A Crowded Table - Maundy Thursday Year C

From the very beginning of human society, eating a meal together has been the quintessential symbol of kinship and common life. Table fellowship is where we share our stories and pass them down from one generation to the next. Eating together is how we connect with one another, both in our nuclear family and the wider community. The people we eat with become our family. This is certainly true around here. As often and as extensively as we break bread together, it’s no wonder we call ourselves the Christ Church family.

Our modern concept of the crowded dinner table has deep roots, as does the table where we share in the Eucharist. First century Jewish priests offered sacrifices to God in the temple and in synagogues on special occasions, including, of course, the Passover. They symbolized the people offering their own hearts to God. A meal to accompany a ritual sacrifice was an important part of Jewish communal life in Jerusalem. Marion Hatchett, key architect of the 1979 Book of Common Prayer, describes these meals this way:

Following the liturgy of the word at the synagogue, participants came home, performed ritual ablutions, then shared conversation over wine before coming to the table to eat. Assembling at the table, participants thanked God over the bread [saying] “Blessed be God, King of the universe, who brings forth bread from the earth.” The bread was then broken and distributed, providing the means for eating from common dishes. To beak bread was the share one loaf, to eat together - unleavened bread at the Passover, leavened bread at other times.

It’s such a lovely picture, friends gathered at a long table filled with dishes made from familiar recipes, perhaps interspersed with special touches like candles or heirloom vessels. We know the scene well. Our modern-day Easter brunches and Christmas dinners - and their talented and generous hosts - are part of a long legacy of communal, liturgical feasts. But the celebration didn’t end when the sacrificial meal was over. Hatchett continues:

After the meal the diners shared a cup of wine which was first blessed by the pater familias who called upon the group to stand [saying] “Lift up your hearts,” and asked their permission to give thanks in their name: “Let us give thanks to the Lord our God.” God was then blessed as creator, sustainer, and redeemer, in relation to the particular day or occasion, and prayer was offered for the community of Israel.

It’s astonishing to me how much of our faith has been handed down, dating back to before Christ came into the world. Tonight, we remember a particular meal that Jesus shared with his friends over 2,000 years ago, which suddenly feels more familiar than ever. The disciples may very well have witnessed a sacrifice at the synagogue that day, before they crowded around a long table, ready to share in the normal customs of the sacrificial meal before finally chowing down. After they ate, they might have stood together to lift up their hearts to God, an act they could have done a hundred times before.

Of course, on this night, Jesus did something different. But he didn’t institute a brand new tradition so much as he invited the disciples to broaden how they think about the one they already had, which ran deep in their community. He invited them to expand the table to new family members. He invited them to remember not just the foundational stories of their people but also his new teachings. He invited them to reconsider power and greatness in terms of humble service. And most importantly, he swapped out the sacrificial offering with his own body, the ultimate expression of hospitality from the world’s best host.

Every time we gather to receive communion, Jesus invites us to broaden how we think about the practices that run deep in our own shared history. How can we expand the table? How are we remembering Christ’s sacrifice with our words and actions? How can we make the rituals of our faith more hospitable?

These are questions Paul wanted the church in Corinth to think about too. They were doing a great job with the ritual of communion, but they had forgotten about the call to hospitality. They were willing to share their ceremonial bread and wine with the poor, but not their evening meal, which, as both Paul and Jesus explain, is missing the point. He recalls for them Jesus’ words at the Last Supper to remind them of whose message their actions should proclaim.

Tonight, our scriptures and our faith tradition call out to us from the past to remind us that in this Eucharistic feast, we participate in the sacrifice of Christ, at the core of which, is hospitality. This is how Jesus asked to be remembered, at a shared meal in which the loftiest serve the lowliest. Everyone is invited to share in the meal. We are meant to crowd the table. We are meant to squeeze in at the altar rail. We are meant to become one family by feasting together, as humans have been doing since time immemorial.

As we begin the holiest three days of our church year, in the midst of our solemn observances, let us remember Jesus as he wanted to be remembered. Let us put our faith in the radical hospitality of Christ that will ultimately bring us new life in the resurrection. Let us find joy and hope in being together with our Christ Church family, taking part in familiar rituals that have been handed down to us from countless generations. Tomorrow we will head to the cross, but tonight, we feast. Amen.