Maundy Thursday
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—nothing was happening as it usually did this night. The older girls helped some. They cared for the babies dutifully, but they were scared, too. The older boys were rushing through the stockyards tying down doors, buckling windows shut. You would think 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 should be done, while others simply looked each other in the eyes and knew right away what they must do. 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 Hebrew slaves so vigorous on this night?”
Pharoah’s soldiers saw it all, too. But they stood by and 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 or got caught on the mountains in the lightening. Yet the Egyptian guards nervously stood fast.
In their outer yards, in the dust and sand, among scrub brush and thorns lambs were falling under the knives of fathers and eldest boys. The younger boys where there, too. They toppled the lamb off of its feet and held it tight so that it would not shake free. Then the experienced hands wielded the knives. The sharpened blade sunk into the neck of the lamb and the kicking stopped.
This was what Moses had said to do. Word had spread from him through the people in waves of whispering and realization, whispering and caution, whispering and surprise.
Some of the blood is caught in a bowl—a small amount. It is given to a faithful adult who sprinkles and dabs it onto the doorposts and the lintel of the house.
This blood is a sign of faith. It is the blood of the Passover lamb. By it God’s people this night shall be redeemed from their oppressor. Through this 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, changing the course of history with his mighty hand. And none would prevail against his will to save.
For a thousand years this pattern was rehearsed. Year after year. Generation after Generation. Age after age. Grandfathers took grandchildren on their laps and told them the story of God’s redemption, the story of bondage, of Pharaoh, of Moses and of God who saved. It was a jewel to be taken out and turned, a promise that was theirs forever—theirs who would remember.
So it was two thousand years ago tonight. On the night of another Passover Seder under Roman occupation in ancient Jerusalem. Through dusty streets the people milled about purposefully, going to gather the friends and relatives, to collect ingredients for unleavened bread, to cut the bitter herbs and prepare the Passover lamb. Doorposts and lintels were at the ready.
So among these crowds was found Jesus bar Joseph. Jesus from Nazareth, the carpenter’s son, now no longer a boy but a man, gathering his friends together around a beaten wooden table.
There before him were the ancient symbols. The cup drunk in thanksgiving. The cup of wine that looked so much like the blood of the Passover lamb, the blood that each year they claimed as their own, renewing their part in its promise. There, too, was the bread. Unleavened. Baked quickly. the bread that was their sustenance, literally that which sustained them. That bread, a symbol of God’s providence for the people of Israel from ancient days.
The sandals were on their feet. They had their staves. Their loins were girded.
It was a Passover meal, as they had celebrated last year and the year before and every year since they could remember from their youngest days. And yet this night was not just another Passover. The air was heavy. And so was the Rabbi’s face. Troubled. Deeply etched with worry and knowledge they could not divine.
They wondered if this might be what that first Passover had been like. They were nervous. Scared. And the air was electric with portent. At any moment the doors could be knocked in by Pilate’s guards. The governor had been watching them. And the priests. Their eyes had become so sharp that they seemed to pierce the disciples every time they caught their gaze.
That was when Jesus called them closer around the table. And taking that unleavened Passover bread, he gave thanks to God, broke it, and held it out to each of them, saying 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 then turned to them with his hand outstretched, saying, “This is my blood of the New Covenant which is shed for you in my blood for the forgiveness of sins. Whenever you drink it, do this for the remembrance 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 of myself for you. If you would be my disciples this also is your mission. This also is your call. To be servants to one another and to all.”
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 and perfection; 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 redemption, then, now, and in Christ, forevermore.
Amen.
Year B — Maundy Thursday
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The LORD said to Moses and Aaron in the land of Egypt: This month shall mark for you the beginning of months; it shall be the first month of the year for you. Tell the whole congregation of Israel that on the tenth of this month they are to take a lamb for each family, a lamb for each household. If a household is too small for a whole lamb, it shall join its closest neighbor in obtaining one; the lamb shall be divided in proportion to the number of people who eat of it. Your lamb shall be without blemish, a year-old male; you may take it from the sheep or from the goats. You shall keep it until the fourteenth day of this month; then the whole assembled congregation of Israel shall slaughter it at twilight. They shall take some of the blood and put it on the two doorposts and the lintel of the houses in which they eat it. They shall eat the lamb that same night; they shall eat it roasted over the fire with unleavened bread and bitter herbs. Do not eat any of it raw or boiled in water, but roasted over the fire, with its head, legs, and inner organs. You shall let none of it remain until the morning; anything that remains until the morning you shall burn. 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. For I will pass through the land of Egypt that night, and I will strike down every firstborn in the land of Egypt, both human beings and animals; on all the gods of Egypt I will execute judgments: I am the LORD. The blood shall be a sign for you on the houses where you live: when I see the blood, I will pass over you, and no plague shall destroy you when I strike the land of Egypt. This day shall be a day of remembrance for you.
Exodus 12:1-14a
Thursday, April 13, 2006
