Exodus Passover Quotes

Death moved in the night, in search for blood, and when it found Life, it passed on by, like a cloud that moves by the face of the moon. When he found those dead without the red, he took the life before them born first, and the mourning emptied itself till the morning.

That's how I read the Bible. There are more than sixty references in Scripture to celebration and all but one or two of them are positive. Most of them are divine commands to go and party. Exodus and Deuteronomy and Numbers read like a string of invitations to a nonstop whirlwind of festival: "Celebrate the Feast of Unleavened Bread...Celebrate the Feast of Harvest...Celebrate the Feast of Weeks...Celebrate the Passover...Celebrate the Feast of Tabernacles...Celebrate." These were not quiet, sedate, well-mannered little tea parties. They were raucous, shout-at-the-top-of-your-lungs and dance-in-the-streets, weeklong shindigs. The heart of the prodigal home, shouting to His servants, "Bring the fatted calf and kill it. Let's have a feast and celebrate!" That's our God. You read this stuff enough, you start to get the sense that God is looking for just about any excuse to fire up the barbecue and invite the neighborhood over.

Instead of Passover pointing backward to the great sacrifice by which God had rescued his people from slavery in Egypt, this meal pointed forward to the great sacrifice by which God was to rescue his people from their ultimate slavery, from death itself and all that contributed to it (evil, corruption, and sin). This would be the real Exodus, the real “return from exile.” This would be the establishment of the “new covenant” spoken of by Jeremiah (31:31). This would be the means by which “sins would be forgiven”—in other words, the means by which God would deal with the sin that had caused Israel’s exile and shame and, beyond that, the sin because of which the whole world was under the power of death.

In the book of Genesis He is the Seed of the Woman. In the book of Exodus He is our Passover Lamb. In the book of Ruth He is our Kinsman Redeemer. In the book of Psalms He is our Shepherd. In the book of Isaiah He is our Prince of Peace. In the book of John He is the Son of God. In the book of Acts He is the Holy Ghost. In the book of Hebrews He is the Blood of the Everlasting Covenant. In the book of James He is the Great Physician. And in the book of Revelation He is the King of kings and Lord of lords!

The ritual of the blood on the lintel of the door, which protected the Israelites from the angel of death, is an apotropaic (avoidance) ritual, such that the family in question would be 'passed over' by the aforementioned denizen of death. Later Jewish and Christian ideas that amalgamated this story with ideas about the scapegoat’s providing a substitutionary remedy should not be read into the original tale. The scapegoat symbolized the removal of sin from the nation and perhaps the judging of a substitute. The blood of the Passover lamb on the door symbolized not a sacrifice for sin but rather protection from divine judgment. There is a difference.

At this juncture it is important to say something about Exodus 12:7. This verse implies that we are dealing with a ritual that did not involve atoning for sin, but rather was a rite of protection for God’s people, a different though not unrelated matter. It involved a blood ritual to avoid God’s last blow against the firstborn. Thus Passover and atonement were not originally associated, though apparently by Jesus’ day there were some such associations. Notice that nothing at all is said or suggested here about Israel’s sin, or about forgiveness. This ceremony is more like an insurance policy. Yes, the blood is to avert divine wrath, but it is not wrath against Israel’s particular sins. In this case they simply happened to be too close to the danger zone, or in the line of fire. We must assume that this blood ritual arose before there even was a fully formed priesthood, for it is highly unusual to have such a ritual without any mention of involvement of priests.

For a start, most books like this, rich in such expensive pigments, had been made for palaces or cathedrals. But a haggadah is used only at home. The word is from the Hebrew root ngd, “to tell,” and it comes from the biblical command that instructs parents to tell their children the story of the Exodus. This “telling” varies widely, and over the centuries each Jewish community has developed its own variations on this home-based celebration. But no one knew why this haggadah was illustrated with numerous miniature paintings, at a time when most Jews considered figurative art a violation of the commandments. It was unlikely that a Jew would have been in a position to learn the skilled painting techniques evinced here. The style was not unlike the work of Christian illuminators. And yet, most of the miniatures illustrated biblical scenes as interpreted in the Midrash, or Jewish biblical exegesis. I turned the parchment and suddenly found myself gazing at the illustration that had provoked more scholarly speculation than all the others. It was a domestic scene. A family of Jews—Spanish, by their dress—sits at a Passover meal. We see the ritual foods, the matzoh to commemorate the unleavened bread that the Hebrews baked in haste on the night before they fled Egypt, a shank bone to remember the lamb’s blood on the doorposts that had caused the angel of death to “pass over” Jewish homes. The father, reclining as per custom, to show that he is a free man and not a slave, sips wine from a golden goblet as his small son, beside him, raises a cup. The mother sits serenely in the fine gown and jeweled headdress of the day. Probably the scene is a portrait of the family who commissioned this particular haggadah. But there is another woman at the table, ebony-skinned and saffron-robed, holding a piece of matzoh. Too finely dressed to be a servant, and fully participating in the Jewish rite, the identity of that African woman in saffron has perplexed the book’s scholars for a century. Slowly, deliberately, I examined and made notes on the condition of each page. Each time I turned a parchment, I checked and adjusted the position of the supporting forms. Never stress the book—the conservator’s chief commandment. But the people who had owned this book had known unbearable stress: pogrom, Inquisition, exile, genocide, war.

