Taste and See

by Margaret Feinberg

  “What they did is unfathomable—to have that many animals let alone butcher them all,” Matt gapes. “All those sacrifices placed the people in a position to trust that God would rescue them, continue to feed them, continue to be their provider.”

  The Torah gives specific instructions regarding the selection of every lamb that appears on that altar. The animal must be one-year-old and unblemished. Matt explains this detail is deliberate. At one year old, a lamb is mature enough to be full-grown but not old enough to consume more resources than it will return. The yearling represents a year of hard work and investment.

  “God wants a person’s best,” Matt says. “He’s saying, ‘Don’t bring me the lamb you’re going to have to kill anyway.’ If it only has three legs or lacks an ear, that’s not what God wants. He wants our best and to trust him that when we sacrifice, he’ll provide the next animal for the offering.”

  Then the prophet Isaiah promises the long-awaited restoration of God’s people will not come through animal sacrifice but human sacrifice. The suffering servant will be a guilt offering for the people of God. Like a lamb led to slaughter before the priests, he will neither resist nor protest.

  When Jesus appears on the scene, those who have waited for him don’t recognize him. Hoping for a political mover-and-shaker, they forget Isaiah’s description of a sheep-like savior, even as John the Baptist cries out, “Look, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!”

  From a butcher’s point of view, it makes sense that Jesus would take on lamb imagery rather than aligning with other livestock.

  “A lamb is the most vulnerable animal,” Matt explains. “The only thing more vulnerable is a baby chick, because the parents won’t defend it.”

  Those hearing Jesus’s words would have understood that John was saying, “Here’s the most vulnerable One, or rather the One making himself most vulnerable, who takes away the sins of the world.” Perhaps they noticed that John made the declaration near the Passover.

  This becomes all the more apparent in the book of Hebrews, where the imagery of sacrificial animal blood reveals the cleansing blood of Christ. For ancient priests, every morning is like the last—standing at the same altar, offering the same sacrifices each day. Christ overturns this system by offering himself as the perfect, unblemished offering, a one-and-done sacrifice for sins.

  The scope of Jesus’s sacrifice reaches cosmological proportions as God, through Christ, reconciles all things in heaven and on earth to himself, making deep shalom, a holy peace, through the blood of God’s Lamb.

  Then a beloved disciple trapped on the island of Patmos provides a glimpse of this spiritual reality. John’s mind-boggling visions in Revelation circle around Jesus as shepherd and lamb. In the New Jerusalem, he says, we will gather around the Lamb enthroned; a place without temple or offering, because he is the Temple and Offering.

  By the time I leave the Meat Apostle, I know he’s given me a lot to chew on—biblically, spiritually, personally, and well, literally. I depart with a deeper appreciation for the life of the animal, its welfare, and the rancher. Matt teaches me to see meat as a treat, as a delicacy, something to savor and enjoy on special occasions.

  THE ULTIMATE LAMB

  After returning home, I determine to reduce the number of nights a week we eat meat. The transition proves far easier than I expected and makes carnivore-nights extra special. On one such eve, I attempt to grill my first lamb lollipops—petite portions of lamb chops. I breathe in the salty, sweet scent of the sizzling meat. I’m reminded that this is the same aroma that brought God delight in sacrifices.

  * * *

  Table Discovery: Want to begin reducing your meat consumption? Start with meatless Mondays. Get creative making vegetables the star of your meals. I love spaghetti squash pizzas, homemade black bean burgers, and portabella mushroom tacos.

  * * *

  From the Bible’s opening to the closing garden scene, sacrifice has always been a part of God’s rescue mission. After Noah climbs out of the ark, he serves burnt meats as an offering and the Lord receives them as a “pleasing aroma.” God inhales and promises never to flood the earth again. Those scents ascend from the temple whenever the priests sacrifice animals to atone for Israel’s sins. With our modern sensibilities, we struggle to wrap our heads and hearts around such activities, but in some beautiful, mysterious way those burnt offerings create a pleasant smell to the nostrils of God. That scent indicates repentance and represents the offer of life, reconciliation with God, and the covering of sin.

