It was the night of Passover. Since the time of Moses the traditions had been kept. Even through captivity in Babylon, they had remembered. Families gathered together for the Seder meal and the eldest of the house told the story of GOD's salvation out of the bondage in Egypt.
This night was no different. Throughout Judea families gathered, the story was told, with unleavened bread, wine, and bitter herbs. This night thirteen men gathered in Jerusalem, in a small second story room they had rented for the Passover. As darkness fell over the world, they ate, and listened to the story as it had never been told before, by one who spoke with the authority of a man whom had witnessed it first hand. But this was a man only in his thirties, a great teacher of the law.
The twelve men who listened to his story were far from the homes they had left to follow this man. They had lived together, ate together, traveled the countryside, and this was not their first Passover spent together. Tonight, however, seemed different somehow. Ominous and foreboding. The teacher seemed distracted, distant, until he began the story. Then he became ardent. His voice full of power.
The twelve had seen this man calm the seas with his voice, he had raised the dead with a word. Now his voice seemed to weave the tapestry of reality itself. The whole universe grew still and the darkness outside seemed as it must have been on that very night long ago when the shadow of death passed through the land of Egypt. Huddled within the sanctuary of this upper room, the twelve heard now the fulfillment of the Law and the Promise.
"This is my body which is given for you: this do in remembrance of me. This cup is the new testament in my blood, which is shed for you."