Pesach and Hag HaMazot

PASSOVER AND THE FEAST OF UNLEAVENED BREAD

Beginning this evening April 18, 2011, at sundown, Jews throughout the world will come together to celebrate one of their most important Feasts—Pesach, Passover. This Jewish observance is the oldest continuously observed feast in evidence today, celebrated for some 3,500 years.


The name "Pesach" (PAY-sahch, with a "ch" as in the Scottich "loch") comes from the Hebrew root Peh-Samech-Chet meaning to pass through, to pass over, to exempt or to spare. It refers to the fact that God "passed over" the houses of the Jews when he was slaying the firstborn of Egypt. In English, the holiday is known as Passover. "Pesach" is also the name of the sacrificial offering (a lamb) that was made in the Temple on this holiday. The holiday is also referred to as Chag he-Aviv (the Spring Festival), Chag ha-Matzoth (the Festival of Matzahs), and Z'man Cherutenu (the Time of Our Freedom) (again, all with those Scottish "ch"s).


Passover carries a powerful message for today. This holiday forms the primary background for understanding the events of the Upper Room, the symbolism of the Lord’s Table and the meaning of the Messiah’s death. Passover was instituted in Exodus 11, the time of the tenth plague sent by God to Egypt’s Pharaoh when the Hebrews were instructed to select a one year old, unblemished lamb on the tenth day of Nisan and kept until the fourteenth day of Nisan which would allow time for each family member to observe the lamb and confirm that it was fit for a sacrifice. It also allowed time for each family member to become personally attached to their lamb so that it was not just a lamb, but it was their lamb. An innocent one was to die in their place. At sunset on the fourteenth day of the month, all of the people would take their lamb outside the camp and sacrifice it. Then each family was to individually apply the blood of their lamb to the doorposts of their own homes as a visible sign of their faith in the Lord (Ex. 12:13). At that moment, the innocent lamb became their substitute making it possible for the Lord’s judgment to “pass over” them. And so the Lord instituted Passover as “a night to be much observed unto the Lord for bringing them out from the land of Egypt” (Ex. 12:42). The shed blood of the unblemished lamb was the only thing that would save the Hebrews from the horror of the tenth plague in which every male in every household in Egypt, including the cattle, would be killed. Those inside the homes covered by the blood would be spared.

The Hebrews were instructed to eat three specific foods on that night—the lamb roasted with fire (fire portraying the judgment that was coming), unleavened bread (matzo, “leaven” or yeast represents sin (puffing up), and bitter herbs, the reminder of the suffering of the lamb.

I am constrained by time and space to detail all of the elements of the Passover meal (Called a “Seder”) which is observed to this day, but a few brief notes are in order. The Lamb of the Passover was integral to the Hebrews, shedding its blood was a reminder of the covering, or the “Pesach” of that night when they were spared the judgment and death after an innocent, pure, unblemished lamb took their punishment and suffered in their place. This lamb could not have had any broken bones. The matzo is made without yeast or leaven because leaven represents the puffing up of self that pride creates and which eventually permeates the entire loaf. The matzo is pierced and cooked in a way that leaves stripes. Three matzos, called “Afikomen” are at the Seder table. They are placed into a three-pouched cloth and at a certain point in the Seder dinner, the middle matzo is removed, broken in half, with one half wrapped in linen cloth and hidden until the host sends children out to find the hidden matzo and bring it back to the table. Each member is instructed to eat a piece of the broken bread. Four cups of wine are used during the feast. The first cup is held up by each person while the host recites the Kiddush, (prayer of sanctification). It would be this prayer that Jesus prayed in Luke 22:7. The second cup is poured after a hand washing ceremony and after other parts of the Seder have been taken. During the drinking of this cup, the Passover story is told, and a small drink is taken for each plague of the Egyptians, representing the sorrow felt for them. Before this cup is taken, the first half of the Hallel Psalms are sung (Psalm 113-118). Hallel means “praise” and these Psalms are Messianic.


The third cup of wine is called the Cup of Redemption. It is poured and sipped. It was here that Messiah instituted the Lord’s table. Luke 22:20 shows that this third Cup of Redemption would be a reminder of Jesus’ work on the cross. After the third cup, a child is sent to the front door to hopefully welcome Elijah who will usher in the Messiah as prophesied by Malachi.


