The story of the Last Supper should be familiar,
at least in general form, to most of you. With foreknowledge of his
betrayal, on the first night of Pesach
(Passover), Jesus sat down to the Passover meal. Whether we can
presume this resembled the modern Seder particularly is debatable, as
it is unclear when the Seder first took its modern form, but the
gospels (those that mention the supper at all) place it on the
correct day for the Paschal meal, and certainly some elements should
be as they are now, as specified in the Torah – the unleavened
bread, the questions and answers. Traditions tend to accrete over
time, but certainly there were some then. This is a ritual meal, with
ritual elements, and some details in one or more gospels resemble
elements of the modern Seder. The sharing of wine and bread
(presumably unleavened), for instance, though they have had ritual
significance for Jews beyond the Passover meal, and indeed for wider
groups of people. It is those two items that have become to focus of
ritual importance to Christians, however, as the rite of the Lord's
Supper (aka all those other names previously mentioned).
As variously
reported in the synoptic gospels, Matthew, Mark and Luke, Jesus broke
bread at the meal – during the meal in Matthew and Mark, at the
beginning of it in Luke – and passed it among his apostles, saying
that it was his body. Either immediately afterwards (Matthew and
Mark), or later, at the end of the meal (Luke), he passed them wine,
saying that was his blood (and that this was blood was the covenant,
or of the covenant, and poured out for many, in one case for the
forgiveness of sins). In Luke, where the bread is distributed at the
beginning of the meal and the wine at the end, he also asks that they
“do this in remembrance of me” (Luke 22:14 NRSV).
The remaining
gospel, that of John, has a different narrative of the last supper.
It features Jesus's foreknowledge of betrayal, and the prediction of
Peter's denial, but it does not feature the bread and wine, the body
and blood; rather, it features Jesus washing his disciples' feet. Of
course, John differs from the other gospels more than they differ
from one another; that is why Matthew, Mark and Luke are called the
synoptic gospels, a
term indicating that they seem to share the same view of the same
events. The support in John for the idea of a rite of bread and wine
is in the Bread of Life Discourse
(John 6:22-59), and the part seen as most supportive of the idea of
the Eucharist is this:
So Jesus said to them, “Very truly, I tell you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life, and I will raise them up on the last day; for my flesh is true food and my blood is true drink. Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them. Just as the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so whoever eats me will live because of me. (John 6:53-57 NRSV)
Of course, other
context is also important in trying to get a sense of what the story,
including the discourse, might mean. For instance, just a little
later, at verse 63, Jesus is reported as saying “it is the spirit
that gives life; the flesh is useless”. And the urge to eat his
flesh and drink his blood is in the context of the miracle of loaves
and fishes (I consider that the most meaningful of the common names
for that story, even if it does include an arguably inappropriate use
of fishes). Taken on
its own, the passage quoted above seems to be a strong support for
the practice of the Eucharist, but in the wider context it may be
more of a symbolic allusion to aid the understanding of the listener.
John's gospel especially has some sayings or episodes which seem to
have a certain something in common with Buddhist koans, though I
suspect that gnostics might be more keen to see that side of things
than most mainstream Christians. Jesus says something shocking or
nonsensical, and it is up to his listeners – even those thousands
of years hence – to discern the meaning. To my mind, it seems that
he is saying that true
life – eternal life, perhaps, or godly life, or just life lived
rightly – depends on the food of the spirit more than on the food
of the body.
In any case, let
us get back to the last supper and the Eucharist. The Lord's Supper
is just one of the many sacraments that Quakers eschew, the whole of
life being sacramental and all that. Yet the evidence of the biblical
epistles is that the practice of the Lord's Supper was present in the
early church before the great mass of organisation and theology was
erected, and early Quakers saw themselves as reviving early
Christianity. A great example is in the first epistle to the
Corinthians, chapter 11, which after a bit of sexism and odd fixation
with head coverings deals with the matter of the Lord's Supper as a
practice among the church. Verses 23 to 26 cover the actual
institution of the practice, and verses before and after that
describe a problem – that people were bringing their own food to
their meeting together, and each partaking of their own food rather
than sharing the bread and wine in memory of Jesus. Those who are
hungry should eat at home, rather than supplementing the host (a term
introduced much later, from Latin hostia,
or “sacrificial victim”, or just “sacrifice” or “offering”)
with their own food. In addition, the epistle-writer, conventionally
Paul, warns that none should partake of the Supper without being
confident that they are worthy to do so.
