Journey to the Cross: God, the Ultimate Baker

Now the festival of Unleavened Bread, which is called the Passover, was near. The chief priests and the scribes were looking for a way to put Jesus to death, for they were afraid of the people.

Then Satan entered into Judas called Iscariot, who was one of the twelve; he went away and conferred with the chief priests and officers of the temple police about how he might betray him to them. They were greatly pleased and agreed to give him money. So he consented and began to look for an opportunity to betray him to them when no crowd was present.

Then came the day of Unleavened Bread, on which the Passover lamb had to be sacrificed. So Jesus sent Peter and John, saying, “Go and prepare the Passover meal for us that we may eat it.” They asked him, “Where do you want us to make preparations for it?” “Listen,” he said to them, “when you have entered the city, a man carrying a jar of water will meet you; follow him into the house he enters and say to the owner of the house, ‘The teacher asks you, “Where is the guest room, where I may eat the Passover with my disciples?”’ He will show you a large room upstairs, already furnished. Make preparations for us there.” So they went and found everything as he had told them; and they prepared the Passover meal.

When the hour came, he took his place at the table, and the apostles with him. He said to them, “I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer; for I tell you, I will not eat it until it is fulfilled in the kingdom of God.” Then he took a cup, and after giving thanks he said, “Take this and divide it among yourselves; for I tell you that from now on I will not drink of the fruit of the vine until the kingdom of God comes.” Then he took a loaf of bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to them, saying, “This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” And he did the same with the cup after supper, saying, “This cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood. But see, the one who betrays me is with me, and his hand is on the table. For the Son of Man is going as it has been determined, but woe to that one by whom he is betrayed!” Then they began to ask one another which one of them it could be who would do this.

A dispute also arose among them as to which one of them was to be regarded as the greatest. But he said to them, “The kings of the Gentiles lord it over them; and those in authority over them are called benefactors. But not so with you; rather the greatest among you must become like the youngest, and the leader like one who serves. For who is greater, the one who is at the table or the one who serves? Is it not the one at the table? But I am among you as one who serves. --Luke 22:1-27 (NRSV)

Tonight, we remember the last night Jesus spent with his disciples celebrating the Passover meal. We remember that the early church would gather for Agape meals or love feasts to remember Jesus’ life and ministry, to affirm their communal identity as the body of Christ, and to share food and resources so everyone would have enough. 

Tonight, we gather at many tables in many different homes to remember that meal so long ago when Jesus gathered with his dearest friends, his disciples. We remember the wilderness around us: isolation, illness, unemployment, homelessness, racism, violence, fear, uncertainty, grief. We also remember the wilderness to come for Jesus: betrayal, denial by his closest friends, suffering and death. 

Yet, in this wilderness through which we have been walking, and in the wilderness Jesus would experience, there would be moments. Moments of the unexpected. Moments of new realization. Moments of learning.

Over this past year, I’ve become a YouTube watcher. Some of this certainly has to do with the algorithms that continue to offer videos that draw me in.  Many of them have been about food and cooking. And bread baking. Perhaps, it’s the bread baking videos that catch me most, because, I don’t know about you, but there is something about a freshly baked loaf of bread that brings back many memories. Memories of my mother, who, for many years, would diligently bake a couple of loaves of bread each week.

I recently watched a video by Peter Reinhart, author of many books on baking bread. In it, he talked about the transformational aspects of bread. He suggested that to fully understand what it is about bread that is so special - the metaphorical and mystical aspects of bread baking - we must understand it at the most literal level. 

So what must happen to create a loaf of bread? Bread first begins as wheat. A grass that grows in the field at some point puts out seeds. That we harvest. Harvesting is really just a euphemism for killing. The wheat gives up its seeds, which, for the wheat plant are a promise of future life. But, instead the seeds are given up, crushed, and turned into flour. The plant is killed and denied the potential for creating future life. So, the first transformation, which is a radical change from one thing into something else - the first transformation is that the wheat stalk moves from being alive to dead.

Next, the flour is merged with water and salt. This creates something like a clay that is then infused with yeast or leaven. The word “leaven” is related to the word “enliven” - to bring life. The Hebrew word for clay is adam. The baker, according to Reinhart, is the god of the dough. When the leaven is added to this clay, it grows. Or proofs, in baker terminology. It proves that there is life. There are things happening: the enzymes break forth sugar, the yeast eats the sugar, which turns to carbon dioxide. The bacteria eats that same sugar to turn to acid. The personality and character of the bread is being developed under the watching gaze of the baker. The bakers choices all along the way determine the outcome of the final product. A subtle change in temperature or time or something else can change the final product. Then, the dough that worked and kneaded to develop the gluten - this net that develops that holds the loaf together - yet all along, the dough continues to prove that it is alive and is developing character. This is the second transformation - when the wheat and the dough created from it has moved from being dead to being alive.

