I recently read Mark's account of the last supper, in which Jesus speaks of one who would betray Him.
My mind wandered from there to the institution of the Eucharist, and how terribly scandalized the disciples must have been. Here was this man who knew the scriptures well enough to correct the Pharisees and teach in the temple, speaking of things which went directly against the law of Moses. To talk about drinking blood would have been shocking and revolting to this group which was raised to keep kosher.
Blood was -not- to be consumed.
I've thought about this aspect of the event before, but this morning realized that they had another reason to be shocked: Jesus said these things within the context of what was a well established and beloved family liturgy. Prayers over bread and cup were/are a standard part of the passover meal.
Jesus had the audacity to actually change prayers which had been prayed for generations, and to tell them to drink His blood.
It is a miracle that any of the disciples remained.
Showing posts with label Passover Seder. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Passover Seder. Show all posts
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Monday, July 20, 2009
The bitter and the sweet
I'm looking back on a week that has been both bitter and sweet, and thinking about the Passover Seder. Liturgy and ritual are so very satisfying for entering into the richness of God's plan for us.
In this Seder we ceremonially partake of Maror, the bitter herbs which symbolize the bitterness of slavery. When done right (by my book,) the bright sharpness of horseradish makes your eyes water and your nose run. No mild, dull ache for me, but a sudden harsh slap of reality, the pain of which lingers on the tongue.
Later in the meal we dip the matzo in Charoset, a sweet mixture of apples, nuts, and cinnamon.
Still later, we eat matzo with both horseradish -and- Charoset, mixing the bitter and the sweet.
That has been my week; the sharp bite of reality softened by gentle tastes of sweetness. The two co-mingling.
Actually, it's been the tenor of the last few years, the bitter and the sweet dancing in and out, taking turns, intermingling, becoming harder and harder to separate.
Lord, thank you for the sweetness. Thank you for the bitterness. Thank you for the dance.
In this Seder we ceremonially partake of Maror, the bitter herbs which symbolize the bitterness of slavery. When done right (by my book,) the bright sharpness of horseradish makes your eyes water and your nose run. No mild, dull ache for me, but a sudden harsh slap of reality, the pain of which lingers on the tongue.
Later in the meal we dip the matzo in Charoset, a sweet mixture of apples, nuts, and cinnamon.
Still later, we eat matzo with both horseradish -and- Charoset, mixing the bitter and the sweet.
That has been my week; the sharp bite of reality softened by gentle tastes of sweetness. The two co-mingling.
Actually, it's been the tenor of the last few years, the bitter and the sweet dancing in and out, taking turns, intermingling, becoming harder and harder to separate.
Lord, thank you for the sweetness. Thank you for the bitterness. Thank you for the dance.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)