Proper 18 / Pentecost 16 / Ordinary Time 23
Preaching
Lectionary Preaching Workbook
Series VIII, Cycle A
Object:
Theme For The Day
In the Passover and in the Lord's Supper, eating is remembering.
Old Testament Lesson
Exodus 12:1-14
The Institution Of The Passover
This reading, which occurs on Maundy Thursday each year, also occurs this Sunday, as part of the series of first lessons from Exodus. In the Maundy Thursday setting, it has special meaning as an antecedent for the sacrament of the Lord's Supper. On this occasion in the liturgical year, the emphasis is on its overall place in the Exodus story. Moses has been pleading with Pharaoh to release the Israelite slaves, using every trick at his disposal to frighten the monarch into obeying the Lord. Yet, as it says in verse 10, "the Lord hardened Pharaoh's heart." While this verse may raise significant philosophical questions about God's goodness (in that the Lord's hardening of Pharaoh's heart leads to untold suffering for the ordinary people of Egypt, who have had no part in their ruler's decisions), it leaves no doubt about God's power. If this final, God-sent plague happened exactly as the Bible records it, then it is genocide -- a divinely instigated "ethnic cleansing." It seems unlikely, however, from the lack of historical and archaeological records that mass slaughter of this sort did occur on a single night. We must regard it, therefore, as legendary material that bears witness to the lengths to which the Lord will go to keep covenant with Abraham's descendants. Where we should place our emphasis, as preachers, is not on the death of the Egyptian firstborns, but rather, on the rescue of the Israelites. Very possibly, the experience at the root of the biblical account is some sort of plague that ravaged the well-to-do neighborhoods but spared the slave quarters. The Israelites, poised to begin their dash for freedom, would have been inclined to see this as a sign of the Lord's favor. The dominant motif, throughout the Exodus account, is that of the Lord's guidance and protection of the people as they journey to freedom. Nowhere is this more clearly evident than in the story of the Passover, through which God's people are rescued from a dreadful fate.
New Testament Lesson
Romans 13:8-14
Appeals To Love And To Vigilance
Omitting a section on the importance of obedience to the governing authorities, the lectionary marches on, to present this material concerning the primacy of love, and the need to watch for the parousia. All the commandments are summed up in the single commandment, "Love your neighbor as yourself" (v. 9). This, of course, echoes the teaching of Jesus himself, who tells a certain lawyer, "On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets" (Matthew 22:40). Changing gears, Paul moves on to encourage disciples to be watchful: "... it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep. For salvation is nearer to us now than when we became believers..." (v. 11). "Let us then lay aside the works of darkness and put on the armor of light..." (v. 12). Notice that Paul does not say, "take up the works of light." He introduces, instead, the metaphor of "armor" -- implying a military devotion to the task, and also highlighting the power and protection God will give believers who follow in Christ's way. The implication is that a spiritual struggle is ahead, but that God's final victory is assured. "Put on the Lord Jesus Christ," he says, in verse 14. Commitment to Christ is no half-hearted decision, something we do only in our spare time. Christian commitment enfolds us, surrounds us. It also ought to be something visible to others, who should see in us the love of Christ lived out.
The Gospel
Matthew 18:15-20
Ecclesiastical Grievance Procedures
Earlier, in 16:19, Jesus has given Peter the power "to bind and to loose." Here, he extends that authority to all his disciples. The instructions we have here evidently belong to a more settled period of the church's life, a time when the community is becoming concerned about procedures for handling grievances and disputes. As we have already observed, except for this passage and for 16:18, Jesus never uses the word ekklesia, or "church" (in fact, two of the four occurrences of the English word in the NRSV's rendition of this passage are based on the word for "brothers," rather than "church"). Undoubtedly, this material reflects the procedures of the Matthean church, a half-century or so later, which the author reads back into the days of Jesus. Even so, these are extremely valuable instructions. They provide the biblical foundation for the rules of church discipline of many denominations. Here, we have a gradually escalating series of steps to take in the event of an unresolved grievance. This is a model of ecclesiastical discipline that is based on restoration and reconciliation, rather than retribution. The final verses include the famous line, "Where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them" (v. 20). The context is this matter of "binding and loosing," of ecclesiastical discipline. A higher degree of authority for binding and loosing is placed on the decisions of deliberative groups ("two or three gathered"), than on the authoritarian rulings of individuals.
