Why We Don't Keep the Feasts Our Savior Kept

This disconnect between the biblical festivals that shaped Jesus's own religious life and our modern Christian practice isn't an oversight—it represents one of the most profound theological shifts in religious history. Understanding why Christians don't observe these ancient feasts, while simultaneously learning from their rich spiritual significance, opens a window into the very heart of what it means to live under the New Covenant.

 

The Shadow and the Substance

The author of Hebrews provides our theological starting point: "These are a shadow of the things to come, but the substance belongs to Christ" (Colossians 2:17). This metaphor of shadow and substance permeates the New Testament's treatment of Old Testament observances. Just as a shadow indicates the presence of something real casting it, the feasts pointed forward to spiritual realities that would find their fulfillment in Christ.

Consider how Augustine of Hippo expressed this truth: "The New Testament lies hidden in the Old and the Old Testament is unveiled in the New." The feasts were never ends in themselves but prophetic markers pointing to God's redemptive plan. When Paul writes to the Galatians about their troubling return to observing "days and months and seasons and years" (Galatians 4:10), his concern isn't merely about calendar keeping—it's about the theological implications of returning to shadows when the substance has arrived.

 

The Seven Feasts and Their Fulfillment

The genius of God's redemptive calendar becomes clear when we examine each feast through the lens of Christ's work:

Passover (Pesach) commemorated Israel's deliverance from Egyptian bondage through the blood of an unblemished lamb. Paul makes the connection explicit: "Christ, our Passover lamb, has been sacrificed" (1 Corinthians 5:7). The timing of Jesus's crucifixion during Passover week was no coincidence. John the Baptist's declaration, "Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!" (John 1:29) wasn't merely metaphorical—it was the announcement that the true Passover had arrived. Every element finds its fulfillment: the unblemished lamb (Christ's sinlessness), the blood on the doorposts (Christ's blood covering us), the hasty departure from Egypt (our urgent departure from sin's domain).

The Feast of Unleavened Bread immediately followed Passover, requiring the removal of all leaven from Jewish homes. Leaven, throughout Scripture, symbolizes sin's pervasive, corrupting influence. Paul applies this directly to Christian living: "Cleanse out the old leaven that you may be a new lump, as you really are unleavened" (1 Corinthians 5:7). Christ's sinless life and our call to holiness fulfill this feast's deepest meaning.

Firstfruits celebrated the initial harvest, with the first sheaf presented to God. Paul identifies Christ as "the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep" (1 Corinthians 15:20). His resurrection on the first day of the week, during the Feast of Firstfruits, proclaimed Him as the guarantee of our coming resurrection harvest.

Pentecost (Shavuot), fifty days after Firstfruits, celebrated the wheat harvest and traditionally commemorated the giving of the Law at Sinai. The Holy Spirit's descent on Pentecost (Acts 2) transforms this feast's meaning: where the Law was once written on tablets of stone, now God's Spirit writes His law on human hearts (Jeremiah 31:33, 2 Corinthians 3:3).

The Feast of Trumpets (Rosh Hashanah) announced the civil new year with trumpet blasts. The New Testament connects trumpet sounds with Christ's return: "For the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a cry of command, with the voice of an archangel, and with the sound of the trumpet of God" (1 Thessalonians 4:16). What was once an annual awakening becomes the eternal awakening at Christ's return.

The Day of Atonement (Yom Kippur) was the holiest day, when the high priest entered the Holy of Holies with blood sacrifice for the nation's sins. Hebrews 9-10 extensively explains how Christ fulfilled this as our eternal High Priest, entering the heavenly sanctuary with His own blood, securing "eternal redemption" (Hebrews 9:12).

The Feast of Tabernacles (Sukkot) remembered Israel's wilderness wanderings and anticipated the final harvest. John tells us that at this feast's climax, Jesus stood and declared, "If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink" (John 7:37). The temporary booths pointing to our earthly pilgrimage find their ultimate fulfillment in God tabernacling with humanity forever (Revelation 21:3).

 

The Jerusalem Council's Decisive Verdict

The early church's decision about Gentile believers and Jewish observances wasn't made lightly. Acts 15 records the Jerusalem Council's deliberations, where the apostles and elders, guided by the Holy Spirit, determined that Gentile converts need not become Jewish proselytes to be saved. Peter's words ring with liberating clarity: "Why are you putting God to the test by placing a yoke on the neck of the disciples that neither our fathers nor we have been able to bear?" (Acts 15:10).

This wasn't a rejection of the Old Testament's value but a recognition of the New Covenant's radical nature. As Thomas Aquinas would later articulate, the ceremonial laws were "dead" (no longer binding) but not "deadly" (sinful to observe) immediately after Christ's death. However, once the Gospel was fully proclaimed, returning to them as necessary for salvation would indeed be "deadly"—a denial of Christ's sufficient work.

