Rogue Reverend

Holy Wednesday

Today is the first day of Passover in Judaism. Many Jews get together with family and friends on the first and second night of Passover for the Passover meal, called the Seder (meaning order, because there is an order to the meal). The family follows an order determined by the Haggadah, a book that has the order and commentary.

The story is told of the Hebrew people’s exodus from slavery. There are props. During the meal, wine is poured and consumed four times. Everyone tilts to the side at certain times of the meal. At my friends’, the Rabbis’, home, dinner begins about 7:00 p.m., and I usually drive out at midnight, forgoing the final prayers in lieu of safe driving and sleep.

Frankly, it’s my favorite meal of the year (not just because of the wine!). Really.

Only this year, my Jewish friends have moved away. And I find myself really missing Passover.

I’ve only celebrated Passover with my friends three times, and yet, spring, Holy Week, and my birthday month don’t seem right without it. So I can imagine what it is like for the celebrants of the Passover during Jesus’ time. Skipping it would be like skipping Thanksgiving. Can you imagine the month of November passing without Thanksgiving? It would throw the whole holiday season off! And that’s precisely what missing Passover would do.

Passover meets some intense desire inside of me for ritual and for community.

I imagine Jesus following a Haggadah, reclining as he eats, drinking his four glasses of wine, and being with his friends and family for the Passover meal in Jerusalem, the final Passover of his life. I see him altering the Haggadah a bit, to reinterpret the wine into the martyrdom of his death. I feel him absorbing the energy of the ritual and community around him.

The final words of the Seder are “Next year in Jerusalem.” That intense longing for ritual and community resonate in those words for me today. And so I say to you, “Next year in Jerusalem.”