Matzah, Memories and Motivation...

Ian,

The inspiration for this blog started with a meeting in the Blackstone Launchpad. There I spent time advising an aspiring entrepreneur from The University of Texas who graduated from Anderson High School. As we talked, it became clear he knew who you were. He was on the JV soccer team when you were on the varsity soccer team. You were a senior, first-year goalie. I still remember the announcement from the PA system - words you wrote yourself on Senior Day to answer the question, “What is the most surprising thing people never knew about you?” Your answer was - “That I play soccer!” Yet there you were starting your first game and holding Bowie, the best team in the district, to just three goals. You gave your mom a yellow rose that night - you gave us all a lifetime of memories!

Anyway, back to the Launchpad meeting. This ex-Anderson student remembered your strength, smile and energy. He said he did not know you - but your presence was not forgotten. This whole conversation arose when he and his friend were describing going to the “J” to work out. I told them that I knew the "J" and there you would go with Evan, Adi and your other Jewish friends in the evenings and on weekends. It got me thinking about the blessings we have enjoyed as a family with so many Jewish friends and deep connections over the years. Much to be thankful for - to be sure. 

Mom and I grew up in Texas - it does not get less Jewish than that…yes, we had Jewish friends, but we were largely unaware of the rich cultural heritage we as Christians owed to our Jewish brothers and sisters. When we moved to Maryland, we saw the rich culture of the Jewish society among the friends I worked with at the National Institutes of Health or in our neighborhood. The holidays, the food, the family - these were really new experiences and good ones at that!

At Derwood Bible Church in Maryland, where you were dedicated to God and grew up in the nursery, we received an education as well. Jews for Jesus used the storage room on Derwood's property to hold its supplies to educate Christians on our Jewish heritage. They also reached out to the large Jewish population in the region with the Gospel. It was at Derwood that we learned that the “Last Supper” was really a Seder - which had its origins with the Jews all the way back to Moses! We began to understand Jesus as a Jewish carpenter, a Jewish Rabbi, the Jewish Messiah - not just a white guy as Southern culture often portrayed Him.

It was in Maryland that Mom and I began to see the concept of remembering Jesus and His command being so central to this Seder or “Last Supper” meal. We were commanded by Jesus to remember His passion - His death - through the meal. The Christian church loves to remember Christmas and Easter - as well it should - but it often did not focus on the good of “Good Friday.” That was the actual “event” Jesus called us to remember and we would often “pass it over” for the Sunday Easter egg hunts! So, starting in Maryland and extending through our time in California and Texas, we often hosted a Good Friday worship service with our “growth groups,” “small groups,” or just friends. We also celebrated Seder officially with Jacqueline and her family in CA - but mostly - we did our own Christian adaptation on the Friday night.

You, Danny and Caylea were actively involved. You always loved buying the Matzah (Matzo) crackers. The crackers - we often shopped at Albertsons or Randells together to get them. No one really like these unleavened, salty snacks - but you! You always loved salty things. Our family has a distinctive sweet tooth - but you would trade dessert for chips any day. You loved salsa, chips - even as a toddler. But I remember you and the Matzah. After our Good Friday service, you were released to “clean up” the remains and would eat nearly an entire box! I know we had Matzah dough soup at the NY Deli near the house - underwhelming and not as good as the crackers as I remember it!

The Good Friday event was usually simple. We would play music, read Scripture and discuss the meaning of Jesus’ sacrifice among the group. You kids always gave your thoughts and were so passionate about the meaningfulness of that special night. We then would share the Matzah crackers and then grape juice or wine. It was a touchstone of worship in our family. I wish we still did these services, but we stopped as our church network withered and our struggle to connect grew with your passing.

As I look at five years since you have gone Home, I remember our last Easter celebration together - at the Austin Stone, at the Erwin Center, then at Taco More. No Good Friday that year - too spread out as a family. But at the Stone, sang during our last Easter together - “Love Shines,” “God Undefeatable,” “Hallelujah What a Savior,” and other songs with 12,000 other worshipers. I remember our last worship service together - that Sunday before the 19th - at a church in College Station with Nico drumming. You sat with Mom and I and sang, listened and had a deep commentary about what the preacher said “right” and what he “missed” ready when we got into the car. I do not remember the details, but I do recall that I felt you were right on the mark. Your spiritual insight and passion had not waned over the years. You still felt the imperative of our Savior’s call. I remember His call as well - in it alone is our eternal hope.

You went Home the afternoon of April 19th - almost 5 years ago to the day. There is not a moment, a day, that I do not miss you. I wonder where you are and why you were taken away. I am different than I was then and I see the promises in the Bible differently. I felt that “God owed me” protection and blessing for my family and that much of the meaning of His promises of protection and blessing were for this life. Alas, I was wrong. As I look back at the Bible with fresh eyes, it is clear that this world is not the place for fulfillment of so many “promises” especially in the Jewish Scripture. Life is full of sadness and disappointment. Our hope, the fulfillment of these precious promises, is not here but in the “Kingdom come.”

This last Sunday, after my meeting at the Launchpad with the former Anderson student, I thought anew of the wine and the bread as we took communion at the Stone. I recalled that the first report of Jesus’s transformation of the Seder and the connection with the Kingdom comes in 1 Corth. 11 from Paul:

• 23 For I received from the Lord what I also delivered to you, that the Lord Jesus on the night when he was betrayed took bread, 24 and when he had given thanks, he broke it, and said, “This is my body, which is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” 25 In the same way also he took the cup, after supper, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.” 26 For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord's death until he comes.

At that “last supper,"  Jesus transformed the elements of the Seder - the Matzah with its stripes and breaking illustrated His suffering and physical death. The cup of wine took on the significance of the Lamb that was slain for all men’s salvation.

The last words of Paul’s description have become more significant now - with us being separated. Yes, we celebrate the Seder, communion, "Last Supper" and “as often as we drink it” we remember Jesus. But we do not just look backward at His death, we also look forward. “For as often you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until He comes.” It reminds us that death was not the end for Jesus, nor is it the end for you, or me. The Lord will return and bring His Kingdom anew. This is our hope. This is our prayer. It is in the “Kingdom come” that we will meet again, see all promises fulfilled and once again share the Lord’s Table - but this time with the Savior as He drinks again of the fruit of the vine in His Father’s Kingdom.

So, on April 19th’s, I will celebrate the bread and the cup - proclaiming the Lord’s death, His resurrection, His return and our reuniting - all at the same time. I will celebrate this in faith. It is my hope as your Father and fellow pilgrim.

I love you my son. I miss you more than you could imagine.

Dad