  Long after Noah arrives ashore, God will ask another father, Abraham, to make a sacrifice, but this time it won’t come from among his flock. God tells Abraham to do the unthinkable, to sacrifice his one and only miracle child. The thought makes us scream, “Nooooo! Stop, you crazy old geezer.”

  Yet the father leads his one and only son on a three-day journey of obedience. As they near the crest of one of the hills in Moriah, Abraham stacks wood on Isaac’s back. Atop the mountain, Abraham straps his much-promised and miraculously conceived child to a cross section of lumber.

  As Isaac’s father reaches toward his son’s arteries with the sharpened blade, heaven intervenes with a double shout of Abraham’s name. The knife drops to the ground, and Isaac’s life is spared. Nearby amid the rustling of a thicket of thorns, a male sheep bleats in distress. Abraham takes the ram and sacrifices it; the scent arises once again to the nostrils of God. Abraham names the place, “The Lord Will Provide.”

  Sometimes it’s hard to fathom how far Abraham was willing to go. Yet this father was ready to offer God the one thing most precious to him. In the nick of time, God rescues Isaac, and in many ways, Abraham too.

  A few thousand years later, another sacrifice takes place. A different Father leads his one and only Son on a three-day journey of sacrifice to the same hills of Moriah. Like Isaac, Jesus makes a long, painful journey carrying death on his back. Unlike Isaac, no voice intervenes from heaven and no bushes rustle with the sounds of a scapegoat.

  This time the child dies. The Lord provides himself as the sacrifice. Jesus’s body hangs from beams, a thicket of thorns punctures his skull, and a sharp blade severs his side. Blood seeps into the soil and darkness descends. The unthinkable has happened and makes us want to lurch forward and yell, “Nooooo! Stop!” as if God were the crazy old geezer.

  More than the death of a holy man, this is the massacre of all that is good and true and beautiful. Yet what appears like a lost cause turns out to be a rescue mission. Three days later, Jesus returns to life and flips evil upside down. The once-and-for-all cleansing of sin that is accomplished through Jesus’s death and resurrection renders the sacrificial system obsolete. No more goats or sheep or bulls or sons.

  Through the bloody mess of Jesus’s death, the divine Son knows what it’s like to be betrayed by friends, crushed by powers that be, and feel searing pain. The divine Father knows what it’s like to watch a son be misunderstood, mocked, and deserted by his friends, and worse, to lose a precious child.

  God could have sent his Son in a variety of forms, yet he chose a fragile human body with arteries that bleed, flesh that bruises, and nerve pathways that set the brain afire. In doing so, God experienced what we all experience living on this broken ball of dirt—pain, rejection, betrayal, loss, and grief. As a result, he became the type of God that no other religion claims to believe in: one who can offer his children not just sympathy but empathy. God doesn’t say he feels sorry for us but that he knows how we feel. And he really does.

  * * *

  He became the type of God that no other religion claims to believe in: one who can offer his children not just sympathy but empathy.

  * * *

  When you’re crushed by the weight of a child who died before his or her time, God whispers, “I understand.”

  When you’re overwhelmed by chronic pain that befuddles the best doctors, God whispers, “I know how you feel.”

  When the person you l
ove most fails to come to your defense, God whispers, “I feel your pain.”

  By becoming flesh and offering himself as a sacrifice for humanity, God crossed the great divide from feeling sorry for our pain to being present in our pain. He became, truly, God with us.

  This good news gets better. The sacrificial Lamb wasn’t content only to feel our pain, he chose to rescue us from the source of our pain—sin. Through his perfect sacrifice, the sting of death is plucked away and the grave no longer has the final say.

  The death of Jesus Christ revolutionized history because it ushers in one of the “sweeping historical revolution(s) in the world, namely, the emergence of empathy for victims.” With a definitive word, God declared that he would always stand beside and work on behalf of the diseased and dying, the hurting and suffering. And this revolutionizes how we understand the call to be Christlike.

  God’s ultimate rescue plan is one that he instituted for us and one he wants to institute through us. Just as Christ’s sacrifice exhibited both empathy and action, so too Christ calls us to lay down our lives for others in empathy and action. To enter into the pain of others and begin addressing it and alleviating it.

