“And so it was at the time of rebirth, in a land before man counted the passage of time, Eostre, the pagan goddess of fertility and spring, found a bird with frozen wings. She soothed the pitiful creature in her gentle grasp. Though she could not repair the damage to its wings she could change its form and thus turned it into a rabbit to keep it alive and warm. But though a hare in flesh and form, it still bore its ability to lay eggs. So grateful to the merciful goddess was the bird turned bunny that she decorated her eggs with bright colors in honor of spring and as a gift of gratitude to the goddess who had spared her life.”
Later… two thousand and ten years ago (roughly 1 A.D.) on a Friday afternoon, on a hillside in Golgotha, they gathered. When the flogging was finished and the ground was saturated with his blood, they nailed him to a cross. Hours passed and finally the mocking and endless taunting of mankind who know no kindness found its end. Once the crowd of morbid spectators dissipated, they came.
Sitting on the hillside, hidden in the high grasses, surrounding a group of three crucified men, they looked on. Two of these were thieves, men of low stature and their fate was a justified end to lives without justice. Their legs had been broken prevent a chance escape and to hurry along their demise. The third whom hung in the middle suffered no such wounds, thus to prolong his suffering. A sign above his head proclaimed in three different languages that this man was the “King of the Jews.” They couldn’t read any of the three but knew who this man was and what he meant.
They had no understanding of his crime or as to why this man deserved such a horrific fate. But he had not denied it nor resisted their desire to punish him for it. Now he hung from dogwood, his breathing shallow, his body spent and wasted. Longing for release from the sufferings of this world; waiting for the end to come and they would wait here with him till it did.
Their heads cocked to the side they would ponder as to why men felt the need to make their own suffer. More so, they raised their ears to the heavens and kept quite still. For the first time in unrecorded history the rabbits were listening. Listening for a very distinct sound they had been waiting to hear, curious as to if it would ever grace the long ears they were blessed with. Blocking out the distant sounds of suffering all around. Beyond the gentle breeze that moved the still grasses upon which his life’s blood and that of the world dripped. Up past the creaking sounds of the crucifixes, as they shifted uneasily on their foundations. They heard the man’s breath, watched as his chest weakly heaved outward and filled his lungs with a guttural rasp. And ignoring it, they focused their full attention on the steady beating rhythm of his heart.
In such stillness and concentration it was deafening and unnerving. The minutes dragged by with excruciating speed of an eternity. Yet their observance was undaunted, as all was consumed by the rhythmical thrumming of the man’s heart. Patiently… they waited… for it to stop. As to whether or not they ever heard this sound is unknown, but you never hear them talking about it.
Regardless of what they heard, what their long ears witnessed that day, when the man returned they knew everything had changed. It would alter the course of history, ritual and tradition; and their sacred time would take on a whole new meaning. No longer would it be a celebration of fertility and rebirth, but instead, one of salvation for humankind.
With time the symbolism and traditions of their holiday would be altered and twisted. Forever changed into something of a mockery of its former self. Buried by the promises of a man they had watched dying, who had willingly acted as a sacrifice of blood and flesh, suffering till death for the salvation of all men.
Thousands of years later a descendant of those rabbits of Golgotha would wander through a hedge and find himself in the backyard of a vast mansion at 10236 Charing Cross Road, Los Angeles, California . Eyes gazing in wide wonder as human women paraded around as objects of lust and desire. Each adorned with long ears and cotton tails — his species’ trademarks. The worship of fertility and renewal of life wasn’t just a once a year event but a daily ordeal with a monthly publication to its honor. In passing he could not help but to wonder about the man his ancestors had spoke of. And pondered that if this were the ends to the means had mankind really been worthy it?
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