10. Mark 14:22-25
While they were eating, he took a loaf of bread, and after blessing it he broke it, gave it to them, and said, “Take; this is my body.” Then he took a cup, and after giving thanks he gave it to them, and all of them drank from it. He said to them, “This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many. Truly I tell you, I will never again drink of the fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new in the kingdom of God.
There is an intimacy to meals that we sometimes forget in this fast-food age. But if you think hard you can probably remember a dinner, shared most likely with family or close friends, when time seemed, at least for a little while, to stop. The food, the wine, the conversation, and the company all seemed to add up to a whole greater than the sum of its parts.
I think this meal was like that. Jesus gathered with his disciples, those who left home and kin to follow him, for a final meal, and yet more than a final meal. It was a final sharing of himself – all that he was, did, and ever hoped for – with his beloved friends. It is a giving of himself – in the fullest sense possible – in this private and intimate setting before he gives himself painfully and publicly to the world.
It is easy when contemplating this scene – whether told in the Gospels or depicted in numerous paintings across the centuries – to feel the smallest bit of longing, perhaps even of envy. What must it have been like, we may wonder, to be that close to Jesus, to have his gaze upon you and know of his abiding regard for you?
And yet I think that we are invited not just to watch this meal but to share in it. Jesus offers himself also to us in the bread and wine of communion, as the Last Supper of the Gospels is transformed into the Lord’s Supper of Christian worship, the meal when we remember his suffering and death, yes, but also his resurrection and triumph. We live in the dawn light of this promise, knowing that whenever we gather his Spirit is with us and whenever we partake of this meal Jesus gives himself to us all over again.
There is an intimacy to meals. In this meal in particular God invites us to come to the Table so that God in Christ may draw near and, indeed, enter into us: Take, this is my body; drink, this is my blood. Amen. Come Lord Jesus.
Prayer: Dear God, help us to slow down and savor the everyday meals of our lives that we may remember their capacity to bear the sacred, and nurture in us the faith to believe that in the Holy Meal offered to us we receive your real presence in bread, wine, and our very lives. In Jesus’ name. Amen.
Post image: The Last Supper, John August Swanson (2009)
I love this. What a perfect reflection on Communion.
I’m loving the lenten blog. This is a great reflection but having preached on the betrayal last week I’m having a hard time visualizing the intimacy of this meal where time seems to stop. Especially when it begins with the pronouncement that one of you will betray me. A lot would have to take place in between to get that out of their minds. But that’s just where I am today.
That’s a great point, Norm. It may be that I over-read the intimacy of the scene, viewing it through the lens of a “real presence” theology. I wonder if there aren’t times, though, that precisely because of the trauma, the heartache, we reach more immediately, even desperately, for the kind of intimacy, connection, and hope that Jesus words about sharing himself intimate. Just a thought – which I wouldn’t have had were it not for your comment! – Thank you.