If this were the last night of your life, what would you do?
On his last night, Jesus gathered at table with his friends.
Jesus loved tables. He spent a lot of time sitting at tables. He liked to feast.
At a table, Jesus ate and drank with sinners,
so that you and I would know we are always welcome at God’s feast.
At a table a woman became a teacher to the apostles
when she anointed Jesus with oil.
At a table Jesus presented a startling image of God
as slave and servant of all, when he washed his disciples’ feet.
At a table our Lord gave us, in bread and wine,
the means of tasting his sweetness forever.
I think Jesus liked tables because they are places of intimacy.
Everyone is close together—
it’s a place to let your guard down.
Jesus probably did more teaching quietly around a table
than he did shouting from boats or mountaintops to vast multitudes.
And I don’t think Jesus just walked into a room
and started telling people about God.
I think he sat down with them, and learned their names,
and listened to their stories.
And after a while, they would open up to him,
sharing their broken dreams and broken hearts,
their longings and their demons.
And it was there, responding to their particular stories,
that he would bring God to them, casting out their demons,
unbinding them with forgiveness,
empowering them to stand up and walk through that open door into God’s story,
proclaiming them—even the most prodigal sinner—the beloved children of God.
Remember on this night Jesus and his disciples met to celebrate Passover. A remembrance of liberation and a communal expectation of hope. It would have gone on for ages as you will know if you’ve ever been to a Jewish Seder. The cups are filled over and over!
Tables also got Jesus into deep trouble.
In the Temple of Jerusalem, he overturned the tables, the tables of the smug and comfortable religionists.
He overturned the tables where some are in and some are out,
where some are welcome and some are not.
“This isn’t what God wants!” he said
and he made a new table,
a table where all divisions and discriminations are put aside,
where enemies are embraced,
where outcasts and fools are honored as our wisest teachers,
where the abundant life of God’s future is as close
as the food you see before you tonight.
The world was not ready to sit at such a table –
the world didn’t even want to know there was such a table.
So it stretched its maker upon another piece of wood,
hoping to bury the dream before it could infect the general population.
But the table survived, and we come to it tonight.
In a culture increasingly blighted by fear of the other and politics of distrust and exclusion, we would do well to spend time at Jesus’ table.
Despite medieval paintings with haloed disciples, on the night of the Last Supper the gathered community was not perfect. Think about who was present: Peter, who would commit an act of violence in the garden and deny knowing Jesus; the majority of the disciples, who would abandon Jesus in their fear; and yes, Judas, who had already entered into a pact to betray the Son of God.
I was reading earlier about the Judas Cup ceremony, a unique ceremony to Durham Cathedral which dates back to the 14th Century.
The ceremony was first mentioned in the 16th Century 'Rites of Durham', an anonymous text describing how the cathedral and monastery functioned before the Reformation.
The Dean takes a sip of wine from the mazer cup before addressing the individual members of Chapter saying to them, 'one of you will betray me'. Each member replies with 'surely not I', as they, too, take a sip of wine from the cup, mirroring scenes from the Last Supper.
Research done notes how the cup used in the 14th Century featured the face of Judas in the bottom of the bowl, so when monks drank from it they could see their own faces reflected in that of the traitor.
On that Maundy Thursday, Jesus did not deem his very human and fallible followers unworthy to sit at his table. He talked with them, shared a meal with them, washed their feet, and offered them his body and blood. Jesus did not exclude them—he gave them communion, as he does each one of us today.
And then, Jesus calls to be the church and to do likewise: “Love one another as I have loved you”
How will we respond?
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