Blood on the door said it all. Screams rang through the city as another one dies. Cries of a mother. Cries of a father. Cries of another son is taken in the dark, hard night. The city howls as the King curses the G-d above. He wails in anger. He wails in regret. The King wails as his first born lies lifeless in his arms. What god would take his only son. His is not the first this night. Nor is it the last. Every first born son is taken from every household in the land. That is unless they had blood. Yes, blood on the door was a good thing. Blood on the door served as a guide in the night skies. It served as a marker to Pesach. It told the messenger to leap. To pass. To Passover. It said this family’s child is not to be taken. It said the family has not forgotten God’s mercy.
Blood on the door was that of a lamb, a male lamb. A young male lamb. A sacrificial lamb with no blemish, no broken bones. Examined for four days and then slain in public. This was to be the sacrifice exacted to save the first born. This is how the story goes.
So it begins again in a few hours. The Haggadah is read and so Passover begins. The family and communal retelling of the Exodus. The asking of the four question, the story when G-d delivers the Isrealites from slavery of Egypt. Out of respect, no leavened bread is eaten for seven days out to commemorate a significant time Jewish history. In a few hours, it marks the beginning of one of the holiest days In Judaic calendar. 
Around the world begins Holy Week. For those following the Christian, Catholic practice, Lent has already begun sometime back on Ash Wednesday. Ashes of burnt palm leaves are marked on one’s forehead to remind one that dust is where we began and dust we shall return. Mardi Gras, Palm Sunday, Holy Thursday, Stations of the Cross, Fasting, Washing of the feet and many more rituals will be practiced around the world to commemorate their love for the Big Smile. Saturday and Sunday around the world, there will be re-telling the story for the Passion the Christ.
My first time I remember attending a re-enactment of the Passion of the Christ was last year at Vasquez Rocks. It was something I would never forget. Easter for me was a time for egg hunts and picnics. It was the delicious Cadbury eggs. It was boiling dozens of eggs. It was dyeing them in a myriad of rainbow colors. It was hiding in hard to find places and it was searching for them in a hunter’s frenzy.
Not sure how the death and resurrection of Jesus transformed to the symbol of the Easter Bunny and the tradition of eggs hunting. But here it is. We find ourselves far from where we started off. A little off in direction, in practice, in intention and we find ourselves far off the mark. Life now is certainly different from the Biblical times. Technology has changed. Civilizations have evolved (Some would say de-volved) I hope it doesn’t get so bad that we need to mark our homes with blood of a sacrificial lamb to remember the gifts given to us by the Big Smile.
Lessons got lost. Something was lost in tradition and meaning. We got lost in following the exactness of practices. We forget the meaning—the importance—of certain events in history. We stopped examining the meaning and significance of certain religious practices. It’s much like not visiting the relatives at the cemetery. At first, we were regular visitors when the passing initially happened, but time passes. Life happens and we slowly, but inevitably we visit less frequently. It’s like a birthday party. We have big hooplas with balloons, fireworks, and presents. As we get older, birthday party and presents become less celebrated. Think of the Fourth of July? What does it mean besides Fireworks? It is supposed to commemorate the birth of nation. Do you know the significance of Dec 7? How about 9/11? How about April 15? If you are from the US, these dates may have some significance. When one thinks of Christmas, how many us automatically think of Christmas gifts and long lines at department stores of Black Friday? Thanksgiving? NFL Football game in Detroit.
We think of Easter and forget what happened. We concern ourselves of going on family picnics which is what we do. I would say it is fine, but I am not so sure this okay. Something gets lost in translation. Sometime it gets lost meaning. The farther we get away from significance we tend to disassociate and lose connection. I think some people spend more time and energy on the Super Bowl Sunday than any other religious holiday.
Too often, we forget. We forget who came before us and how they impacted our lives. Perhaps forgetting is the wrong word? Maybe it is more trying not to remember? It hurts too much to remember what we no longer have. We forget parents, grandparents, uncles, aunts. We forget family and friends. We forget who they are and become what they were. Maybe this good? Maybe its bad? I am not your judge.
It is said that Big Smile sent his messengers to remind us to keep our connection. He sent his only Son to take away our sins and start a new covenant. Identified by John the Baptist, “Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world” Peter said, Jesus Christ was a lamb without blemish or defect. Paul said, Christ, our Passover Lamb, was sacrificed for us.” His Crucifixion was the blood on the door for the Pesach. The son of the Big Smile was that of a lamb, a male lamb, a young male lamb. A sacrificial lamb with no blemish, no broken bones. Examined for four days and then slain in public. This was to be the sacrifice exacted to save the first born, to save all of humanity. This how a Bible study guides explains it. Whether one accepts this interpretation or not, one has to be judge and decide for oneself.
I don’t believing in guilt-ing someone to do the right thing. I don’t think carrot approach is necessarily best course of action, either. Whether one is of the Abrahamic religions, whether one follows Buddha, whether one is a Wiccan, whether one chooses to be atheist—Our life experiences will guide us to wherever our story leads us. We can choose to follow or not to follow certain religious practices and tradition. We can choose to ignore certain things and hope that Pesach will occur. Some of us will cry. Some of us won’t. We can remember and have our heart open. Or we can have our hearts broken and then remade again.
My interpretation of all religion lessons out there may be simplistic and naive. I admit my ignorance, but I don’t think the message is complicated. It is simply to remember and to love. How you choose to remember and how you choose to love is what really matters. In the end, I think what matters is that you did choose to remember and you did choose to love.
