Pesach Seder, embodied stories and evangelism

Last week, Jews around the world sat down to what is called a Pesach Seder. It is a meal that we have at Passover that invites every generation of Jews into the story of God’s redemption of our people from Egypt.

We sat and told the story of our redemption as though we were there. We ate bitter herbs dipped in salt water to remind us of the bitter tears we experienced in slavery. We wept as we ate the pungent fresh horseradish and savoured the sweetness of the Charoset that reminds us that even the darkest moments are sweetened by the promise of redemption. We drank and we feasted, and we celebrated our freedom as we have done for thousands of years.

For many Christians, particularly evangelicals such as myself, the concept of embodied theology is a foreign one. We expect to hear words on a Sunday, to read words and to sing words. I remember, when I attended the University of Oxford, visiting a high Anglican Church, Pusey House, with my friends one evening. I was very sceptical of the whole thing – “Hocus, pocus!” I thought, dismissively. But as the Priest began to explain the liturgy – the incense recalling the pillar of cloud, the Gospel liturgy confronting again with the sheer uniqueness of Christ – I began to soften.

Now, am I saying we should all climb the proverbial candle? Or give up on sermons and Bible studies? Heaven forefend! I am not even saying that we should “live the gospel” rather than explaining it – gospel means “good news” – it requires proclamation. But we should recognise that an embodied story is a profoundly powerful thing and the way we live our lives shows the world which stories we believe.

When Jesus spoke, He repeatedly used story, we call it parables. He and the prophets likewise employed embodied theological stories, like the cursing of the fig tree or whatever is going on in Ezekiel 3! The story of Revelation, without getting into the nuances of when/how/if, is ultimately an embodied story of redemption. Passover is an embodied story that invites every Jew to smell, touch and taste God’s redemption.

'The Rabbi and The King'

One of the great Jewish thinkers of history, Judah Halevi wrote in his magnum opus, The Kuzari, of an imaginary conversation between The Rabbi and The King.

Firstly, The King hears the arguments of The Philosopher, but finds that can only lead to Deism, not the personal God of the Judaeo-Christian tradition.

The Rabbi steps up and describes God’s relationship with His people. He describes the national, inter-generational memory of God’s redemptive power and imminent presence. He describes the narrative arc of history that is always leading to redemption. He doesn’t describe God but describes the way that God has revealed Himself throughout history to His people.

For Halevi, it is this relational knowledge of God, rather than the simple propositional knowledge of The Philosopher that is ultimately persuasive.

Human beings are narrative-finding, pattern-finding creatures. We find stories utterly compelling.

Stories

This has important implications for how we share the gospel.

It is easy, particularly when discussing the gospel with Jews, to get bogged down in minutiae of prophecy – I find myself in this trap far too much. It becomes proof-text tennis. You will always find that a Jewish person who knows their Bible well will be able to show you an alternative way of understanding a proof-text and, before you know it, you’ve just spent two hours discussing whether, alma, in Isaiah 7v14 means virgin or not!

What is far more compelling is the narrative arc of Scripture. The redemptive story of sin and grace and the ultimate reconciliation of this in the cross.

The gospel is compelling precisely because of its place within the redemptive arc of history. Are prophecies compelling? Yes! But unless we invite someone to join us in God’s story, we are not sharing the gospel.

Christ’s final lesson before His death was not a sermon, but a meal – a Passover Seder, where He invited others to be partakers in His story through the tangible symbols they were already familiar with.

For many Jewish people, the Christian story sounds abstract and disconnected; an alien story told with unfamiliar language and unfamiliar symbols. But when the gospel is shown as part of the story of God’s ongoing redemption, it becomes something recognisable. Narrative is far more compelling than proof-texting.

And this is also why community matters. Last year I saw a Jewish woman come to faith in Jesus after years in a church where she was gently invited into a living, redemptive community shaped by love, grace and hope. She saw the gospel embodied. This is the kind of invitation we can all offer.

Passover reminds us that God’s redemption is a story into which we are invited and into which we can invite others and that through us, others have a chance to see God.

“By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” (John 13v35)