Divine Recipe
Commentary
What do you do on the night before God saves you?
The children of Israel had been languishing in hopeless bondage for centuries. How many of them had lived and died under the taskmaster’s whip? How many of them had cried out to the Lord for help without seeing their prayers answered? And so, as surely as their bodies were weighed down under the weight of their physical burdens, their spirits must also have been weighed down under years of bondage and despair.
Then, finally, one day the Lord tells them that the time has come. In spite of all the evidence that surrounded them, he guaranteed that they were about to be free. Indeed, he assured them that the very next morning they would march out of Egypt, no longer weighed down by burdens, but rather encumbered with the riches of Egypt!
So when the eve of that long-awaited moment finally arrives, what do you do? What do you do on the night before God saves you? Well, what the children of Israel did that night before they left Egypt was to eat a meal.
Now I suppose it stands to reason that they would eat a meal at meal time. After all, why should that night be any different when it comes to the ordinary business of life? And yet that night was different, and that was precisely the reason that they were to eat this meal. For it was not just any meal. This wasn’t just another run-of-the-mill evening supper. No, for the Lord himself was specific about the meal that the people were to eat.
I imagine a typical morning at my daughter’s school. Maybe she says to her friends, “My mom made her special spaghetti last night, and it was delicious!” That prompts one of the friends to respond, “We had pizza at our house.” Another friend chimes now, saying, “We had macaroni and cheese.” Another laments, “We had some kind of casserole -- I don't know what all was in it! And on it goes.
But on that next morning in Egypt, if the children from different homes, different families, compared notes, they would discover that all of their parents had prepared precisely the same meal. They all ate the same thing. And not only that, they were all to keep eating precisely that exact meal every year on that same date!
That story, that night, and that meal served as the backdrop for the meal that Jesus and his disciples were having together on the night before he went to the cross. And, consequently, that story, that night, and that meal serve also as the backdrop for the “meal” — the sacrament — that we share together tonight.
Exodus 12:1-4, (5-10), 11-14
When I was a boy in school, my elementary school teachers didn’t put much emphasis on Presidents’ Day in the generic sense but rather made a point of highlighting both Abraham Lincoln’s and George Washington’s birthdays (February 12 and 22) independently. On the day that either man was born, however, there was no national dictum issued that either day should be a national holiday. No, those recognitions came much later. Likewise with the birthday of Martin Luther King, Jr.
It would require great foresight or remarkable chutzpah to designate a day as a perpetual observance from the very start. Yet that is precisely what the Lord does for the people of Israel with regard to the Passover. Right in the midst of the narrative about Moses working to free the Hebrews from their bondage in Egypt, we encounter these instructions from the Lord about Passover becoming an annual holiday and ongoing observance. From our vantage point as readers 3,000 years hence, of course, it makes sense. But in the moment, while Israel was still entrenched in slavery, the Lord gives them these directions about celebrating this night and reenacting this meal for generations to come.
To put the improbability of these instructions in focus just a bit, remember what has preceded this point in the story. It is easy for us, who know so well how the story ends, to remove ourselves from how the people in the story might have been feeling. But I have to imagine that the children of Israel were more despairing than hopeful. After all, the Lord had pelted Egypt and its Pharaoh with plague after plague, yet still they were not free. Moses and the Israelites could easily have concluded that nothing was going to change Pharaoh’s mind or heart. For nothing that the Lord threw at him had gotten it done. So the command to celebrate this particular night for centuries to come may have seemed at the time a little optimistic and premature.
Of course, the Lord knew the truth of it. And, post facto, so do we.
Interestingly, the central event of that night — and of the assigned annual commemoration — was a meal: the Passover meal. There was “what,” “how,” and “why” to their meal on that night, and the significance of the what, the how, and the why were to be carried over throughout subsequent generations.
Essential to the what and the how were elements of the meal that connoted hurry. While parents are often having to remind their children to eat more slowly, not to wolf down their food, here the Lord was actually encouraging his people to eat with a sense of haste. He wanted them to understand that the time had come, and they were about to be sent packing!
