Imagine the Upper Room—the disciples are gathered there with Jesus. Thomas is the last one to come. No, wait, Judas is hurrying in with a flushed face, rather excited, but Judas is always excited. They are all gathered for the celebration of the Passover.
It was the most sacred time in their faith, the annual celebration of God's deliverance of the Hebrew people, from the bondage in Egypt into a new future, a new community of faith, a new land. It was the most important celebration they had in their whole year, kind of like Christmas Eve for us. The bread used was unleavened, symbolizing their swift, unexpected exit from Egypt under cover of night. Their meat was roasted lamb which had been offered as a sacrifice in the temple. The prayers of Passover not only looked to the past in thankfulness to God, but they were prayers for the future, for what they believed God would still do for the people.
For eleven of the twelve disciples, it may have been just another Passover. They had no awareness of what lay before them in the next three days. I don't doubt that when those events were finished, many of them may have said, "I regret that I was not more aware and sensitive to what Jesus was talking about in the upper room." We've often had that experience of saying after someone has gone, "Why didn't I listen?"
Some of the eleven may have been filled with nostalgic memories of past Passover meals in their own homes. This was in reality a family meal of celebration, with a prescribed ritual in which different members of the family had a part.
Now these eleven were alone; they had no family of their own except for each other. They had no children to whom to teach the sacred prayers and traditions. I suspect as they gathered at that Passover time they were caught up in private thoughts about times at home when they had celebrated with their own families.
Judas had his own thoughts. He knew it would be the last meal for the thirteen. He had already made arrangements to betray Jesus, and later that night the deed would be done.
Judas's motive has been the subject of speculation. Most generous is the idea that Judas, a Zealot, wanted Jesus to establish his kingdom by force, driving the Romans and their army from power with legions of angels. Judas's intent was to force Jesus's hand into action when faced with the soldiers and death. Well, maybe so. We can't know his motives.
Maybe he hadn't even considered in his own mind what he was doing, or the consequences. People do that sometimes. They just do something. They're not even sure why.
Judas was there, seated next to Jesus, dipping and eating out of the same bowl Jesus was eating from. I imagine he was afraid of discovery, of failure in his plot. His heart must have been pounding, his knees knocking, his palms sweaty.
Jesus is the center of the story. He was the host of this meal. He made the arrangements. He, too, knew that his time was winding down. He must have looked at each person gathered around that table with a yearning that they might know him more deeply, that they might understand his teaching better. No one but Jesus felt the full significance of that meal, and so he took pains to be sure that as long as human memory lasts, we might know the true meaning of that night.
Scripture tells us that, in the night he was betrayed, he took a loaf of bread and blessed it and broke it, and gaive it to them and said, "This is my body" (Mark 14:22). In the night that he was betrayed, Jesus took a cup and said, "This is my blood of the covenant... poured out for many" (Mark 14:24).
It's important to remember that this story was told after the whole shooting match was over, when they knew, after the fact, that Jesus anticipated what they would do. Yet in love, He gave Himself to them anyway. In the night of human treachery, he gave freely of himself. As the hym puts it, "What wondrous love is this, O my soul, O my soul." That wondrous love passed all expectations and deserving.
James Sanders has called this the "judgment of his grace." He wrote, "... We believe that in the night of human folly, when humankind is apparently at its worst, killing and being killed because of ideological chalk lines, and hating and being hated because of political affiliations, when human blindness and stupidity and fear are apparently at their worst, Jesus comes, breaks bread, gives himself to them and gets himself crushed between the zealots and the establishment." His is the judgment of grace because Jesus say, "I love you still."
For many years, for me, the concept of God's judgment was perplexing. I could not reconcile the love of God that I saw in Jesus Christ with an image of an angry, punishing God reflected in so much of the Hebrew scriptures.
I now believe it is God's consistent, persistent grace which judges us. God is a God of love and has been from the beginning, and never changes in that. It is God's eternal love, not wrath, that calls us to accountability and to turn in a new direction.
The Upper Room reveals judgment, but it is the judgment of God's grace. Such is the love in which God reaches out to you and me. One person has said, "None could trust his hold on Christ. All could trust Christ's hold on them." As Paul put it, "While we were yet sinners, Christ dies for us."
