Why did Jesus begin with turning water into wine?

Passover is about flooding the memory, binding the mind to the eternal. In evoking the past, meaning is restored to the present and hope assured for the future.

The power of memory: the key to Jewish survival...

“Why is this night different from all other nights?” This is the ancient question the youngest child asks at the Passover meal. The short answer for this and most Jewish festivals is, “They tried to kill us, they didn’t succeed, let’s eat!” The serious answer is the same but more elaborate: it is a celebration of God’s deliverance, freedom and new life

Passover carries cultural resonance like no other festival, being powerfully evocative even for those who do not fully grasp its spiritual significance.

The celebration of Passover has helped to ensure the survival of the Jewish people, reminding each generation of the hope of deliverance during dark times. One of the names for Passover is the Season of our Freedom (Heb. translit. Z'man Cheiruteinu). Yet freedom for the Jewish people has been elusive. During centuries of exile and persecution, the dream of Zion was kept alive at Passover in the final poignant line of the haggadah¹: “Next year in Jerusalem”.

"Passover was a journey of hope for all generations: from slavery to freedom, from darkness to light, from exile to restoration."

Empires rose and fell but this tiny people survived through centuries of persecution and exile. Why? Because God has preserved them. One of his tools for their preservation is their continual re-enacting of his deliverance at Passover. Abraham Joshua Heschel wrote in 1967, when the Temple Mount in Jerusalem, came back under Jewish control for the first time in 2000 years during the Six Day War:

Why did our hearts and minds throughout the ages turn to Eretz Israel [the land of Israel], to the Holy Land? Because of memory…There is a slow and silent stream, a stream not of oblivion but of memory from which we must constantly drink before entering the realm of faith. To believe is to remember. The substance of our very being is memory, our way of living is retaining the reminders, articulating memory.²

Passover was not simply about the preservation of the past; it was the key to the future. It was a journey of hope for all generations: from slavery to freedom, from darkness to light, from exile to restoration. Each generation is a link in the chain of the journey from slavery to redemption.

Reliving your memories

Passover is not just about recollection, but partaking. The story is revived each year with each generation taking its place as the subject of the narrative.

In every generation, every person must see himself as if he himself came out of Egypt, the haggadah instructs, because Moses commanded that when you eat the unleavened bread of Passover, “On that day tell your son, ‘I do this because of what the Lord did for me when I came out of Egypt’” (Ex 13:8).

From the Warsaw Ghetto Underground Press, April 1, 1942, the eve of Passover:

We are still having the festival of freedom at a time of inhuman slavery. And even though freedom is being trampled underfoot every day by the boots of the most terrible monster in all generations, it continues to flourish in our souls, and we believe and hope.

Passover, the most beautiful festival in our history, returns and revives the eternal idea of freedom in our memory. For [our] tortured [people] these days, it is a recollection of redemption. We understand today [more] than before the meaning of the words, ‘In every generation, every person must see himself as if he himself came out of Egypt.’ It is the command of history. No generation may forget the experiences that the people underwent in the foreign diasporas.³

In Deuteronomy 25:17-19, Israel was instructed to remember their first national enemy who had attempted to annihilate them:

Remember what the Amalekites did to you along the way when you came out of Egypt. When you were weary and worn out, they met you on your journey and attacked all who were lagging behind; they had no fear of God. When the Lord your God gives you rest from all the enemies around you in the land he is giving you to possess as an inheritance, you shall blot out the name of Amalek from under heaven. Do not forget!

So they were to remember, but in order to forget. However, the Amalekite spirit persists and has not been blotted out. At the Jewish festival of Purim, deliverance from attempted genocide by Haman, a descendant of the Amalekites (recorded in the book of Esther), is celebrated. Hamans have continued to arise. “In every generation, they rise up against us to annihilate us” laments the haggadah.

So, as you remember what happened to your ancestors, you imagine that first flight from your persecutors as though you were there: you escaped Egypt, crossed the sea on dry land, and fled to safety following a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night.

Hebrews 7:10, discussing priestly tithing, says that Levi could be said to have paid tithes through Abraham to Melchizedek even though he was not alive then, but because he was in the body of his ancestor. The implication of this curious idea is that because each Jewish life is inherited from another Jewish life, in a continual chain of descent, so with the author of Hebrews it could be said that each person was there at that first Passover in the body of their ancestors.

Leon Wieseltier writes:

It was one of the primary purposes of Jewish ritual and liturgy to abolish time, to make Jews divided by history into contemporaries (and Jews divided by geography into neighbours); in this way the many communities of Judaism were unified into a single people and the experiences of many Jews into a single story.⁴

Remembrance as a sign

God instructed Israel to observe this festival because it would be like a sign (in Hebrew, ot; in Greek, semion).

