We Used to Live Here: A Messianic Reflection on Easter and the Forgotten Feast
We used to live in an old house in Old Town Orange, California.
It was over a hundred years old - plaster walls, creaky wood floors, narrow doorways, and oddly shaped rooms that made no sense and every bit of sense at the same time. When we moved in, we knew we weren’t the first. There had been families before us - memories made, hard conversations had, laughter echoing in the halls long before we got there.
And we made memories of our own.
The home birth of our daughter.
A rebuilt marriage.
Sandbox afternoons.
Shabbat dinners.
Tears and prayers.
Holy moments.
At one point, we received a photo from a woman whose family had once owned the house. She was just a little girl in the picture, sitting on the front steps. We looked at it intently, noticing every nook and cranny, and talked about what had changed, what had stayed the same.
Somehow, knowing the story of the ones who came before deepened our own connection to the home.
But then - rent went up, COVID came, and we moved out.
A group of college students moved in right after us. And that’s the way it goes, right? New tenants. New stories. New life.
Still, for years, my wife Marilee couldn’t even drive by that house. It hurt too much. And I get it now. The story we carried - the sacredness we felt - seemed to vanish overnight. It felt like the beauty, the history, the roots of what came before didn’t matter anymore.
There were times I wanted to knock on the door and say,
“Hey! We used to live here. Could I show you what this place used to be? Could I tell you the story?”
Of course, that would be weird.
But sometimes, that’s exactly how I feel about the Church. Especially around Easter.
I’m a Jewish follower of Jesus - a Messianic Jew. And while I rejoice in the resurrection, I often carry this quiet ache.
Because as the Church celebrates Easter with pageantry and pastels, it feels like we've forgotten the house we used to live in.
We’ve forgotten the roots.
We’ve forgotten the story.
And we’ve forgotten that the resurrection didn’t happen in a vacuum - it happened during a Feast.
We Used to Call It First Fruits
Long before there were egg hunts and lilies, before there was a sunrise service or even a Good Friday, there was the Feast of First Fruits.
It’s right there in Leviticus 23 - the very calendar God gave to His people. On the day after the Sabbath following Passover, the Israelites were to bring the first sheaf of their harvest to the priest.
The offering was a declaration: “There’s more to come. This is just the beginning.”
And it was on that exact feast day - Yom HaBikkurim - that Jesus rose from the grave.
Not randomly. Not poetically. Precisely.
1 Corinthians 15:20 says: “But Messiah has indeed been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep.”
Jesus didn't just rise on First Fruits - He is the First Fruit.
His resurrection is the guarantee of ours.
The beginning of a greater harvest.
The promise that death is not the end.
And here’s something even more breathtaking: according to the biblical calendar, the resurrection took place on the 17th of Nisan. This date isn't just a random square on the Jewish calendar - it's a recurring moment of new life throughout Scripture.
On the 17th of Nisan, the ark came to rest on Mount Ararat after the flood (Genesis 8:4), marking a new beginning for humanity.
It was on this day that Israel crossed the Red Sea, escaping slavery in Egypt.
It's believed to be the day God provided manna in the wilderness.
And it's the day Queen Esther stood before the king, beginning the deliverance of the Jewish people from annihilation.
All of these were moments of rescue, renewal, and resurrection. It's as if God has been pointing to this date all along, preparing the world for the ultimate firstfruit - the resurrection of His Son.
But most of the Church doesn’t know this. Why?
Enter Easter
Let’s talk for a moment about the name Easter.
It’s not found in the Bible - except in one mistranslation in the King James Version of Acts 12:4. The original Greek word used there is πάσχα (pascha), which always refers to Passover, not Easter. In fact, pascha appears 29 times in the New Testament and consistently refers to the Jewish feast commemorating Israel’s deliverance from Egypt - and prophetically, the death of Jesus as the Passover Lamb.
Translating pascha as “Easter” in Acts 12:4 is a significant distortion. It reflects not the intent of the biblical authors, but later church tradition that had begun to drift from its Jewish foundations. Understanding this matters because it reveals just how early the Church began to replace God’s calendar with its own.
Many scholars trace it to Eostre, an Anglo-Saxon fertility goddess celebrated during the spring equinox. Others link it to Ishtar, a Mesopotamian goddess of fertility, love, and war.
Either way, the name itself likely comes from pagan spring festivals that revolved around fertility, rebirth, and the changing of seasons.