But, then, it’s time to bake. The dough, shaped and formed, is placed into an oven. When the bread reaches the temperature of 140 degrees it passes the TDP, the thermal death point. All life ceases there. The yeast, whose mission up to now has been to raise, to enliven the dough to complete its mission, has to give up its life. It moves from being alive to being dead. Another transformation.

The final transformation involves us. We eat the bread. It nurtures us and gives us life, thus completing the life cycle once again. 

Over and over and over again, this process of death and resurrection happens in the life cycle of the bread. In the same way, over and over and over again, this process of death and resurrection happens in the bread we eat in this meal. This final meal that Jesus shared with his disciples on that Passover Eve. A meal that would bring betrayal and death to Jesus. And yet, a meal that would bring life to the community he would leave behind, that he would infuse with his Spirit. That he would continue to transform through this meal - a meal that we still share today. A meal of bread and wine that is not simply about remembering, like the memories that I have of my mother baking bread. But a meal that is transformational. A mystical meal in which we believe that Jesus is present with us, here and now, continuing to transform us. Forgiving the dead parts of us. Bring life out of that death. Molding and shaping us into the people and the community God desires us to be. A people like Jesus. Humble. Serving. Loving. 

May we trust in and experience this transformation tonight and as we go throughout our lives, challenging as they may be in this very moment. May we remember that God is the ultimate bread baker. That God makes the ultimate choices. And that, in the end, God always brings life from death. Amen.

Preached April 1, 2021, online with Grace & Glory and Third Lutheran churches, Goshen/Louisville, KY.

Maundy Thursday

Readings: Luke 22:1-27; selections from John 13.

Promises Made, Promises Broken: Bitter and Sweet

Today, we are transported forward in time. Last week, we heard the story of Joseph and his brothers and how, in the midst of an evil committed against Joseph, God used this and turned it to good. Eventually preserving Jacob, Joseph’s father, and the entire clan from famine. At the end of last week’s story, we heard that Joseph and his brothers and all of their families remained in Egypt. 

Today’s story is some 400 years later. It comes from the book of Exodus. It’s important to note that this book begins with these words: “Now a new pharaoh came to power in Egypt who didn’t know Joseph.” In the chapters that precede today’s texts, we learn that this new Pharaoh is concerned with the growing power of Israel in his country. He fears that they may take over, because they have grown to be a large number of people. And so, to prevent this, the Pharaoh enslaves Israel.

Eventually, God calls Moses to lead Israel out of slavery to freedom. He will impose a series of plagues on Egypt - nine, in fact - to convince the pharaoh to let Israel go. None of them work. The pharaoh refuses to release them. 

So, God plans a tenth and final plague. It is here, where our story today begins, in Exodus, chapter 12. 

The Lord said to Moses and Aaron in the land of Egypt, “This month will be the first month; it will be the first month of the year for you. Tell the whole Israelite community: On the tenth day of this month they must take a lamb for each household, a lamb per house. If a household is too small for a lamb, it should share one with a neighbor nearby. You should divide the lamb in proportion to the number of people who will be eating it. Your lamb should be a flawless year-old male. You may take it from the sheep or from the goats. You should keep close watch over it until the fourteenth day of this month. At twilight on that day, the whole assembled Israelite community should slaughter their lambs. They should take some of the blood and smear it on the two doorposts and on the beam over the door of the houses in which they are eating. That same night they should eat the meat roasted over the fire. They should eat it along with unleavened bread and bitter herbs. Don’t eat any of it raw or boiled in water, but roasted over fire with its head, legs, and internal organs. Don’t let any of it remain until morning, and burn any of it left over in the morning. This is how you should eat it. You should be dressed, with your sandals on your feet and your walking stick in your hand. You should eat the meal in a hurry. It is the Passover of the Lord. I’ll pass through the land of Egypt that night, and I’ll strike down every oldest child in the land of Egypt, both humans and animals. I’ll impose judgments on all the gods of Egypt. I am the Lord. The blood will be your sign on the houses where you live. Whenever I see the blood, I’ll pass over you. No plague will destroy you when I strike the land of Egypt. --Exodus 12:1-13 (CEB)

I want to point out to you the opening verse of this reading. It’s really pretty fascinating. God tells Moses and his brother, Aaron, that this is the beginning of time for Israel. Their calendar is being reset. 