The fourth cup is called the Cup of Acceptance or Praise. It was this cup that Jesus said that He would not take until He was able to drink this cup with the disciples in the Kingdom (Matt. 26:29). Knowing that His acceptance by His people, the Jews, would not happen until then, His joy would not be full until then. I believe that He will drink this cup with His Bride at the Wedding Feast of the Lamb.


The service closes with a hymn, likely the Hallel from Psalm 118, “Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord.” Jesus spoke these words to the Jews in Matt. 23:29 “for I say to you, you shall see Me no more till you say, 'Blessed is He who comes in the name of the LORD!'"


I don’t want to be a legalist here, but what we call Easter is a date set by some who were determined not to set the date of the death of Jesus Christ on the day that He really died—there was an awful thing which we call “anti-Semitism” involved in this, sadly. In fact, the date of Easter was set in cooperation with other pagan celebrations which have nothing whatsoever to do with the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.


We don’t know the exact date that Jesus Christ was born, but we can know with certainty the date of His crucifixion and resurrection because Jews for thousands of years have celebrated this date both in anticipation of His death and resurrection and for two thousand years since then. His death and resurrection fall on Passover. Passover falls on the Hebrew calendar of Nisan; Nisan 14 to be exact. I celebrate Pesach as the true time when Jesus told us to remember this event. He actually didn’t tell the disciples to remember his birthday, or the day when He began His ministry at 30 years of age. He only told them to remember this day.


When the Jews welcomed Y’Shua into the city as He rode on a donkey, they were singing the Hallel songs (Psalm 113-118) and shouting “Hosanna,” which means “Save Now.” These Psalms were meant for the coming of Messiah and the religious leaders demanded that Jesus make them stop—this was blasphemy—hailing Jesus as Messiah! It was the first time in His public ministry that Jesus allowed Himself to be worshipped as the coming King. They got the picture. He made the amazing statement that if he told them to stop praising Him at that moment (the Lamb who would be slain four days later—the Lamb who had now become their own personal Lamb four days before the Passover), the very stones would cry out. This was a monumentous moment in history. The Lamb mounted the donkey and entered the city of Jerusalem four days before Passover. He was crucified on the first day of Passover. He was the fulfillment of the “Unleavened Bread” on the second day of Passover. He was resurrected on the “First Fruits” of Passover, three days and three nights after the first day of Passover. The last supper was the celebration of the Pesach feast.


The Afikomen (the three Matzos, one which was broken and buried), part of Passover celebrated today was not instituted as part of the Passover until later by Rabbinic tradition. The lamb was the traditional meat, the “lamb that was slain” and shed its blood. However, since the destruction of the Temple in 70 AD, the sacrificial system ended and the Afikomen came to represent the Lamb, and everyone must eat of it. The name “Afikomen” is not a Hebrew name and there has been much debate as to the origin of this name. It is the only Greek word in the Passover Seder, everything else is Hebrew. It is the second aorist form of the Greek verb ikneomai. The translation is stunning—it simply means—He Came.


Since the Afikomen was unleavened, pierced and striped and the middle matzo was broken, half put into a linen pouch, hidden (buried) and later found (resurrected), it echoes perfectly Isaiah 53, the most powerful passage of Scripture which describes the events of the suffering Messiah. The three loaves of unleavened bread represent the Father (first Matzo) the Son (middle Matzo) and the Holy Spirit (third Matzo). Unbelieving Jews today still celebrate this feast, not knowing that it has been fulfilled by Jesus the Messiah or that the beloved Afikomen means, “He came.”


But not for long! The veil is being removed from their eyes (Romans 11). Blindness “in part” is being removed even as I write and when the “fullness of the Gentiles” has come in, all Israel will be saved. My celebration of this beloved Feast Day includes fasting and prayer for this prophecy of Romans 11 to be fulfilled! Amen.

KATHY UNPLUGGED PART II

My first day without TV was a bit panicky to be honest.

I wondered what I would do during those long evening hours without the sounds of the evening news in the background.