This certainly has an ironic feel to it inasmuch as they had been waiting so long. It's like the entertainer who joked that it took him twenty years to become an overnight success. Decade after decade had grinded along for the Hebrew slaves with no deliverance in sight. And now, suddenly, they are told to eat with their coats on and their engines running, for they are about to be free.
In the big picture, of course, the immediacy that followed the long wait is not just ironic; it's beautiful. It is an encouraging word to us, for we tend to lose hope the longer a prayer goes unanswered or a need goes unmet. But while human accomplishments are almost always necessarily gradual, we mustn't project that limitation onto God. When the time had come, the time had come. So it was, also, on day seven at Jericho, at the end of the drought and Elijah's day, and for the crippled man by the pool. And so it will be, too, when Christ returns!
1 Corinthians 11:23-26
So many little phrases and details within this brief passage create a spark for the preacher's mind and heart.
Right at the start, for example, I am struck by the imagery of Paul receiving something from the Lord and then passing on to the Corinthians. While in this case he is referring specifically to the tradition and teaching surrounding the Lord's Supper, that same line could be written as the caption beneath his entire ministry. All that he did, preached, and taught could be summarized as “I received from the Lord what I also delivered to you.” And that line ought also to be the motto for your ministry and mine.
I am intrigued, likewise, by the way Paul refers to the particular night about which he writes. It was, we recall, the night that Jesus shared the Passover meal with his disciples. It was the night when he washed their feet. It was the night when I gave them the new commandment, when he promised to go and prepare a place for them, when he explained that he is the behind and we are the branches, when he prayed for his followers, and when he later prayed in Gethsemane. There was, you see, so much that happened on that night. And so I am provoked to wonder why Paul chose of all things to characterize it as “the night on which (the Lord) was betrayed.”
Meanwhile, I am moved by the image of Jesus giving thanks just before breaking the bread. On the one hand, of course, that was no doubt his standard practice at mealtimes. Yet given what he is about to say to the disciples concerning that bread -- given what he understands to be the symbolism of the bread -- I am moved by the image of him giving thanks before breaking it.
Then there is the profound word about the new covenant. Any student of the Bible with some Old Testament familiarity will recognize the significance of this word. “Covenant” is not a trivial word that is casually bandied about by the people of God. For Jesus to refer to a new covenant, therefore, is monumental, indeed.
Meanwhile, the phrase “in remembrance” has perhaps become a sentimental one for many Christians. A lot of us grew up with that line etched into the altars or communion tables that were continually before our eyes in church. My hope is that our larger treatment of all the passages assigned to us this week will lend additional insight and meaning into that good phrase.
And, finally, there is Paul’s concluding statement about the nature of what we do when we partake of the Lord's Supper. When we read Paul's letters, the centrality of the cross is inescapable. The death of Christ is at the heart of the gospel that Paul preached. It should not surprise us, therefore, that he would recognize in the sacrament as a kind of proclamation of Christ's death. Surely that is what Jesus’ words about the bread and the cup prefigured. Yet the participation in this supper does not merely look back. Paul understands that the sacrament looks ahead, as well, as we anticipate the Lord's return.
The passage is only four verses long, and yet it is dense with meaning and so much to be preached.
John 13:1-17, 31b-35
The simplest narratives feature plot and dialogue. More complex narratives offer additional insight and commentary. If John were simple, he would merely report to us what Jesus said and what Jesus did at this moment, and those alone would be profound. But John offers yet another layer. He speaks to us of things invisible. He tells us what is going on inside of both Jesus and Judas.
As to the invisible things, John makes it clear to the reader that Jesus knows and understands what is going on, all that is ahead for him. There is no sense in which the events involving Judas, Gethsemane, Caiaphas, Pilate, or Golgotha were a surprise to him. Many people find themselves in trouble or pain that catches them completely by surprise. Jesus, however, knew what was down the road, and he drove full speed ahead.
It is also worth noting at this point that John’s Gospel tends to emphasize the goodness that awaits Jesus. That is to say, the accent is not placed on the syllable of pain and suffering so much as glory, accomplishment, and completion. In this respect, we are reminded of the insight from the writer of Hebrews: “For the joy set before him (Jesus) endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God” (Hebrews 12:2 NIV). It was not only the nails and the thorns that Jesus saw down the road, but he saw also all that was accomplished and all that was beyond.