Preaching Possibilities
"This is how you shall eat it: your loins girded, your sandals on your feet, and your staff in your hand; and you shall eat it hurriedly. It is the passover of the Lord."
"You shall eat it hurriedly"... Now, where else in the Bible can you find an instruction like that? Eat and run! Eat quickly, but not because you're in a hurry. Not because you have errands to run. Eat quickly, because that's how you remember.
Remember how it was when we did not light the fires in the baking-ovens; for there would be no more baking of bread, not for a long time to come. A few bites from the unleavened loaf, a few swallows of wine from the wineskin -- traveler's rations -- and, yes, some lamb. Roast lamb, left over from last night -- that terrible night, when we splashed the doorposts of the houses with steaming blood and all throughout the slave quarters the smell of roasted meat did linger: a rare smell, usually restricted to high holy days.
That's a good memory, a memory of community solidarity. But there's the terrible memory also: The recollection of waking in the morning to the distant sound of wailing and keening, as all the mothers of Egypt wept over the corpses of their firstborn. Then, the urgent, whispered news that we are free, Pharaoh has let our people go -- but we must waste not a minute in departing: for life, suddenly, has become very dangerous.
It is the Passover of the Lord: the remembrance of that last, dread plague of Egypt. The frogs, the locusts, the thunder, and the hail, the Nile turning to blood -- none of these appalling wonders were enough to convince the obstinate Pharaoh. But, when he held his dead son in his arms, joining all the families of his land in similar grief, what a terrible price for a people to pay for their ruler's stupidity!
All over the world today, children are still dying: dying for want of medicine, for lack of nutritious food, from stepping on land mines -- and all because of the stubbornness of their nations' leaders, who just can't seem to do the things that make for peace and plenty.
It's a sad fact that more children are likely to die in wartime in the twenty-first century, than in any other. Did you know that 90% of the casualties in modern warfare are civilians, many of them children and the elderly? Those are the sad statistics from the latest wars. In World War II, that figure was half: 45%. In World War I, it was but a tiny fraction: only 5% of casualties were civilians. In these early years of the twenty-first century, the suffering of the Egyptian firstborns suddenly seems very timely.
It's a difficult, almost impossible question to answer: How God could allow such a thing to happen. Was there no other way Pharaoh could be convinced? Did so many innocents have to pay with their lives?
There's no satisfying answer to that question. We can observe, though, that the Israelite people tended to think in terms of whole nations, rather than individuals. For them, it was hard to imagine an individual standing alone over and against the nation or tribe. If Pharaoh ruled wisely, his people were blessed; if Pharaoh was obstinate and stubborn, his people could be counted upon to pay the price. No one in Israel would have second-guessed this observation; according to their worldview, that's simply the way things were.
We can also point out that the story of Exodus was told and retold countless times before it was ever written down. When it was finally written down as scripture, nearly a thousand years had passed. The golden age of Israel, under David and Solomon, had long since come and gone. The people were struggling to make sense of the bewildering experience of exile in Babylon. Where was the Lord? What had happened to the covenant? Had God abandoned the chosen people? These were the questions Israel was asking, even as the priestly scribes were putting pen to papyrus and collecting the sacred stories of old.
In the dark days of exile, the Hebrews told and retold this ancient story of a hurried meal -- a meal swallowed breathlessly with loins girded, sandals on the feet, and staff in hand -- because it said something to them of God's continued presence, even in their own desperate straits.
Certain details of the story are not meant to be questioned. In that respect, it's a two-dimensional story; you've simply got to take it at face value without probing the depth-dimension and without applying those twenty-first century philosophical questions.