I needn't have wondered. My first day without TV was so filled with activity that time flew past and before I knew it, it was time for bed. Is it my imagination, or does TV actually cause time to go slower? It wasn't that I had more to do that day; it was that I got more done without having to sit down on occasion (or for an entire afternoon, I am ashamed to say), to watch news/weather/NCIS reruns. You know, just to take a little break?

I learned that once the TV goes on, my brain checks out.

I learned that once the TV goes on, I am too tired to read in the evening.

I learned that the real reason I don't read as often as I once did (on average of two books a week), is because my mind is too numb from TV.

As evidence of this--I finished two books that I had started awhile back and started on a third, which I am halfway through. In addition to several periodicals and magazine articles.

So, is it my imagination, or does TV cause the brain to check out?

I will continue my research and keep you posted.

Kathy Unplugged

I did a wild and crazy thing today.

I unplugged my cable TV.

It feels like I stopped drinking cold turkey or stopped smoking cold turkey--honestly.

It's not that I watched all that much TV--mostly news and NCIS and old movies. But it is there and it is a comfort zone and a place to veg out and let my mind go blank. As a widow, I grew accustomed to just having it on--a noise in the background. I controlled it. Then one day, it was controlling me.

I have been talking to Jesus about my need to spend more time at His feet lately, lamenting that I once spent whole days and even nights in prayer and study. I told Him I wanted to return to that "Mary" ministry--sitting at His feet, breaking the alabaster box.

He, in His typical, "still small voice" fashion, seemed to be saying one word: TV. Turn off the TV.

I would promise that I would definitely do that tomorrow, and then a new Middle East crisis would occur, or the huge earthquake--sending me to nearly 24/7 viewing, as the cable channels love to hear--and after all, doesn't all of this tie in to prophecy fulfillment? So I had to keep abreast of the latest world events, didn't I?

Well, actually, no. I didn't. I could check the latest news on my computer, without getting pulled into an all day vigil.

So, this morning I actually pulled the little black box out, turned it around and unscrewed the cable.

It is now 8:35 PM and I have gone an entire day with no TV. There were some panicky moments when I didn't know what I should be doing, but overall, I feel very peaceful right now.

Stay tuned--this could get interesting.

INTO THE MIST: JOURNEY INTO DEMENTIA

My book is here!

I told my writer friend Nikki that I felt a certain thing, something like post-partum depression--like giving birth and suddenly holding in your arms this baby and realizing that you know nothing at all about raising children.

I know nothing at all about being a published author. I never thought about being an author. I am not what one would consider a "writer." Not in the sense that writers think of themselves. Writers write--they can't not write. They love to write. Nikki can't not write--she writes on her blog nearly every day, if not every day.

I journal. I have always journaled because journaling puts the wild and crazy thoughts vying for attention in my mind, onto paper and as I put them onto paper, they seem to sort themselves out and I am able to see things clearly. Most importantly I am able to see Jesus in them, as he sorts them out. I asked Him to do this while John was sick; please Jesus, sort through this for me--it is way beyond me. He did. He does. Beth Moore humorously asks the question of her husband, pointing to her head, "Do you know what it is like to live in here!!!" That is how I feel sometimes. Believe me, you don't want to live in here.

So while John was sick I journaled everything because his dementia invaded my house, my soul, and turned everything into a maze of confusion. It invaded his soul; it took his soul into a netherland of long dark alleyways; places I could not go. I could only hide in Jesus during that journey, and found that He was enough--He was all I needed. You never know that Jesus is all you need until Jesus is all you have.

Now that season of my life is out there ("live" as the publisher calls it) and everyone will see that I am a mess, that I don't have it all together. They will see that even though I may speak to women's groups, teach Bible studies and do conferences in Honduras, I am still a mess. But my strong desire with this book is that I will fade into the background with all of my fear, panic and hysteria and people who read this book will see Jesus, standing calm, undisturbed, patient, as He carries this messed up little lamb in His strong and capable arms, and that indeed, somewhere in the midst of it all, His strength is being made perfect in my weakness.

DIVIDE THE PLUNDER!

