Reclining around the dinner table, conversations were hushed and hallowed. The night was Holy. The celebration was historical and yet foreshadowing. Yes, it was a commemoration of the mighty hand and out-stretched arm of God that had rescued their nation from oppression and slavery. The open door of that upper room was in anticipation of the Messiah's forerunner Elijah who would return and usher in the long-awaited One. These thirteen men had celebrated the Passover together several times always acknowledging the past and looking toward the future. Three short years ago, they could have only hoped to see the coming Messiah in their lifetime, and yet here they were, sitting with Him, dining with Him. Some were still clueless that they'd been following the Messiah for 3 years already, but the events of the evening would make it abundantly obvious.
When you read the entire account of the Passover that night in Matthew 26, you'll find by this time in the evening Jesus had already confronted Judas. The betrayal was going down. Judas was already planning what he would do with the money he was about to make with a simple kiss on Jesus' cheek. He had left the upper room to do the deed and set the entire crucifixion in motion. With a group now down to 12 (Jesus and eleven of the remaining disciples), Jesus broke the bread and shared the cup. I guess what is so gripping about the events of that night in the order in which they unfold is this. Jesus was already betrayed when He broke the bread and shared the cup, yet He never went off-mission. Jesus never stopped ministering. On the night He was betrayed, He finished what He came to do.
These years together had been a whirlwind. From the invitation to follow Him as their Rabbi, to apprenticing under Him in the expectation they would eventually live His life and ministry, to this very moment, twelve disciples had left everything to do exactly that, all of that. They were taking on the yoke of His teaching, and eventually assuming the mission. They had done the former and were unwittingly about to be thrust into the latter. Tonight, actually, after dinner. Not first without an important life-lesson masterfully demonstrated by Jesus. As they had done in years before, they went through the order of the Passover Seder, but on this night Jesus changed it up. At the point at which they were to break the center matza, He identified it as His flesh broken for them, and as they were partaking in one of four wine cups, He declared it to be His blood poured out for the redemption of all who would believe. An ancient rite had been rewritten, and believers everywhere have rehearsed and celebrated in the same way for millennia since.
Growing up we called it the Lord's Supper, but most generally it's known as communion. The church I attend celebrates the Lord's Supper on the first Sunday of every month. I can't articulate why, but those Sundays are my favorite. They're so deeply moving and introspective, and always make my heart explode with gratitude for all that Jesus has done for me. The past two months though, I get tripped up before it even starts. This one little thing, a single phrase, rolls through my mind over and over until I'm hardly paying attention. Every month my Pastor begins communion in the same way... by quoting 1 Corinthians 11:23.
"On the night He was betrayed..."
Such a small phrase it would be easy to breeze by it. Honestly, he could skip it entirely in his communion recitation. And yet, it has been the part of communion I've wrestled with most lately.
One might say, "Of course, He did! He was equal to God, on a mission from God." True. But we should never forget that He was also human, a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief, touched by the feelings of our infirmities, in all points tempted as we are - the entire struggle of the finite rolled into the Divine. Human, vulnerable, and now betray. Betrayed unto death.
Now, how would any human respond? How would you respond? I'm not sure in the realm of "what would Jesus do?" I would haven't gotten this one right. I have an unfortunate history that reveals my very human reaction. On the night I was betrayed, I can't say that I kept my calling in mind. I can't say I continued to minister or even sometimes continued to breath. Betrayal has a way of stopping me in my tracks in every single way - emotionally, spiritually, relationally, sometimes even physically as my body finds ways to malfunction when dealing with deeply emotional or stressful moments. Honestly, I don't know that I've ever handled the downturn, the blindside, the liar, the deceitful or the betrayer very well. On the night I was betrayed, I sat waylaid in a puddle of tears questioning every decision and most of what I thought I knew about God.
That life-altering time I found out I wasn't needed anymore, did I stay on mission? Did I still minister?
On the day God didn't answer my prayer the way I'd hoped, did I hold it against Him and walk away from Him for a while or did I stay on task?
In the event that showed me the underbelly of ministry and ministers, did I continue to honor God's call on my life? Did I let my bruised feelings (which were very real and very much needed to be addressed) keep me from the good works God ordained for me before I was even born?
On the night I saw where the money went, did I quit giving?
On the day I realized I had no leverage to make people do what I thought they ought to do, did I love anyway?
Please don't ask me to confess my answers to any of those questions. While I might ask you to consider your own answer to those queries, I won't require an answer either.
Still, on the night Jesus was betrayed, He finished. He broke the bread and shared the cup and revealed not only Who He was, but His fate to be played out within hours.
Here's what I'm not saying - I'm not saying we shouldn't have boundaries with hurtful people in our lives. What I am saying is we can't let the ones who damage us, who hurt us, who betray us to keep us from loving and serving those who never did any of those things to you or me. At all times, we must be about the Father's business. Through disappointments with God, we are still chosen. Through disillusionment with God's people, we are still called. Through the pain that brings us to our knees, we are still servants of the Most High God.
Serve. Stay on mission. Even on the night we are betrayed.