The Upper Room for us is more than a place. It is an experience of meeting between you and Christ. The Upper Room is not in Nashville. The Upper Room is not even in Jerusalem, the bare, plain place that guides point to and say, "This is where Jesus and his disciples had the Last Supper."
For us, in our life with Christ, the Upper Room cannot be located in any geographical place for it is, in truth, an experience of meeting between God's love and our human need. It is where we know God's grace is with us, leading us through our journey, where he has given himself to us now at every Lord's Supper, at every meal, in every cup. Wherever there is need, he is there for you, and in every piece of bread we eat, he still gives himself in love. In whatever cup we drink, he still offers his life to us in grace.
One story reflects this understanding of the presence that meets us on our journey in a book, The River Why, a story about a solitary fisherman named Gus Orviston, who fished the streams along the coast of Oregon for steelhead and salmon. He was named after St. Augustine but was called "Gus" for short. Augustine was a great bishop of the early church who, in his early life, led a wayward life until one day a friend named Ambrose told him a story which changed his life. Augustine wrote in the Confessions of that change, "O God, Thou hast made us for Thyself and we have no rest until we rest in Thee."
Gus Orviston had a friend also; his name was Nick, an old fisherman whom he respected. One night Nick told him a story of what happened to him once as a younger fisherman fishing on a trawler in the North Sea. One day, during a storm, a huge wave knocked Nick off the boat into the frigid water. As he was about to go under, a fisherman on deck threw him a line with a large hook on the end of it. Just as Nick went under the water and passed out, he reached for the hook and the hook snagged him through his hand. The next thing he knew, he was up on the boat alive. He has been given a new life. He said, "Nothing will ever be the way it was before." Then Nick showed Gus the still red scar on his hand, "Behold, son. Behold the sign of the fisher's love for a wooden-headed ass.
Gus went home that night after hearing the story. He went to bed but couldn't go to sleep. He said, "I couldn't rest. I was feeling things I'd never felt before and I knew there are things of the soul." He got up at 2:00 a.m. and started out on a long walk to a remote place. He walked down the road in the dark of night as the hours passed and the early rays of sun began to top the mountain ridge, and he felt a chill rise from his thighs through his backbone to the top of his head, and then the sense of a presence. He described it in these words: "It was as though an unseen, oldest, longest-lost friend had come to walk the road beside me." (Thanks to Mark Trotter.)
Gus experienced the presence of the living Christ. In his time of searching, he was touched by the presence whicch brought him hope. This presence comes to us, too, as a longest-lost friend, in the spirit of grace, in consciousness that God loves even us.
For us, the Upper Room is not a place anymore; it is that experience in which God touches you and me.
We are frightened at this moment, O God, for here we are, daring to stand before you, knowing how far short we have been in what we ought to be. Thus, knowing the awesomeness of this instant, daring to stand in your presence, we are humbled.
Indict us of our shortcomings. Indict us of our egos. Indict us of our wrongs. Indict us of our prejudices. Indict us of our hates. Indict us of our evils.
Charge us for misusing our bodies. Charge us for being indifferent. Charge us for ignoring the needs of others. Charge us for being weak Christians. Charge us for failing our responsibilities.
O God, why do we pray simply as a routine? Why do we pray, not paying attention to what we are saying? Why do we pray, even our Lord's Prayer, with our minds wandering off into space somewhere?
May our expressions of concern for the ill be real. May our expressions of concern for those in pain be feelings of genuine empathy. May our expressions of concern for the brokenhearted pierce our hearts, too. May our expressions of concern for the church touch our pocketbooks. May our expressions of concern for the lost be an authentic saving experience for them and for us.
And bless those who work so hard for the church. Bless the pastors. Bless the office staff. Bless the volunteer workers of which we have so many. Bless the ushers. Bless the choir members. Bless the instrumentalists, the lay leaders, the lay readers, the communion stewards. Indeed, bless us all and give us strength to do what we ought to do and be what we ought to be in your sight and in the name of Jesus Christ, our Lord, you taught us to pray, saying,
Our Father, who art in Heaven,
Hallowed be thy name.
Thy kingdom come, thy will be done,
On Earth as it is in Heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread;
And forgive us our trespasses,
As we forgive those who trespass against us,
And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.
For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory forever.
Amen.