Now, does this mean every Christian who celebrates Easter is worshiping a fertility goddess? No, of course not. That’s not the heart behind it. Most are honoring the resurrection with sincere joy and faith.
But still, I have to ask: Why rename it at all? Why move away from the very feast God established to commemorate the resurrection?
The Council That Changed Things
To be clear - the resurrection of Jesus was celebrated for centuries before the Council of Nicaea. The Council didn’t invent Easter. It formalized and standardized what had already been observed. But the tragedy is how it was formalized.
A major turning point was the Council of Nicaea in 325 AD. While the Council did important work in affirming the deity of Christ and forming the canon, it also marked the beginning of a tragic split between Gentile believers and the Jewish roots of the faith.
Jewish bishops were excluded from the council.
And Constantine made it clear that Christian worship should have “nothing in common with the detestable Jewish crowd.”
One of the key outcomes?
The resurrection would no longer be celebrated in alignment with Passover and the Feast of First Fruits, but instead on a separate date - calculated to distinguish the Church from the Jewish calendar.
We didn’t just move out of the house.
We repainted the walls.
Removed the furniture.
Changed the locks.
The Church Has Been Grafted In… But Don’t Forget the Roots
Romans 11 says Gentile believers are grafted into the olive tree of Israel.
Not a new tree.
The same one.
But over time, we’ve forgotten the roots. We’ve inherited a story without remembering its foundation.
Imagine moving into a house with deep history and never asking who built it, or why certain walls exist, or why the fireplace faces east.
You can still live there.
But you’ll miss the beauty of its design.
When we celebrate the resurrection divorced from the Feasts, we miss the incredible intentionality of God’s timeline.
We lose the continuity.
We lose the awe.
And we lose our connection to a story far bigger than ourselves.
So What Am I Asking?
I’m not saying don’t celebrate the resurrection.
I’m not saying shame on you for Easter eggs or Sunday services.
What I’m saying is: There’s more to the story.
There’s a richness, a rootedness, a rhythm to God’s calendar that’s worth recovering.
There’s a reason Jesus was crucified on Passover.
There’s a reason He rose on First Fruits.
There’s a reason the Spirit was poured out on Shavuot (Pentecost).
And it’s not because those days were convenient.
It’s because God planned it that way.
Why It Hurts
As a Messianic Jew, it’s hard to watch the Church sometimes move on like the old story doesn’t matter. Like it’s irrelevant. Or worse, like it’s been replaced.
The traditions we hold aren’t for nostalgia. They’re for connection. They remind us that we’re part of one continuous story - from Abraham to Jesus to us.
And when we skip over that, or dismiss it, or rewrite it, we lose something sacred. Not sacred in a nostalgic way. Sacred in a God-ordained, covenant-rooted way.
There’s a Restoration Coming
The good news? God’s not done with this story.
Not with the Church. And not with Israel.
There’s a reason Zechariah 14 speaks of a time when all nations will come to Jerusalem to celebrate the Feast of Tabernacles.
It’s not just poetry. It’s prophecy.
One day, the whole house will be restored.
The rooms opened up.
The stories remembered.
The roots honored.
And the family reunited.
Until then, I’ll keep knocking gently.
Not with judgment. But with hope.
“Hey! We used to live here. Can I show you something beautiful about this place?”
You might just find…there’s more to the story.
About The Jewish Road
At the heart of The Jewish Road lies a passion ignited by a father-son duo, Ron and Matt Davis. Our journey began with a simple yet profound desire: to bridge the gap in understanding that has kept two faith communities apart for too long. We're here to help Christians connect with the roots of their faith and for Jews to explore the life and teachings of Jesus with an open heart.
Imagine a world where every believer, be they Jewish or Christian, not only knows their faith but truly understands its origins and interconnectedness. We strive to restore the Jewish essence of the Gospel, offering insights that deepen knowledge, bolster faith, and propel the growth of the Kingdom. The narrative of faith, we believe, is a two-act play where both acts are essential for a comprehensive grasp of the story. By uniting these acts, we're presenting a more holistic and enriching perspective.
Life is too short to wander without knowing the full essence of your beliefs. Whether you're attending a synagogue or a church, there's so much more to discover. The Jewish Road is here to guide, enlighten, and, most importantly, bring both halves of the story together. Join us on this journey; together