It's doubtful that the scribes who finally recorded the story cared much about the sufferings of Egyptians, or what those sufferings might say about the abstract goodness of God because they had one purpose, and one purpose only. Their purpose was to reassure a desperate people, worried about their own national survival, and the only truth they had to impart was that God had rescued Israel in the past and would do so again. The Exodus is not a story that's meant to be dissected with the sharp instruments of philosophical inquiry; it's meant, simply, to be accepted -- in all its beauty and its ugliness -- and to be remembered because of what it says about one people's deliverance.
The passage we read this morning comes from the biblical instructions for the Passover Seder meal: It is to be eaten hurriedly, "on the run," as it were. The loins are to be girded: meaning the people are to pull up the hems of their long robes, and tie them around the waist (freeing the legs for running). Sandals on the feet, staff in the hand: the people of Israel make ready to depart, at a moment's notice.
There's a lesson for us in the ritual of the Passover meal. This ancient remembrance of "fast food" has nothing to do with the random, chaotic way so many of us chow down on meals packaged in paper wrappers and styrofoam cups. No, far from being a distracted way of eating, the Passover meal is filled with intentionality and purpose. Every member of the Jewish community that night is focused on that story, and each one pledges to make ready to depart at a moment's notice, should the Lord require it. Finally, the feast concludes with an earnest admonition, spoken by one and all: "Next year... in Jerusalem!"
There's a difference between being rushed and being ready. Fast food, as we know it, is rushed; the unleavened bread and wine of the Passover feast is a meal of readiness and expectation.
It's very possible (although not certain) that the last meal Jesus shared with his disciples -- the meal on which our sacrament of the Lord's Supper is based -- is a Passover meal. In the upper room, Jesus and his disciples are gathered with the same sense of expectancy, the same attitude of readiness. No one knows if there was a young boy there who asked Jesus, "Why is this night different from all other nights?", but it's possible they were beginning the meal with that question even then. If it was, indeed, a Passover supper, Jesus would have explained the age-old story all of them knew by heart: The story of liberation from slavery, purchased at such a dreadful, bloody price.
But then, instead of moving on to the predictable conclusion, Jesus reaches for the unleavened bread and breaks it saying, "Take and eat, this is my body." He reaches for the wine-filled cup, the one set aside for the prophet Elijah, and says, "Take, drink, this is my blood." With these words, the sacred meal of historic commemoration becomes something entirely new. The disciples in the upper room are looking not backward, but forward, at something about to happen. Little do they know, but followers of Jesus for two millennia will continue to re-enact their common meal, repeating in prayer the very words their Savior has just spoken.
There is no Passover lamb on our communion table, only the bread and the cup. The lamb of our Passover is Christ, whose sacrificial blood has marked the doorways of our lives, even as the lamb's blood of old kept the angel of death away from the doorways of the Israelites. When we eat of the bread and drink of the cup together, we remind ourselves and one another of what he has done and we pledge ourselves to be ready, as we leave this place, to follow where he leads us on the journey to freedom.
Fast food? Truly, this is simple fare, and it takes but a moment to eat. But, unlike various forms of spiritual "junk food" that are so readily available everywhere we turn, the feast spread upon this table is the only food that truly satisfies.
Prayer For The Day
Blessed are you, Lord our God, king of the universe for the vine and the fruit of the vine, for the produce of the field, and for the precious, good, and spacious land that you have favored to give as a heritage to our fathers (and mothers), to eat of its fruit and be satiated by its goodness. Have mercy, Lord our God, on Israel your people, on Jerusalem your city, on Zion the abode of your glory, on your altar, and on your temple. Rebuild Jerusalem, the holy city, speedily in our days, and bring us up into it, and make us rejoice in it, and we will bless you in holiness and purity and remember us for good on this day... For you, Lord, are good and do good to all, and we thank you for the land and for the fruit of the vine. Blessed are you, Lord, for the land and for the fruit of the vine. Next year... in Jerusalem!
