We are Each Other’s Bread and Wine
no. 1
by Daniel P. Schrock
Berkey Avenue Mennonite Fellowship
Goshen, Indiana, April 27, 2008
Then he took a loaf of bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to them, saying, “This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” And he did the same with the cup after supper, saying, “This cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood. But see, the one who betrays me is with me, and his hand is on the table. For the Son of Man is going as it has been determined, but woe to that one by whom he is betrayed!” Then they began to ask one another which one of them it could be who would do this. (Luke 22:19-23, NRSV)
If you want to learn countercultural mission, then eat bread and drink wine at the table of God.
When Jesus sat down at a table with his disciples on that Passover night long ago, he knew what was going on in the mind of Judas Iscariot. Somehow Jesus knew that Judas was plotting to hand him over to the temple leaders. Indeed, a few days before this last supper with the twelve, Judas had quietly visited the chief priests and officers of the temple police in Jerusalem to offer them a deal. In exchange for a fee, Judas offered to help them find Jesus after dusk, when most people in the city were tucked away in their houses for the night. Reward me, said Judas, and I’ll tell you where Jesus is, so you can arrest him under the cover of darkness (Luke 22:3-6).
Jesus knew that Judas was in the process of betraying him (see 22:21). Ponder that for a moment. Judas was one of the twelve disciples, a member of that same special group that included illustrious people such as Peter and Andrew, James and John. Judas was no casual acquaintance, no occasional observer. He had been a constant companion of Jesus throughout the past year. In the town of Nain, Judas had watched Jesus bring a dead man back to life (7:11f). Judas had been in that boat out on the lake when Jesus calmed a nasty storm which just about drowned them (8:22f). Judas had heard Jesus speak all the parables of the kingdom. He had gone out on at least one mission trip, possibly two (9:1f, 10:1f). This man Judas was intimate with Jesus, one of his bosom buddies. Judas knew Jesus so well that he could look at Jesus’ face and tell you exactly when a twinkle around the eyes was going become a belly laugh. If Judas kept his eyes shut while listening to a hundred Jewish men having a conversation, he could have told you without any trouble at all which of those hundred voices was the voice of Jesus.
All that intimate knowledge, all that friendship, all that trust—and now Judas was using those things to turn Jesus in. If you wish, call it a sin of betrayal, an abuse of trust, a breach of covenant loyalty. At the very least it was a nasty, low-down, dirty trick. In the context of interpersonal relationships, not many things are worse than double-crossing a friend.
And yet even though Jesus knew what Judas was up to, he still invited Judas to sit down with the rest of the group at that last supper. That low-down double-crosser was sitting right there at the table when Jesus said, “This is my body, which is given for you” (22:19). That abuser of trust was lounging right there on the bench when Jesus said, “This cup . . . is the new covenant in my blood” (22:20). In the moments that followed, Judas presumably ate part of that bread and drank part of that wine along with every other disciple at the table.
You perceive what Jesus was doing, don’t you?
Eating and drinking was a major feature of the ministry of Jesus, especially in the gospel of Luke. Jesus ate up, down, and across the social ladder. He ate with rich and poor, with insiders and outsiders, with people already in the kingdom and people still looking for the kingdom. He chewed and swallowed with powerful Pharisees, down-and-out peasants, and socially scorned tax collectors. Jesus’ meals were evangelism. Meals were a way for him to make friends and heal relationships. In the ministry of Jesus, meals were potent symbols of the reign of God.
In other words, the act of eating and drinking was a primary way Jesus conducted his countercultural mission. His eating and drinking was countercultural precisely because he busted up the normal rules about whom you were supposed to invite to your dining room table, whose table you were supposed to eat at, and where people were supposed to sit. Jesus ate and drank with anyone, it seems.
When you consider his patterns of eating and drinking, it seems obvious what Jesus was trying to do at the last supper: he was trying to turn Judas Iscariot from an enemy into a friend. By offering Judas bread and wine, Jesus was trying to do yet again what he had done throughout his ministry. At this Passover meal, he was giving Judas a chance to walk away from betrayal into a new land of authentic friendship. The last supper was a final, dramatic gesture of evangelism.
It did not work, of course. Oodles of times in his ministry, the evangelism of bread and wine had worked beautifully. People were so wowed by what Jesus did during meals that they joined his movement. But not here at the last supper, not this time. Yes, Judas ate the bread and drank the wine, so far as we know. But later that night on the Mount of Olives, Judas walked up and attempted to kiss Jesus, not at all because he loved him, but because he wanted to betray him (22:47-48).
When you and I come to the table of God, we are not simply remembering what Jesus did for us in sorrowful, glum-faced fashion. Gathering around the table of God is much more than that. Properly understood, communion is also an act of discipleship, an act of evangelism, an act of countercultural mission. Every time you come to this table, or to any other table where Jesus is present, you have a chance to share bread and cup with your Judas Iscariot. It’s a way for you to say, “Judas, this bread let us eat together, this cup let us drink together.”
Or turn it around the other way, if you prefer. Put yourself in the sandals of Judas, rather than Jesus. When you think about one of your own relationships, maybe you realize that you’ve been acting like a Judas Iscariot. If so, then eating and drinking might be a chance for you to step away from your betrayals, your abuses, and your breaches; and instead turn your face toward friendship.
In short, this table is supposed to transform us and the way we function in the world. Transformation is not guaranteed to happen here, as it did not happen for Judas. Or if it does happen, the change may be ever so slight, ever so subtle. The change could be beyond our immediate ability to notice.
Nevertheless, the mission of Jesus at this table continues to this day. In the presence of enemies, Jesus prepares a table for us. In the context of mistrust, Jesus opens a way to redemption. In a setting of betrayal, Jesus evangelizes dirty tricksters.
Jesus invites you to participate in this act of countercultural mission. Therefore come to eat this bread and drink this cup.