I finally figured out why I’ve always liked Easter. And it’s not just because I’m a pastor. No, I’m not talking about the Resurrection or other parts of one of the most important Christian holidays of the year. It’s Easter. It’s springtime, filled with flowers, a brisk bite in the air in the mornings, and then there are colored eggs and then the Easter Bunny.
You see, the main reason I’ve always liked Easter is not just the Christian elements, but it’s that silly bunny. There’s just something unique about a six-foot rabbit that hops around and somehow lays colored eggs. I mean, really. How gay is that?
I was so delighted that there’s yet another mythical creature out there that skips along to the tune of a piccolo in an entirely different band. In an era when most fictitious rabbits are smartass carrot-munching hares or wanting nothing more than to be tossed into the briar patch, the Easter Bunny stands… or skips… alone.
I think the Easter Bunny needs a name, so for the moment, I’ll give him one. His name is Hoppy Bunny. Hoppy’s a mythical figure, of course. But he manages to find his way onto shopping mall stages all across the country. Of course, he’s usually portrayed by some lanky kid wearing a big goofy bunny mask.
But Hoppy is much more than that. Hoppy’s a friendly guy… and loves kids. Somehow, he manages to lay eggs by the perfect dozen into lawns everywhere. In a special brand of talent, Hoppy even lays a few plastic eggs from time to time. How he gets those little chocolate bunnies and foil-covered eggs into the plastic ones, I’ll never know. Maybe it’s better not to ask.
Hoppy has his baskets. You know the kind. They’re big, commercially-woven baskets that are filled with fistfuls of green or pink plastic grass for the spreading around of htose perfectly colored eggs that he laid all night. He has to have a good grip on his basket, otherwise he’d lose his eggs and drop them on the street as he’s hopping to the next yard. That would be bad.
He doesn’t lay golden eggs, just colored ones. Sometimes they’re pastel, sometimes they’re multicolored. Sometimes they’re even rainbow-colored. They’re always delightful. And he knows that inevitably, some of his precious eggs won’t be found until the following year. If only he could put a little something out there that didn’t have an expiration date. Oh, wait. He did. He’s got the plastic eggs, silly me.
Maybe it’s the spring. I don’t really know. But this is one of the few things that people all across the country participate in because it’s just good clean fun. I know a lot of our Christian brethren are all up in arms about how the Easter Bunny is just a representation of an “evil pagan religion that has no place in Christianity.” Poor Hoppy. He always gets a bad rap. And if anyone ever figures out that he likes to skip a little too much, then heaven help him. He’d have to hop a little faster to dodge the stones.
But Hoppy is an inspiration to me. He’s always cheery, always happy, and always gives to those who need a little extra color in their lives. Even though he’s just a six-foot rabbit, he manages to bring smiles to people all across the country, and it’s always for a good cause. After all, there has to be a way for us to be able to bring a little extra cheer into the world. What better way to do it than to follow Hoppy’s example?
Let’s be a little extra giving this year. Sure, we might not always understand what the point of those gifts are, but they’re always treasures. Every one of those Easter eggs is a treasure. Sometimes they’re mysterious, sometimes they’ve got a little extra surprise. That’s part of the appeal. We’ve all got a little something unique to share. And the nifty thing is that we don’t have to be a six-foot rabbit to share them.
Maybe our talent is just to put a smile on someone’s face. Or maybe it’s to sing a little ditty whenever someone is down. Maybe it’s fixing a broken toy. Who knows? But I think there’s a little bit of Hoppy in all of us. No matter what, there’s always a little something to share, no matter how unusual it might be.
If you listen closely enough, you’ll hear him skipping. I think he’s skipping to the tune of a piccolo in an entirely different band. I think I’ll join in.