Pascal Lamb

     The garage door complains slightly as it rumbles up, admitting our van into the somewhat cluttered interior. As I swing out of the van the smell of roasting lamb, shallots, garlic, Rosemary, olive oil, potatoes, onions, and carrots greets me. I anticipate an excellent family dinner. Thoughts of Passover and the Pascal Lamb rise, competing with hunger. Soon, apron donned, I hustle around my kitchen, mixing, measuring, and yes, tasting. Horseradish, sour-cream, and dill work together in subtle bitterness. The lamb, rubbed with a puree of shallots, olive-oil, Rosemary, and garlic emits increasingly pungent odors as I make final preparations. Hastily, combined coarse flour, cumin, and caraway seeds kneaded, shaped on a stone replace the lamb in the oven. Coarse grains heat adding sweat earthiness to the mélange filling the kitchen. Glancing out the window, I smile as the final participants arrive.

     A few minutes later, sliced lamb, warm bread and vegetables steam on the table as we all gather round. We share a few thoughts about sacrifice, guilt, cleansing, bitterness, and forgiveness. Strange how God uses simple everyday things, meat, bitter herbs, crushed grapes, unrefined grains, and vegetables to remind us of His deep abiding sacrificial love. After prayer, thanking Him for His largess, we engage in our own Passover. Laughter and food pass round the table. Through His work and gift we enjoy each other. His forgiveness is the healing balm, the relational oil, which lubricates such joyful gatherings. His work, His sacrifice, His Love make this goodness, all goodness, possible.