Lisa Hoffman & Charles Atkins

Published 3/24/05

"And I shall go into a hare with sorrow and sighing and mickle care.

And I shall go in our lady’s name, aye, till I come home again"

--Medieval shifting spell

Charlie writes:

My nose twitches; something’s in the air, battling to break through the freeze and the chill. What can it be? It’s coming; it’s on its way.

It’s…The Easter Bunny!

True to the season, among the many emails and letters we receive, came an invitation from Harmony the rabbit—and her owners Jack Seemar and Ellen Kratka.

I meet up with them in the Friendly’s parking lot—as trying to give directions to anything in the Retirement Community of Heritage Village is impossible. Why the founders didn’t think to at least use street names is strange, and I’ve had more than one funny/sad experience of giving someone a ride home, only to get hopelessly lost in the twisting sprawl of rustic wood-sided condos; it’s especially fun in the dark and the rain.

But we make it without incident, and soon Harmony—a rather big-boned bunny, with dark eyes and a chocolate-brown coat—is popped into a basket for the ski-slope like hike up to Lisa’s condo.

As Harmony takes in her surroundings, wisely keeping her thoughts on the lime-green carpet to herself, we take off our shoes.

"We’re not really her owners," Ellen explains, as they say hello to Lisa who has interviewed both of them in the distant past. "Harmony seems to come to whomever needs her, and her previous family felt that my daughter needed her. Maybe someday she’ll go to someone else."

"No way," a very tall Jack responds, as Harmony gets handed to Lisa.

"Okay," Lisa quips as she cuddles the bunny; "she’s a Jack rabbit".

Harmony, glances up, makes an odd groaning noise and buries her head in the blanket.

The conversation quickly shifts to the Easter bunny, eggs, and how these stories originated. Through surfing the Internet and prowling the local libraries; we’ve all come to the same conclusion; these symbols pre-date Christianity. So, through the miracles of the modern age, we dial up Manhattan mythologist and owner of Divinationtools.com—Elizabeth Fitzgerald.

"It’s all pagan," Liz explains over the speaker phone, "The word Easter derives from the Goddesses Ishtar, Astarte, Ostara and to the Anglo Saxons of northern Europe she was known as Easter, sometimes spelled Eastre or Eostre."

"Don’t forget the German word, Ostern," Lisa adds. "What was she the goddess of?" she asks, shifting to interview mode, as Harmony, curious to learn of her ancestry perks up her pointy ears.

"Fertility," Liz says. "And this Doctor Atkins should appeal to you; the word Estrogen derives from Easter."

"I didn’t know that," I admit.

"It’s Ishtar’s hormone," Ellen comments.

"Now here’s the bunny connection," Liz continues "The animals that were sacred to the Goddess were the rabbit and the pig, probably because they are both so fertile. They’re like the all-you can eat buffet of the animal world—protein wise."

Harmony snorts angrily and glares at the speaker phone.

"However," Liz explains, psychically sensing the bunny’s displeasure, "There are a lot of Northern European legends about wise women and wizards who could turn themselves into hares through the use of a shifting spell. In most of those cultures you were not allowed to eat rabbits…because you never knew who it was."

"Where does the egg fit in?" Lisa asks.

"The egg is also a symbol of fertility," Liz continues, "and also goes back to Ishtar. The very essence of an egg—that it contains new life—plus its shape, which has no beginning and no end, makes it a potent symbol of both rebirth and the cycle of life. Some stories combine the symbols, by saying that the Goddess allows the hare to lay eggs on one day of the year—the vernal equinox."

"Which is?" I ask.

"The first day of spring, and has always been associated with fertility and rebirth. When Christianity came along, as religions will do, they pretty much adopted the earlier traditions and stories, albeit with the new deity. Even the date of Easter--as decreed by the council of Nice in 325 AD--is still referenced to the vernal equinox by being held the first Sunday after the full moon on, or after, it. Now one of the earliest stories of Ishtar is that she went into the underworld to rescue her lover Tammuz—a lesser known God of vegetation. When she emerges with him on the vernal equinox, she brings spring. In later cultures, this became the story of Demeter and Persephone; the pre-Christian world is filled with dozens of resurrected Gods, everyone from Osiris to Adonis. In Christianity; it’s the resurrection of Christ, and even in Judaism, where Passover occurs at roughly the same time; it’s the rebirth of the Chosen people as they’re delivered out of Egypt."

"To summarize," Lisa says, tickling Harmony behind the ears, "The unifying themes are rebirth, but earlier on, it was more about fertility."

"It’s a holiday about sex," Ellen comments, beating Lisa to the punch.

"Why, yes to all the above," Liz adds. "The vernal equinox—the first day of spring--is the start of the natural year. It’s a time to plant your fields, both figuratively and in reality."

Harmony, who’s been listening intently, nods in agreement. Satisfied that we’ve gotten the story just so, she curls into a ball, and muses contentedly over distant times, forgotten deities, and spells to turn a wise woman into a hare. And as she drifts off, her final thought, sure wish I could remember the one to turn me back."

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