Sweetness in the Pain
I love Passover. It is my all-time favorite holiday. Though I'm not ethnically Jewish, according to Ephesians 2, I've been adopted into a very old and well-established Jewish family. We don't celebrate all the holy days, and I'm not a practicing "Messianic Jew" but I do love Passover.
The biggest reason I love Passover is because of how beautifully it portrays the Gospel. It's absolutely incredible to see the pictures of the Messiah depicted in this millennia-old commemoration. Though not everyone will agree with me, especially Orthodox Jews, looking at Passover through the lens of the New Testament is just incredible. Many other wiser and much more learned people have gone into a hermeneutical explanation of how Jesus is the Passover Lamb. That's not what I'm trying to do here.
What I want to talk about here is a specific part of the Passover Seder, the charoset.
Charoset is a delicious mixture of finely chopped apples, honey, grape juice (or wine), and almonds or pecans. I prefer pecans, but that doesn't really matter. What matters is how it fits into the larger story of the Passover Seder.
Charoset is sweet, in a way that seems to defy the sum of its parts. But, that may be at least in part because of what it gets paired with during the service. The point of the service, and the point of the charoset are very important, so hang on as I try to explain.
The Passover Seder is a "rememberance." God initiated it as an annual observance to help the Children of Israel remember how they were set free from captivity in Egypt. It's really easy for this to get all formal and either professorial or theological, and I don't want to do that, because it misses the point. But, the bread Jesus broke during the Last Supper was matzah, and He dipped it into the "dish" with Judas, before Judas left to do his dirty work. Suffice that to say, it's a big deal!
The first time you eat matzah during the seder is with horseradish, so you can (in a sense) relate to and imagine the suffering of the Children of Israel during their captivity. The idea is to feel pain. And kosher-for-Passover horseradish is hot! Even if you take a small serving, you will probably feel it.
The second time you eat matzah, it is again with horseradish. But this time you also take a scoop of the charoset along with the horseradish. And the most amazing thing happens!! It doesn't make you cry!
The haggadah that we use in our family talks about the sweetness that can be found in a relationship with Jesus, and how He can make even the bitterest of sorrows bearable by being part of the journey. And that is the point of why I'm writing this today. My mother went to Heaven four months ago today. I haven't heard her voice, seen her face, or felt her hand on mine for four full months. Mom doesn't know Elli made Varsity for volleyball and basketball. She doesn't know that Sarah is passing O-Chem. She hasn't heard James or Eva read, she doesn't know Caleb played not one but two parts in the Christmas play! She doesn't know that Winnie is out of her walking boot, or that she even had surgery. Mom doesn't know any of these things. Because she's not here. Every day adds to the heartache, the pain, and the grief. And yet... because of Jesus, I have hope!
I'm not alone in my heartache. I'm not alone in my grief. I'm. Not. Alone. Because Jesus is with me.
That doesn't make the pain not hurt. It doesn't magically replace my mom or fill the hole she left behind or restore all the things that weren't restored when Mom went to Heaven. Instead, it sweetens the taste of horseradish enough that I'm not completely undone. I'm broken. I'm grieving. I'm lonely in a way I didn't know lonely could be. Part of me is missing from this planet and life will never be right away, just like life was never right again for Adam and Eve after they were kicked out of the Garden. Life will never be "back to normal." Life will never be "normal" again. And that's okay. Jesus is enough even for this.
When we celebrate Passover in the spring, it will be different. It won't be different just because my mama's seat will be empty (and we will have a place for her). It will be different because of the hope I have in Jesus, hope that will be so clearly described and explained as we go through the service, hope that looks forward to the day when I will see my mama again. And I know I will. When I do, it won't be like we saw each other here, through the "dark glass" (1 Cor 13:12), but we will see each other as we really are, fully sanctified, without any sin nature to create division or contention. Nothing for the evil one to exploit for his nefarious purposes. Oh how I long for that day!