This observance will be for you like a sign on your hand and a reminder on your forehead that this law of the Lord is to be on your lips. (Ex 13:9)

This is one of the verses from which the command to wear tefillin (phylacteries) arose. Tefillin are small black leather boxes containing verses from the Torah on parchment that Jewish men bind with leather straps to their foreheads and hands. (Women may “lay” tefillin too, but were exempted from the commandment due to the demands of their maternal duties.)

The express command in Exodus 13:9 is to celebrate Passover; the implied command is to put on tefillin. The purpose of tefillin is to be a sign and reminder of the deliverance of God’s people from Egypt. The process of binding tefillin to the hand and the forehead is intended to remind the wearer that he is bound to the Lord in mind, action and speech - God’s Word “is to be on your lips”.

"Through centuries of shaking, the tangible reminders of God’s goodness in the Passover and tefillin have bound the Jewish people to each other and to their God."

So, celebrating Passover and putting on tefillin have become tangible signs of God’s goodness setting apart the Jewish people. In Exodus 13:16 the command is repeated: “And it will be like a sign on your hand and a symbol on your forehead that the Lord brought us out of Egypt with his mighty hand.” The Greek translation of the Old Testament (Septuagint) uses the word “unshakeable” (ἀσάλευτον) here to describe this memorial sign.

Through centuries of shaking, the tangible reminders of God’s goodness in the Passover and tefillin have bound the Jewish people to each other and to their God. Passover is about flooding the memory, binding the mind to the eternal. In evoking the past, meaning is restored to the present and hope assured for the future.

The power of shared memories

Repetition is the key to remembering and so Passover is repeated year after year by generation after generation.

The importance of linking the generations is demonstrated by the number of genealogies in the Bible. It was Jewish descent, rather than assent to a set of truths, that marked out God’s people before Messiah. Physical and spiritual heritage were intertwined. Names were remembered because of the important of physical heritage. It was vital to ensure that the inheritance of each tribe was not lost (see Zelophehad’s daughters in Numbers 27).

Remembering the names of your ancestors was therefore crucial for creating an unbreakable chain of memory and history to pass on so that the word of God was not forgotten.

To have your name blotted out was a terrible punishment. “May they be blotted out of the book of life and not be listed with the righteous” is the curse in Psalm 69:28. Revelation 3:5 says: “The one who is victorious will, like them, be dressed in white. I will never blot out the name of that person from the book of life, but will acknowledge that name before my Father and his angels.” So, all believers have memorial inscriptions: both Jew and Gentile.

Gentiles have always been part of the story of God’s people. Exodus 12:38 says about the flight from Egypt that, “Many other people went up with them”. Presumably Egyptians, possibly native slaves seizing the opportunity for freedom, clung to the Israelites, as Ruth the Moabite woman would later do, saying, “Your God is my God” (Ruth 1:16). So, Gentiles too have spiritual ancestors from the Exodus, the “Many other people” who left Egypt with the Hebrews.

Since Messiah came, Gentiles may join Israel by faith. They are included in God’s family by assent not descent, by faith rather than physical ancestry. Gentiles have a claim on the family inheritance because they have joined the family of God’s people and may share in its rich heritage: “…you are no longer foreigners and strangers, but fellow citizens with God’s people and also members of his household” (Eph 2:19).

"The call of Passover is to all people everywhere: join the Exodus, leave the Egypt of sin and death...be joined to God’s people"

So the call of Passover is to all people everywhere: join the Exodus, leave the Egypt of sin and death that is human life as we know it, be joined to God’s people, the “one new humanity” (Eph 2:15) of Jew and Gentile through faith in Messiah, so that you may know and be known by one Father, the God of Israel, who is ruler of all.

Neglected heritage

Celebrating Passover is powerfully resonant for Gentile believers: it adds richness and depth to a faith that is often abstract, referencing Bible history but as observers without ownership. Passover roots and grounds us in the history and memory of a real family, God’s family.

For some Jewish people, seeing Jesus in the Passover has revealed the true meaning of the redemption narrative. A non-believing Jewish friend realised during a Passover seder⁵ explaining its messianic significance that, “Jesus is one of us, he’s Jewish!” She is now a believer in Jesus as Messiah.

However, are Gentile believers neglecting this rich heritage? In our churches and homes, are we building on this powerful mnemonic which binds us to each other and our God? Are our homes places where precious memories are formed or, in our busy and fractured family lives, do we leave that to the minister and the Sunday School teacher?

"Celebrating Passover is powerfully resonant for Gentile believers: it adds richness and depth to a faith that is often abstract, rooting and grounding us in the history and memory of a real family, God’s family."

Perhaps the neglect of study, worship and biblical celebration in our homes is the root of our spiritual impoverishment and a cause of our fragmentation and rootlessness as families, churches and communities. In Britain, we have lost much of our rich Christian heritage, but we have a chance to recover a deeper, more resonant heritage from our ancient spiritual ancestors. This is what the LORD says: “Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls.’” (Jer 6:16)

Our shared biblical history is not just an abstract set of salvation concepts but a fixed reality that was lived, and is lived, in each generation. Do we count ourselves as having been there? This powerful, grand narrative of the Exodus should be the bedrock of our Christian experience, undergirding the transforming gospel message of freedom and new life. Instead, many churches are we offering a tepid, watered-‑down, people-pleasing faith.

