The Pursuit of Being Leaven-less

     I've recently been meeting up with a wonderful group of women on Thursdays.  We eat together, with conversation packed full with laughter and home made deliciousness.  And once we've {partially} worked the talkative giddyness out of our catch-up time, we settle in.  Together we're going through the Psalms of Ascent.  I know I am learning so much, both about the psalms, but also about these dear ladies.
     One lesson from about 10 days ago has been rustling around in my heart.
     You see, these Psalms of Ascent are about a pilgrimage, a journey.  Three times a year the Jewish men would pack themselves off to Jerusalem to celebrate 3 different Feasts.  Part of the journey involves recognizing where you are, and anticipating the goodness ahead, which has had me doing some self-inspection.  We learned that the first of the Pilgrim Feasts is the Feast of Unleavened Bread.  It began at the tale end of Passover and lasted for a week.
     I totally understood that unleavened bread would be a part of Passover--after all, it was an indication of the readiness of the Israelites to move when God said on that fateful night in Egypt so long ago.  But there is so much more goodness to unpack!  In Hebrew the word leaven means "sour", because it initiates fermentation.  As someone who enjoys a tasty loaf, a ciabatta, and definitely a foccaccia, I tend to enjoy that yeast and it's fermenting process!  And yet I had to pause when I learned how the ancient rabbi's considered leaven to be imagery of evil and corruption.  And what does leaven do?  It works it's way through and through a lump of dough, causing the mass to expand and grow.
      You can use just a wee little bit of that fermented dough to mix in with a fresh batch of flour, and you'll get a whole new loaf--that little bit of yeast will activate a whole new set of ingredients, causing them to bubble up and expand.
      It reminds me of how I can confess my sins to Jesus, and yet sometimes, sometimes I hold onto it just a little.  Like how I say I forgive, but maybe I hold onto that little bit of anger and bitterness.  I say I don't want to engage in that activity or thought process any more, but its there, and like a glutton I find myself right back at it.  That wee little bit of corruption I hold onto spreads all the way through me and blossoms.  It doesn't take much sourness to saturate the whole.  What would it be like if we were to get rid of our "yeast":  the gossip, the bitterness, the lust, the gluttony, the self centeredness, the carnality?
     You know how we take communion at Passover, just as Jesus did at the last supper?  How we break that unleavened bread and know that it is Christ's body, broken for us?  Well, just think about that--Jesus compares himself to that unleavened bread:  not sour, not corrupt.  Pure.  Blameless.  Sinless.
     I want that.  I want the leaven to be stripped out of me, every last bit.  It's probably a lifelong pursuit.  A good one though.