To the editor:
One Jerusalem morning, the Easter bunny, whose real name is Hector P. Hare, hopped on over to Jesus’ tomb where the Rabbi’s broken body had been laid before the Passover Sabbath to pay respects.
Shockingly, the bunny found the massive stone rolled away from the sepulcher door. Bending down, he oh-so-apprehensively ducked into the tomb to visit Jesus’ lifeless body. But astonishingly, all that was there were strips of linen and the burial cloth that had been around the Nazarene’s head. The cloth was folded up by itself, separate from the linen.
Hector, quizzified, stepped out into the bright post-dawn sunlight, twitching his light-gray nose and tweaking his wise whiskers with his paws. Being a pragmatic hare, with no theological bent in his hop, Hector’s furry soul sat still in silent stupor, when suddenly, two angels, whose clothes outshone the sun in gleaming brightness, appeared, saying: “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here; he has risen! Remember how he told you, while he was in Galilee: The Son of Man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men, be crucified and on the third day be raised again.”
Bunny, who’d been among the crowds listening to Jesus’ sermons (ears tucked under his Jewish tallit) remembered and marveled. He’d seen Mary’s son multiply five loaves of bread and two fish and feed 5,000 men, women and children quicker than a rabbit breeds.
Hector P. Hare had had a habit since he was a little rabbit nestled safely in mom and dad’s modest mid-Eastern burrow. His favorite food was hard-boiled eggs. On holidays he’d hop-along a bunny trail to fellow furry friends holes and gleefully give them an egg or two out of his personal supply.