Sermon for Maundy Thursday, April 9, 2009

Christ Our Passover

“Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us: Therefore let us keep the feast… with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth.”

THE best-known question for people of the Jewish faith in this season of Passover is “Why is this night different from all other nights?” This is usually asked by the youngest person at the table, wondering about the unusual features of the Seder meal. The Seder is broken into several small rituals, starting with a Kiddesh, the first blessing of the wine in honor of the holy day. Historically, each participant would say his own blessing over an individual glass, and successive glasses of wine would follow the same pattern.

       Then everyone washes his or her hands, without a prayer, just as long ago the Jews hurriedly prepared to eat and then escape Egypt. Then vegetables are dipped in salt water, reminiscent of the tears shed while enslaved. One of the unleavened matzos is broken into three parts, and the central part of this bread is hidden in a napkin somewhere. This odd ritual is a mystery, even to the Jewish people of today. Then they retell the story of the Exodus. Another washing, now with a blessing, is followed by more broken bread and blessings. Bitter vegetables, like horseradish, are eaten, for the bitterness of slavery, and then lettuce dipped in a sweet apple and nut compote is eaten, recalling the mortar used in laying Egyptian bricks.

      Finally the Jews feast on whatever is served, with joyous celebration, as the ancient Jews ate the lamb, a male of one year and without blemish, roasted on fire. When all are filled, that hidden matzo is found and eaten last. It is called afikoman , and the children remember the drama of its discovery more than any other feature of Passover. A special grace is said with lengthy prayers, finished with a third glass of wine.

      Now another glass is poured, and a door opened for Elijah, hoping for the return of the prophet who never died, who comes to herald Messiah. Then they sing a hymn of praise. Finally, the last cup of wine is poured with the statement that Seder is completed, with the wish: “Next year in Jerusalem!”

      One year in Jerusalem, a solemn Passover was celebrated in a hidden upper dining hall that held a company of thirteen men at table. The customary joviality of the season was conspicuously absent from their faces, and any attempt at levity was quelled with a look from one man to another. This was not the time for jokes. Their leader reclined at the head of the table, pensively looking at the preparations with a mixture of approval, intense sadness, resignation and determination. He said very little until the Seder began. The youngest among them, James' brother John, asked: “Why is this night unlike any other night?” Jesus just smiled ruefully at him. This would be a night unlike any other indeed. After the first glass of wine, of which Jesus took none for Himself, he lifted a piece of flatbread and broke a portion of it, the afikoman , with the usual blessing, then added: “This is my Body, which is broken for you all. Take it and eat it, and Do this, for the recalling of me.” His apostles looked at one another in astonishment, wondering why He had added to the ancient formula, and thought about what He meant by “My Body.” John remembered a debate long past in Capurnaum, where Jesus' instruction to eat His flesh as the true bread from heaven caused most of His followers to abandon Him.

      The meal went slowly on as tradition prescribed, but without the celebration. At one point, Jesus lifted his face and said to them, “Surely I tell you, one of you is going to betray Me.” Each of them was staggered, and oddly guilt ridden, as though they had all entertained doubts about Him, and they asked, “Is it me?” Jesus assured them, “It will be he who dips his hand in the dish with me. The Son of Man assuredly goes as it is written of Him, but woe to that man by whom the Son of Man is betrayed! Better it would be for him never to be born.” Judas, who seemed to be distracted before this turned to Jesus and asked, as blandly and off-handedly as he could, “Master, is it I?”

     “You have just said it,” replied Jesus.

      Nearing the close of the meal, Jesus took a large goblet and filled it almost full with wine. A small amount of water was added, then Jesus spoke the traditional prayer over it, praising God for winning the Promised Land for His people Israel, freeing them from Egyptian slavery. He held the Grail aloft a moment longer than was customary, finally saying through a dry throat : “This is My Blood, the seal on the New Covenant, which I shed for you and for many others, for the forgiveness of your sins. Drink it, all of you, whenever you partake in this, for the recalling of me.”

      Passover started last night at sundown. This time has marked a moment in time for the descendants of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob when they had been enslaved 400 years in Egypt. God called Moses at the burning bush to go back to the land where he was wanted for murder, to face the most powerful king in the world, and demand in the Name of Jehovah the release of all of his workforce from slavery to freedom. This demand would be accompanied with plagues from God on the Egyptians, culminating in the death of all firstborn sons in every household. Only the Jews were immune to this angel of death, and only so by painting their doorposts with the blood of fresh-killed male lambs. They roasted these lambs, ate them standing, dressed for travel and packed to go, with bread baked without rising, in haste, for the Lord would cause the Egyptians to drive them out of the land. Significantly, all the children of Israel believed these commands and were prepared as that angel passed over their houses, witnessing their faith by the blood of the lambs evident on their doorways.

      Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us . We are not Jews today, or if there are some of you who may claim that heritage, you have a double blessing, for your Passover is fulfilled in the Person of God's Son. The parallels He created in the Old Testament and the New lead us to the inescapable conclusion that we are to follow the Israelites in their flight from Egyptian slavery through the Red Sea waters of Baptism, onto the desert and freedom. What slavery? You may ask.

      Our bondage is so well-fitting we hardly notice it anymore. We are born into it, brought up to live it, give homage to it and die without disturbing it, if we are modern people, if we are good Americans, citizens and consumers of this great land. I don't call America ‘Egypt,' but this world certainly is. Its fleshpots and idolatries are many, quite seductive, and found everywhere. Our entertainment, news reporting, advertising, and commercial endeavors are only the surface of this bondage. Our condescension toward cultural change and sinful, perverted lifestyles only condemn ourselves, as we fail to see in ourselves the changed values that only 30 years ago would have seemed to us impossible. We have normalized our accommodation of fallenness so well that we don't see it anymore. I can say this for myself, for I am a product of this age as well.

      Bondage is anything you can't just walk away from. Could you walk away from your home, mortgaged as it is? Your profession, lifestyle, casual relationships, shopping centers, Costco membership, VISA card, home and office computers, cell phones, DVD collections and televisions, DSL service, iPods, automobiles, vacation plans, retirement funds and insurance benefits, let alone your Social Security—all you have counted on for your life hereafter . But your life hereafter is not defined by any of these things. We are in bondage, and while I am not advocating you go burn or cancel any of these conveniences, ask yourself: “Am I in bondage to this? If so, how may I keep it and use it rightly?”

      We are all familiar with the scene from the Gospel where a rich young ruler comes to seek the path to righteousness of Jesus, and when he has tested out pretty well morally, Jesus challenges him to sell all he has, give it away, and come follow Him. He left unhappy. We comfort ourselves with the common counsel that only some are called to walk in poverty. But I found Jesus saying this brief phrase in a passage where He enjoins us to count the cost of discipleship before undertaking to follow Him: “Whoever of you does not forsake all that he has cannot be My disciple.” Luke 14:33 That leaves us all in . How can this be true?

      Just in terms of your possessions, if you have not committed everything you have in your hands, your home, your goods, clothing, bank accounts, and all that you call “ mine ” to God's possession once for all, it is high time you did so. That doesn't mean you give it away to others, unless God says so . That doesn't mean you can't use it yourself, unless God says not to . That doesn't mean you impoverish yourself, for God wants to give you all that He has . He only needs your empty hands to receive t he entire creation and the world to come with gratitude. And you empty your hands by giving Him all that you call “mine.” You are His steward now, you tithe of all you receive, you take His direction when something is to be bought or sold, or given away. It's His. This pertains not only to your objects and estate, but your bodies, time, thoughts, love, everything you are as well.

      Now, why this topic on Maundy Thursday?

      This is the moment a New Covenant is sealed. It is the greatest news we might receive, and the fulfillment of the Old Covenant made with the Jews at Passover some 3,500 or so years ago. Jesus presiding at our table, blesses bread and wine, and through His Hands gives us His Body and His Blood to eat and to drink. He is offering us participation in a New Kingdom, and it doesn't come cheap. The Passover Lamb has been slain, His Blood painted on the doorpost of the Cross, the angel of eternal death has flown over us, passed us by, and we are free from slavery. Why should we want to continue as slaves? Eat the Passover. The bitter herbs, the sweet-sour paste that reminds us of mortar, the unleavened bread of haste to depart Egypt. Egypt, Babylon, London, Paris, New York, Los Angeles, Chico: it doesn't matter where. We are called to a New Kingdom . Now will we come? Is the old so much better ? Is our former slavery so precious to us? Will we rebel on the desert, when we find that life in freedom is hard? Will we turn back regretfully, or press on toward the Promised Land? This is the moment of truth for us, and we must ask ourselves, each of us: Am I ready to leave?

      Take, eat: this is My Body. Drink this, all of you: this is My Blood of the New Covenant. “Whoever eats My flesh and drinks My blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day.” John 6:54 This is our greatest hope, and the right answer to all of life's questions. It's so simple, most people will choose the complexity of life in Egypt, the distractions of the flesh, the wonders of this world over the eternal world that awaits us.

      We must choose this night Who it is we serve. Will we be slaves in Egyptian comfort or free men and women in the desert of the paths to the Promised Land? If you're coming along with us, then be dressed, packed and ready. Eat that hidden matzo: the middle piece of the three, the afikoman , God the Son, the second Person of the Trinity, who died, was hidden in the tomb of Joseph, and then was take out again alive to give us His flesh and blood as our food. Come, let us keep the feast of Passover, for Christ our Passover is Sacrificed for us, on this Passover 2009 A.D., for you, for me, and for all us former slaves.

      Come let us receive Him with joy! Come let us enter the Covenant of freedom and live. Come let us hide under His blood. Come let us leave this Egypt and live!                    PFH+