Happy Easter, hons!
Once again we celebrate the tortuous execution by crucifixion of a nice Jewish boy whose terrible crime was only wanting all of us to love each other, be sweet to each other and have a nice day. And then as a rim shot to this marathon celebrating, his triumphant return in a new body suit.
Like Christmas, we enjoy combining our holidays with other deities and Easter is no exception. We even named the holiday for this German pagan goddess, Ostara.
In earlier years the Easter bunny started out as a hare. This was back in the day when butchers were doctors who would bleed you to cure you. The hare was associated with fertility, which we all know is because they “you know what” like bunnies. the medieval folks believed they were hermaphrodites capable of virgin birth. Here’s the likely connection to Jesus. Though, thankfully, they didn’t go so far as to say Mary was a hare. Interesting side note: Did you know that hares and bunnies can get knocked up with a new litter while they are still pregnant with a current one? Goodness! Aren’t we grateful not to be hares or bunnies, ladies?
As happened with Saturnalia’s bells and whistles combining with other pagan ingredients and turning into Christmas, the hare eventually became a cute bunny who developed the capacity for laying brightly colored eggs. Further evolution inspired an enterprising and always horny young man from Chicago to celebrate Easter year round by dressing women in skimpy, brightly colored, satin bunny costumes and have them serve drinks to all his horny friends with extra cash to burn. He has made a fortune with his version of celebrating Easter. Though virgins have nothing to do with it. This version of the egg hunt is similar only in nomenclature.
The eggs remain a mystery. Though some stretch the symbolism to their being a sign of new life. As in Jesus’ “hatching” from the tomb and rising from the dead in his new body to go off into space and chill till his next entrance is cued. The custom is said to have originated with German Protestants who converted the old Catholic tradition of consuming colored eggs for Christmas. My crackpot theory is that someone boiled way too many eggs for the potato salad one Easter and, created the dyed egg idea to avoid admitting a mistake.
The Pennsylvania Dutch gave us the egg-laying bunny. For folks who named their towns Intercourse, Climax, Honey Pot and Free Love Valley, one can only imagine what inspired the egg-laying bunny folklore.
All in all, it comes down to Jesus being beaten to smithereens, executed painfully on a cross he had to haul up a hill while being bullied by ne’er do wells, and we call this “Good Friday.” Go figure. His friends spirited his body away to the tomb of a generous rich fellow, where he was laid to rest peacefully, only to reanimate, throw the door open, scare the living crap out of his followers and then beam back up to the mother ship. The books say three days later, but it was technically, if you count using your fingers and a couple of toes, only two days. It probably felt like three days. And I’m sure the insistence of inserting the ever-present and codified doctrinal mystery of the trinity into the story caused the stretching of 48 hours into three days. The Bible says three days and that is that.
Fenwick is telling me that I think too much and read too much history for my own good. Perhaps it’s best to just sit back and enjoy the chocolate bunny and egg salad sandwiches while watching Sunday sports, where on the third fumble our favorite quarterback rises to make a play again!
Whatever your religious or holiday bent, have a lovely Sunday, hons, and spend the day being sweet to yourself and your family.