“At the Table of Jesus” Maundy Thursday noon service, April 5, 2007
Isaiah 55: 1-5, Mark 14: 12-25 Rev. James Moore
(sermon originally written for April
6, 2003; used on Maundy Thursday 2005 as well)
In your imagination, please come along with me and sit at the table with Jesus. We’re among the 12 disciples, sitting in a low-ceilinged upper room, sharing this meal by candlelight, celebrating Passover just as we’ve done every year of our lives, and as Jewish people have done for centuries before. A lot of confusing things have been taking place in the last few days – the momentary excitement of Jesus’ triumphant entry before the palm-waving crowd, but then his violent disruption of the temple and the money changers, and the hostility among the leaders that has been growing day by day….. All these things may be in our minds, yet temporarily set aside as Passover retells the Exodus story and we recall God’s saving actions in a time long ago. There is a certain serenity that comes in these traditions. But then Jesus brings us back to reality with a stunning declaration: “I tell you that one of you will betray me – one who is eating with me.”
And how do we react, we who have been among Jesus’ closest comrades? He says that one of us will betray him. What do we say?
What
were the disciples’ words? I wish I were
an expert in Greek, so that I could make my own decision about the correct way
to translate Mark
A poem by someone named Helene Welshimer reflects this noble attitude:
Perhaps at first they talked of little things
At supper-time that evening in the spring –
The upper room was dim with candle-shine
As Jesus sat with twelve, remembering.
Then quietly He said, “There is one here
Whose kiss will bring betrayal by and by.”
They did not look at Judas curiously,
But each man murmured “Master, is it I?”
Each one looked inward frightened lest he find
A shoddy place where he had dreamed of steel.
None placed the guilt on any other guest
Who had partaken of that gracious meal……..
When there are hungry on my little street,
When I see tears, or hear a heart’s hurt cry
Because some one has failed to keep high faith,
May I, too, murmur, “Master, is it I?”
Page
336 in Christ and the Fine Arts
“Is it I? Am I the one who needs to be accountable?” I’d like to think that disciples had that kind of integrity, and that I would too, but that may not have been the way it was at the upper room. The words of Mark 14:19 can apparently be translated in another way, giving an entirely different feeling.
Instead of “Lord, is it I?” our Good News Bible says (as you may recall) “The disciples were upset, and began to ask him, one after the other, “Surely you don’t mean me, do you?” If it were only one translation I would think that these newer, buck-passing, responsibility-avoiding words were an error, but The New International Bible says “Surely, not I?” The Jerusalem Bible says “Not I, surely?” as does the New English Bible, while JB Phillips translates it as “Surely, I’m not the one?” and Eugene Peterson’s The Message says “You don’t mean me, do you?” With so many independent translators arriving at the same wording I suspect that they are probably correct. It’s likely that the disciples are modeling a behavior we all know something about – a fear of the truth, a guilty defensiveness, an evasion of responsibility. This is a human reaction that goes all the way back to Adam who, when confronted with his wrong-doing, first tried to run away and hide, and then blamed it all on Eve.
At Jesus’ last supper Judas was the only one who should have felt guilty at these words of betrayal, but it sounds as though they all had guilty consciences – all speaking up with this defensiveness that says “It can’t be me.” The other eleven weren’t actively plotting to betray Jesus, but perhaps at some level they knew that they didn’t have the courage to stand by him in times of trouble. In the passage that follows what we read today, Jesus says that they all will desert him, and the disciples are silent – all but Peter, who loudly, tragically, and wrongly proclaims that he’ll be loyal no matter what.
So here we are, preparing to receive Holy Communion at the table of Jesus. The one who invites us to this symbolic meal knows all about us, just as he knew about Judas’ betrayal and the weakness of the other disciples. He knows our strengths and accomplishments, but he also knows the things we’ve done foolishly and impulsively, the things that fill us will regret and shame. He knows our attitudes, thoughts, and desires – the good ones and also the ones we’d be ashamed for our neighbors to know. He knows the truth about what a complex mix of good and evil we are – created in the image of God and yet somehow fallen and imperfect.
As we come to Jesus’ table he knows that some of us have not always conducted our business in a way that’s above board….. Some of us have been disloyal to our spouses and the vows of loyalty we made – perhaps in superficial ways, perhaps in very serious ways…... Some of us put on a Christian mask for Sundays that would astonish the people who see another person five or six days a week….. Some of us can be cruel to our children, and to people who count on us…… Some of us worship the almighty dollar…... Some of us play fast and loose with the truth, saying one thing here and another there, assuming that no one will know……. Jesus knows about this, as surely as he knew about Judas’ plotting and Peter’s weakness.
And what do we say to Jesus as we come to his table and he says “There are people here who haven’t lived as they should.”? What sort of disciples are we – the evasive, buck-passing kind who say “Surely, It isn’t me?” Or could we be disciples who have the courage to say “Lord, Is it I?” Could we be disciples who go on to say “If so, show me my fault and help me to change my ways.”
And here’s what is so ironic about those first disciples, and about us – actually two things. First, pretending that we are guiltless doesn’t do any good. God knows the truth, so there’s no point thinking that we can somehow fast talk our way into acceptance. And secondly – and I think more importantly - when we’re at the table of Jesus we don’t really have any reason to be afraid of the truth. Jesus knew the disciples’ sins and failures, and believe it or not, he loved them still – just as he loves us in all our imperfection. Why is this so hard to believe? A line from the First Letter of John says “Perfect love casts out fear.” Why is it so hard to move beyond the fear of the truth into the perfect love God has for us?
As we think of those first disciples – Judas the betrayer, Peter the denier, and the others who deserted Jesus in fear – what’s the greatest tragedy? That they were weak and sinful? No, there’s really only one tragedy that was beyond repair – and that was Judas’ decision to take his life. Peter, though ashamed, came back to the forgiving friendship of Jesus and he was accepted and restored as were the other disciples. Judas would also have found a gracious welcome, if only he could have believed in that perfect love, that love that casts out fear. But Judas never came back to the table of Jesus.
Today we are invited to the sacred, symbolic meal with our Lord, with one who sees us for what we are. He says “Come without fear. I know all about it.” He says “Come and be honest with yourself.” He says “Come to the table where Peter and the deserters and even Judas were welcomed. Come to the table of grace where you – in all your humanity – are known and loved.” Come to the table of Jesus.