Mark 14:12-25: a new covenant with an old story

What we see Jesus instituting in the middle of Mark 14 is a new covenant.  So many times we think of new and old as being antithetical.  However, while there is something distinctly new in this covenant, it is also rooted in something very old.  In fact, the context in which Jesus inaugurates this new covenant is in a celebration of the old one.  Jesus uses the celebration of God’s acting to deliver Israel in the past, to announce God’s deliverance of all mankind in the present. 

It was no accident that the Passover meal was the time chosen by Jesus to institute a reminder of the salvation wrought by God, for indeed that’s what the Passover meal already was.  The bread during a Passover meal would have been known as the “bread of affliction”.  It was a reminder of their former life in Egypt, and how they had to eat unleavened bread as they fled slavery.  Jesus takes familiar words, but then substitutes in “this is my body”, placing the emphasis not on the bread that we eat, but on his body which bore the price for our transgressions.   In his body, Jesus suffers the affliction that was meant for us.  In the Passover meal there are four cups: the cups of sanctification; judgment or deliverance; redemption; and praise or restoration.  It’s hard to say exactly which cup Jesus used to give us the memorial through which we remember his blood that was shed.  The most educated guess based on where it falls during the meal, would be the cup of redemption.  Why does Jesus use only one cup?  Maybe that particular cup carried the symbolism Jesus intended to convey.  Or, maybe his use of only one cup isn’t meant to symbolize just one of those four things; maybe the one cup is meant to symbolize the fact that Jesus is all of these things for us. 

He is our sanctification.

He is our deliverance from judgment.

He is our redemption.

He is our restoration, giving us reason to praise. 

Another way of stating this would be to say that Jesus is our Passover lamb.  The question has often been asked, if this is a Passover meal, where’s the lamb?  The main course of a Passover meal was the lamb, and yet in the account we have of the Last Supper, it is noticeably absent.  Of course that doesn’t mean they didn’t have one, perhaps they did and it simply isn’t mentioned.  Or again, perhaps there is a very good reason why it isn’t mentioned.  It’s possible that in the words of one commentator, “the lamb isn’t on the table, because the lamb is at the table.”  The words of John the Baptist ring true, “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world!” (John 1:29) 

Beyond asking what this meal is about, we should also ask the question “who should we eat with?”  Is Communion, the Lord’s Supper only for the near-perfect?  Is it only the Christian with no struggles, no guilt, and no sinful past?  If those were the only one’s invited to the table, then the table would remain perpetually empty.  We all struggle, we all have guilt, and we all have sins in our past, and maybe even in the present to.  It’s important to note that Jesus eats with those who are about to betray, deny, and desert Him.  Could he have in mind the words of Psalm 23:5, “you prepare a table before me, in the presence of my enemies”?  Jesus knew what Judas was going to do, it says as much in the gospel of John.  Jesus predicts for us in the gospel Peter’s denial.  The others would also leave him standing alone in his hour of need.  And yet, there he is sitting with them; a traitor, one who is scared to even admit that he knows him, and others whose fear overcomes their faith.  It makes the petty differences I have with others seem a little less important.  It also shows how incomprehensible is the love of God.

Maybe you have betrayed Jesus.  Maybe you’ve denied Him.  At some point we all have.  As bad as that is and as guilty as we feel, the message of the gospel is that there is still room for us at the table.  Take comfort in the words of the final psalm they would have sung that night, “I shall not die, but I shall live, and recount the deeds of the Lord.” (Psalm 118:17)  The table reminds us of the present deliverance of our gracious God, offered to us because of the past actions Jesus Christ.  The invitation of the table is to proclaim that new-found life, to acknowledge the deeds of the Lord, in the midst of a dying world.     

Luke 24:13-35: recognizing Jesus

I talked a little bit in part one of this post about how Jesus is hard to recognize sometimes.  His disciples, who spent three continuous years with him, failed to recognize him at first on the road to Emmaus.  Eventually though, their eyes were opened to the identity of this stranger in their midst.  What led them to recognize him?  They recognized him in the breaking of the bread.
How fitting that Jesus' disciples recognize Him as they are gathered around the table.  This happy coincidence allows us to actually participate in the story, for we to gather around a table regularly with Jesus present.  I would suggest that we can learn a few things from the disciples experience with the resurrected Christ that can inform our own efforts to discern Christ in the breaking of bread.