Until then, I'm going to treasure the charoset that Jesus is in my heart, allowing Him to temper the pain and to share the tears. Such an incredible treasure.
The biggest reason I love Passover is because of how beautifully it portrays the Gospel. It's absolutely incredible to see the pictures of the Messiah depicted in this millennia-old commemoration. Though not everyone will agree with me, especially Orthodox Jews, looking at Passover through the lens of the New Testament is just incredible. Many other wiser and much more learned people have gone into a hermeneutical explanation of how Jesus is the Passover Lamb. That's not what I'm trying to do here.
What I want to talk about here is a specific part of the Passover Seder, the charoset.
Charoset is a delicious mixture of finely chopped apples, honey, grape juice (or wine), and almonds or pecans. I prefer pecans, but that doesn't really matter. What matters is how it fits into the larger story of the Passover Seder.
Charoset is sweet, in a way that seems to defy the sum of its parts. But, that may be at least in part because of what it gets paired with during the service. The point of the service, and the point of the charoset are very important, so hang on as I try to explain.
The Passover Seder is a "rememberance." God initiated it as an annual observance to help the Children of Israel remember how they were set free from captivity in Egypt. It's really easy for this to get all formal and either professorial or theological, and I don't want to do that, because it misses the point. But, the bread Jesus broke during the Last Supper was matzah, and He dipped it into the "dish" with Judas, before Judas left to do his dirty work. Suffice that to say, it's a big deal!
The first time you eat matzah during the seder is with horseradish, so you can (in a sense) relate to and imagine the suffering of the Children of Israel during their captivity. The idea is to feel pain. And kosher-for-Passover horseradish is hot! Even if you take a small serving, you will probably feel it.
The second time you eat matzah, it is again with horseradish. But this time you also take a scoop of the charoset along with the horseradish. And the most amazing thing happens!! It doesn't make you cry!
The haggadah that we use in our family talks about the sweetness that can be found in a relationship with Jesus, and how He can make even the bitterest of sorrows bearable by being part of the journey. And that is the point of why I'm writing this today. My mother went to Heaven four months ago today. I haven't heard her voice, seen her face, or felt her hand on mine for four full months. Mom doesn't know Elli made Varsity for volleyball and basketball. She doesn't know that Sarah is passing O-Chem. She hasn't heard James or Eva read, she doesn't know Caleb played not one but two parts in the Christmas play! She doesn't know that Winnie is out of her walking boot, or that she even had surgery. Mom doesn't know any of these things. Because she's not here. Every day adds to the heartache, the pain, and the grief. And yet... because of Jesus, I have hope!
I'm not alone in my heartache. I'm not alone in my grief. I'm. Not. Alone. Because Jesus is with me.
That doesn't make the pain not hurt. It doesn't magically replace my mom or fill the hole she left behind or restore all the things that weren't restored when Mom went to Heaven. Instead, it sweetens the taste of horseradish enough that I'm not completely undone. I'm broken. I'm grieving. I'm lonely in a way I didn't know lonely could be. Part of me is missing from this planet and life will never be right away, just like life was never right again for Adam and Eve after they were kicked out of the Garden. Life will never be "back to normal." Life will never be "normal" again. And that's okay. Jesus is enough even for this.
When we celebrate Passover in the spring, it will be different. It won't be different just because my mama's seat will be empty (and we will have a place for her). It will be different because of the hope I have in Jesus, hope that will be so clearly described and explained as we go through the service, hope that looks forward to the day when I will see my mama again. And I know I will. When I do, it won't be like we saw each other here, through the "dark glass" (1 Cor 13:12), but we will see each other as we really are, fully sanctified, without any sin nature to create division or contention. Nothing for the evil one to exploit for his nefarious purposes. Oh how I long for that day!
Until then, I'm going to treasure the charoset that Jesus is in my heart, allowing Him to temper the pain and to share the tears. Such an incredible treasure.
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