This is an important moment for Israel because it is from this point forward that their life will begin as God’s covenanted people - these descendants of Abraham, through whom God has promised to bless all people.

As we read the rest, we see that these instructions - or this liturgy - includes a very special meal. And a specific way to remember it. Each family is to take a lamb - an unblemished lamb - and keep it in the household for four days. And, then, they are to slaughter it. This lamb that has become part of the household, with whom the children have likely grown fond - after four days, they are to slaughter it. And, then, to prepare it and eat it. Leaving no leftovers. 

This isn’t a relaxed meal together. Israel is to be prepared to leave, to escape the bondange they have been experiencing. They are to eat with their clothes and their sandals on. Because God intends to kill the firstborn sons of Egypt on this night. The only thing that will save Israel’s first born sons will be the blood of the slaughtered lamb, painted on the doorpost. This ritual will prepare them for the journey and for their salvation. 

Our reading continues in chapter 13.

The Lord said to Moses: Dedicate to me all your oldest children. Each first offspring from any Israelite womb belongs to me, whether human or animal.

Moses said to the people, “Remember this day which is the day that you came out of Egypt, out of the place you were slaves, because the Lord acted with power to bring you out of there. No leavened bread may be eaten. Today, in the month of Abib, you are going to leave. The Lord will bring you to the land of the Canaanites, the Hittites, the Amorites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites. It is the land that the Lord promised your ancestors to give to you, a land full of milk and honey. You should perform this ritual in this month. You must eat unleavened bread for seven days. The seventh day is a festival to the Lord. Only unleavened bread should be eaten for seven days. No leavened bread and no yeast should be seen among you in your whole country. You should explain to your child on that day, ‘It’s because of what the Lord did for me when I came out of Egypt.’ --Exodus 13:1-8 (CEB)

The ritual coming out of this night will become the basis from this time forward of every Passover remembrance for the Jewish people. It will be known as the Seder meal and will consist of roasted lamb, representing the sacrifice made on this night. Included will be bitter herbs, as a reminder of the bitterness of life in Egypt. A paste made of fruit, nuts, spices and wine or juice - called the charoset - will bring to mind for Israel the mortar and bricks they made as slaves under Pharaoh. There will also be a vegetable, representing the backbreaking work of slavery. Finally, matzah will be included, reminding the Israelites of the unleavened bread, eaten that night, because there no time for the dough to rise. This ritual, this meal, will help Israel remember that the cost of freedom is high. That the gift of freedom often brings with it innocent victims. And that the destruction of oppressive systems comes with a price. Freedom isn’t free. 

When we are freed from this time of COVID, I wonder if we will begin to mark time in a new way - BC (before COVID) and PC (post-COVID). I wonder if we will be changed by this experience, like Israel. I wonder if we will remember. Will we, like Israel, engage in the rituals of remembering? It was this ritual of remembering that would begin to shape and form Israel as a people. It was this ritual of remembering that prepared Israel for the next steps - to go into a future unknown, led only by a God, not well known to them, but who knew them well. It was this ritual of remembering that would connect every future generation to this very moment - bringing them back to the point of liberation so they might remember, as our text reads, “what the Lord has done for me.” For me. This ritual marked a new day, a new calendar for Israel.

We, like Israel, are people of ritual. Ritual that shapes and forms us. That prepares us to go into an unknown future. That connects every generation to the moment of the sacrifice of our own Passover lamb. When we worship, when we remember our baptism, when we hear God’s Word, when we “take and eat” in communion, we, like Israel are being shaped and formed into a people - into God’s covenanted people. Not forgetting the cost of our freedom. But remembering what the Lord has done for us. For you. For me. And we are being prepared to go, dressed and with our running shoes on, led into an unknown future by a God who is faithful. Who overturns oppression. Who leads us out of bondage. Who keeps promises. And who remembers us.  Just as God Israel’s cries and remembered them so very long ago. 

May we be shaped by our own rituals of remembering. May we trust God’s promises. And may we live freely into the new day, to do God’s continuing work of liberation in our world. Amen. 

Preached October 4, 2020, online at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.