The Lord gives the word and a great army [host of women] brings the good news. Enemy kings and their armies flee, while the women of Israel divide the plunder (Psalm 68:11-12 NLT).

After recently writing of taking the plunder, I was encouraged this morning as once again, reading through the Psalms for the 100th time, I saw this verse and realized the confirmation was from Him. The great army in the Hebrew of this passage, is a “host of women.” And these women divide the plunder.


Amazing, this God we serve, and the more we know Him, the more we love serving Him. The more we long to know Him, the more He will reveal Himself to us.


It is not the serving that we long to do, it is the knowing Him. Sitting quietly in His presence before sunrise, opening His word, hearing Him speak ever so gently to us, comforting us, correcting us, instructing us, teaching us, discipling us; this can never be substituted with serving, going to Church, or even witnessing to others.


This morning, as I read this Psalm again in the New Living Translation, it was amazing to me that this phrase “great army” was translated as“host of women.” I looked it up in other translations and found that only the NASB translated it the same way. “The women who proclaim the [good] tidings are a great host.” All other translations I read translate it as a “company” or "army." Strongs identifies it as the gathering of an army, although the word “tsaba” for “company” is in the feminine.


I will go with the idea that the great army or company spoken of in this passage was indeed a host of women, or at the very least, included women, which of course, it does. And “she” divides the spoil, or plunder.


Regardless, God spoke to me this morning, and confirmed that He indeed is calling us to take plunder from the enemy attacks that are coming fast and furious against us.


I feel I have been in a war this past year, and at times I became so weary that others had to carry me off the battlefield. The war increased immediately after my last writing of taking the spoils, as though the enemy wanted to taunt me and remind me that this war was far from over, he had yet one more scheme up his sleeve.


Yet in the cacophony of the war noise, I heard Jesus. He reminded me that He is in my son and that “Christ in you, the hope of Glory” (Col. 1:27), is a living Word (Hebrews 4:12), a fact, not merely a promise for the future. It is for now, this moment. And Christ in my son is the hope of God’s glory. It is not hope based on wishful thinking; it is hope that knows truth—that where God dwells, there will be glory. God, not my son, will bring glory to Himself, even through this time of war over his mind, will and emotions (soul). God will glorify Himself in it.


This truth is the plunder. And I shall divide the plunder.

Taking the Spoils

After a long, bitter year, filled with such inconsolable sorrow that I felt I may drown in my tears over the separation of my son and his wife, I found myself once again faced with the holidays and feeling the pain of so many losses. I cried out to Jesus that I felt I was not recovering from this loss as I had with the loss of John. Or, with the other losses I have experienced since 2000, beginning with my Dad's cancer and death, then two years later the death of my niece Jennifer, then two years later with Adam’s divorce and a few months after that the discovery of John’s dementia, and then four years after that, John’s death. With each of those losses, I seemed to grow into Jesus through it. With this loss only one and a half years after John's death, I was growing away from Him, my feelings were hurt; I just didn’t want to hurt anymore and I no longer cared about anything.


A few days ago, on December 10, 2010, I wrote the following:


“I have not taken the spoils from this trial. I have wasted this pain. I have not plundered the enemy. I haven’t written of it or learned from it, nor poured out of it into the lives of others hurting in the same way.”


I wrote this after re-reading from my book, and after writing of what the publisher had said to me when he read the manuscript: “Thank you for not wasting your pain.”


Beth Moore speaks of the children of Israel coming out from Egypt and the instruction from God to plunder the Egyptians; take all of the gold, silver and valuables of the Egyptians with them when they escaped. Taking plunder from the years of suffering the Egyptians had inflicted upon them was His way of giving them their reward for the suffering. It can be seen in every war in the Bible—plunder the enemy. God later asked the children of Israel to bring that same plunder and offer it for the building of the tabernacle. They were to give it all back to Him. And He used it in the construction of the most holy place in the tabernacle. (By contrast, they had also used some of this plunder to make a golden calf to worship before He built the tabernacle.)


