An Uncomfortable Dinner
An Uncomfortable Dinner
Matthew 26:14-35
Have you ever been in a situation that just felt wrong? You couldn’t quite figure it out, but something was just off. Things go well for a while, and you think that maybe your sense about the situation may have been wrong. In fact, things go so well – for a while – that you forget your anxiety altogether. And then it just blows up, and there’s no way out.
That’s kind of how I picture the Last Supper, which is where we are today. In our Scripture reading, we get a bit of a premonition of what’s to come. Those first three verses. About Judas. For Matthew, it serves as a segue from the dinner in Bethany to the Passover meal. But Matthew never gives us “throw-away” verses – every verse, every word, is important. With this small paragraph, Matthew is setting the stage for the conflict that is coming. So, let’s start there.
It is important to remember what just happened in Bethany. A woman, maybe Mary, the sister of Lazarus, Mary Magdalene, or another unnamed woman, interrupted dinner at Simon’s house. She brazenly walked to Jesus, opened a jar of very expensive perfume, and poured it over his head. The aroma of her gift filled the room, and everyone recognized the value of what she had just done. The disciples immediately start to complain about the utter waste. John identifies the chief complainer as Judas. John records, But one of his disciples, Judas Iscariot, who was later to betray him, objected, “Why wasn’t this perfume sold and the money given to the poor? It was worth a year’s wages.” He did not say this because he cared about the poor but because he was a thief; as keeper of the money bag, he used to help himself to what was put in it (Jn 12:4-6).
\There’s a lot more revealed there than I really want to tackle this morning. But John notes that the one most disgruntled about the waste was Judas. He recognized the value and was appalled at the waste. John’s aside is quite revealing. Judas’ concern was not really for the poor at all. The poor were just a convenient excuse for his deeper motives. That’s true today. A lot of people will used the poor, or will use a situation, or use a victim, to advance a deeper concern. They don’t really care about the person who was shot – that just serves as a match to light the fire they’re already planning to start. They didn’t know the person before their name appeared in the news, and they don’t know them any more now than they did before. That could have been anyone – they don’t really care. The death, or the situation, justifies what they are already doing. They’re not really wanting justice; they want justification for their belief. So Judas. He didn’t care about the poor; he cared about the money. But the “waste,” as he saw it, justified what he was already planning to do.
So Matthew tells us, following that meal in Bethany, Judas found his way to the chief priest and offered to deliver Jesus into their hands – for a price. Paul wrote to Timothy, For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil. Some people, eager for money, have wandered from the faith and pierced themselves with many griefs (1 Tim 6:10). Judas was about to do something he’d come to regret. But there was money to be made. From then on Judas watched for an opportunity to hand him over. And that’s going to put a cloud over everything from then on.
We turn the page and Jesus is sending some of the disciples to prepare the Passover meal. There is a place to secure and food to prepare. We don’t need to spend a lot of time here, except to note this: the message to their host was cryptic but important. “Go into the city to a certain man and tell him, ‘The Teacher says: My appointed time is near.’” The other gospels do not include this tiny detail, but recall that Matthew’s concern is for the fulfillment of prophecy. Here, he is preparing for something that is already anticipated. Jesus came with a mission, and the time for the fulfillment of that mission is close.
When evening came, Jesus was reclining at the table ... And while they were eating, he said, “Truly I tell you, one of you will betray me.” When we have celebrated Passover, we have essentially done just the ritual. We have not had the full meal. And what we have done is a small part of the long evening of celebration. So this takes place during the meal, and before what we call “Communion,” the passing of the bread and wine. But something very important and uncomfortable begins to happen. Notice the response of the disciples:
They were very sad ... Not angry. Not surprised. Not shocked. Sad. Why? I ask that because my response to someone betraying a loved one would be shock and anger. Who would do such a thing! It’s unconscionable. I might be surprised to think that one of my own number would betray our leader. That comes out of the blue. But no. They are not shocked or surprised. They are sad. And the next thing Matthew tells us reveals why they were sad.
... and began to say to him one after the other, “Surely you don’t mean me, Lord?” They doubted themselves. They saw in themselves the capacity for betrayal. Is it I? Am I the one? There is a sense in which any one of those twelve men felt the possibility that they could be the one, either accidentally or intentionally, to betray Jesus. Give them a bit of credit, though – it could be fear that they had inadvertently said or done something that would betray Jesus to his enemies, or give away his location. But “betray” seems to carry some more sinister intent. And one by one, all twelve of them asked Jesus if they were the one he meant. Until it came to Judas, “Surely, you don’t mean me, Rabbi?”
But I want you to notice Matthew’s order. The disciples question Jesus, and Jesus gives them a sign. By the way, the sign was somewhat generic – they all dipped in the bowl with Jesus as some point during the meal. “The one who has dipped his hand in the bowl with me ...” could be any of them. Jesus didn’t point out Judas. This isn’t the wrap-up of a mystery where the detective eliminates the suspects one by one until he points the finger and says, “You’re the culprit!” But then Judas comes, the last in line, “Surely, you don’t mean me, do you?” But Jesus knows Judas’ heart, and he knows that Judas has already gone to the chief priest, and replies simply, “You have said so.” You said it yourself, Judas.