  What’s the greatest place of pain and trauma for which you’ve experienced rescue and healing? If you’ve lost a child, what would it look like to minister to other grieving parents? If you’ve wrestled with illness or chronic health issues, who is someone you can encourage? If you’ve felt the pinch of loneliness, rejection, or betrayal, who is an outsider you can include and embrace?

  When blood ran down from the Savior to that soil that day, God issued an invitation to all of us: “Do not run from pain, my sheep. Follow the sacrificial Lamb into the dark and trust that he will light the way.”

  AROUND THE TABLE

  Describe a time when you were lost, discouraged, grieving, or in pain, and you experienced rescue and healing. Next, identify one particular situation or struggle in your family, school, workplace, neighborhood, or community that has been on your mind lately. Consider any connections between your pain and your sensitivity to another’s pain. Strategize a way to enter into that situation or life and bring the love and presence of Christ.

  MARGARET’S LAMB LOLLIPOPS

  If you’ve never prepared lamb before, you’ll be surprised by the ease of these delicious lamb lollipops, which provides a bone-in small portioned petite filet.

  PREP: 30 minutes COOK: 8–10 minutes COOL: none

  8 lollipop lamb chops, ¾ inch thick

  2 tablespoons olive oil

  1 teaspoon sea salt

  ¼ teaspoon pepper

  2 teaspoons herbes de Provence

  2 tablespoons fresh rosemary

  fresh juice from one lemon

  DIRECTIONS

  1.Place the lamb chops on a plate. Drizzle olive oil; sprinkle salt, pepper, herbes de Provence; and squeeze lemon juice on both sides. Let sit at room temp for 20 minutes.

  2.Grill the lamb over medium heat (or sear in a hot pan) for 4 minutes. Flip and cook for 3 minutes for medium rare and 6 minutes for medium. Sprinkle fresh rosemary on top and serve.

  Serves 2.

  SARAH’S BEST PRACTICES FOR A MOUTHWATERING CHARCUTERIE BOARD

  PREP: 15 minutes COOK: none COOL: none

  SHOPPING GUIDELINES:

  1.Grab a variety of meats at the deli—salami, pepperoni, prosciutto, or roasted turkey. When choosing the meats and cheeses, ask for samples and buy what looks or tastes yummy. When in doubt, go to Costco and get the packaged meats.

  2.Select a variety of cheese flavors (stinky cheeses like blue or mild cheeses like havarti) and textures (soft cheese like brie and harder, aged cheeses like Parmesan). Avoid flavored cheeses (like herb or buffalo).

  3.Pick one jam or spread such as fig or whole grain mustard.

  4.Include in-season fruit such as apples, figs, grapes, or berries.

  5.Select some plain and fun flavored crackers and bread slices like roasted olive and rosemary.

  6.Include dried fruits such as apricots to add a burst of color.

  7.Sprinkle with a variety of olives and nuts such as Marcona almonds.

  8.Garnish with rosemary sprigs (optional).

  Serves 4–6.

  ORGANIZING THE BOARD:

  1.This is an art. Be free and let your creative side take the lead, but also taste different meats, cheeses, and “accessories” (crackers, jams, dried fruit, etc.) together and lay them next to each other, creating beautiful layers and textures and colors. Experiment and remember everything is forgiving and can be moved around. Really. Just start.

  2.Meats can’t touch each other and need to be on opposite ends or separated by a fruit or nuts. This goes with cheese, too.

  3.Lay meat and cheese out first. Along with any bowls (like jam or olives). Then use fruits, dried fruits, and nuts for garnish and fillers. Rosemary and pomegranates can be tucked in places or layered on top of a cheese.

  4.Don’t forget: Whatever you do, it’s going to be delicious. You’ve got this.

  RAY’S MAGICAL MEAT MARINADE

  This is a must-have in our household. We use this marinade on steak, chicken, veggies, rice, and more.

  PREP: 5 minutes—plus 2 days to marinate meat COOK: 4 – 6 minutes COOL: none

  2 pounds flank or skirt steak

  1 cup soy sauce

  1 cup sugar

  1 cup water

  ½ cup rice wine

  1 or 2 tablespoons fresh ginger

  3 green onions, chopped

  2 garlic cloves, crushed

  DIRECTIONS

  1.Mix all ingredients in large plastic bag or baking dish.