Meanwhile, John also gives us a glimpse into unseen things pertaining to Judas. “The devil had already put it into the heart of Judas,” John explains to us regarding Judas’ betrayal of Jesus. I think we make a mistake if we conflate that word with the expression “the devil made me do it.” I don’t believe that the devil made Judas do anything. I do believe, though, that the devil is continually ‘putting into our hearts’ certain plans or thoughts or ideas. Let us do better than Judas in how we respond to what the devil endeavors to plant in our hearts.
Then come the words and the actions of the narrative. Specifically, we read here the famous foot-washing moment during the Last Supper. It features, first, the scandalous humility of Christ — an in-the-moment embodiment of the larger truth that Paul expresses in Philippians 2:5-8. And that is accompanied by Peter’s familiar objection.
On the one hand, it strikes us as typical that Peter would speak up. And it may even be characteristic for him to speak up in objection (cf. Matthew 16:21-22, Mark 14:27-31, Luke 5:4-5a). On the other hand, perhaps it is the other disciples who are more at fault, for Peter was not wrong to be uncomfortable with his lord functioning as his servant.
It is Peter’s objection that brings into stark relief for us the unusual nature of Jesus’ act and what it symbolized within that culture. And once we have begun to grasp the nature of what Jesus was doing, then we are in a right position to understand the implications for us. For while a few events in scripture may pass before our eyes without an apparent connection to our lives, this event has an explicit connection. “I have given you an example,” Jesus says, “that you also should do just as I have done to you.” Some churches have preserved the act of foot-washing as a specific and intentional part of their congregational life. I think that's a beautiful thing, though in most churches I have known it would be a source of uncomfortable self-consciousness. But whether we are specifically washing one another’s feet or not, the larger principle is powerful and profound. What has he done for me? Let me make a long list in response to that question. And then let me take that list and then write across the top of it his word to me: “I have given you an example, that you also should do...”
Application
The Apostle Paul wrote to the Corinthians, saying, “I received from the Lord what I also delivered to you, that the Lord Jesus on the night when he was betrayed took bread...” In just a few words, Paul has said so much. And he has effectively set the stage for his brief recounting of the Last Supper.
I say “brief recounting” for we know that there is so much more to the story. The Gospel of John offers the most extensive report of all that happened that night, filling several chapters of that book. Paul’s version in 1 Corinthians is conspicuously sparse by comparison. Do we assume that Paul didn’t know any more of the story? Or do we assume that he told the part of the story that was pertinent to his audience at that moment?
I lean toward the latter explanation. It’s impossible to say how much Paul knew, but within the context of what he is writing about to the Corinthians, it is unsurprising what part of the story he told. For the apostle was concerned about how the Christians in Corinth were celebrating and experiencing the Lord’s Supper together, and so he passed on to them what he knew about the bread, the cup, and the continuing, active remembrance of that meal. Paul does not write to the Corinthians about the foot-washing, the new commandment, the vine and the branches, the promise of many mansions, or so much more that we read about from that night. He writes about the bread, the cup, and the ongoing celebration.
The meal that Jesus and his disciples ate together that night, therefore, took place at a single moment in time, yet it stretched from that moment in both directions -- both to the past and to the future. On the one side, it looked to the past and the original Passover meal of Moses’ generation. On the other side, it looked to the future and the expectation that Jesus’ followers would continue to eat that meal in remembrance. Just as the Israelites had been commanded to keep eating the Passover meal in remembrance, so too with Jesus’ followers partaking of the bread and the cup. The Corinthians were continuing to eat that meal, though the apostle wanted to ensure that they did it properly and did not lose sight of the real significance of what they were doing.
The night of Israel’s first Passover meal turned out to be the night before they were saved. It was for that reason, then, that the Lord designed a meal that they would eat in remembrance from that time forward. And the night that Jesus and his disciples were celebrating that meal turned out to be the night before God’s fullest plan for salvation was accomplished. And so Jesus reinterpreted the meal in order that Peter, Andrew, John, you, and I would eat it in remembrance from that time forward.
