Maundy Thursday

John 13

Jesus loved to eat.


I mentioned this to someone recently. It's one of those little details that, when you look for it, pops out in the Gospels. Think about it for a moment, just think of the stories you know about Jesus. How many of them involve a meal?


There's the story of Zacchaeus—where Jesus sort of invites himself to dinner.


There's the story of Mary and Martha. You know that one: Mary is sitting and listening to Jesus and Martha complains that she's not doing a thing to help her out. What do you think she wants help with anyhow? Dinner, of course.


Every time you turn around it seems Jesus is sitting down at the table with somebody. One evening he's at the house of some Pharisee. Another evening, he's getting complaints from the Pharisees because of who he's chosen to sit down and eat dinner with—those sinners and tax collectors.


Tonight we remember the last meal before Jesus' death. Matthew, Mark, and Luke all call this a Passover dinner. John, however, tells us that this is a dinner before the Passover. Whether it was or was not the Passover meal doesn't really matter. What matters is that Jesus, in the last hours, sat down and shared a meal with his friends.


Why do we see Jesus sitting at table so often? Well, one reason is that this sort of hospitality was and is very strong within the Jewish culture. A professor once told me that the families near a Rabbinical school would fight to see who would get to invite the students to their home for Passover. It's a very big deal to have someone come and share a meal with you. In that sense, it's no surprise that Jesus—a wandering teacher—would find himself with no shortage of invitations.


But, beyond culture and religion, I think there's something more to Jesus' repeated dinner scenes. I think Jesus understood that there is something sacred about sitting down and sharing a meal with someone. It takes a commitment of time to offer or accept an invitation to eat with another. It also implies exclusivity—that those moments are reserved just for who is at the table. And it takes a small amount of vulnerability—the very act of stopping to eat is just one more proof that we are human.


As we enter these moments of Jesus' final meal, prayers, betrayal, trial, and death, let's think about what Jesus spent so much of his time doing. And, in the coming weeks and months, pay closer attention to those we are privileged to share a table with. And try, hard as it may be, to treat those moments as a sacrament.


God of the table, come and dine with us this night and every day. Help us to see you in everyone who surrounds our table.