Exodus 12:7Meaning & Commentary from the Church Fathers

However, they could not grasp that the incarnate Son of God would be sacrificed, redeem the entire creation, share His blood for all to partake, open the gates of heaven for everyone, and elevate His holy flesh above all celestial beings—angels, archangels, and other powers—to place it on the most exalted throne at the Father’s right hand, radiating in ineffable glory. At that time, they, and even others, lacked the vision to fathom this.

A lamb was sacrificed within their homes, and its blood marked on the doorways served as a safeguard against the impending destruction that was to befall the Egyptians. Thus, if the blood of the lamb offered such protection to the Jewish people in the face of peril, how much more can the blood of Christ grant us salvation? It anoints not merely our doorways but our very souls, for the destroyer still roams in the darkness around us. We must shield ourselves with this sacrificial offering. The anointing signifies the shedding, as God liberated us from Egypt, from the shadows of idolatry.

The significance was not overt, yet because we gain salvation through blood and the cross, the Lord commanded that each person should anoint their doors with blood. He did not specify to anoint the walls, for salvation could only be achieved through the means of the tree.

Those unfamiliar with Christ may struggle to find rationale for these prescriptions of the law and might question why God established such directives regarding the Old Testament Passover. There exists no other rationale for instituting the sacrifice for the salvation of the firstborn or for the blood to be applied at the entrances. What power could the act of slaying sacrificial animals hold for the deliverance of the firstborn? What necessity was there for marking the houses with blood? Certainly, God knew the homes of the Israelites without needing such signs, rendering His proclamation, "I will see the blood and pass over you," puzzling. However, by elevating these commands to their true essence, we can discern their profound meanings, as demonstrated by many examples previously outlined. When the unblemished Sacrifice suffered for us, the death inherited from the first man was vanquished, and the original man dwelling within us all was brought to life through Christ's resurrection. In righteousness, the life that breaks the chains of sin and death serves as salvation for all who embrace this sacrifice. Looking upon it, God rescues those who have marked themselves with faith, as they can escape from the just vengeance of the punishing angel solely by virtue of the blood shed for humanity. Do you recognize the depths of the analogy when viewed through this lens? Thus, if any Jew were to ask, "Why did Christ suffer to save the world as if such was necessary?" the answer would be, "Why was the Passover instituted for the salvation of the Jewish firstborn as if their salvation depended on it?" They would find themselves at a loss for words, for surely God required neither sacrifice nor mark to know His people. This situation argues in our favor, reaffirming the truth of our holy faith and demonstrating how Christ's righteousness abolishes our own unrighteousness, just as darkness is dispelled by light. Similarly, Christ's life nullifies our death, akin to light abolishing darkness. Therefore, this sacrifice is holy, as it prefigures the true offering. This true sacrifice, delivered to death and burial through the wickedness of ignorance, yet divinely accepted as a sacred offering, was willingly bestowed to the Father. The Father gave the Son for us, and Christ "gave Himself for us an offering and a sacrifice to God, an acceptable fragrance." To some who conspired for Christ's death, this divine plan led to ruin; but to others seeking salvation, it brought hope through their faith. Judgment and death bypass them, for death loses its destructive power, as the Savior proclaimed, "Whoever keeps My word shall not see death forever." Through the blood shed for us, we receive the Holy Spirit. The unifying of blood and Spirit enables us to accept the Holy Spirit—distinct from us—through the blood, which is reminiscent of our own, thereby preventing death from accessing us. The approach of death is twofold, and as such, the sign of the blood also manifests in two aspects. It is said, "on both, on the jambs and on the lintel of the door." Death enters through sin, as the apostle notes. Sin within us arises from passion—whether indulgence in sensuality or by harshness—or as a misguided product of thought. Reason, analogous to the lintel, stands above both pillars of passion, which rest below it. The passions that lead to indulgence include gluttony, drunkenness, and lust, while the coarser passions manifest as anger and various forms of selfishness, which Paul warns against, stating, "Let us behave well, not engaging in revelry and drunkenness, nor in sexual immorality and debauchery, nor in discord and jealousy, but let us put on the Lord Jesus Christ." The ancient anointing mirrors this very act of putting on, as we, embracing the sufferings of Christ, garb ourselves in His holiness—eschewing pleasure and not hardening our hearts in anger. Properly understood, anointing represents the very garment we don, not carnal wisdom, but the wisdom of Christ, allowing the mortal mind to be subdued, appearing as dead, while the spiritual mind is adorned. When we are thus clothed, no unreasonable passions or careless thoughts can lead us to sin, nor can death claim victory over us. This is undoubtedly the hidden essence of anointing.

