Passover

Last year, about this time, I wrote a blog about wanting to be Jewish.  After studying the books of Hebrews and James, I want so even more.  I believe the Jews get a bad rap for 'killing Jesus.'  Yes, they were involved but so were Gentiles.  Jesus was a Jew.  I would have been just as upset probably if a man from my hometown, whose father was a carpenter, started telling me he was God's son and trying to take everything I had ever known and turned it upside down.  Even James, his own brother, didn't believe until probably after His death.

Let's talk about why I want to be Jewish.  I love the customs. Specifically Passover.  One of God's greatest miracles.  A plague for the Egyptians became what set the Israelites free.  I try to put myself into biblical stories.  I often try to see the emotions and thinking processes behind many of the situations.  I can only imagine being a Jewish mother.  Knowing that my husband was to pick a specific lamb, slaughter it, and wipe its blood above our door so that my firstborn would not be killed.  I can imagine inspecting the placement of the blood multiple times to make sure it was just right.  I would have my son pulled into me so tightly as night approached.  Praying and pleading with God that all would be well in our house.  And then it would begin. I can imagine a thickness in the air.  An eeriness.  Then...The wailing.  From mothers, both animal and human.   People weeping and crying out to God or even their gods.  I can imagine the tears streaming down my cheeks.  Sadness for other women.  Women who had a piece of themselves die.  Then I can imagine the gratitude that would wash over me when  I realized it was over and my children were safe.  Rushing out my door and greeting my friends to see their children were ok.  Thanking God that once again, He had come through and provided a way out.  Packing my house quickly to move because Moses had declared that we were now allowed to leave.

This miracle was celebrated by Christ.  The Last Supper happened during The Passover.  Jesus told his disciples that He would become the final sacrificial Lamb so that death would ultimately pass them all over.  Oh, they would all see physical death one day, but not eternal death.  I often wonder about the conversation that took place in that room.  We are given a glimpse in Matthew of some of it, but I don't believe it was all of it.  I firmly believe that He and the disciples shared some intimate moments that were just for them.  He knew it was the last time He would be gathered with them until after His resurrection.  It would be His last time with Judas.  I still believe Jesus looked on Him with compassion that night.  Passover took on a whole new meaning that night for the disciples.  I am sure they never celebrated it the same again.  Every year when it came around, I am sure they went right back in their minds to that room.   To the breaking of bread and drinking of wine.  To the words that were said there.  To the love.  The gratefulness.   To the sadness.  They also remembered what the next few days held.  Much pain and grief and much JOY and LIFE!  No, I don't believe the Passover was ever the same for them.  It held a much deeper meaning.  Finally, they understood fully the symbolism that God intended so many years before in Egypt.  They fully grasped the blood and its saving power.

My Father, thank you for what you did in Egypt and what you did on the cross.  Thank you that you didn't let Jesus just die, but that He conquered death once and for all.  Thank you that no more blood ever has to be sacrificed.  Thank you for being the same God then and now.  And thank you for love.  Love more powerful than I will ever wrap my head around.  My sweet, sweet Jesus, Thank you will never be enough but I will spend all my days with your praise on my lips.  I cannot wait to sit around a table and feast with you.  All the glory and honor is Yours.