-- from the Passover Seder liturgy
To Illustrate
It's become a familiar routine, for many of us -- especially the parents of heavily programmed children -- the hasty dash through the fast-food drive-thru. Soccer practice is over; dance classes are soon to come: and so, the family chauffeur, hastily scrawled list in hand, dictates through the crackly microphone the menu selections. "One of this, two of that, hold the onions... Yes, you can super-size it... What's that again?... What?... Yes, we'd like a girl's toy for the Jolly Meal."
What a way to live! High-cholesterol, high-fat, high-calorie... high frustration! It's a trap that many of us fall into from time to time. We wish we didn't... but, life just spins out of control, sometimes.
In 1970, Americans spent about six billion dollars on fast food. By 1997, that figure had ballooned to one hundred billion. It's only increased since then. We Americans now spend more money on fast food than we do on higher education, personal computers, software, new cars, movies, books, magazines, newspapers, videos, and recorded music -- combined.
May I take your order, please?
Fast food -- we love it, and we hate it! So, is an Old Testament lesson about fast food a good thing or not?
***
Each year, at Passover, the Jewish people re-enact this rescue. When the first star is seen in the sky, the youngest boy in each household asks the father, "Why is this night different from all other nights?" The father then launches into a ritualized story that takes the family through all the steps of the rescue from Egypt.
Each dish on the table tells a part of the story. The haroseth -- a mixture of chopped walnuts, wine, cinnamon, and apples -- represents the mortar used by the Jewish slaves to assemble Pharaoh's pyramids. Parsley, symbolizing springtime, is dipped into salt water, a symbol of the bitter tears of an oppressed people. An egg is another symbol of springtime, of new hope. The shank bone of a lamb is a remembrance of the lambs whose blood was spilled that momentous and fearful night; and bitter herbs are likewise a reminder of bitter affliction.
***
In a memoir, titled, I Never Forget A Meal, actor Michael Tucker, who is Jewish, reflects on his experience of Passover celebrations when he was a boy (Tucker played attorney Stuart Markowitz on the television series, L.A. Law). The last Passover he remembers was not a happy one. The extended family was gathered, with his mother and her sisters -- all of whom were high-strung -- preparing the meal. After spending enormous time and energy preparing the meal at an uncle's house, his mother got into an argument with the uncle over whether the Seder liturgy ought to be read in Hebrew or English. Some tried to salve the hurt feelings with humor, but eventually the uncle left in anger, driving away from his own house.
Tucker's mother ran off into the night. As the men searched for her, the aunts wrapped up the uneaten food and the children sat together, feeling frightened and embarrassed by their "crazy" mother. From that moment on, the family disintegrated.
In his memoir, Tucker says he knows why he cooks. He is trying to finish that meal, once and for all. "To finish that meal with grace and calm and convivial family conversation, with laughter and warmth. Mostly, I think about warmth so that I can melt away the cold of that uneaten dinner." And so, he has spent a lifetime feeding people.
The symbolism of food is powerful.
***
In his novel, Swann's Way, French writer Marcel Proust writes of returning home late one evening on a dull winter's day. The maid greeted him and brought him a cup of hot tea and a small cake -- a madeleine.
Feeling tired and depressed, he at first refused them. Only at her insistence did he finally begin to drink the tea and eat the cake. An unexplainable delight suddenly came over him. His anxieties and troubles seemed to vanish. Suddenly, he wrote, I had "ceased to feel mediocre, accidental, and mortal."
What caused this transforming experience? He was at a loss to explain it. How could a taste of tea and cake produce such a feeling of peace? The truth, he guessed, must be in himself and not in what he was eating and drinking.
Proust began to search his memories. His mind transported him back to Combray, France, where in childhood he had visited his aunt, who fed him cake and hot tea. Suddenly, in what he calls "gusts of memory," he recalls the little town, the village church, the old house, the long-forgotten relatives, and the bright flowers in the garden. The cup of tea and the madeleine had unlocked powerful memories.
