One of our family antiques is a child-sized rocker, carved, cane-woven seat. It was "my" chair, and I was proud of it as a small child. It was presented to me early on, and I felt good claiming it.
When I grew up, my elderly aunt told me it had been "her" chair 50 years earlier, and no one is sure how many generations have been presented with that very personal chair.
It's a simple binder from one generation to another, more serious than a toy, but less serious than the faith-binders that are so rich and ancient.
At Passover, a young one asks an old one: "How is this night different...?" And the binding confession is recited: "We were slaves in Egypt.....God brought us out..." All is spoken in first-person plural. Not THEIR story - OUR story. Not separated generations - united generations.
Passover, Communion, blood shed for all, Christ's call and acceptance of us makes us US.
God's plan to create those binders that join us is a holy and joyful thing, and it wears the face of something very personal.......ancient, it has OUR names on it.
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