  2.Place meat in marinade for 2 days, turning once or twice.

  3.Grill 8 –12 minutes and slice across the grain. Happy eating!

  Yields marinade for up to 4 pounds of meat.

  8

  The Perfect Finish

  “You can’t leave Israel yet,” Ido insisted. “You must stay to celebrate Passover with us.”

  I hesitated. But the adventurer in me couldn’t resist a chance to experience the Jewish holiday in the holiest of lands.

  On the Friday eve, as the sun sets over the Galilee, I take my seat around a long banquet table. Known as pesach in Hebrew, Passover commemorates the freeing of the Israelites from Egyptian slavery. Toward one end of the table rests an oversized plate with six foods representing aspects of the Exodus story.

  The shank bone, which still contains a sliver of meat, represents the lamb whose blood on Jewish doorposts saved lives. The shape of the bone is reminiscent of the “outstretched arm” of God, who freed the Jews from slavery.

  The brownish egg, which has been boiled and then roasted, symbolizes the offerings that were eaten along with the lamb at Passover during temple times.

  The sweet, mahogany balls made from dates and nuts, known as charoset, represent the mortar used by the Hebrew slaves to build in Egypt.

  Lettuce, soon to be dipped into salt water, alludes to the tears of the Israelite slaves.

  A stack of bitter parsley symbolizes the bitterness of slavery.

  Matzo wrapped in a special cloth commemorates the Israelites who fled Egypt in such a hurry, they couldn’t wait for bread dough to rise.

  Extended family members have traveled for the seder, the ceremonial dinner, and soon fill the empty seats. Excitement and joy waft through the air. Next to each place setting rests a thin copy of the Haggadah, a book used to recount the Israelites’ exodus from Egypt. I flip through the pages. Everything is written in Hebrew, which is all Greek to me. I locate an English version on my phone.

  Alex, Ido’s father-in-law, pours the first of four glasses of kosher wine, and we recite a prayer that acknowledges the holiness of the occasion and offers thanks to the One who created the fruit of the vine.

  “Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha-olam, borei p’ree hagafen.”

  Blessed are you, Lord, our God, King of the universe, who creates the fruit of the vine.


  Mama Vered circles the table with a plastic bowl. I watch as others reach into the basin to rinse, then dry their hands with the towel hanging from her arm. Until this moment, I have thought of ritual handwashing with shadowed suspicion.

  Long ago, Jesus’s disciples forgo the ceremonial handwashing—a slap in the face to the religious establishment. When the religious leaders confront Jesus and ask why he and his disciples break from traditional rituals like handwashing, Jesus responds by asking why they worry about clean hands when theirs are so dirty from impoverishing their parents. It’s one of the Bible passages that makes me leery of anything that feels too ritualistic. But in this setting, I discover anew how the rich symbolism of communal practices like these forces us to pause and attune our minds to the divine and one another. This practice reminds us that our hands need cleaning—and our hearts, too.

  As I dip my hands in the basin, I catch a glimpse of why Jesus used the opportunity recorded in Matthew’s Gospel to double down on the religious rejection of the heart behind the law. The gift of handwashing is much like the gift of the law: it’s designed to help us approach others in love and generosity and tender care. I wipe the last droplets from my hands and hang the towel back on Mama Vered’s arm. She looks me in the eyes as she says my name in a thick Hebrew accent, and a smile washes over her face. Suddenly, I feel deeply loved.

  Next to me sits Jack, a longtime family friend of Ido’s who has flown in from London. The family has placed him next to me because he speaks English and can help me understand the evening. Whenever we eat anything, he says, we must lean to the left to symbolize leaving Egypt and breaking free from slavery. Jack reads the perplexed look on my face.

  “This is not just about remembering, but also reenacting the Passover story,” he explains.

  I follow Jack’s lead and lean to the left to reach a sprig of parsley, later followed by a leaf of lettuce, and I dip them into a bowl of salt water. Even as a salt aficionado, my face curdles from what tastes like seaweed straight from the Gulf of Aqaba. This is the flavor of the pain of God’s people.