Growing up, we waited for the Easter bunny to bring us our baskets and hide eggs around the house. Sadly, sometimes the bunny placed the chocolate filled baskets on the heater and could not recall where all the eggs were hidden, but my Easter mornings were always filled with good memories. In France, it’s not the bunny that makes the memories, it’s the bell.
The bell? No, no, not the one selling tacos: the church bell.
Traditionally, children are told the church bells go silent on the Thursday before Easter because they have left for Rome to gather the chocolate eggs and carry away all the sadness and misery of those in the village. Then, to celebrate their joyous return on Easter, the bells scatter the eggs for the children to find as they fly overhead.
At first, I thought the image of flying bells was silly, but the more I thought about it, the more I liked the tradition and history that are embedded in this story. All we have are bunnies, and while the bunny has always been good to me, I’ve never gotten a clear explanation as to why. I’m not going to doubt him, he always snuck a kite in my basket, but it seems to lack a story with a reason.
After the flying bells, or cloches volent have passed, the family sits down to a large lunch: lamb. Again, this choice is symbolic and it still commonly practiced, at least in the south where lambs are raised. France is a modern country, but its choices and customs are rooted in its religion and culture, and I think that’s pretty cool.
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