I have
a confession to make: over the Easter season, I really enjoyed sprinkling all
the water around on all of you at the start of Mass each Sunday. On the somewhat rare occasions we have
incense, I also enjoy wafting that vaporized medium of blessing towards the
altar and giving it to a server to receive that same blessing myself before
sharing it with you. I’m not sure,
however, quite how I’d do with all of this sprinkling of blood Moses was doing
in the rite that made up our first reading.
I’m not sure how well we’d do at retaining sacristans and cleaners
either, if we did all of that. If the
priesthood of the new covenant had inherited from the old the need to sacrifice
young bulls… well, I don’t think I’d do very well at that either. Praying with these readings, preparing to
preach today, the first thought that came to my mind was: well, that’s not the
question, “how good are you at sacrificing bulls?” The question is, “How good are you at
sacrificing yourself.” And the first
answer that floated to my mind was: “honestly, not very.” But, then I heard a deeper answer resounding:
“but Christ is.”
Let me
back up, and go back to that rite Moses led the people through. Newly led by God out of slavery in Egypt,
they had camped at Sinai. God had given,
and they had received, the Ten Commandments, and Moses prepares to ratify the
covenant. He builds an altar, just as
has been done here for us, before most (but not all) of us were born. He proclaims the word of God, just as has
been done for us here, and the people respond with gratitude, “Thanks be to
God!” “Alleluia!” “Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.” The bulls are sacrificed, the blood collected
and splashed on the altar, representing God, and the people. Blood: the symbol of life. In ritual, God through Moses confirmed that
their life would be forever connected most intimately with His. God joined himself to them as blood-brothers. In covenant, he promised, “You will be my
people and I will be your God.” He threw
his lot in with theirs.
Now,
he goes even further. He has done more
than throw his lot in with ours, joining our lives; he has given us his
life. We are joined not by the blood of
bulls, but by his own blood. Christ, our
Passover, is sacrificed! Jesus has his
disciples prepare for him a place to celebrate Passover with them. Passover: that great Jewish feast in which,
in a meal, God’s saving action, leading his people out of slavery in Egypt, is
recalled and made present for them anew.
Preparing for this feast is much simpler than building an altar as Moses
did, but in this last preparation, Jesus shows his disciples his sovereignty,
his providence. He reminds them that he
is still in control, as in control then as he will be when he allows himself to
be handed over for sake of our salvation.
And these strange predictions and provisions aren’t given to impress
them, but to reassure them that the crucifixion is not failure on Jesus’ part:
it’s his will, to give himself in this way.
But
before the cross, at supper, he makes the table his altar. He proclaims his death, and in doing so
proclaims his resurrection. He promises
a future banquet when all will celebrate with new wine, and he proclaims his
presence now, while we await that fullness, in the breaking of bread and the
sharing of wine. He promises to remain
present to us in consenting to be broken for us, that we who like those first
disciples scatter, might be made whole.
He promises to remain present to us in feeding us, that we who hunger
might be built up. He promises union:
his blood coursing through our veins, enlivening body and soul alike.
And we
become what we receive. Here, at this
twofold table of the Lord’s Word and the Lord’s Supper, we are fed with
precisely what we need to receive and live out the gift of life that Christ
laid down for us. That self-sacrificial
love that he showed perfectly and we long to live out, while we still find it
within us to hold back… that love feeds us that we might become what we receive.
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