Alternative Application(s)
Exodus 12:1-4, (5-10), 11-14 — “Memory Devices”
What do you use to remind yourself of things?
Ours is a generation saturated with reminders. While previous generations had to rely more exclusively on their own memories, we have all sorts of technologies, tools, and devices to help us to remember the things that we can’t afford to forget. Think through your day yesterday, and ask yourself how many memory devices you employed.
It might also be worth stopping to consider the kinds of things for which we employed reminders. How do they rank in terms of importance? Did they tend to be matters of long-term or short-term significance? What if you had forgotten one of the things for which you created a reminder for yourself?
I was with a friend recently, visiting a town where we had both lived several decades earlier. We stopped by the place where he used to work, and then we drove together from there to the house where he had lived during those years. We were both fascinated to discover that he couldn't remember the way! This was a drive that he had made virtually every day for ten years, and now he couldn't find his way without the help of a GPS. Mind you, there was no mental deterioration involved. It was just one example of a phenomenon that we have all experienced with names, with faces, with subjects from school, and more. I summarize the phenomenon this way: The things that I don't deliberately really remember I will accidentally forget.
The Lord wanted to be sure that his people always remembered how he had saved them from their bondage. And in order to guarantee that, he commanded them to deliberately remember. To that end, he built into Israel’s traditions some memory devices: things that would serve to remind them of what was important.
All of the holidays prescribed by God in the Old Testament law were memory devices. The Passover was one of those. And built into the Passover celebration were more specific memory devices of what was to be eaten and how.
Jesus did the same thing for his disciples. Building on top of the celebration and the meaning of the Passover, he reinterpreted two elements of the already traditional meal. And as he gave new significance to the bread and to the cup, he told his disciples to “do this in remembrance of me.” A new tradition was being established among the followers of Jesus, and it came with its own profound memory devices.
So it is that, on this Maundy Thursday, we take part in a divinely ordained occasion to deliberately remember. And we have set before our eyes sacred memory devices. Let the bread and the cup impress upon us again the love, the grace, and the atoning death of Christ.
The children of Israel had been languishing in hopeless bondage for centuries. How many of them had lived and died under the taskmaster’s whip? How many of them had cried out to the Lord for help without seeing their prayers answered? And so, as surely as their bodies were weighed down under the weight of their physical burdens, their spirits must also have been weighed down under years of bondage and despair.
Then, finally, one day the Lord tells them that the time has come. In spite of all the evidence that surrounded them, he guaranteed that they were about to be free. Indeed, he assured them that the very next morning they would march out of Egypt, no longer weighed down by burdens, but rather encumbered with the riches of Egypt!
So when the eve of that long-awaited moment finally arrives, what do you do? What do you do on the night before God saves you? Well, what the children of Israel did that night before they left Egypt was to eat a meal.
Now I suppose it stands to reason that they would eat a meal at meal time. After all, why should that night be any different when it comes to the ordinary business of life? And yet that night was different, and that was precisely the reason that they were to eat this meal. For it was not just any meal. This wasn’t just another run-of-the-mill evening supper. No, for the Lord himself was specific about the meal that the people were to eat.
I imagine a typical morning at my daughter’s school. Maybe she says to her friends, “My mom made her special spaghetti last night, and it was delicious!” That prompts one of the friends to respond, “We had pizza at our house.” Another friend chimes now, saying, “We had macaroni and cheese.” Another laments, “We had some kind of casserole -- I don't know what all was in it! And on it goes.
But on that next morning in Egypt, if the children from different homes, different families, compared notes, they would discover that all of their parents had prepared precisely the same meal. They all ate the same thing. And not only that, they were all to keep eating precisely that exact meal every year on that same date!
That story, that night, and that meal served as the backdrop for the meal that Jesus and his disciples were having together on the night before he went to the cross. And, consequently, that story, that night, and that meal serve also as the backdrop for the “meal” — the sacrament — that we share together tonight.