What is the sign in our lives that we belong to the Lord? It should be the word of God on our lips, the Passover message of deliverance and new life written on every page of our lives. We are “living letters” (2 Cor 3:3), signs to the world around us, foreigners and exiles (1 Pet 2:11-13), who are “in the world but not of it” (Jn 17:14,16).

Just as the Jewish people have always been God’s signpost to the world by their very continued existence, and have suffered and been rejected for it, so believers in Messiah Yeshua, joined to Israel (Eph 2:11-18), should aim to write the truths of the gospel with the largest letters we can, just as Paul wrote in his large hand to impress on the Galatians (Gal 6:11) that the inscription required by God was no longer circumcision, but the marks of the work of the Holy Spirit in our hearts, written in our lives in word and action.

"We are not required to circumcise or put on tefillin, but to bind the Lord’s commands to our minds and actions by the daily “putting on” of Messiah"

We are not required to circumcise or put on tefillin, but to bind the Lord’s commands to our minds and actions by the daily “putting on” of Messiah: “clothe yourselves with Christ” (Rom 13:14, Gal 3:27, Col 3:12). Is the writing in our lives clear enough so that our faith can be “read” by all and 'strangers' want also to follow us out of Egypt?

As already pointed out, the ancient Greek translation of Ex 13:16 uses the word “unshakeable” to describe the memorial sign that is Passover: “And it will be like a sign on your hand and a symbol on your forehead that the Lord brought us out of Egypt with his mighty hand.” During the shaking that is to come, believers need to cling to that which cannot be shaken.

The power of memory: hope for the future

Jesus is already established in the Passover – in plain sight but hidden. At the beginning of the traditional Passover seder (Hebrew for order) a mysterious custom takes place. Three matzot (pieces of unleavened bread) are placed in a bag with three compartments. The middle piece is broken, half is returned to its compartment and the other half covered in a cloth and hidden to be 'resurrected' later as a children’s hide and find game at the end of the meal where they 'ransom' it for sweets.

The origin of this custom is uncertain. The hidden piece of matzah is called the afikomen, the meaning of which is, 'he who comes' or 'the one who has arrived'. When the children find it they 'ransom' it in exchange for a prize. So, there is a trinity of unleavened bread (lack of yeast symbolising purity), the second piece of which is broken, then buried or hidden in a cloth, then ransomed and eaten by all, while those who find this treasure receive a prize.

Jesus' body was broken, he was buried, wrapped in cloth, and later brought back or resurrected. His sacrifice may be partaken of by all. His death is the ransom for sinners. He is the “pearl of great price” (Matt 13:45-6), a priceless treasure and the prize of salvation (Philippians 3:14), available to all who choose to partake (Jn 1:12). It is thought that the afikomen is the piece of matzah that Jesus broke and offered to his disciples when he said, "This is my body, broken for you" (Mk 14:22).

"At Passover, whether Jew or Gentile, we are invited to journey afresh with Messiah, whose body was broken for us and whose blood was shed as our Passover Lamb (1 Cor 5:7)."

One Passover custom among Sephardi Jews is for the leader of the Passover seder to leave the room and return with the afikomen in a knapsack over his shoulder, carrying a walking stick and wearing a tightened belt.

The children ask, "Where are you coming from?"
The seder leader replies, "From Egypt."
Then the children ask, "Where are you going?"
The answer: "To Jerusalem."

When we turn to God we embark on a journey from Egypt, the old life of sin, to Jerusalem, our redemption in Messiah. As we journey we may limp, hence the walking stick, as some of our sinful ways still linger, hindering us. We have to deny the self, tightening our belts, so to speak. Yet the only burden we need to carry is that of Messiah, represented by the afikomen in this story. "Take my yoke upon you," says Jesus, "for my yoke is easy and my burden is light" (Matt 11:29).

At Passover, whether Jew or Gentile, we are invited to journey afresh with Messiah, whose body was broken for us and whose blood was shed as our Passover Lamb (1 Cor 5:7). Let us no longer neglect our rich inheritance in Messiah. Remembering the past sets us on the right path for the future.

When we know where we have come from, then we know where we are going.

References

1 The haggadah (in English, telling) is a book of prayers, blessings and story-telling that is recited at the Passover meal.

2 Heschel, A J, 1967. Israel: An Echo of Eternity. New York, p60.

3 Roshkovsky, L. Pesach and the Holocaust, Yad Vashem, The International School for Holocaust Studies.

4 Wieseltier, L. Culture and Collective Memory, New York Times, 15 January 1984.

5 Seder is Hebrew for 'order'. It refers to the service that takes place in the home on the first night of Passover involving a meal and the eating of specific elements relating to the original Passover.