It was a dark and menacing night.  The stars that shone above were half lost in invisible, whisping clouds.  In the ancient city below were people rushing and chattering, then rushing again.  Gathering the lambs, convincing and questioning each other.  

This night was very different than usual.  Some of the children cried—their pattern was no use for them tonight.  The older girls helped some.  They cared for the babies dutifully, but they were scared too.  They just hid it in duty.  The older boys were rushing through the stockyards, tying down the doors, buckling the windows shut.  You would think a zapporah, a terrible desert duststorm was arising, but no.  It was no duststorm that was on its way.  What was coming this night was much worse.  Much more terrible.

In the houses some husbands and wives fought about what to do.  While others simply looked each other in the eyes and knew right away what had to be done.  The widows and widowers and even the sick gathered with those whom they knew and cared for.

An Egyptian passerby would have worried.  Many did.  What is happening here?  Why are the Hebrews in an uproar on this night?

Pharoah’s soldiers stood by and simply watched.  They had been ordered to let the Hebrews have their empty night.  But the night did not feel empty.  It felt alive and full.  It felt like it was bursting all around them, ringing and popping their ears as when they swam too deep in the nile.  But the Egyptian guards nervously stood fast.

 

In their outer yards lambs were falling under the knives of the fathers and eldest boys.  The younger ones toppled the lamb gently off of its feet and held it tight so that it would not shake free and make the act take longer than possible.  Then the sharpened blade sunk into the neck of the lamb and the kicking stopped.  

Some of the blood is caught in a bowl—a small amount.  It is given to a faithful adult who sprinkles and dabs them  onto the doorposts and the lintel of the house.  

This blood is a sign of faith. This is the blood of the Passover lamb.  By it God’s people this night shall be redeemed from their oppressor.  By this act of sacrifice God will gather the faithful who share in this Passover meal—he will gather them from the land of their slavery and make them His people.

“This is the blood of the Passover Lamb”, some of them say to themselves quietly as they mark their houses with this liquid that is life.  

“By this blood are we redeemed.”

 

The Passover Meal.  The night that the oppressor’s hold was broken.  The night that God claimed for his own inbreaking into the world to touch human deeds with his Divine Hand, and change the face of history.  And no one would stand before him.

 

For a thousand years this meal was rehearsed.  Year after year.  Generation after Generation.  Age after age.  The grandfathers took their grandchildren on their laps and told them the story of God’s redemption.  With every year the children and adults saw deeper layers and felt greater gratitude toward Yahweh for his mighty deeds on that night.  That night of the Passover.

So in each generation the meal was rehearsed.  The people made their sacrifice of the lamb, at the bitter herbs, and remembered.

 

So it was two thousand years ago tonight.  On the night of another Passover Seder.  All over Jerusalem the people gathered in their houses and told the story.  Families.  Singles.  The oldest and youngest among them.  They all gathered in their homes to pray and remember the blood through which God had redeemed them so long ago.

So it was for Jesus bar Joseph.  Jesus from Nazareth, the carpenter’s son, now no longer a boy but a man, who sat with his friends around a beaten wooden table.  

There before him were the ancient symbols.  The cup drank in remembrance of that Passover.  The cup of wine that looked like the blood of the lamb.  The blood they claimed each year on this night as their own.  There, too, was the bread.  Unleavened.  Baked quickly.  the bread that was their sustenance, a symbol of God’s providence for the people of Israel from ancient days.

The sandals were on their feet.  They had their stalves, their loins girded.

 

It was a Passover meal, as they had celebrated last year and the year before and every year since they could remember.  But this night wasn’t just another Passover.  The air was heavy.  And so was the Rabi’s face.  Troubled.  Deeply etched with worry and knowledge they could not divine.

This night felt like what that first Passover might have felt like.  They were nervous.  Scared.  At any moment the doors could be knocked in by Pilate’s guards.  The governer had been watching them.  And the priests.  Their eyes had narrowed so sharp that they seemed to pierce the disciples every time they caught their gaze.  

Then Jesus called them closer around the table.  And taking the unleavened Passover bread, he gave thanks to God, broke it, shared it with each of them and said the words that stunned them, but somehow seemed so right:

“This is my body which is given for you.  Whenever you do this, do it in remembrance of me.”

In their hearts they each said, “Yes, Lord” and feared.

Then after supper he took the cup of wine.  He gave thanks and gave it to each of them saying, “This is my blood of the New Covenant which is shed for you and for all for the forgiveness of sins.  Whenever you drink it, do this for the rembrance of me.”

Then Judas fled.  Then the disciples sat and stood around in silence.  Speaking only when something had to be said.  These days were tense.  Peace was always welcome.

 

Then Jesus after the meal took off his outer garment and tied a towel around his waist and washed their feet.  The sandaled feet ready for a journey… he washed them.  He made them clean for the steps they would walk from this point on.

He said, “I have come to be a servant.  To serve.  To give my effort, my time, my self for the need of others.  This also is to be your mission.  This also is your call.  To be servants to one another and to all.” And to love.

 

This, this is the Night of the Passover.  The Passover of the Lord:  The night in which our Lord gave himself to be the perfect, unblemished Lamb of God; the night in which the blood of the Passover from ancient days found its fulfillment; the night in which God came finally to claim us, and make us forever, spiritually, his own.

This is the night of the Passover:  A sacred memorial of our redemption, forevermore.

 

Amen.