April 17, 2019 Eric Blauer

Bunnies, Peeps and Pagan Oh My!

Every Easter there’s a need to respond to the folks who have genuine questions about the ‘origins’ of Easter celebrations. Some years I do better than others in addressing those concerns, others I poke fun, either way, I make someone mad.

You are free to believe what you want about Easter, Christmas, Mary, Adam’s Belly Button, Moon landings, the origins of the KKK, the second shooter or the duplicity of marrying “good’ with ‘Friday’ a word that comes from the goddess Frig.

Your scruples matter but they are not gospel and for most of us, they are probably rooted in the notes of a heretical hobbyhorse of some Kook, Crank or Cult, but…that’s for another post or book.

In the spirit of the gentle evangelical side-hugs, youth group backrubs and Junior High shoulder punches, I offer up some of the best advice Paul ever gave to Mr & Mrs. Persnikittey:

“One person considers one day more sacred than another; another considers every day alike. Each of them should be fully convinced in their own mind.” -Romans 14:5

With those few words, I offer you my theological and cultural magnum opus on the issue of the pagan roots of Easter, my poem:

The Easter Battle of 733
In 733 the hamlet of Brusselsprout was all astir, church bells clambered with fearful ferocity, the apocalypse’s rumored eve was near, for the nearby village of Dingledort was surely burning!

Hordes of menacing fluffy beasts, stampeding hedges, leaping across porches, scurrying over shuttered rooftops, zigzagging neighing ponies feet!

The night full of screeching and scratching, the battle of ‘aggedon was upon them! Flashes of yellow lightning, over-taking every hollow and hill! Talons and beaks flashing, frantic fluttering scampering, clucking the prophesied doom!

Springtime horror! Diabolical dress! Yellow as bile, green as dragon’s breath!Devilishly sweet to the taste, ancient poison of the soul.
Sister Sauerkraut wielded her broom, like gallant St. George on his steed, fighting the invading hordes hell, the furry and feathered…Mephistopheles!

Before each Easter, the diabolical tale is told, by pulpit and paper, whisper and whimper, of masses driven mad by the devil’s goad, beware the bunnies, chicks, and sweets, heed the warning of this frightening ode!

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About the Author

Eric Blauer I am barbarian, sage, saint, bard, husband and father. Bow my knee to only One, serve all, ruled by none.

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