 

The Wineskins of the New Covenant

Jesus Himself provided a powerful illustration of this impending shift with the metaphor of new wine and old wineskins (Matthew 9:16-17). When criticized for not fasting in the manner of the Pharisees, He explained, "No one puts a piece of unshrunk cloth on an old garment, for the patch pulls away from the garment, and a worse tear is made. Neither is new wine put into old wineskins. If it is, the skins burst and the wine is spilled and the skins are destroyed. But new wine is put into fresh wineskins, and so both are preserved."

This isn't a simple analogy about tradition; it's a profound theological statement. The "old garment" and "old wineskins" represent the rigid, outward-focused system of the Mosaic Covenant, with its specific laws and ceremonies. The "new wine" is the radical, life-giving reality of the Gospel—a new work of God based on grace and an indwelling Spirit.

The key to understanding this transition is recognizing the nature of the Law itself. Theologians throughout Christian history have understood that there are different types of law. The Eternal Law is the mind of God, the ultimate source of all truth and goodness. The Natural Moral Law is the participation of a rational creature in the Eternal Law, known through human reason and conscience. This is the law that existed before Sinai and is written on the human heart (Romans 2:14-15).

The Mosaic Law was a specific, temporary articulation of the Eternal and Natural Law, given to Israel at a particular time and circumstance to prepare them for Christ. It contained moral precepts, which remain binding on all people for all time, and ceremonial and judicial precepts, which were temporary.

When Jesus says He came "not to abolish the Law, but to fulfill it" (Matthew 5:17), He means that He perfectly lives out and reveals the true, eternal moral law and that He is the very fulfillment of all the ceremonial laws and prophecies. He did not replace the eternal moral law with a new one; He fulfilled it by demonstrating its perfect application. However, He did supersede the ceremonial law by accomplishing all that it prefigured. As St. Thomas Aquinas articulated, Christ's death marked the end of the ceremonial law's binding force: "Since the sacraments of the old law were figures of Christ, they began to cease after He had come." (Summa Theologica, I-II, q. 103, a. 3).

This fulfillment is at the heart of the New Covenant prophesied by the prophet Jeremiah: "Behold, the days are coming, declares the Lord, when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah, not like the covenant that I made with their fathers… But this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days, declares the Lord: I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts." (Jeremiah 31:31-33).

This prophecy shows precisely why the external structures and festivals of the Old Covenant are no longer observed. The old covenant was based on an external law written on stone tablets, with external rituals and feasts designed to discipline a people and point to a coming reality. The New Covenant, in contrast, is based on an internal law, where the Holy Spirit writes the very substance of God's will on our hearts. The focus is no longer on outward observance of shadows, but on inward transformation by the Spirit, leading to a life that is a continuous feast of Christ's presence.

 

The Witness of the Earliest Church Fathers

This understanding wasn't a later innovation but was foundational to the earliest Christian identity. The Church Fathers consistently affirmed that the Old Covenant feasts had been superseded by their fulfillment in Christ.

The key to understanding their perspective is the distinction between the moral law and the ceremonial law. I know I covered this above, but it's worth repeating. While Jesus stated that He did not come to "abolish the Law" (Matthew 5:17), this refers to the eternal, uncreated law of God—the moral principles of love for God and neighbor that predate Sinai and are written on creation itself (Romans 2:14-15). The Mosaic Law, in contrast, was a specific, temporary articulation of this eternal law, given to Israel at a particular time and circumstance. This articulation included the ceremonial statutes and feasts. It is this ceremonial aspect of the law that Jesus fulfilled, rendering its shadows obsolete.

Ignatius of Antioch (c. AD 35-108), a disciple of the Apostle John, sternly warned against returning to Jewish practices. In his letter to the Magnesians, he writes: "It is monstrous to talk of Jesus Christ and to practice Judaism. For Christianity did not believe in Judaism, but Judaism in Christianity, in which every tongue believed and was gathered to God." (Letter to the Magnesians 10:3). He argues that Christian life is a new creation, freed from the old system.

Justin Martyr (c. AD 100-165), in his Dialogue with Trypho the Jew, directly addresses the non-observance of feasts and Sabbaths, explaining that the ceremonial law was a temporary and preparatory stage for Israel, not intended for all humanity eternally. He states, "There will be no other God for us, O Trypho, than Him who brought you out of Egypt. ...But we must no longer keep the Sabbaths, festivals, and new moons, as you do." (Dialogue with Trypho 18). For Justin, Christ is the true Passover and the true Sabbath rest, rendering the old festivals obsolete for those who believe in Him.