When we suffer through some difficult and painful trial in our lives, God will take it all and sort the precious from the vile and we are to take this plunder—the precious things He taught us about Himself in the midst of the suffering—and bring it out with us when He delivers us from the bondage of our time in Egypt. Egypt is not simply a representation of our lives of sin; it is a representation of our lives in bondage to some difficult trial or time of suffering. When He brings us out of our Egypt and we bring out the plunder, He will then take those spoils of victory and use it to build into His tabernacle where He dwells. What is His tabernacle today? It is His body of believers—the building of the temple, made up of His living stones—us. If we keep the precious things to ourselves, we will miss out on the very purpose of our time of suffering—we will waste it. But, when we bring it to that place where He is building the most holy place in His tabernacle, and allow Him to take those painful experiences to build into the life of some bedraggled pilgrim who is suffering along the way, to offer them hope and comfort and encouragement, then the suffering will not be wasted; it will be poured like living water into another life for the glory of God.


Many of us prefer to hide our personal Egypt away and “handle it” without letting on that we are also poor and needy and desperate believers. We do this, I think, because we are taught to keep up that appearance that everything is good—after all, we are Christians and we are expected to live in victory, peace and rest. Or, we do it because we are too proud to let others see what a mess we really are; that we don’t really “have it all together.” Others invite everyone into the process, exposing the underside of the abundant life—the underside where the cost of the abundant life is exposed, where everything is not good, and doesn’t feel good. Hopefully as this pilgrim invites everyone along to witness their failings of faith, their struggles through the process, there will be some poor soul who has felt ashamed that their faith was not as great as those who never seem to suffer emotional pain, whose lives seem to never drown under waves of sorrow, or who never struggle with their faith along the way. Hopefully these struggling believers will be nourished by this underside view of a believer’s life and urged along into the top side of the abundant life—where the victory is obvious.


When I wrote that I had not taken the spoils of this trial and plundered the enemy, I wrote out of utter defeat because I wasn't recovering from it, but from that defeat, God seemed to be bringing me out into a place where He would begin the process of building the pain into the tabernacle. I felt the first glimmer of peace and hope that I have felt in a long while.


This morning, reading from Streams in the Desert, after hearing this truth from Jesus, I was amazed to see the affirmation from Jesus that He is up to something again in my life:

In all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loves us (Romans 8:37).

"… He wants us to be ‘more than conquerors,’ turning storm clouds into chariots of victory. It is obvious when an army becomes ‘more than conquerors,’ for it drives its enemies from the battlefield and confiscates their food and supplies. This is exactly what this Scripture passage means. There are spoils to be taken!


Dear believer, after experiencing the terrible valley of suffering, did you depart with the spoils? When you were struck with an injury and you thought you had lost everything, did you trust in God to the point that you came out richer than you were before? Being ‘more than [a] conqueror’ means taking the spoils from the enemy and appropriating them for yourself. What your enemy had planned to use for your defeat, you can confiscate for your own use."


I am beginning to understand why God uses illustrations from war and battlefields so often in the Bible. War is not a good thing—it is bloody, it leaves wounded lying in pools of blood, it ravages the landscape and ravages the landscape of lives. It is not pretty to look at; we cannot paint war in rosy pictures of positive thinking. The point is not to deny that a war is going on, but in the war, to see the end result. Someone has to win and someone has to lose the war. I don’t know where the paths of 2011will take me, but I know Who is taking me and because He is more than a conqueror, I will also be more than a conqueror in Him, even if I sometimes stumble and falter along the way.


“Now thanks be to God who always leads us in triumph in Christ, and through us diffuses the fragrance of His knowledge in every place” (2 Cor. 2:14).


Thanks to every soldier on the battlefield who, though wounded and bleeding themselves, came back to help me up.

Suffering!

This can’t be right, we think. Either there is no God or God is mad at me. He can’t be with me or this wouldn’t be happening.


Timothy Keller writes eloquently of suffering. His gentle perspective helps me to make sense of the things my mind refuses to understand. Here is an excerpt from his sermon "Christian Hope and Suffering."

Suffering: The Servant of Our Joy

Timothy Keller

So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison.

