So I'm sitting in youth group and our leader, Emily, says that she's about to put me on the spot. In situations such as this, I can usually deduce that she's about to ask me about food or Judaism. This time it was about Judaism. I was then asked to briefly describe the Passover seder to a bunch of teenagers.
I talked about the haggadah, the seder plate, the songs, the cups of wine, the blessings, and the Exodus story that the meal centers itself around. (I get very excited and rambly whenever I talk about Judaism, so I'm not sure what the kids got out of it) Emily then connected the Passover seder with the Last Supper of Christ and the act of taking Communion. Naturally this brought to mind my own experiences with Communion in the Catholic church that I've relayed in prior posts. When Emily's husband Phil brought up the Biblical principal stressing the importance to resolve personal conflicts before taking communion, Emily shot me a knowing smile.
Months before, we were doing a youth group lesson on anger with our kids. I told them a story about when I was younger, maybe 8 or 9 since that seems to be the brattiest of ages. I was particularly mouthy to my mother one Sunday and it just happened that our church was serving Communion that day. I think it is a universal agreement amongst children that Communion Sunday is the greatest of all Sundays. Back in my day when children of a certain age were expected to sit through sermons, Communion was like the consolation prize for being bored out of your mind for three out of four Sundays of the month. I would draw pictures on every spare space of the bulletin, just hoping that someone would send a cube of bread and an ounce of grape juice my way. On the Sunday in question, the bread and juice made their rounds and my mother deliberately passed the plates over my head to the family next to us. This was the greatest of all wrongs in my book. I had EARNED that cube of bread with four Sundays' worth of long winded stories, bad jokes, and the occasional old guy speaking in gibberish (Pentecostal upbringing). My mother told me that in light of our fight that morning, it would be a sin for me to take Communion.I must have felt truly wronged because I've remembered this story ever since, although for slightly different reasons. In retrospect, obviously my mother was completely in the right. So yesterday, as we all discussed the significance of both the Passover seder and the act of Communion, I really dwelled upon the relational element of both.
Passover, for me, has always been a no-brainer on the food and people level. I fell in love with Passover around the same age and church as the Protestant Communion debacle. A Messianic Jewish pastor was visiting our church and showing our congregation what a traditional Jewish Passover seder looked like. I was absolutely enthralled with a religion that celebrated all of its major holidays with big meals. After the seder ended, we were invited to come up and try the different foods on the seder plate. If you're unfamiliar with the elements of a seder plate, you should know that there are two foods that are always present that, coincidentally, happen to look nearly identical to the untrained eye: charoset and horseradish. Charoset is basically apples, nuts, honey, and grape juice that are pulverized in a food processor. Horseradish is...well, horseradish. It burns. So with all the tenacity that a 9 year-old chubby kid can possess, I grabbed the nearest spoon, scooped up a heaping tablespoon of charoset into my mouth, and swallowed. Except that it was actually the horseradish. And it burned like only a heaping tablespoon of horseradish can burn. I can honestly say that even now, nearly two decades after the event, I still have an uncanny sense of smell. Once again, however, it's the painful story that has stuck with me. In fact, the fire of the horseradish somehow morphed into a firy passion for all things Jewish. I'm already making preparations for this year's Passover Seder which happens to fall on the very last day of the Lent(il) Project itself. I find it quite fitting, actually, that the project which began on a holiday of repentance and personal sacrifice should end on a weekend full of Jewish and Christian holidays that celebrate freedom and redemption.
It's kind of a joke amongst my friends that my love language is food. Compliments on my appearance and writing usually make me feel awkward, but I genuinely need a compliment on my cooking. I'll even take a criticism if it's from the right person. The point is, I cannot disconnect the relational element of food anymore than I can disconnect the relational element of God; they are one in the same, which is probably why I'm so apt to celebrating both traditions of Passover and Holy Communion. Yesterday, after the discussion with the youth group about Passover and Communion, I actually went on to make bread for that evening's dinner. It wasn't even a planned thing. Homemade bread consists of like 3 ingredients and so I started the dough on Saturday night so that by Sunday evening, I literally broke the bread with my community of loved ones.
Mind. Blown.
as always, Love <3
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