The blood of the Lamb promises salvation for you, provided you approach it in faith, anointing your feelings and thoughts through which death enters after sin, with faith, as if with blood, just as Israel marked their doorways. If passion does not infiltrate you through your senses and intellect, then death will not seize you, and you, bearing in your body the mortification of Jesus, will manifest life within you, allowing death—rooted in the original Adam—to pass over you, just as the destruction of the firstborn passed over the homes of the Israelites. This is the origin of the feast known as Pascha, which signifies "passing over."

The anointed door is the Church, while the two pillars represent the two nations. The Savior did not confine His mission to Israel alone; He proclaimed, "I am sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel." I subsisted like a little dog at another’s table, unable to partake of bread, but collecting the crumbs that fell and consuming scraps from another's feast. However, when you rejected the bread from heaven—the manna—faith transferred it to me, and I, having become a son instead of a mere dog, now partake of the meat offered. The light of the world has diminished in comparison to the magnificent radiance of Christ’s body. "Receive, eat: this is My body."

Thus, since a person burdened by sin generates desire before committing adultery and anger before resorting to murder, one who slays the firstborn undoubtedly annihilates the lineage that follows, just as one who strikes the head of the serpent eliminates its entire form, which it carries behind. However, this can only occur if this sacrificial blood is applied at our entrances, which causes the destroyer to retreat. To articulate this more precisely, the narrative reveals an understanding of this truth, seen both in the slaying of the firstborn and in the doorways marked with blood; for there, the first inclination toward evil is vanquished, and here, through the true Lamb, the initial entry of wickedness is turned away from us. We do not merely seek to expel the destroyer once he has entered, but actively guard against the very onset of evil by following divine guidance. The sign on the doorposts and lintels created with the blood of the Lamb functions as both protection and boundary. This scripture instructively parallels the insights about our souls that external studies have delineated, which categorize the soul into rational, appetitive, and irritable faculties. It is posited that subservient to these are desires, which stabilize the cognitive power of the soul; reason, united with both faculties, governs them, drawing strength from them, while irritability is emboldened by courage, and desire is elevated toward goodness. Therefore, as long as the soul remains safeguarded by this harmonious arrangement of its faculties, which is akin to a framework firmly bound by the principles of virtue, it benefits from the collective support of these elements in producing the good. The intellect, in turn, assures the welfare of the lower faculties, borrowing from them in gracious reciprocity. However, should this order of faculties be disrupted, with the higher sinking to a lower state—where the intellect bows to a depraved and lustful disposition—it opens the door for the insatiable adversary to invade. In such circumstances, the barriers established by faith in Christ do not hold against his intrusion; it is commanded to first anoint the upper part of the doorway with blood, and then apply it to the two side posts. But how can one apply the blood above without a point of reference at the top?

What do we consider our homes in a spiritual sense if not our souls, the places where we dwell in thought? In this spiritual abode, the upper jamb signifies our intentions, which transcend mere actions. Therefore, whoever aligns their intention towards emulating Christ’s suffering marks the top post of their spiritual dwelling with the Lamb's Blood. Truly, our bodies serve as the homes we inhabit throughout our earthly existence. We denote the upper doorpost of our being with the Lamb's Blood, for we bear the mark of His cross upon our foreheads.

The symbolism is clear: the sacrificed lamb represents Christ, whose offering occurred for our liberation from the grip of death (see Heb. 2:14-15). With the mark of His cross, and through the application of His blood, we are safeguarded from harmful angels until the culmination of time.

Instead, it represented a testament to the Hebrews' faith in the atoning power of the Passover sacrifice, reflecting their humble awareness that, like the Egyptians, they were guilty before God and deserved divine judgment. They understood that their only hope of salvation lay in the Lord's mercy, who accepted the sacrificial blood of an innocent creature as the price for their redemption—the guilty. The blood of the sacrificial animal, however, was not inherently significant; its meaning was fulfilled in the blood of our Divine Savior, Jesus Christ, the Lamb of God, who was foreordained for sacrifice from creation and who bore the sins of the whole world eternally. Among the Hebrews, especially the most faithful, starting with Moses, they recognized the shedding of the paschal lamb’s blood and the anointing of their doorways as a significant act (Hebrews 11:28). The doorposts anointed with blood symbolize not just the doorways (Exodus 12:23), but in a part representing the whole, they signify the entire dwelling, which in turn reflects the inhabitants within. Thus, the anointing of the doorframes served as a substitute for sprinkling or anointing with the lamb’s blood within the homes of the Hebrews, acting as a mysterious seal marking the chosen people for preservation from the impending plague intended for the Egyptians. The prophet Ezekiel provides a vision where the righteous are seen marked with a seal on their foreheads, designated for protection from the disasters that were to come upon Jerusalem from the invaders—the Babylonians—afflicting only the wicked. The seal on their foreheads is the letter Tav (T), which resembles the cross of Christ, signifying that not only New Testament believers are spared from God’s judgment but that there was also protection for all believers of the Old Testament (Ezekiel 9:4).