The bread and wine of the Lord's Supper can do the same for us -- as can the Passover meal for our Jewish brothers and sisters.
In the Passover and in the Lord's Supper, eating is remembering.
Old Testament Lesson
Exodus 12:1-14
The Institution Of The Passover
This reading, which occurs on Maundy Thursday each year, also occurs this Sunday, as part of the series of first lessons from Exodus. In the Maundy Thursday setting, it has special meaning as an antecedent for the sacrament of the Lord's Supper. On this occasion in the liturgical year, the emphasis is on its overall place in the Exodus story. Moses has been pleading with Pharaoh to release the Israelite slaves, using every trick at his disposal to frighten the monarch into obeying the Lord. Yet, as it says in verse 10, "the Lord hardened Pharaoh's heart." While this verse may raise significant philosophical questions about God's goodness (in that the Lord's hardening of Pharaoh's heart leads to untold suffering for the ordinary people of Egypt, who have had no part in their ruler's decisions), it leaves no doubt about God's power. If this final, God-sent plague happened exactly as the Bible records it, then it is genocide -- a divinely instigated "ethnic cleansing." It seems unlikely, however, from the lack of historical and archaeological records that mass slaughter of this sort did occur on a single night. We must regard it, therefore, as legendary material that bears witness to the lengths to which the Lord will go to keep covenant with Abraham's descendants. Where we should place our emphasis, as preachers, is not on the death of the Egyptian firstborns, but rather, on the rescue of the Israelites. Very possibly, the experience at the root of the biblical account is some sort of plague that ravaged the well-to-do neighborhoods but spared the slave quarters. The Israelites, poised to begin their dash for freedom, would have been inclined to see this as a sign of the Lord's favor. The dominant motif, throughout the Exodus account, is that of the Lord's guidance and protection of the people as they journey to freedom. Nowhere is this more clearly evident than in the story of the Passover, through which God's people are rescued from a dreadful fate.
New Testament Lesson
Romans 13:8-14
Appeals To Love And To Vigilance
Omitting a section on the importance of obedience to the governing authorities, the lectionary marches on, to present this material concerning the primacy of love, and the need to watch for the parousia. All the commandments are summed up in the single commandment, "Love your neighbor as yourself" (v. 9). This, of course, echoes the teaching of Jesus himself, who tells a certain lawyer, "On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets" (Matthew 22:40). Changing gears, Paul moves on to encourage disciples to be watchful: "... it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep. For salvation is nearer to us now than when we became believers..." (v. 11). "Let us then lay aside the works of darkness and put on the armor of light..." (v. 12). Notice that Paul does not say, "take up the works of light." He introduces, instead, the metaphor of "armor" -- implying a military devotion to the task, and also highlighting the power and protection God will give believers who follow in Christ's way. The implication is that a spiritual struggle is ahead, but that God's final victory is assured. "Put on the Lord Jesus Christ," he says, in verse 14. Commitment to Christ is no half-hearted decision, something we do only in our spare time. Christian commitment enfolds us, surrounds us. It also ought to be something visible to others, who should see in us the love of Christ lived out.
The Gospel
Matthew 18:15-20
Ecclesiastical Grievance Procedures
Earlier, in 16:19, Jesus has given Peter the power "to bind and to loose." Here, he extends that authority to all his disciples. The instructions we have here evidently belong to a more settled period of the church's life, a time when the community is becoming concerned about procedures for handling grievances and disputes. As we have already observed, except for this passage and for 16:18, Jesus never uses the word ekklesia, or "church" (in fact, two of the four occurrences of the English word in the NRSV's rendition of this passage are based on the word for "brothers," rather than "church"). Undoubtedly, this material reflects the procedures of the Matthean church, a half-century or so later, which the author reads back into the days of Jesus. Even so, these are extremely valuable instructions. They provide the biblical foundation for the rules of church discipline of many denominations. Here, we have a gradually escalating series of steps to take in the event of an unresolved grievance. This is a model of ecclesiastical discipline that is based on restoration and reconciliation, rather than retribution. The final verses include the famous line, "Where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them" (v. 20). The context is this matter of "binding and loosing," of ecclesiastical discipline. A higher degree of authority for binding and loosing is placed on the decisions of deliberative groups ("two or three gathered"), than on the authoritarian rulings of individuals.
