a little risen today. From rolling cross-shaped blunts to ordering medicated chocolate bunnies, there is faded fun for everyone!
April 20th has become a nearly ubiquitous holiday among the young and counter-cultured, but the history of 420 is about as hazy as the cloud of herb fogging up church bathrooms and bachelor pads around the nation today. The urban myth of 420 having formerly been the San Rafael police code for Cannabis Smoking in Progress has largely been debunked, but Ryan Grim of the Huffington Post claims that the legend isn’t all wrong—420 does begin in San Rafael, in none other than the blasted hands of your average high school stoners.
The Waldos, a group of five friends aptly named for their hammered hangout spot at a wall outside their school, fell into the term during an epic pot adventure that rivals the likes of Harold and Kumar’s iconic trip to White Castle.
The year was 1971, the days were getting chilly, and the boys had needed to get fried. They heard a rumor that a Coast Guard member left his garden of grass just outside the local Pt. Reyes station unattended, and the call of Kush was just too strong to resist. The gang decided to meet up at 4:20 p.m. outside the school, blast some Mary Jane and head down to the station in a hot-boxed ’66 Chevy Impala. After many attempts they never did find the mythic patch, but the dope days gave birth to an infamous code—420 was an invitation to burn among the Waldos, leaving their teachers and parents none the wiser.
Five toasted high school teens couldn’t have taken over the nation and rivaled JC’s big day without some serious help, however. The Waldos found themselves inexplicably connected to an American rock band, The Grateful Dead, when the not-yet-legends settled down around the corner from their school. Soon, one of the Waldo’s fathers was handling the Dead’s real estate, and another’s older brother was managing one of their side bands. After a few smoke sessions with the rising icons, the Waldo’s lingo took on new life. The globetrotting group sprinkled the chronic-culture term around the world as they came into fame, and after the stoner-renowned magazine “High Times” got wind of it, the calendar date became a hemp holiday for all.
I’d recount the history of Easter Sunday, but someone ripped those pages out of my New King James to roll with. This should be a good day for church out-reach, however, as much of America will be in an altered state and far more likely to believe stories of men rising from the dead and teleporting from remote caves in the Arabian desert.
Far from answering the lingering question of the day—“What Would Jesus Smoke?”—the more conservative parishes have taken the day as an opportunity to push a different kind of drug. With catchy word play like “Reverse 420: God Keeps Me High” the campaign to replace your pot with prayer is sure to resonate with a young, hip crowd. Of course, some might mistake it as an endorsement for Baby Jesus, a strain of cannabis more often referred to as Purple Kush, but either way they’re in for a spiritual journey.
This isn’t the first time the resurrection and immaculate blaze have overlapped—and it won’t be the last—but with next 4/20 Easter not arriving until 2025, and then 2087 after that, it might just be the penultimate faith flight any of us will experience in this lifetime. So grab the kids, snatch some green and light up with the Lord—can I get an amen?