Exodus 12:1-4, (5-10), 11-14
When I was a boy in school, my elementary school teachers didn’t put much emphasis on Presidents’ Day in the generic sense but rather made a point of highlighting both Abraham Lincoln’s and George Washington’s birthdays (February 12 and 22) independently. On the day that either man was born, however, there was no national dictum issued that either day should be a national holiday. No, those recognitions came much later. Likewise with the birthday of Martin Luther King, Jr.
It would require great foresight or remarkable chutzpah to designate a day as a perpetual observance from the very start. Yet that is precisely what the Lord does for the people of Israel with regard to the Passover. Right in the midst of the narrative about Moses working to free the Hebrews from their bondage in Egypt, we encounter these instructions from the Lord about Passover becoming an annual holiday and ongoing observance. From our vantage point as readers 3,000 years hence, of course, it makes sense. But in the moment, while Israel was still entrenched in slavery, the Lord gives them these directions about celebrating this night and reenacting this meal for generations to come.
To put the improbability of these instructions in focus just a bit, remember what has preceded this point in the story. It is easy for us, who know so well how the story ends, to remove ourselves from how the people in the story might have been feeling. But I have to imagine that the children of Israel were more despairing than hopeful. After all, the Lord had pelted Egypt and its Pharaoh with plague after plague, yet still they were not free. Moses and the Israelites could easily have concluded that nothing was going to change Pharaoh’s mind or heart. For nothing that the Lord threw at him had gotten it done. So the command to celebrate this particular night for centuries to come may have seemed at the time a little optimistic and premature.
Of course, the Lord knew the truth of it. And, post facto, so do we.
Interestingly, the central event of that night — and of the assigned annual commemoration — was a meal: the Passover meal. There was “what,” “how,” and “why” to their meal on that night, and the significance of the what, the how, and the why were to be carried over throughout subsequent generations.
Essential to the what and the how were elements of the meal that connoted hurry. While parents are often having to remind their children to eat more slowly, not to wolf down their food, here the Lord was actually encouraging his people to eat with a sense of haste. He wanted them to understand that the time had come, and they were about to be sent packing!
This certainly has an ironic feel to it inasmuch as they had been waiting so long. It's like the entertainer who joked that it took him twenty years to become an overnight success. Decade after decade had grinded along for the Hebrew slaves with no deliverance in sight. And now, suddenly, they are told to eat with their coats on and their engines running, for they are about to be free.
In the big picture, of course, the immediacy that followed the long wait is not just ironic; it's beautiful. It is an encouraging word to us, for we tend to lose hope the longer a prayer goes unanswered or a need goes unmet. But while human accomplishments are almost always necessarily gradual, we mustn't project that limitation onto God. When the time had come, the time had come. So it was, also, on day seven at Jericho, at the end of the drought and Elijah's day, and for the crippled man by the pool. And so it will be, too, when Christ returns!
1 Corinthians 11:23-26
So many little phrases and details within this brief passage create a spark for the preacher's mind and heart.
Right at the start, for example, I am struck by the imagery of Paul receiving something from the Lord and then passing on to the Corinthians. While in this case he is referring specifically to the tradition and teaching surrounding the Lord's Supper, that same line could be written as the caption beneath his entire ministry. All that he did, preached, and taught could be summarized as “I received from the Lord what I also delivered to you.” And that line ought also to be the motto for your ministry and mine.
I am intrigued, likewise, by the way Paul refers to the particular night about which he writes. It was, we recall, the night that Jesus shared the Passover meal with his disciples. It was the night when he washed their feet. It was the night when I gave them the new commandment, when he promised to go and prepare a place for them, when he explained that he is the behind and we are the branches, when he prayed for his followers, and when he later prayed in Gethsemane. There was, you see, so much that happened on that night. And so I am provoked to wonder why Paul chose of all things to characterize it as “the night on which (the Lord) was betrayed.”
Meanwhile, I am moved by the image of Jesus giving thanks just before breaking the bread. On the one hand, of course, that was no doubt his standard practice at mealtimes. Yet given what he is about to say to the disciples concerning that bread -- given what he understands to be the symbolism of the bread -- I am moved by the image of him giving thanks before breaking it.