This, of course, gives rise to the argument of the invalidation of the Old Testament with the coming of the New, the idea being that the actions of Jesus were so antithesis to the “laws” prescribed in Exodus and Leviticus that the modern Christian should base the standards of his doctrine on the teaching of the son of their god instead. There are several large flaws with this reasoning, my favorite being the most obvious: no one does it, and if they did, what would be the point of keeping the Old Testament? How many Christian sermons have been arched around Old Testament verses, or signs waved at protests and marches bearing Leviticus 18:22, etc? Where stands the basis for the need to splash the Decalogue of Exodus in public parks and in school rooms, or the continuous reference of original sin and the holiness of the sabbath (which actually has two distinctly different definitions in the Old Testament)? A group of people as large as the Christian nation cannot possibly hope to avoid the negative reaction of Old Testament nightmares (e.g. genocide, rape, and infanticide, amongst others) by claiming it shares no part of their modern doctrine when, in actuality, it overflows with it. Secondly, one must always remember that the New Testament is in constant coherence with proving the prophecy of the Old Testament, continuously referring to: “in accordance with the prophet”, etc., etc., ad nauseum—the most important of which coming from the words of Jesus himself: “Do not think I have come to abolish the law or the prophets. I have not come to abolish but to fulfill. Amen, I say to you, until heaven and earth pass away, not the smallest part or the smallest part of a letter will pass from the law, until all things have taken place.” (Matthew 5:17) And even this is hypocritical, considering how many times Jesus himself stood in the way of Mosaic law, most notably against the stoning of the woman taken by the Pharisees for adultery, the punishment of which should have resulted in her death by prophetic mandate of the Old Testament despite the guilt that Jesus inflicted upon her attackers (a story of which decent evidence has been discovered by Bart Ehrman and others suggesting that it wasn’t originally in the Gospel of John in the first place [7]). All of this, of course, is without taking into account the overwhelming pile of discrepancies that is the New Testament in whole, including the motivation for the holy family to have been in Bethlehem versus Nazareth in the first place (the census that put them there or the dream that came to Joseph urging him to flee); the first three Gospels claim that the Eucharist was invented during Passover, but the Fourth says it was well before, and his divinity is only seriously discussed in the Fourth; the fact that Herod died four years before the Current Era; the genealogy of Jesus in the line of David differs in two Gospels as does the minutiae of the Resurrection, Crucifixion, and the Anointment—on top of the fact that the Gospels were written decades after the historical Jesus died, if he lived at all.

One last element remained for the consecration of the Children of Israel. On the fourteenth day of the first month of Nisan the people all kept the Passover meal in their new base of operations at Gilgal on the plains of Jericho. The Passover was a feast that commemorated God’s tenth and final plague on Egypt, the death of the first-born. Before their exodus from Egyptian slavery the Israelites were commanded by Yahweh to slaughter a lamb and brush its blood over the doorposts of their homes. The Destroyer then came to kill the first-born of every family in Egypt, but passed over those with the blood on their lintels. It was the last plague that Yahweh sent on Pharaoh to bend his will. When Pharaoh’s own son succumbed to the Angel of Death, it did not merely bend Pharaoh, it broke him, and he let Moses and his people leave the land of the Nile.

Like us, they gathered together in great joy to celebrate the Exodus. The special meal for Pesach is called the Seder. The word Seder means “order.