It’s kind of like Edgar Allan Poe’s short story, “The Tell-Tale Heart.” The man murders an old man and hides the body under the floorboards. Police come to chat, and the man sits in a chair he has placed over the place where the body is hidden. As they chat idly, the man imagines that he hears the old man’s heart beating, getting louder and louder, until he is sure the police can hear it, too. Finally, overcome with the imagined noise of the beating heart, he blurts out his confession. Judas’ guilt is written on his face. He knows he’s the guilty party. But he doesn’t see what he’s doing as betrayal, necessarily. And in none of the Synoptics, neither Matthew, Mark, or Luke, does Judas appear to leave. He stays for the meal. Only in the gospel of John does Judas leave, and that after he had taken the bread (Jn 13:30). It appears that when Jesus said, “this is my body, broken for you,” he said it to Judas, too. And when he said, “this my blood of the covenant,” he was offering the covenant to Judas, too. “Drink from it, all of you,” offers the hand of reconciliation even to Judas. Jesus knew what Judas was about to do, but he included him anyway. Jesus loved Judas, too.
I wish we had time to delve into the concept here of the “blood of the covenant.” It is the way Moses described the first sacrifices in the wilderness at the foot of Sinai as he presented the Law to Israel and created them a nation (Ex 24:8). As I read that, I was struck with the way that God has interacted with his people through the ages, always desiring relationship, and always binding himself to covenant with his people. The covenant is not in our blood, but in his. It is the Lamb of God whose blood is shed for the covenant of reconciliation. It was God who made the first sacrifice for sin (Gen. 3:21). And it is Jesus, the incarnate Son of God, who lays down his life and offers up his own blood for our salvation. It is always God binding himself to us, and calling us to respond by binding ourselves to him. It has always been God making the first move. And Jesus does it again at that last Passover. “This is my blood of the covenant which is poured out for the many for forgiveness of sins.” He does not ask us to mingle our blood with his, just accept that his blood was poured out for us, on our behalf. God does not require our blood as a condition of salvation. The writer to the Hebrew affirms that without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness (Heb 9:22). But God took that burden upon himself, and does not require it of us. What mercy is that!
When they had sung a hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives. Then Jesus told them ... The meal has finished. According to John, Judas has now departed to do his thing. They sing their final hallel, and go to Jesus’ favorite place to pray. There, before he leaves them to go alone to pray, Jesus says, “This very night you will all fall away on account of me.” Matthew places the prophecy of Zechariah 13:7 in Jesus’ mouth.
Let’s turn to Peter. Peter has a history of refusing to believe what Jesus says. In Matthew 16, when Jesus first predicts his death, Peter declares, “Never, Lord!” (Mt 16:22). In fact, in Mark’s version of the story, Peter takes Jesus aside and rebukes him (Mk 8:32). Jesus calls Peter his enemy. In John 13, when Jesus is washing the disciples’ feet, Peter says, “Not mine!” (Jn 13:8). There Jesus tells him, “Unless I wash you, you have no part with me.” And now, when Jesus predicts that they will all turn tail and run away, Peter again rejects Jesus’ word. “Not me!” “Even if I have to die with you, I will never disown you.”
We discuss, once in awhile, whether something is a matter of faith or not. Here, Peter has a lot of faith – in himself. His faith in Jesus hasn’t really been tested. He’s seen Jesus do some remarkable things - walking on water, feeding thousands, healing the blind and raising the dead. I guess being a witness may impart knowledge. It’s questionable whether it imparts faith. Peter has made declarations of belief, but as I noted on a social media post recently, belief is not the same as faith. Someone had written that “Satan has faith in Christ, but that doesn’t save him,” implying that we are not saved by faith. I reminded that person that James tells us that Satan believes in God, but that’s not the same thing has having faith in Jesus. I suspect that Peter believed in Jesus, but faith? That’s another question. And it will soon be put to the test.
I’m reminded of something that happened just a bit earlier, when the mother of James and John asked Jesus for special places in the kingdom for her sons. Jesus turned to the two and asked them, “Can you drink the cup I am going to drink?” Their faith had not yet been tested either, but they were confident in themselves, and answered, “We can!” (Mt. 20:22). Well, they’re about to find out. But, as Don is fond of reminding us, “We’re not there yet.”
We do notice however that the disciples were all like Peter in two things: first, all together and one after the other, they declared that they would never abandon Jesus, that they were willing to die with him. We know Judas is not in this group, but the other ten join Peter in their confident affirmations of their resolve to die with Jesus rather than “fall away.” Bill reminded us a few weeks ago that we need to be prepared to die for Jesus. But here’s a hard truth: you will not die for something you do not live for. If you are not willing to live for Jesus, against the odds and against the tides of society, you will not be willing to die for him. If you deny him in life, you will deny him in death. If you are embarrassed to confess the name of Jesus now, you will not confess him at the moment of your death. You will not die for Jesus if you are unwilling to live for him. You resolve needs to be now, that you will live for Jesus, and not that sometime in the future, you will become willing to die for him. Live for him now. Gladly bear the name of Jesus.
The second thing they all seem to miss is that Jesus does not just predict his death; he also predicts his resurrection: “But after I have risen, I will go ahead of you into Galilee.” There is good news. Jesus’ death is not the end of the story. It may be only the beginning. The point Jesus makes is that he did not come just to die; he came to conquer death. Paul wrote that death is the last enemy to be defeated (1 Cor 15:26). When Jesus told them, “No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord,” that might have been the end of the sentence but it was not the end of the paragraph. He went on, “I have authority to lay it down and authority to take it up again” (Jn 10:18). Every time Jesus predicted his death, he followed it with a promise to rise again.
S. M. Lockridge was pastor of a church in San Diego. He preached a sermon in which each point ended, “It’s Friday, but Sunday’s comin’.” It’s Friday, but Sunday’s coming. It’s dark now, but light is just three days away. Death is imminent but resurrection is on the horizon. Hope is on the way.