Twelve Places Set For Supper

Luke 22:7-27

Twelve places set for supper and in each place a wondering, wide eyed disciple.

Jesus looked along the line and into the faces of the friends who had been with him for three long years and I wonder which one is you? Or  maybe like me, you find yourself a confusing combination of several all rolled into one.

Peter would always catch his eye first. So eager, so ready to please. Totally committed to Jesus but who would often open his mouth before engaging his brain. A hyperactive bundle of energy, unable to sit still for even a second.

John, full of love.  Seated next to Jesus at the table and right up close so that his face was reclining on the saviour’s breast. John, amazed at how tender and sensitive this rough and ready fisherman had now become.

James, the last of the especially trusted three. Yet never quite sure why he had been chosen and when he compared himself with Peter and John he came away always feeling inadequate. He did not know what Jesus saw in him.

Thaddeaus, never opened his mouth at meetings. Hard to tell what he was thinking. Content in his own company and kept himself to himself. Jesus saw in him a spiritual stature he probably never realised.

Matthew, who’d left behind lots of unfinished paperwork at the tax office and it kept catching up with him. People tracking him down. Things to do. A man still under pressure, not at peace but trying so hard

Andrew, another one not so great with words, but a great doer. Seizing hold of any practical task and making something of it. Noticing the people others failed to notice.

Phillip, such a deep thinking man – one who puzzled away at the truth. Would keep you up well into the night if you let him, debating and discussing but never reaching a conclusion.

James the Son of Alpheus – not sure what he was doing actually. Not sure he had anything worthwhile to give. A “lost in the crowd” sort of bloke. Not lost to Jesus though.

Thomas, not so much a doubter, but just a bit of a pessimist. It was only because deep down he was a bit of a worrier. If something went wrong well Thomas would have told you so. Wanted something to happen so he would not be like that.

Judas Iscariot –irritated by all of it to be honest. Couldn’t see where any of it was going. Disappointed in Jesus.

Bartholomew or Nathanael, as was his real name. Brought along by a friend actually.Saw the best in other people and there was so much “best” in Jesus he couldn’t put it into words.

Simon the Zealot – a man with a passion for politics and a desire to see righteousness prevail. He simply saw all that he had come to believe in, summed up in Jesus.

Jesus looked along the line of his friends as he took that famous bread into his hands.

In them he saw everything he wanted to live for and everything he had to die for.

In them hope and despair lived side by side.

Everything about them was welcome to this supper that had the capacity to change the world.

Critical Mass – all the resources we bring to our Sunday Service. The words, The gestures, The history of them. The meaning of them. The Priest. The servers. The acolytes. The readers. The Intercessors, and the choir.

 From Christ’s point of view we’re in danger of missing out the most vital ingredient.

You.

Because it is out of love for you that this supper party was first thrown.

Your being here is all that Christ longs for.

Your presence brings with it a little bit of everything He has created.

We’re tempted to believe that – that’s not true.

It sounds good but it isn’t true – because we don’t think we are worthy guests.

It’s like as if that poem of Herbert’s is addressed to us and to us alone.

It’s like as if so many of the character traits of the disciples are rolled into one in me.

And Jesus does not repel them, he beckons them closer and he beckons us closer.

The truth of Critical Mass is this – in  Jesus  love bids you welcome.

To draw near to Him, to be served by Him.

It’s not easy to be a guest to a host like this.

It takes a lifetime to make sense of the fact that the Eucharist is in the end about us daring to get our feet under his table.

RH  16.3.08