But here at last we begin to discover why it has that all-conquering power. If the enslaving powers are to be overthrown, they must be robbed of their power base; and their power base is, as we saw, the fact that humans hand over power to them by worshipping them instead of worshipping the Creator, by the idolatry and consequent distortion of life that can be lumped together as “sin.” Once that sin has been dealt with, the power of the idols is broken; once the Messiah has been “made sin for us,” the way is open for the ministry of reconciliation to fan out in all directions. Inside the Passover-like victory over the powers is the end-of-exile dealing with sin; and the way sin is dealt with is by the appropriate substitution of the one who alone is the true representative. The one bore the sin of the many. The innocent died in the place of the guilty. This only makes sense within the narrative of love, of new Exodus, of end of exile—of Jesus. Put it into another narrative, and it becomes a dark, pagan horror. Put it back where it belongs, and it speaks of a compelling love. “The Messiah’s love makes us press on.

have argued that the early Christian view of Jesus’s death was focused on Passover and hence on the Exodus story, now to be experienced as the new liberating event that was also the great one-off “sin-forgiving” event. Though the language here is unique to this passage, the outline meaning—Passover and atonement, in fulfillment of the covenant and to forgive sins and cleanse from impurity—is the same.

Like so many other early Christians and in line with Jesus himself, Paul interprets the cross in relation to Passover: a new Passover, a new Exodus.

Redemption,” as we saw, is an Exodus term. These three chapters, like Galatians 4:1–11 only much more fully, constitute an Exodus narrative. Why would Paul want to write an Exodus narrative at this point? Because Jesus chose Passover as the explanatory setting for what he had to do. The early church from then on, as we have seen, used Passover as the basic route toward understanding why he died. Paul picks this up and celebrates it. Passover, as we have seen, had to do with the overthrow of the powers of evil, the rescue of God’s people as they passed through the waters of the Red Sea, the giving of the law, and above all the strange and dangerous Presence of God himself, fulfilling his promises, coming to dwell in the tabernacle, and leading the people on the long, difficult journey through the wilderness to their promised inheritance. All of these themes find their home in Romans 6–8 within the narrative of Messiah and Spirit. At their heart, again and again, is the Messiah’s death.

The blood of Jesus, by which He has ransomed and redeemed us (Acts 20:28; Romans 3:24–25; Ephesians 1:7; 1 Peter 1:18–19; Revelation 1:8–9; 5:9), justifies us before God the Father (Romans 5:9), cleanses us from all impurity (Hebrews 9:14; 1 John 1:7), and makes us holy (Hebrews 10:29; 13:12). Jesus gives us that blood to drink in Holy Communion (Matthew 26:27–28). There He sprinkles our hearts, not just our bodies, with His blood so that we are holy through and through (Hebrews 9:13–14; 10:21; 12:24; 1 Peter 1:2). In Communion, His blood speaks a better word to us than the blood of Abel (Hebrews 12:24). Jesus’ blood does not cry out for justice and revenge but for pardon and justification. It contradicts Satan when he condemns us for sinning against God and others for sinning against us; it covers and protects us with Christ’s own righteousness and holiness. By our faithful reception and reliance on His blood in Holy Communion, we stand under the protection of Christ, just as the Israelites were kept safe from the angel of death in Egypt by the blood of the Passover lamb (Exodus 12:21–27; Hebrews 11:28). Thus we overcome the evil one by the blood of Christ, the Lamb of God (Revelation 12:11).

One night above all other nights is the most important for a Jew you and that is the religious holiday of Passover. The Passover is celebrated in memory of the deliverance from the bondage of Egypt. The Egyptian’s, the original oppressors, had become the symbol of all the oppressors of all the Jews throughout the ages.

You shall not hate the Egyptians for having mistreated you so badly, not because they deserve your forgiveness but because you deserve better than to be permanently mired in the bitterness of the past. As long as your soul is corroded by hatred, you are still their slave. At the Passover Seder, when Jews celebrate the memory of the Exodus from Egypt, we taste a bitter herb before the meal to recall the bitterness of slavery, then immediately override the bitter taste with matzo and wine, symbols of liberation. Once we recognize that the thirst

Every word of prayer that issues from a man’s mouth ascends aloft through all firmaments to a place where it is tested. If it is genuine, it is taken up before the Holy King to be fulfilled, but if not it is rejected, and an alien spirit is evoked by it.”68 For example, “it is obligatory for every Israelite to relate the story of the Exodus on the Passover night. He who does so fervently and joyously, telling the tale with a high heart, shall be found worthy to rejoice in the Shekinah in the world to come, for rejoicing brings forth rejoicing; and the joy of Israel causes the Holy One Himself to be glad, so that He calls together all the Family above and says unto them: ‘Come ye and hearken unto the praises which My children bring unto Me! Behold how they rejoice in My redemption!’ Then all the angels and supernal beings gather round and observe Israel, how she sings and rejoices because of her Lord’s own Redemption—and seeing the rejoicings below, the supernal beings also break into jubilation for that the Holy One possesses on earth a people so holy, whose joy in the Redemption of their Lord is so great and powerful. For all that terrestrial rejoicing increases the power of the Lord and His hosts in the regions above, just as an earthly king gains strength from the praises of his subjects, the fame of his glory being thus spread throughout the world.

celebrations and with the Jewish festivals in particular. Hence the way in which Christian baptism celebrates a new kind of exodus, and the eucharist a new kind of Passover.