• First of all, the fact that they recognized Him in the breaking of the bread implies that in some way His actions were familiar to them.  Perhaps it's the way he prayed.  Some suggest that the very actions of taking, blessing, breaking, and giving bread recalled to their minds Jesus' miraculous feeding of the 5,000.  Others suggest that it evoked in their memory a much more recent event, when the disciples had gathered together with Christ to celebrate the Passover.  Regardless of what it was that triggered their memory, it seems to me that the existence of those memories is the key.  In other words, the disciples had spent a lot of time with Jesus in the past three years and despite their failure to recognize Him at first, it was those memories of their time shared together that eventually reminded them of who he was.  It begs the question, how much time do we spend with our Lord?  At some point in our lives we will all fail to recognize our Savior.  Do we share enough time with Jesus to ensure that even in our weaker moments, eventually our eyes will be opened to who he really is?  
• Each week when we gather at the table, we are reminded of the characteristics of Christ, of His very nature.  We are reminded that we serve a God who will give everything, who has given everything, to redeem us.  Not even His own body and blood are too steep a price for our reconciliation.  Some might argue that we diminish the power of the story if we tell if every week.  I understand their concern, but I would suggest that we don't celebrate Communion every week, rather we do it every seven days.  It may sound like six of one, half a dozen of the other, but I think how we approach our time at the table contributes to how meaningful that time is.  I like to compare the Lord's Supper and its spiritual necessity to water and its physical necessity.  Many see water as being a rather dull beverage.  Indeed, when I am just sitting around, I want something that tastes a lot better than water.  In those times, I am not looking for something to replenish me, I am looking for something that dazzles my taste-buds.  However, in those times when I am really working out (which isn't as easy as it used to be), nothing will do but water.  There were many a day in high school when all of us would gather around the water fountain after a long run or a tough track work-out.  We didn't want sweet tea (shocking I know), and we didn't want Coke.  Oh, those are good when all you want is something that tastes good, but I wanted something that would really quench my thirst, I wanted something life-giving.  If we find our time around the table dull is it because it is in fact dull, or is it because our lack of spiritual exercise has us looking for something that delights the taste-buds, and not something that replenishes the soul?  
• Finally, I think it's appropriate to note the disciples travel itinerary.  We find them at the beginning of the story leaving Jerusalem heading towards Emmaus.  And yet, after their encounter with the resurrected Christ their plans change, and by the end of the passage they are returning to Jerusalem.  An encounter with Jesus quite literally changed the direction of the disciples lives.  Little did they know that very soon God would unleash the Spirit on Jesus' disciples gathered in Jerusalem.  It is true that our change of direction will not be physical in nature, but it should be just as real.  When we encounter the risen Lord, does it change our plans, does it completely reshape the way we live our lives?  Or, after our experience with Jesus do we continue walking down the same road, in the same direction that we were headed all along?  

It amazes me all the ways that we can relate to a simple story about Jesus' disciples and their interaction with a Messiah who transforms death into life.  It was an event that led them to Jerusalem to fulfill their calling as the first messengers of the good news of Christ and His resurrection.  Do you recognize Jesus when you see Him, and if so, where is your encounter with Him leading you?

My favorite part of this job...

If you know me, then you know I like to talk.  So, it would be entirely reasonable to think that the opportunity to preach regularly would be my favorite thing about this job.  To be honest, as I was preparing to begin my work here, I was certain that would be the case.  I mean, you combine the ability to talk to a captive audience- captive because of their respect for church, not my eloqence- and some nerdy Bible study, and you would think I was in heaven (pun intended).  However, after two Sundays I can tell you that preaching is not my favorite aspect of my work here.  Don't get me wrong, just as I expected, I love doing it.  However, my absolute favorite task, one that I take great joy in, is taking communion to the sick.  I love it for two reasons. 
The first is the character of the people that I am visiting.  These are people that very much yearn to be at church with their brothers and sisters in Christ, but their bodies simply won't get them there.  I always sense a sharper focus and a greater sense of appreciation from those we visit with.  For some reason, we humans are programmed so that it's harder for us to appreciate something until it's gone, or at least we think it's gone.  It's a great paradox.  Frequent worship is the calling of all humanity (not just Christians), a calling that not only blesses the God to whom our praise and worship is due, but that also gives us and sustains in us spiritual life and health.  And yet, a result of that frequency is that we constantly battle the urge to take for granted what we worship, proclaim, and participate in.  To the woman in her eighties whose foot is so swollen that it hurts to walk, worship is more than an obligation.  To the man in his seventies who has just had a rod placed in his leg, and his wife who serves as his constant care-taker, praise is more than a simple duty.  To the man in his eighties laying in the hospital in great pain and unable to keep down any food, and to his wife who remains by his side, participation in worship is a joy.
The other reason I love taking communion to the sick is that it is an extremely Christ-like action that never fails to humble my ego, even as it simultaneously builds my faith.  One of the most comforting images in the Bible is Christ as the Good Sheperd.  It is quite literally the personification of the 23rd Psalm with Christ walking with us, even through the valley of the shadow of death.  What better way to proclaim that truth than to ensure that our brothers and sisters who are experiencing the most trying of times have an opportunity to participate in communion with us?  So often when we think of pastoral imagery and of people as sheep, we find ourselves stuck in the dichotomy of faithful and faithless.  Surely the lost sheep that Christ leaves the ninty-nine to go find is some wayward sinner- or even wayward Christian, not that the two don't overlap- desperately in need of repentance.  On the contrary, I think that more often than we realize, the sheep has not wondered off in some fit of willful disobedience, but instead has fallen victim to one of life's many misfortunes.  One of the things that I will never forget from my time as a chaplain intern is the number of people who are seemingly abandoned in their greatest hour of need.  We live in a time when family is seldom close by, and neighbors are nameless faces we see in transit from our cars to our front doors.  As disciples of Christ, it is left to us to go in search of other brothers and sisters who are wounded and ill, burdened with the unaviodable cares and sorrows of this life.  It falls to us to make certain that they are never left so far behind that the voice of their Master dies away, as if it were never present in the first place.  What better way to help them maintain the presence of Jesus in their life than with communion, the symbols of Christ victory over sin and death.  What better way to remind them that they are loved not only by their God, but also by a community of fellow believers, than with communion, the emblems of the promise that pain and sorrow will never have the final say in our present world that remains broken in so many ways.
Yes, as much as I love preaching, it isn't my favorite part of this job.  Now you know why.