Passover

Caleb, Adara, and I sat snuggled on the couch. It was a cold morning; the first frost of a coming winter was on the ground and little clouds puffed from our mouths as we talked over the story before us. We were reading out of the Jesus Storybook Bible and, since it was Maundy Thursday, we were reading about “The Last Supper.” But the story didn’t begin there.

It began with explaining how, back then, the streets of Jerusalem were dirty and disgusting, filled with the rubbish of daily life, and how people’s feet were always picking up the filth of the animals and the people of the busy city. This was to emphasize why Jesus’ friends, His disciples, were not so keen to volunteer to wash feet before eating the Passover remembrance meal with Jesus. And of course I know the story: Jesus, King of Heaven, served instead of being served. He set the example that His friends, then and now, should follow. Then they ate the meal. But Jesus asked them to remember a new Passover, with broken bread and poured out wine, symbols of the sacrifice to come. A perfect sacrifice. His sacrifice. They finished, sang “their favorite song,” and went out to a garden.

After a bit of discussion I left the room, keeping the two little ones in suspense, to retrieve a “surprise.” I came back with a basin of warm water. I was going to wash their little feet.

Caleb was first and, as Adara looked on expectantly, the story that told of a time far away became a present reality.

“Are our feet stinky, Mommy?” We recalled all the things that might make “stinky feet” based on our Bible’s illustrations.

I explained how, just like Jesus washed the dirt from his friends’ feet, Jesus’ blood washes our hearts clean. Caleb seemed to ponder this, sitting in silence.

“Mommy, are you Jesus?”

It was the highest compliment I had ever received. Oh, to be mistaken for You, Lord!

I smiled.

“No, Baby, but when you love Jesus, His Spirit lives inside you and then you want to show love to people like He did. And when we love people like Jesus did, then we show that we also love God.”

I dried off Caleb’s feet. Adara danced around eagerly awaiting her turn. I pulled off a sock and Caleb reached out for the other. “I am part of a family so I help.” So my little girl’s toes plunged into the basin as I repeated the act of servanthood and love.

Afterwards, we celebrated communion as we remembered when Jesus broke bread for the last time with his friends. Adara squealed in delight thinking she was about to indulge in some kind of sweetie at the unfamiliar crinkle of plastic as I unwrapped the communion wafers. I was short on grape juice shorter on wine, so we drank watered down grapefruit juice as we remembered Jesus’ blood poured out to wash our hearts clean. After the cup had been passed around Caleb leaned over to me and whispered, “We drank the blood.”

I smiled.

As our time of remembrance came to a close I reminded the children that the disciples sang a song before they left to go to the garden. “What favorite song do you want to sing?”

“How about Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star?” And Caleb immediately led us all in song. Adara tilted her head and swayed, “singing” right along.

And I smiled.

Jesus, my Jesus, thank you for Your love. Beautiful. Sacrificial. Strong love. Stronger than death. Stronger than my weakness. Thank you for the blessed privilege of sharing the truth of your grace and mercy with my children, and in doing so reminding myself as well. I am in awe at Your gift of the cross. Thank You, thank You.