In light of this historical context, certain parallels between the Passover and the Last Supper become obvious. In the Passover, God remembered his covenant with Abraham. At the Lord’s Supper a new covenant was established between God and his people. In the Passover, Israel remembered their bondage and slavery in Egypt and how God delivered them. At the Lord’s Supper, believers are reminded of their former slavery to sin and Satan, but through Christ’s death we receive forgiveness and freedom from bondage to sin. In the Passover, the blood of a Passover lamb was smeared on the doorpost of each family as a sign of obedience to God. A lamb had to die to secure the freedom of those inside the house. At the Lord’s Supper, the blood of Christ, our Passover Lamb, has been shed. Jesus’s words recall and transform the rich symbolism of Passover, announcing the arrival of the new exodus and the inauguration of the new covenant.

Israel sacrificed a Passover lamb so as not have to sacrifice their firstborn sons. God, who is rich in mercy, sacrificed both.

The structural elements between Exodus and the gospels can be seen in two ways. First the Moses-Exodus typology can be seen throughout the gospels: Jesus is depicted as the new Moses (Matthew 5:1; John 5:46); He leads a new exodus (Matthew 2:13, 4:1-17; Mark 1:1–13; Luke 3:4-6); He gives a new law (Matthew 5-7); He supplies bread from heaven (John 6:32-34); He offers a new/final Passover (Matthew 26:26; Mark 14:22; Luke 22:19). Second, much of Jesus’ teaching fits into the language of covenantal texts: Jesus’ self- declarations as the God of the covenant (John 6:35, 8:12, 8:51), condemnation of Israel’s covenant breaking (Matthew 21:40–41; Mark 12:9), teachings on how to live within the covenant community (Matthew 5–7), blessings and curses of the covenant (Luke 6:20–26; Matthew 23), and even covenant discipline (Matthew 16:18–19, 18:15– 20).

The Passover was always on the 14th day of Nisan (Exodus 12:6). In A.D. 33, the 14th of Nisan was on April 3rd. Jesus’ birth in early 2 B.C. would have made him around 30–31 in Tiberius Caesar 15th year (Luke 3:1) in A.D. 29, making Him “about 30” when He started His ministry (Luke 3:23).

Finally, it is worth noting that according to Exodus, the Passover was not an “open table” but a covenant feast. Only Israelites could eat of it. Any Gentile “foreigner”—that is, a non-Israelite—who wanted to eat the flesh of the lamb first had to be circumcised and become a member of Israel (Exodus 12:43–49). In other words, this was no ordinary meal, but a sacred family ritual. Only members of the covenant family of God were able to partake of

The Jew refers to Shavuot as Atzeret (i.e. holding back, refraining) because after the Counting of the Omer, the festival of Passover gets linked to that of the Holdover (i.e. Pentecost). However, Pentecost in Roman Christianity signals the coming of the Holy Spirit 40 days after Easter. To the Jew, the Counting of the Omer, which starts the day after Passover, symbolizes the Exodus and the freedom from 49 gates of his impurities and falling -in the same incarnation- on the 50th gate is irreversible where soul correction becomes impossible. What is astonishing about all this is that all of these details are graphically expressed -according to the ancient Egyptian decanic Calendar- on the circular zodiac of Dendera where the symbol of the Pig anchors the 50th gate which the Pharaonic spirit of the Jew is trying to evade at all costs.

I cry, beg and plead for my freedom but as long as I refuse to educate myself, I'll never enter the Promised Land that was promised to Abraham. Jesus is the Passover Lamb, sacrificing himself to help us pass over the oppression of this slavery. It's a throwback story in the books of Exodus and Deuteronomy. My people listen to me; the Lord keeps his promises pass a thousand generations to eternity. Metaphysical theology, give Yahweh what's His to enter the land flowing with milk and honey. Righteousness is what makes He which is Him in me and I am as He is as we are one, it's a double edged sword, it's supreme knowledge for those who call out to the Lord.