Preaching Possibilities
"This is how you shall eat it: your loins girded, your sandals on your feet, and your staff in your hand; and you shall eat it hurriedly. It is the passover of the Lord."
"You shall eat it hurriedly"... Now, where else in the Bible can you find an instruction like that? Eat and run! Eat quickly, but not because you're in a hurry. Not because you have errands to run. Eat quickly, because that's how you remember.
Remember how it was when we did not light the fires in the baking-ovens; for there would be no more baking of bread, not for a long time to come. A few bites from the unleavened loaf, a few swallows of wine from the wineskin -- traveler's rations -- and, yes, some lamb. Roast lamb, left over from last night -- that terrible night, when we splashed the doorposts of the houses with steaming blood and all throughout the slave quarters the smell of roasted meat did linger: a rare smell, usually restricted to high holy days.
That's a good memory, a memory of community solidarity. But there's the terrible memory also: The recollection of waking in the morning to the distant sound of wailing and keening, as all the mothers of Egypt wept over the corpses of their firstborn. Then, the urgent, whispered news that we are free, Pharaoh has let our people go -- but we must waste not a minute in departing: for life, suddenly, has become very dangerous.
It is the Passover of the Lord: the remembrance of that last, dread plague of Egypt. The frogs, the locusts, the thunder, and the hail, the Nile turning to blood -- none of these appalling wonders were enough to convince the obstinate Pharaoh. But, when he held his dead son in his arms, joining all the families of his land in similar grief, what a terrible price for a people to pay for their ruler's stupidity!
All over the world today, children are still dying: dying for want of medicine, for lack of nutritious food, from stepping on land mines -- and all because of the stubbornness of their nations' leaders, who just can't seem to do the things that make for peace and plenty.
It's a sad fact that more children are likely to die in wartime in the twenty-first century, than in any other. Did you know that 90% of the casualties in modern warfare are civilians, many of them children and the elderly? Those are the sad statistics from the latest wars. In World War II, that figure was half: 45%. In World War I, it was but a tiny fraction: only 5% of casualties were civilians. In these early years of the twenty-first century, the suffering of the Egyptian firstborns suddenly seems very timely.
It's a difficult, almost impossible question to answer: How God could allow such a thing to happen. Was there no other way Pharaoh could be convinced? Did so many innocents have to pay with their lives?
There's no satisfying answer to that question. We can observe, though, that the Israelite people tended to think in terms of whole nations, rather than individuals. For them, it was hard to imagine an individual standing alone over and against the nation or tribe. If Pharaoh ruled wisely, his people were blessed; if Pharaoh was obstinate and stubborn, his people could be counted upon to pay the price. No one in Israel would have second-guessed this observation; according to their worldview, that's simply the way things were.
We can also point out that the story of Exodus was told and retold countless times before it was ever written down. When it was finally written down as scripture, nearly a thousand years had passed. The golden age of Israel, under David and Solomon, had long since come and gone. The people were struggling to make sense of the bewildering experience of exile in Babylon. Where was the Lord? What had happened to the covenant? Had God abandoned the chosen people? These were the questions Israel was asking, even as the priestly scribes were putting pen to papyrus and collecting the sacred stories of old.
In the dark days of exile, the Hebrews told and retold this ancient story of a hurried meal -- a meal swallowed breathlessly with loins girded, sandals on the feet, and staff in hand -- because it said something to them of God's continued presence, even in their own desperate straits.
Certain details of the story are not meant to be questioned. In that respect, it's a two-dimensional story; you've simply got to take it at face value without probing the depth-dimension and without applying those twenty-first century philosophical questions.
