This is Easter weekend, and it is especially joyful this year as our two older girls are home from Nyack College for their spring break this week.  Last night, Good Friday, we went to a Messianic Passover dinner  at our church.  I know that it wasn’t actually Passover, and Chirstians normally would celebrate a Sedar meal on Maundy Thursday, but, as our pastor explained the prophetic symbolism is the traditional Passover meal, Good Friday seemed to be a very appropriate day for such an event as well.

Passover, like the Exodus as well as the stories of Jonah, Hoseai, Abraham and Issac and many other events in the Old Testament, is both a historical account and a foreshadowing of what was to come in the New Testament.  Only a sovreign God can coordinate events in such as a way as for them to also be prophet object lessons for things to come centuries later.  The most obvious connection between the Passover and the Passion is that in both cases salvation came only through the blood of the Lamb.

So Friday night we said the traditional Passover prayers (in English for understanding rather than in Hebrew for authenticity), we had the traditional foods of bitter herbs, matza, and haroseth.  We did the four traditional toasts (grape juice instead of wine in classic Protestant style), and we read the traditional Passover Psalms. 

Our oldest daughter, Jo,  is a missions major, so she enjoyed adding whispered commentary to what Pastor was explaining: “Not only that, but…”  Our 19 year old, Naomi, invited a friend who has been going through some ups and downs recently, and in typical Naomi fashion, she spent more time interacting with her friend than paying attention to the events going on around her.  Our 11 year old, Rose (who dresses more like Cyndi Lauper each day) invited herself to sit at a different table with her friend Zoe’s family.  We all got something different and personal out of the Passover celebration, not unlike those who were  in attendance at the most famous Passover meal ever: the Last Supper.

One thing that Pastor Boon pointed out really got me thinking.  There is a point in a Sedar dinner when all in attendance are to wash their hands.  This is when Jesus said, “The one who dips his hands in the water with me is the one who will betray me.”  It was immediately after this that Jesus then washed the disciples’ feet.  It occurred to me that it was a very radical thing for Jesus to deviate from the Passover liturgy by washing their feet.  Even today a rabbi would not take such liberties with the traditional format of the celebration.  At the time it would have been unheard of.  Jesus, it seems, was not overly concerned with the religious traditions of his day.  Instead, he took the opportunity to model something much more personal: humble servanthood.

This is not to say Jesus disregarded religious tradition.  After all, He was celebrating the Passover. Furthermore the Gospel writers  make sure details such as the breaking of the bread, toasting with the wine (Yeah, much to some Proddies chagrin, He used the real stuff), and reclining instead of sitting all liturgical requirements of a Passover meal are included in the description of the Last Supper.  Jesus paid attention to the litugy.  But He also personalized it.  He said the broken bread was His body and the wine was His blood, which are also not in the original ‘script’.  Somehow, though, the washing of the feet seemed to be the most radical variation.  Perhaps because this was more than just a change in the words, it was a change of action.  It’s as if the same One who said the Sabbath exists for the benefit of humanity, not vice versa was demonstrating that was true of all religious ceremonies when he strapped on the towel and began washing the feet of his ragtag band of Roman tax collectors, anarchists, and blue collar good ol’ boys.  God, it seems,  did not put us here so that we could mindlessly follow a set of liturgical practices (whatever our various traditions decree those to be), but rather, our church traditions are at their best when they are benefitting those in the pews.