He’s begged to light the candles.
My dear man-child counts down to the last one. The tiny wicks bursting into light. 38 lit…… 2 more to go! His childlike excitement amazes me still.
Does he understand the heaviness of this evening’s meal? Does he understand true betrayal? I pray he never does. Does he understand the meaning of service, humble service? I pray he will, if he doesn’t already. Does he understand the heritage from Exodus? I pray tonight he will.
He helps me set the table. We set the plate of hope in the center along with the candles. The unleavened bread to remind us of Jesus breaking bread with His disciples. The grapes to be reminded of the service and to be fruitful. The Goodwill treasure, the goblet, a symbol of our communion of “take, drink.”
Mom, can I lift it up to God like Bro. Stephen?
I watch him cup the marble goblet within his man-child hands. He lifts it with such honor. Over his body as an offering to God. Isn’t that what we are to do with everything? Our pain, struggles, happiness, joy? Lift them in honor and offer them to God.
The matzo ball soup is served and we are gathered around the meal. I read from Exodus. We remember the plagues and the first Passover. We talk of the heritage. The reason God wants us to remember.
The Lamb of God.
So we may be passed over and carried into heavenly freedom.
Death, the separation of God, passed over our souls…..all because of the Lamb of God.
Do we truly understand the love poured out of this week?