Maundy Thursday

While they were eating, Jesus took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to his disciples, saying, “Take it; this is my body.” 
Then he took a cup, and when he had given thanks, he gave it to them, and they all drank from it.
“This is my blood of the new covenant, which is poured out for many,” he said to them.
Mark 14:22-24

Dear Friends,

As a child, my church would celebrate Communion/The Lord’s Supper/The Eucharist once a month. My eyes would scan the plate passing me that held a white paper doily and broken matzo crackers. I would search out the largest piece. And when the mini communion cups of grape juice ushered past, I would grab the fullest one. This was not the holy move of a child wanting more of Jesus. I just wanted the biggest snack. 

I didn’t fully understand the weighty sacredness of this invitational act. 

When I think of the Twelve—and possibly more—surrounding that first Eucharistic table with Christ on the night he was betrayed, they didn’t fully understanding the weighty sacredness of this invitational act either. Of course they understood Passover—God’s rescue and redemption of Israel from slavery in Egypt. The annual celebratory Passover meal helped reorient and re-member the people back to the God who hears cries, responds with love, and saves. There’s a reason for remembering and celebrating because humans often forget, lose focus, and are completely distracted from what matters most. Festivals, celebrations, and feasts redirect focus and attention to the constant beat and bass note of God’s love. Celebrations help us pay attention to the undercurrent, that bass note, of our belovedness. 

Jesus knew his dearest friends didn’t fully understand the weighty sacredness at that moment, yet they were invited to participate in the ways they could. Jesus took this rescuing and redemptive annual festival and reformatted it into something new. Instead of “remember when” he created “re-member now” and “re-member again.” But they didn’t get it at that moment—how could they? I’m sure they felt a shift in the atmosphere, an emotionally heavy disruption happening in Jesus, but they didn’t understand what was coming next. I’m sure Jesus was frustrated by this and worried about them not being ready—because who would be? But this didn’t stop Jesus from including them into this weighty-sacred moment. 

At the table: James and John, brothers. Andrew and Peter, brothers. (Sometimes born family members are harder to love than a built family). Simon, wanted by the Roman state for possible insurrection. Matthew, worker in cahoots with the Roman state. Judas, backstabber and betrayer. Thomas, on the fringe of the group, needing a little more convincing. 

The people around this weighty-sacred table were B-team material at best. They didn’t understand what Jesus was doing and yet they were invited to participate, even in the midst of their differences. 

“My body, broken for you. Eat this bread.”

“My blood, shed for you. Drink this wine.”

Friends, even in our lack of understanding this great mystery, we’ve been invited to the table of God’s grace. 

Like those first disciples, we have many differences between us that should divide and tear us apart. But when we come to the open table of God’s abundant grace, all those differences are set aside and become secondary to the beauty of Christ and the cross. Christ's table becomes the great equalizer. Instead of torn relationships, we are mended and made whole through Christ. We become re-membered to each other.

Throughout my week, I often feel like I’m torn apart from myself—multiple responsibilities, expectations, insecurities, questions, uncertainties pull and piece me apart until I’m made up of fragments. But when I come to this table of lavish grace, I re-member who I am and Whose I am. I eat the bread, tasting the transformed wheat, slowly chewing and savoring the body of Christ. I drink the wine, tasting the transformed grape—tannins, sweet, dry, complex life poured out. 

I consume the bread and wine while being consumed by Christ. And as I re-member it all with my church family at the table, I re-embody Christ’s body into my body. As Christ broke and poured himself out for my life, I am invited to break and pour myself out for another’s life. 

I may not fully understand it all, but this holy mystery, this weighty sacredness, pulls all those pieces back together, binding me to myself and to Christ and to you once again.

Oh, what a holy, dark, weighty-sacred Thursday it is. A maundy commandment to eat and drink and re-member.

Thanks be to God.

With (love),
Bethany