Matthew 26:26-28
Maundy Thursday
Grace—Tucson, AZ
April 18, 2019
Take and Eat; Take and Drink So here we are again, at the most significant, most sacred weekend in our worship life as Christians. Here we are again in spirit in the upper room, at the foot of the cross, and—wonder of wonders—staring into the empty tomb where Jesus of Nazareth is not. This weekend, again, is truly the high point of our worship life. But some kids—and maybe a few adults—might view the arrival of this time with a bit of sadness. Why? Because this means the end of our weekly Lenten suppers in the church fellowship hall! That may seem to be a trite observation. But is it? Think about what happens in the fellowship hall each week. We gather as a family in Christ. We talk while we eat a meal. We share joys, concerns, sorrows and trials. We share encouragements and Bible passages and promises to pray for one another. We serve one another; we either prepare the food to share or perhaps share some money so that this good thing—this comfortable meal, this fellowship—can keep going. There’s a lot more happening during the supper on Wednesday nights than just eating. Then again, that’s the way it is at family meals, right? But today/tonight we are the guests. We are the ones being served; everything is prepared. Today/Tonight there is an even higher level of intimacy, a higher level of fellowship, and greater blessings than just a good meal with good friends. Our Lord Jesus Christ himself, the friend of sinners, invites us each to come and eat with him. It is a banquet that, this side of heaven, is without compare. The words of his invitation are familiar: While they were eating, Jesus took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to his disciples, saying, “Take and eat; this is my body.” Then he took a cup, and when he had given thanks, he gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you. This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins. Take and Eat; Take and Drink—the two “three words of truth” here are familiar, and they tell us that: 1. Here Jesus eagerly desires your presence. 2. Here Jesus graciously gives you his presents. In St. Luke’s account of the Last Supper, the Holy Spirit adds this wonderful detail in the words of Jesus: “I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer” (Lk 22:15). Really? Sitting around a table with men who time and time again over the past few years had shown they understood very little of what he was trying to teach them? “Eagerly desired . . .” Really? With a group of disciples who would completely abandon him in the Garden of Gethsemane only a few hours after this . . . and he knew it? “With you . . . ” Really? Even though just shortly before this they had been jostling and elbowing for positions around the table, verbally sparring and bantering about which one of them showed the most promise and which one of them would be the most indispensable for the kingdom of God’s march forward?
A motley crew was gathered there in the upper room, don’t you think? Where were the women of the gospels who so faithfully followed Jesus in his ministry and supported his work? Where was Mary, the sister of Martha, who seemed to understand Jesus’ teachings on a much higher level than the disciples gathered in that room? Be all that as it may, the words of Jesus remain: “I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you.” In the kingdom of God, it doesn’t matter much who the guests are; what matters is who the host is. And the host is our Savior, the friend of sinners. He ate with the Twelve— men of little faith and slow to understand. He ate with Zaccheus, the scam artist. He ate with other tax collectors too—and prostitutes and sinners and lepers. I find immense comfort in the fact that Jesus “eagerly desired” to eat with his disciples, weak and sinful men as they were, because I so often see myself in them. St. Paul tells us that a person ought to examine himself before he partakes of the meal (1 Co 11:28), but that’s painful, isn’t it? I look in that mirror of God’s law and see only sin and death. I see failure after failure. I see weakness, my tripping over the same old traps of Satan. Worse, I see defiance—that sinful nature rearing its ugly head in my life and defiantly telling God, “No, God! I’m going to do this anyway! I don’t care what you say!” I see myself trying to be God—my own master—who says with clenched teeth, “My will be done!” But all this stumbling, all this weakness, all this defiance does not bring me either the control I want…or the freedom I’m chasing…or the peace and happiness I desire. It brings unrest. It brings despair. It brings judgment. This is, St. Paul says, a “body that is subject to death” (Ro 7:24). And he is right. In the mirror of God’s law, I am forced to see so many things about myself that only lead me to this conclusion: This holy meal is not for me. Yet Jesus says, “Come!” Our loving Father could not turn away from his fallen world. He sent his only Son. His Son obeyed and joyfully came. The quiet setting of the upper room must have seemed a million miles away from the horrors of the next day. Yet as surely as time marches on, Good Friday would come and the Son of Man would go, just as it was written about him. It was all coming to a head now—God’s great, grand plan of salvation. And not just the cross—this too is part of that plan: a heavenly meal for sinners. I cannot understand it, why Jesus would say to me, “Take and eat. . . . Take and drink. . . .” But he has, and he still does. He desires for you to eat and drink with him and rejoices to see you here. Don’t doubt it! This is a meal for sinners. As with any meal, the host writes and controls the guest list. Are you a sinner who knows all too well your sins and who hangs your head over them? You’re on the list. The Lord himself has invited you. And then, when I not only consider the marvelous truth that he wants me to come to this meal, I am equally astounded by what he gives me at this meal. He eagerly desires my presence so that he can graciously give me his presents! They are presents; they are gifts of grace without compare. That treasured book of ours, Luther’s catechism, says it so succinctly: “forgiveness of sins, life, and salvation …For where there is forgiveness of sins, there is also life and salvation.”
Here in this meal your Savior forgives you your sins. Just as a creative spouse finds various and different ways to say “I love you,” besides just words, the same is true of our Savior. Yes, he says “I love you, I forgive you” on the pages of his Word, but he does here too, as well as in the water of Baptism. Here we can taste; here we can see that the Lord is good. He touches other senses besides our ears and eyes. This bread and wine on your lips brings you your Savior’s true body and blood. And this is the blood of the new covenant. The old covenant was the law, and it could not save; it could only condemn and kill. But here, in the body and blood of Christ, is the new covenant, announced long ago by the prophet Jeremiah: “This is the covenant I will make with the people of Israel. . . . I will forgive their wickedness and will remember their sins no more” (31:33,34). The old covenant called for holiness and death for all who were not holy. The new covenant was established by death, by the death of the Holy One, and through faith in this new covenant, God covers you with the holiness of his Son. This new covenant is not a bargain you make with God or a “meet ya halfway” kind of deal that we tend to love. This is God doing for us what we cannot even begin to do for ourselves. It is a one-sided covenant; it is God doing everything and then freely giving it all away to those who believe. It is a covenant of grace and a gift beyond price. What’s more, at this meal Jesus also gives the gift of unity. We all come here from different walks of life. We are men; we are women; we are young; we are old. We are in different income brackets. We are from different ethnic backgrounds. We are healthy; we are sick. We are joyful; we are sad. But we come to this holy meal as equals. We stand next to one another as a family in Christ, connected by the same faith and trust in God and his Word. We all receive the same bread, the same wine. And through this meal God not only binds us to himself all the more closely, but he also binds us to one another. He does that so we can share this time of grace together in the bond of peace—working together, sharing joys and burdens, praying for and encouraging one another. In short, loving one another deeply—the very thing Jesus said would let the outside world know that we are truly his disciples. And, finally, with eyes of faith we can see and understand all of this in this Supper— right here at Grace. This gift lifts our eyes above all the noise and racket and mess of this world to see where we’re headed, to see our true home. In this meal, we enter into the presence of the eternal King of kings, around whose throne we will one day meet. All this! How blessed we are to gather here and be reminded of these things. Here is the culmination of all our Lenten dining. And even though our fellowship meals in the fellowship hall have been wonderful over the past weeks, they pale in comparison to what will happen here today/tonight and what happens every time the friend of sinners says, “Take and eat; take and drink.” Amen. Now the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.