It's doubtful that the scribes who finally recorded the story cared much about the sufferings of Egyptians, or what those sufferings might say about the abstract goodness of God because they had one purpose, and one purpose only. Their purpose was to reassure a desperate people, worried about their own national survival, and the only truth they had to impart was that God had rescued Israel in the past and would do so again. The Exodus is not a story that's meant to be dissected with the sharp instruments of philosophical inquiry; it's meant, simply, to be accepted -- in all its beauty and its ugliness -- and to be remembered because of what it says about one people's deliverance.
The passage we read this morning comes from the biblical instructions for the Passover Seder meal: It is to be eaten hurriedly, "on the run," as it were. The loins are to be girded: meaning the people are to pull up the hems of their long robes, and tie them around the waist (freeing the legs for running). Sandals on the feet, staff in the hand: the people of Israel make ready to depart, at a moment's notice.
There's a lesson for us in the ritual of the Passover meal. This ancient remembrance of "fast food" has nothing to do with the random, chaotic way so many of us chow down on meals packaged in paper wrappers and styrofoam cups. No, far from being a distracted way of eating, the Passover meal is filled with intentionality and purpose. Every member of the Jewish community that night is focused on that story, and each one pledges to make ready to depart at a moment's notice, should the Lord require it. Finally, the feast concludes with an earnest admonition, spoken by one and all: "Next year... in Jerusalem!"
There's a difference between being rushed and being ready. Fast food, as we know it, is rushed; the unleavened bread and wine of the Passover feast is a meal of readiness and expectation.
It's very possible (although not certain) that the last meal Jesus shared with his disciples -- the meal on which our sacrament of the Lord's Supper is based -- is a Passover meal. In the upper room, Jesus and his disciples are gathered with the same sense of expectancy, the same attitude of readiness. No one knows if there was a young boy there who asked Jesus, "Why is this night different from all other nights?", but it's possible they were beginning the meal with that question even then. If it was, indeed, a Passover supper, Jesus would have explained the age-old story all of them knew by heart: The story of liberation from slavery, purchased at such a dreadful, bloody price.
But then, instead of moving on to the predictable conclusion, Jesus reaches for the unleavened bread and breaks it saying, "Take and eat, this is my body." He reaches for the wine-filled cup, the one set aside for the prophet Elijah, and says, "Take, drink, this is my blood." With these words, the sacred meal of historic commemoration becomes something entirely new. The disciples in the upper room are looking not backward, but forward, at something about to happen. Little do they know, but followers of Jesus for two millennia will continue to re-enact their common meal, repeating in prayer the very words their Savior has just spoken.
There is no Passover lamb on our communion table, only the bread and the cup. The lamb of our Passover is Christ, whose sacrificial blood has marked the doorways of our lives, even as the lamb's blood of old kept the angel of death away from the doorways of the Israelites. When we eat of the bread and drink of the cup together, we remind ourselves and one another of what he has done and we pledge ourselves to be ready, as we leave this place, to follow where he leads us on the journey to freedom.
Fast food? Truly, this is simple fare, and it takes but a moment to eat. But, unlike various forms of spiritual "junk food" that are so readily available everywhere we turn, the feast spread upon this table is the only food that truly satisfies.
Prayer For The Day
Blessed are you, Lord our God, king of the universe for the vine and the fruit of the vine, for the produce of the field, and for the precious, good, and spacious land that you have favored to give as a heritage to our fathers (and mothers), to eat of its fruit and be satiated by its goodness. Have mercy, Lord our God, on Israel your people, on Jerusalem your city, on Zion the abode of your glory, on your altar, and on your temple. Rebuild Jerusalem, the holy city, speedily in our days, and bring us up into it, and make us rejoice in it, and we will bless you in holiness and purity and remember us for good on this day... For you, Lord, are good and do good to all, and we thank you for the land and for the fruit of the vine. Blessed are you, Lord, for the land and for the fruit of the vine. Next year... in Jerusalem!