Then there is the profound word about the new covenant. Any student of the Bible with some Old Testament familiarity will recognize the significance of this word. “Covenant” is not a trivial word that is casually bandied about by the people of God. For Jesus to refer to a new covenant, therefore, is monumental, indeed.
Meanwhile, the phrase “in remembrance” has perhaps become a sentimental one for many Christians. A lot of us grew up with that line etched into the altars or communion tables that were continually before our eyes in church. My hope is that our larger treatment of all the passages assigned to us this week will lend additional insight and meaning into that good phrase.
And, finally, there is Paul’s concluding statement about the nature of what we do when we partake of the Lord's Supper. When we read Paul's letters, the centrality of the cross is inescapable. The death of Christ is at the heart of the gospel that Paul preached. It should not surprise us, therefore, that he would recognize in the sacrament as a kind of proclamation of Christ's death. Surely that is what Jesus’ words about the bread and the cup prefigured. Yet the participation in this supper does not merely look back. Paul understands that the sacrament looks ahead, as well, as we anticipate the Lord's return.
The passage is only four verses long, and yet it is dense with meaning and so much to be preached.
John 13:1-17, 31b-35
The simplest narratives feature plot and dialogue. More complex narratives offer additional insight and commentary. If John were simple, he would merely report to us what Jesus said and what Jesus did at this moment, and those alone would be profound. But John offers yet another layer. He speaks to us of things invisible. He tells us what is going on inside of both Jesus and Judas.
As to the invisible things, John makes it clear to the reader that Jesus knows and understands what is going on, all that is ahead for him. There is no sense in which the events involving Judas, Gethsemane, Caiaphas, Pilate, or Golgotha were a surprise to him. Many people find themselves in trouble or pain that catches them completely by surprise. Jesus, however, knew what was down the road, and he drove full speed ahead.
It is also worth noting at this point that John’s Gospel tends to emphasize the goodness that awaits Jesus. That is to say, the accent is not placed on the syllable of pain and suffering so much as glory, accomplishment, and completion. In this respect, we are reminded of the insight from the writer of Hebrews: “For the joy set before him (Jesus) endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God” (Hebrews 12:2 NIV). It was not only the nails and the thorns that Jesus saw down the road, but he saw also all that was accomplished and all that was beyond.
Meanwhile, John also gives us a glimpse into unseen things pertaining to Judas. “The devil had already put it into the heart of Judas,” John explains to us regarding Judas’ betrayal of Jesus. I think we make a mistake if we conflate that word with the expression “the devil made me do it.” I don’t believe that the devil made Judas do anything. I do believe, though, that the devil is continually ‘putting into our hearts’ certain plans or thoughts or ideas. Let us do better than Judas in how we respond to what the devil endeavors to plant in our hearts.
Then come the words and the actions of the narrative. Specifically, we read here the famous foot-washing moment during the Last Supper. It features, first, the scandalous humility of Christ — an in-the-moment embodiment of the larger truth that Paul expresses in Philippians 2:5-8. And that is accompanied by Peter’s familiar objection.
On the one hand, it strikes us as typical that Peter would speak up. And it may even be characteristic for him to speak up in objection (cf. Matthew 16:21-22, Mark 14:27-31, Luke 5:4-5a). On the other hand, perhaps it is the other disciples who are more at fault, for Peter was not wrong to be uncomfortable with his lord functioning as his servant.
It is Peter’s objection that brings into stark relief for us the unusual nature of Jesus’ act and what it symbolized within that culture. And once we have begun to grasp the nature of what Jesus was doing, then we are in a right position to understand the implications for us. For while a few events in scripture may pass before our eyes without an apparent connection to our lives, this event has an explicit connection. “I have given you an example,” Jesus says, “that you also should do just as I have done to you.” Some churches have preserved the act of foot-washing as a specific and intentional part of their congregational life. I think that's a beautiful thing, though in most churches I have known it would be a source of uncomfortable self-consciousness. But whether we are specifically washing one another’s feet or not, the larger principle is powerful and profound. What has he done for me? Let me make a long list in response to that question. And then let me take that list and then write across the top of it his word to me: “I have given you an example, that you also should do...”