Pentecost 18

Readings: Exodus 12:1-13; 13:1-8; Luke 22:14-20

God's Greatest Promise: Known At the Table

On the first day of Unleavened Bread the disciples came to Jesus, saying, “Where do you want us to make the preparations for you to eat the Passover?” He said, “Go into the city to a certain man, and say to him, ‘The Teacher says, My time is near; I will keep the Passover at your house with my disciples.’” So the disciples did as Jesus had directed them, and they prepared the Passover meal.

When it was evening, he took his place with the twelve; and while they were eating, he said, “Truly I tell you, one of you will betray me.” And they became greatly distressed and began to say to him one after another, “Surely not I, Lord?” He answered, “The one who has dipped his hand into the bowl with me will betray me. The Son of Man goes as it is written of him, but woe to that one by whom the Son of Man is betrayed! It would have been better for that one not to have been born.” Judas, who betrayed him, said, “Surely not I, Rabbi?” He replied, “You have said so.”

While they were eating, Jesus took a loaf of bread, and after blessing it he broke it, gave it to the disciples, and said, “Take, eat; this is my body.” Then he took a cup, and after giving thanks he gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you; for this is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins. I tell you, I will never again drink of this fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father’s kingdom.” Matthew 26:17-30 (NRSV)

Grace and peace to you from God, our Creator, and from our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

I don’t know about your families, but in mine, the best place to hear things was at our dinner table. Whether it was at the end of a day, catching up on what was going on in our lives. Whether it was in our weekly Sunday dinner at the home of either my grandparents or my great aunt and uncle. Whether it was lingering at the table after a meal at our family reunion. It was at the table where we heard the news. Where we listened to the stories of our family. Where we learned who we were.

I’m sure it was not that different with Jesus and his disciples that Passover evening. After all, they’d been living closely with each other for three years. They’d traveled together throughout the rural areas of Galilee and, then, Judea. Learning from each other. Watching Jesus interact with people. Healing them. Granting forgiveness. Feeding thousands. They’d eaten many meals together. They’d also eaten the Passover meal together. Twice.

I wonder, though, if this meal didn’t feel a little different for them. This was the first time they were celebrating the Passover meal in Jerusalem. They came to Jesus and asked him where they should make preparations for this meal. I wonder how surprised they must have been when Jesus told them that everything was already prepared. And that, as they followed Jesus’ instruction, everything simply fell into place. 

I wonder, too, how distressing it must have felt to all the disciples when they heard Jesus’ prediction of how one of them would betray them. (The word in Greek really means “hand him over.”) Did they know then that it would be Judas who would hand Jesus over to the authorities? Did they know also know then that, by the end of the Passover celebration, all of them would have denied their relationship with Jesus?

I wonder if they knew the significance of that meal. When Jesus took the loaf of bread into his hands and blessed it, were they reminded of the thousands that had been fed that day with just a few loaves of bread and a few fish? Did it remind them of God’s promise to care for them, to give them their daily bread? To give them everything they needed to live?

When Jesus gave it to them (the Greek uses the same word here as that used to describe Judas’ betrayal - to “hand over”). When Jesus handed over the bread and wine to them, did they also know that Jesus was handing over his body? And his blood? 

And, then, when Jesus used the word “covenant,” were they reminded of the blood covenant that God had made with Israel at the base of Mount Sinai? How Moses had taken sacrificial blood and sprinkled it on the people as a reminder of their mutual covenant with God? A covenant that they broke time and time again? A covenant that was never broken by God? Did the disciples understand that, in this meal, Jesus was initiating a new covenant? A new promise that would be not only for Israel, but for the Gentiles? The ethnos, in Greek? For all the nations?

As they sat around the table that Passover night, reliving a tradition maintained over centuries, a tradition that was intended to remind them of God’s action in freeing them from bondage, did they fully know what was soon to happen and how it would change everything? I wonder.

Sisters and brothers, tonight, we, too, sit around a table, some 2,000 years after that first meal. We, however, have the benefit of hindsight. We know the ending to the story. How even though we, just like those first disciples, have betrayed Jesus in one way or another in our lives, how we have “handed him over” in much the same way. Yet, how, in this meal, Jesus hands over to us his body. And his blood. In this bread and wine. Given for you. For me. For all people. 

It is here, around the table, where we learn who we are as God’s children. What depth of love God must have for us that God would hand God’s only son over? For us? 

One can only wonder. Amen.

Preached April 18, 2019, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Maundy Thursday
Readings: Matthew 26:17-30, Psalm 116:12-15.