-- from the Passover Seder liturgy
To Illustrate
It's become a familiar routine, for many of us -- especially the parents of heavily programmed children -- the hasty dash through the fast-food drive-thru. Soccer practice is over; dance classes are soon to come: and so, the family chauffeur, hastily scrawled list in hand, dictates through the crackly microphone the menu selections. "One of this, two of that, hold the onions... Yes, you can super-size it... What's that again?... What?... Yes, we'd like a girl's toy for the Jolly Meal."
What a way to live! High-cholesterol, high-fat, high-calorie... high frustration! It's a trap that many of us fall into from time to time. We wish we didn't... but, life just spins out of control, sometimes.
In 1970, Americans spent about six billion dollars on fast food. By 1997, that figure had ballooned to one hundred billion. It's only increased since then. We Americans now spend more money on fast food than we do on higher education, personal computers, software, new cars, movies, books, magazines, newspapers, videos, and recorded music -- combined.
May I take your order, please?
Fast food -- we love it, and we hate it! So, is an Old Testament lesson about fast food a good thing or not?
***
Each year, at Passover, the Jewish people re-enact this rescue. When the first star is seen in the sky, the youngest boy in each household asks the father, "Why is this night different from all other nights?" The father then launches into a ritualized story that takes the family through all the steps of the rescue from Egypt.
Each dish on the table tells a part of the story. The haroseth -- a mixture of chopped walnuts, wine, cinnamon, and apples -- represents the mortar used by the Jewish slaves to assemble Pharaoh's pyramids. Parsley, symbolizing springtime, is dipped into salt water, a symbol of the bitter tears of an oppressed people. An egg is another symbol of springtime, of new hope. The shank bone of a lamb is a remembrance of the lambs whose blood was spilled that momentous and fearful night; and bitter herbs are likewise a reminder of bitter affliction.
***
In a memoir, titled, I Never Forget A Meal, actor Michael Tucker, who is Jewish, reflects on his experience of Passover celebrations when he was a boy (Tucker played attorney Stuart Markowitz on the television series, L.A. Law). The last Passover he remembers was not a happy one. The extended family was gathered, with his mother and her sisters -- all of whom were high-strung -- preparing the meal. After spending enormous time and energy preparing the meal at an uncle's house, his mother got into an argument with the uncle over whether the Seder liturgy ought to be read in Hebrew or English. Some tried to salve the hurt feelings with humor, but eventually the uncle left in anger, driving away from his own house.
Tucker's mother ran off into the night. As the men searched for her, the aunts wrapped up the uneaten food and the children sat together, feeling frightened and embarrassed by their "crazy" mother. From that moment on, the family disintegrated.
In his memoir, Tucker says he knows why he cooks. He is trying to finish that meal, once and for all. "To finish that meal with grace and calm and convivial family conversation, with laughter and warmth. Mostly, I think about warmth so that I can melt away the cold of that uneaten dinner." And so, he has spent a lifetime feeding people.
The symbolism of food is powerful.
***
In his novel, Swann's Way, French writer Marcel Proust writes of returning home late one evening on a dull winter's day. The maid greeted him and brought him a cup of hot tea and a small cake -- a madeleine.
Feeling tired and depressed, he at first refused them. Only at her insistence did he finally begin to drink the tea and eat the cake. An unexplainable delight suddenly came over him. His anxieties and troubles seemed to vanish. Suddenly, he wrote, I had "ceased to feel mediocre, accidental, and mortal."
What caused this transforming experience? He was at a loss to explain it. How could a taste of tea and cake produce such a feeling of peace? The truth, he guessed, must be in himself and not in what he was eating and drinking.
Proust began to search his memories. His mind transported him back to Combray, France, where in childhood he had visited his aunt, who fed him cake and hot tea. Suddenly, in what he calls "gusts of memory," he recalls the little town, the village church, the old house, the long-forgotten relatives, and the bright flowers in the garden. The cup of tea and the madeleine had unlocked powerful memories.
The bread and wine of the Lord's Supper can do the same for us -- as can the Passover meal for our Jewish brothers and sisters.