Application
The Apostle Paul wrote to the Corinthians, saying, “I received from the Lord what I also delivered to you, that the Lord Jesus on the night when he was betrayed took bread...” In just a few words, Paul has said so much. And he has effectively set the stage for his brief recounting of the Last Supper.
I say “brief recounting” for we know that there is so much more to the story. The Gospel of John offers the most extensive report of all that happened that night, filling several chapters of that book. Paul’s version in 1 Corinthians is conspicuously sparse by comparison. Do we assume that Paul didn’t know any more of the story? Or do we assume that he told the part of the story that was pertinent to his audience at that moment?
I lean toward the latter explanation. It’s impossible to say how much Paul knew, but within the context of what he is writing about to the Corinthians, it is unsurprising what part of the story he told. For the apostle was concerned about how the Christians in Corinth were celebrating and experiencing the Lord’s Supper together, and so he passed on to them what he knew about the bread, the cup, and the continuing, active remembrance of that meal. Paul does not write to the Corinthians about the foot-washing, the new commandment, the vine and the branches, the promise of many mansions, or so much more that we read about from that night. He writes about the bread, the cup, and the ongoing celebration.
The meal that Jesus and his disciples ate together that night, therefore, took place at a single moment in time, yet it stretched from that moment in both directions -- both to the past and to the future. On the one side, it looked to the past and the original Passover meal of Moses’ generation. On the other side, it looked to the future and the expectation that Jesus’ followers would continue to eat that meal in remembrance. Just as the Israelites had been commanded to keep eating the Passover meal in remembrance, so too with Jesus’ followers partaking of the bread and the cup. The Corinthians were continuing to eat that meal, though the apostle wanted to ensure that they did it properly and did not lose sight of the real significance of what they were doing.
The night of Israel’s first Passover meal turned out to be the night before they were saved. It was for that reason, then, that the Lord designed a meal that they would eat in remembrance from that time forward. And the night that Jesus and his disciples were celebrating that meal turned out to be the night before God’s fullest plan for salvation was accomplished. And so Jesus reinterpreted the meal in order that Peter, Andrew, John, you, and I would eat it in remembrance from that time forward.
Alternative Application(s)
Exodus 12:1-4, (5-10), 11-14 — “Memory Devices”
What do you use to remind yourself of things?
Ours is a generation saturated with reminders. While previous generations had to rely more exclusively on their own memories, we have all sorts of technologies, tools, and devices to help us to remember the things that we can’t afford to forget. Think through your day yesterday, and ask yourself how many memory devices you employed.
It might also be worth stopping to consider the kinds of things for which we employed reminders. How do they rank in terms of importance? Did they tend to be matters of long-term or short-term significance? What if you had forgotten one of the things for which you created a reminder for yourself?
I was with a friend recently, visiting a town where we had both lived several decades earlier. We stopped by the place where he used to work, and then we drove together from there to the house where he had lived during those years. We were both fascinated to discover that he couldn't remember the way! This was a drive that he had made virtually every day for ten years, and now he couldn't find his way without the help of a GPS. Mind you, there was no mental deterioration involved. It was just one example of a phenomenon that we have all experienced with names, with faces, with subjects from school, and more. I summarize the phenomenon this way: The things that I don't deliberately really remember I will accidentally forget.
The Lord wanted to be sure that his people always remembered how he had saved them from their bondage. And in order to guarantee that, he commanded them to deliberately remember. To that end, he built into Israel’s traditions some memory devices: things that would serve to remind them of what was important.
All of the holidays prescribed by God in the Old Testament law were memory devices. The Passover was one of those. And built into the Passover celebration were more specific memory devices of what was to be eaten and how.
Jesus did the same thing for his disciples. Building on top of the celebration and the meaning of the Passover, he reinterpreted two elements of the already traditional meal. And as he gave new significance to the bread and to the cup, he told his disciples to “do this in remembrance of me.” A new tradition was being established among the followers of Jesus, and it came with its own profound memory devices.
So it is that, on this Maundy Thursday, we take part in a divinely ordained occasion to deliberately remember. And we have set before our eyes sacred memory devices. Let the bread and the cup impress upon us again the love, the grace, and the atoning death of Christ.