2 Corinthians 4:16-17

We live in a unique culture. Every other society before ours has been more reconciled to the reality that life is full of sorrow. If you read the journals of people who lived before us, it is obvious they understood this, and that they were not surprised by suffering. We are the first culture to be surprised by suffering. When Paul writes to the people of his day, “We do not lose heart, though outwardly we are wasting away,” he speaks of suffering as a given.


Greek scholars will tell you Paul was not just talking about the body as wasting away, but about life in this visible world. He was saying that everything in this world is wearing away. Everything is steadily, irreversibly falling apart.


Our bodies are wearing away. Our hearts are like wind-up clocks with a finite number of clicks that are clicking away. Our physical appearance and attractiveness are wearing away, and we can’t stop it. Our relationships are wearing away. Get a group of friends around you, and time and circumstance will eventually pull you apart. Our families are wearing away, dying off one at a time. Our skills are wearing away. You can’t stay on top of your game forever. Everything is like a wave on the sand. You can’t pin it down; it starts to recede from you.


Paul writes about “wasting away” to a group of people who have suggested that he can’t be trusted, that God is obviously not with him. One reason Paul can’t be trusted they suggest, is that he has experienced an inordinate number of tragedies and difficulties. And, in fact, Paul makes a list of them in 2 Corinthians 11:24-28.


The people in Corinth were saying, How can God be with a man when all that stuff happens to him? Surely when God’s with you he protects you. When God is with you, you prosper. I’ve been traveling the Mediterranean all my life and I’ve never been shipwrecked, and this guy has been shipwrecked three times?


It’s similar to the thinking of Job’s friends had about Job’s suffering. Job’s friends said If God is with you, this wouldn’t happen. God can’t be with you. If he was, he’d protect you.


And we ask ourselves the same thing, don’t we, when one thing after another goes wrong, when we’ve reached the bottom and find out there’s lower to go?


This can’t be right, we think. Either there is no God or God is mad at me. He can’t be with me or this wouldn’t be happening.


How does Paul respond to this premise? Paul doesn’t just say God is with him. He goes further. He says that the suffering and hardship he has experienced is not a denial of the gospel, but a confirmation of the gospel.


He writes, “We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed; we always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus’sake, so that his life may be revealed in our mortal body. So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you” (2 Cor. 4:8-12).


Paul is saying that the way of the gospel is death leading to resurrection, weakness resulting in triumphant exaltation. Paul is saying that the way the gospel works in Jesus’ life is the way it is working in his life. He’s saying that just as Jesus’ suffering and death led to greater life, he is finding that the same thing is happening in his life. “My deaths seem to lead to greater life,” he’s saying.


The suffering he experiences because he is trying to minister lead to greater life in other people’s lives, as they hear the gospel and experience spiritual life.


And this doesn’t just happen in the lives of people in professional ministry. I know a number of people—doctors and lawyers and the like, who, rather than stepping onto the ladder of professional and financial upward mobility, have decided to serve under-served people. They’ve given their lives to working with the poor in places off the beaten path. And when a person does that, they fall out of the structure of their profession. They kind of go off the radar, and find they can’t advance. But they also find that their career death produces greater life.


When we suffer for doing the right thing, when we choose to live unselfishly, we find that our “death” leads to greater life for those around us.


But is it not only people around us who experience greater life when we suffer. In Romans 5:3-5 Paul says, “We also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perservance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us.”


Now what is he saying there? He’s saying, “My suffering not only leads to greater life in those around me, but in me.”


It’s like what happens to an acorn. Do you know how much power there is in an acorn? An entire huge tree can come out of a small little acorn. And out of that tree can come innumerable other trees. One acorn has the power to fill a continent with wood.


But only if it dies. Only if it “falls to the ground and dies” (John 12:24) is that enormous power released.


Every human soul in the image of God has infinitely more life potential than an acorn. Every soul as the capacity for compassion, beauty, greatness, composure, and character—but it will not be released until there is a death, the death that comes through suffering and trials.


Unless a seed falls into the ground and dies, it cannot bear life. Suffering leads to life, but that seed has to fall to the ground.


What God said to Jesus and to Paul, and what he says to us is, “My power always comes to perfection through weakness. My power can only explode into your life through your weakness.”


Death in us will work life in us and in others around us. That’s our hope.