Now, I make no
secret of the fact that I do not profess any conventionally Christian
belief, though I find the teachings and traditions of Christianity
both interesting and spiritually useful – as I do those of every
other faith I've spent any time learning about. I am far from alone
in that sentiment among liberal Friends, though I share fellowship
with those who are avowedly and definitely Christian in a
conventional sense, those who identify as Christian but would be
rejected as such by many organised churches due to the specifics of
their belief, and those who thoroughly reject anything that smells of
Christianity. I can do little to make this story, and what we might
take from it, agreeable to the latter sort of Quaker, but for the
rest of the 'spectrum' (a misleading label in itself, but that's a
discussion for another day) I will see what I think we can all take
from it.
Firstly, even
taking the gospels as a reasonably accurate record of the life of
Jesus, I must cast doubt on the idea that the events described
indicate an intention to institute a ritual. The stories are rich in
symbolism, and that symbolism must be taken in its context. The body
and blood at the Last Supper were shared in the context of Jesus
knowing that his final tribulation was beginning, but knowing that he
would return. What was the import of that message, at that time? If
we are trying to envisage a unified narrative between the gospels,
this was in a context where we can presume the apostles were aware of
the Bread of Life discourse, so we should hear it in that context –
but also in the context of all of the other teachings that Jesus had
shared. If we take the Bread of Life as a symbolic lesson as well, it
seems to me that he is saying “share bread, and remember the need
for the food of the soul, as I have taught you; share wine, and
remember the need for forgiveness and the covenant, as I have taught
you”. I cannot feel that the specifics of bread and wine are vital,
nor that the suggestion was that this be done only as part of a
ritual. The call seems to me to be to remember these things when we
eat and drink – every time we eat and drink.
The report of 1
Corinthians indicates that the Lord's Supper had been instituted as a
worship practice among early Christians, at least in some parts of
the early church, and that Paul approved of the ritual. It doesn't
tell us much about it, however, except that the amount of food
involved was not really enough to satisfy as a meal. The modern
practice in most denominations of a person holding some special
office blessing the host and the wine and then it being doled out to
each worshipper may not have been the practice, though the blessing
of wine clearly was, given the report elsewhere in 1 Corinthians:
The cup of blessing that we bless, is it not a sharing in the blood of Christ? The bread that we break, is it not a sharing in the body of Christ? Because there is one bread, we who are many are one body, for we all partake of the one bread. (1 Corinthians 10:16-17 NRSV)
Perhaps this last
sentence can give us the most important meaning, one that is not of
merely ritual importance. The bonding of the community as one, by
that sharing.
I have already
said that Quakers do not participate in rituals like the Eucharist,
believing all life to be sacramental and rejecting “empty forms”.
But substance, substance matters. And that substance, of binding the
community, matters whatever you think of the story of Jesus.
We do not need a
ritual of the Lord's Supper. But we do benefit from a practice of
coming together, a practice of substance. Of joining together and
eating one food (even if it be a selection, rather than a single
dish). Of sharing what we have so that none has more or less, and of
reflecting as we eat and we drink on whatever meaning that has for
us.
And the beauty is
that we already do this, we just don't acknowledge and dwell on its
meaning. Shared meals, or potlucks to the North Americans, are a
common feature in the life of many a Meeting. Without making of them
a ritual, perhaps we could actually acknowledge their spiritual
significance. Rather than a social, practical, secular reasoning
alone, we can speak of and share a sacred meaning. We break bread –
or share quinoa salad – and remember Jesus, if that is our wont, or
whatever else of significance it may bring to us.
If we say all
things are sacramental, then we should treat them as sacramental,
rather than it ending up with nothing sacramental. Remember the
spiritual significance of all things, whatever that significance may
be to you. Your theology – your way of thinking of the Divine –
may be close to Christian orthodoxy, or it may be heterodox
Christianity, something very unusual, it may not be Christian at all.
But if all things are sacramental, they all have spiritual
significance, and if we are to do honour to that we must bear them in
mind.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
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Did you enjoy this post, or find it interesting, informative or stimulating? Do you want to keep seeing more of these posts? Please consider contributing to my Patreon. More information is available in the post announcing my use of Patreon.