Irenaeus of Lyons (c. AD 130-202), in his work Against Heresies, also makes the case that the ceremonial law was a temporary phase. He wrote, "For we have no need of the Law, since we possess that which is perfect, that is, Christ Jesus, who is the perfection of the Law." (Against Heresies IV.13.4). Irenaeus saw the Law as a form of discipline for a people who were not yet mature enough to receive the fullness of the Gospel.

Even Tertullian (c. AD 155-240) in his Answer to the Jews argues at length that the Old Covenant was a preparatory stage now superseded. He writes, "God's law was temporary... because it was given for a certain time and was abrogated by Christ." (Answer to the Jews 6). The consensus among the earliest leaders of the church was that the old calendar of feasts and rituals had passed away with the arrival of the New Covenant.

 

Why Observance Today Misses the Mark

Even when not performed as a requirement for salvation, there are still theological and practical dangers in Christians observing the feasts today:

First, it risks theological regression by confusing the substance with the shadow. While someone may have the right intentions, engaging in the observance of the shadow can inadvertently diminish the reality of the substance. It's akin to a married person continuing to wear a placeholder ring after receiving their true wedding band. The placeholder's purpose was to point to the coming reality, but once that reality arrives, continuing to wear the placeholder diminishes the significance of the genuine article. It implies that Christ's fulfillment is somehow lacking or incomplete. Paul’s frustration with the Galatians centered on their return to "weak and worthless elementary principles" (Galatians 4:9), showing a concern not just with motive, but with the act itself.

Second, it can create false distinctions and fracture church unity. Paul warns the Colossians: "Let no one pass judgment on you in questions of food and drink, or with regard to a festival or a new moon or a Sabbath" (Colossians 2:16). When the observance of feasts becomes a mark of spiritual maturity or special insight, it inevitably leads to division within the body of Christ. It suggests a hierarchy of spirituality based on knowledge of and adherence to a ceremonial calendar, fracturing the unity Christ died to create.

Third, it can distract from the radical nature of the New Covenant. The beauty of the Gospel lies in its accessibility to all peoples, regardless of cultural background or ceremonial practice. Requiring or encouraging feast observance re-erects barriers that Christ's death and resurrection demolished, essentially saying, "to be a full Christian, you must also be a part-time Jew." It obscures the gospel's simplicity and its universal call to worship God in spirit and truth, not through adherence to a ritual calendar.

Fourth, it lacks any basis in Christian Tradition. Unlike the universally accepted Christian feasts of Easter and Christmas, there is no historical precedent for the Church to adopt or re-institute the Old Covenant feasts. For two thousand years, the universal, tradition of the Church has embraced a calendar centered on the life of Christ, not a return to the Mosaic festivals. The feasts were replaced, not merely supplemented. No individual or group has the authority to unilaterally reinstitute practices that the Spirit-led consensus of the Church has set aside in favor of a new, Christ-centered calendar. It is not up the the individual believer to try and recover aspects of the Old Covenant that from the very beginning of Christian history the apostolic witness insisted should be left behind. We belong to a body of Christ and to create divisions that separate us from the universal testimony of those Christians who've come before us is to do violence to the body of Christ, to create "schism" or "injury" that is not befitting of any individual who would be a part of Christ's body upon the body as a whole.

 

Learning Without Observing

Yet these feasts remain profoundly instructive. They reveal God's pedagogical genius in preparing humanity for the Messiah. Like a master teacher laying foundation stones, God used these festivals to teach concepts that would find their fullest expression in Christ.

From Passover, we learn about substitutionary sacrifice—that deliverance requires blood, that judgment passes over those covered by the lamb's blood. This isn't ancient history but present reality every time we approach God through Christ's blood.

From the Day of Atonement, we understand the costliness of reconciliation. The high priest's elaborate preparations, the people's anxious waiting, the scapegoat bearing sins into the wilderness—all picture the magnitude of Christ's priestly work.

From Tabernacles, we grasp our pilgrim status. The temporary booths remind us that this world isn't our permanent home, that we're journeying toward a city whose architect and builder is God (Hebrews 11:10).

 

Conclusion: Living the Fulfillment

So how do we apply this understanding? First, we celebrate the fulfillment, not the shadow. Our Christian calendar is built around the events of Christ's life because they are the culmination of all the feasts. Christmas is not the Feast of Tabernacles, but it celebrates the ultimate act of God tabernacling with us. Easter isn't Passover, but it commemorates the death of our Passover Lamb and the feast of new life that follows. These are not new feasts but the divine reality to which the old feasts pointed.

Ultimately, our observance isn't about marking a calendar with days but about living a life that embodies the eternal truths these feasts prefigured. Our lives themselves become a continuous celebration of Christ as our Passover, our Unleavened Bread, our Firstfruits, and our true High Priest. We live in the fulfillment of a calendar that has no end, a feast that never concludes, because the substance is not a once-a-year event but a person—Jesus Christ, who is the same yesterday, today, and forever.