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Jesus and the Egg: The Strange Roots of Easter


Decorative eggs with colorful patterns hang from branches adorned with white flowers, creating a festive, vibrant display.
Easter

Easter conjures visions of pastel eggs, sugared treats, and cheerful hunts beneath blooming trees. But behind the sweet veneer lies a tangled origin story that winds through sacred tombs, reanimated dead, and forgotten goddesses.

Growing up in the South, Easter was all sunshine and family feasts. We dyed eggs until our fingers were stained, dressed in crisp outfits, and hunted for treasures after church sermons on resurrection and salvation. But even as a child, something didn’t add up. What did a crucified savior have to do with candy-filled rabbits and rainbow-colored eggs?

Turns out, quite a bit—and none of it’s clean and simple. This is the story of Jesus and the Egg: The Strange Roots of Easter.


Skeletons in hooded cloaks sit in a misty, ruined village. A spectral figure ascends towards a dramatic, cloudy sky, with eerie lighting.
Easter Revenants?

The Resurrection and the Undead

Most people know the biblical version. Jesus is crucified, dies for humanity’s sins, and three days later, rises from the tomb. It’s a story of hope and spiritual renewal.

But buried in the gospel text is a rarely discussed twist that reads more like a scene from a gothic legend than a sermon.

“And the graves were opened; and many bodies of the saints which slept arose… and appeared unto many.” — Matthew 27:52-53

In other words, when Jesus gave up his spirit, not only did the earth quake and the temple veil tear—the dead walked. Corpses of the holy stirred from their graves and roamed the city. The Bible doesn’t say they were glowing with heavenly light. It just says they came out. Picture it: rotting saints shuffling through Jerusalem’s streets, a silent legion from beyond the grave.

This is resurrection, yes—but with the unsettling flair of a horror tale.



Blonde woman with closed eyes holds white blossoms in a garden. Sunlight highlights her hair and floral background, creating a serene mood.
Eoster

The Pagan Goddess and Her Hare

Long before Christianity staked its claim on spring, there was Eostre—a Germanic goddess of dawn and fertility. Her festival, Ostara, marked the Spring Equinox, a time when light returns and life resurges after winter’s death.

Her sacred animal? The hare. A symbol of wild fertility, the March hare becomes frantic and visible during mating season, darting through fields just as the earth blooms. Eggs, too, were central—painted in vibrant colors and offered to the goddess, then buried as prayers to the Earth.

These rituals predate the church by centuries. They celebrated new beginnings with symbolism rich in nature and magic: life bursting from death, color from cold, warmth from the grave.


Man in yellow jacket, eyes closed, raises hand skyward in snowy forest. Sunlight filters through trees, creating a serene atmosphere.
Return of the sun/son

Christianity’s Quiet Inheritance

When the Church swept through pagan lands, it didn’t wipe old beliefs away—it repurposed them. Ostara’s rites of resurrection were neatly assigned to Christ. The sun’s return became the Son’s return.

Even the timing of Easter is pagan in origin: it falls on the first Sunday after the first full moon following the Spring Equinox. If that moon lands on a Sunday, Easter shifts to the next. Ancient celestial math, still honored by modern faith.

So yes—Jesus and the egg do belong together, just not in the way we were taught. Easter is a hybrid myth: part holy resurrection, part ancient fertility rite, part zombie tale. It’s a patchwork of belief systems stitched across time.






Two hares playfully jump in a grassy field, one holding grass in its mouth. The background is a blurred green.
Spring into Renewal

A Season of Strange Renewal

Whether you greet spring with scripture or symbolism, bunnies or Bibles, this season carries the same message: rebirth. It’s a time when the dead rise, gods awaken, and color floods the earth again.

So paint your eggs. Hunt for them in shadowed woods. And remember, behind every pastel candy shell lies an echo of something much older—and far more haunting.

Happy Easter, and blessed Ostara. May your world rise from slumber with wild, unsettling beauty.

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