As we draw near to Easter, Christians all around the world will soon be celebrating the events of Good Friday and Easter Sunday. But the events that took place in the upper room on the Thursday evening of Jesus’ arrest tend to gain less attention. The account in the three synoptic Gospels of the final Passover meal that Jesus shared with his disciples is familiar to many Christians, yet its cultural and theological context is lost to most of us. Consequently, the Lord’s Supper or Communion that Christians now regularly celebrate in our church services throughout the year bears little resemblance to the actual events of the Last Supper of Jesus.
So, as we approach the momentous events of Easter again this year, I want to take you back 2,000 years and place you in the upper room on that fateful Thursday evening. The dramatised scene you are about to witness will surprise you. It will change your understanding of the Last Supper. So sit back and watch what is now about to unfold. Let us look with fresh eyes at the Last Supper that Jesus shared with his disciples.
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As the sun sank toward the western hills, the disciples of Yeshua (Jesus) arrived and were ushered upstairs by the owner of the house. Cephas (Peter) and John had already been here for several hours arranging the meal they were about to eat. The strangled cries of lambs being slaughtered throughout the city had long since ceased and the smell of blood, which had hung heavily over the bustling metropolis for several hours throughout the middle of the day, had been replaced by the succulent aroma of lambs roasting on spits. Now, as the sun sank further, approaching the rim of the western hills, the disciples reclined at a long, low table in the upper room. They lounged with elbows propped on multi-coloured cushions, talking excitedly as they awaited the master who remained downstairs, talking with the owners.
The table was set for the Passover Seder and the disciples, ravenous after their journey, eyed the food with anticipation. The steaming roast lamb, the centre point of the meal, sat in the middle of the table, surrounded by the other ceremonial elements of the Seder. While many traditional Jews would celebrate Passover on the following day, Yeshua had chosen to adhere to the growing custom of the Pharisees who celebrated it a day earlier.1
Finally, as the light from the setting sun cast an eery orange glow into the room through the solitary western window, footsteps were heard ascending the stairs. As Yeshua entered the room, the disciples’ excited conversations ceased and they watched their master expectantly. Yeshua crossed to the window, a small opening in the stonework in the western wall, and he stood silently gazing at the distant hills. He remained like that for several minutes, not speaking as he watched the sun’s golden orb slowly sink below the darkening hills.
As the last sliver of the sun was about to be extinguished, Yeshua turned and came to stand at the empty head of the table. The disciples remained reclining along the length of the long, narrow table, five on one side, six on the other, with Judas, the treasurer, occupying the sole place at the far end. Yeshua gazed down upon his band of unlikely disciples with a curiously solemn expression. John watched him carefully and could not help feeling that there was something different about him tonight. There was a sadness that seemed to envelop him, a cloud that had settled around him which puzzled the disciples and left them uncomfortably silent.
As the last rays of sunlight faded from the sky, Yeshua bent and struck a flint. He lit the candles, reciting the Kadeish, the formal Hebrew Passover blessing as he did so, “Baruch Atah Adonai Eloheinu melech ha’olam asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav, v’tzivanu l’hadlik ner shel Shabbat V’shel Yom Tov.”2 (“Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Ruler of the Universe, who has sanctified us with laws and commanded us to light Shabbat lights and the festival lights. As we light the festival candles, we acknowledge that as they brighten our Passover table, good thoughts, good words, and good deeds brighten our days.”)
He took the cup of wine in front of him and the disciples all lifted their own cups – the first of four formal cups of wine that were prescribed for everyone to drink at various points throughout the meal. Yeshua paused, casting his gaze around the table. Instead of reciting the next blessing that was traditionally said by the head of the home, he spoke more personally.
“I have earnestly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer. For I say to you, I will not eat this again until it is fulfilled in the kingdom of God.”3
He drank deeply from his cup and each of the disciples drank from their own, but there were puzzled expressions around the table as they tried to understand what Yeshua had said. He is not going to celebrate Passover again with us? Why not? Is he going somewhere?
The formal meal then began and, at first, it followed its prescribed course: the Urchatz (the washing of hands in bowls of salty water) followed by Karpas (dipping vegetables into a mixture of saltwater and vinegar). The disciples were all eyeing the succulent roast lamb in the centre, eager to devour it, but further formality had to precede it.
Yachatz came next, with Yeshua taking the middle of the three loaves of matzot (unleavened bread) from the centre of the table and breaking the loaf in two, symbolising the start of the meal proper. The disciples waited for their master to recite the next blessing. The breaking of bread by the head of the home was the standard way the evening meal was commenced every night of the year throughout Israel, but at Passover an additional tradition accompanied it. On this special feast night, the head of the home was expected to say, “In haste we left Egypt and, in this manner, God parted the red sea”, after which they would all join in singing a well-known Passover hymn (Psalms 113 and 114).
As they waited for Yeshua to utter the familiar words, a strange silence fell over the table. Yeshua’s countenance became even more solemn, to the point of sadness. Twelve faces stared up at him, concern now furrowing their brows as the silence stretched uncomfortably on. Has he forgotten the words? Does one of us need to remind him? Yeshua slowly swept his gaze around the table, pausing to look at each of them individually, his eyes seeming to pierce their souls. Then he lifted the broken loaf, now in two pieces, and softly uttered words that puzzled them deeply.
“This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.”4
As they sat in perplexed silence, the master walked around the table, breaking off portions of the unleavened loaf and placing a piece before each disciple. He resumed his place at the head of the table and nodded encouragement to them, and they each ate the bread they had been given. As they chewed, curious glances were cast at one another, with several disciples shrugging and shaking their heads as if to say, “I’ve got no idea what is happening.”
In the silence that followed, Yeshua remained standing, looking down at them, his eyes now glistening with emotion. Finally, Cephas (Peter) started to speak, “Master, what …?”, but his question was cut short as his brother, Andrew, dug an elbow painfully into his ribs. As Cephas rubbed his side and scowled at his brother, Yeshua finally spoke.
“You do not yet understand. But soon you will.”5
He paused, and John thought he saw tears forming at the corners of the master’s eyes.
Jesus continued, “You know that the rulers of this world lord it over the people, and officials exercise authority over them. But it must not be this way among you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first among you must be your slave— just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.”6
The disciples were now thoroughly confused. The master had gone completely off-script. This was not the traditional liturgy of the Passover Seder. From their earliest memories as children, the same words had been recited at each Passover, year after year. The words of this annual ceremony were ingrained within each of them – a reassuring reminder of their rich heritage as God’s chosen people. Not only were Yeshua’s words liturgically unprecedented, but they were also deeply disturbing.
Cephas, in particular, was confused by his master’s words. What did he mean by asking them to become servants and slaves? Surely, the master did not include himself in that? After all, he was a rabbi! And not just any rabbi: his star was in the ascendancy. His miracles and his profound teaching were setting the world on fire and people were already speaking of him as possibly one of Israel’s great prophets. Indeed, only a few days ago, during the week of preparation for the Passover, the master had been hailed by crowds of people waiving palm branches as he made a brief visit to the Holy City.7 Yes, the master was destined for greatness! One day, perhaps soon, the streets of Jerusalem would be cleared ahead of him as people shouted, ‘Make way for the great Rabbi Yeshua!’
As Cephas and the rest of the disciples pondered their master’s words, Yeshua rose from the table and took off his outer garment, folded it and placed it on nearby cushions. Then, even more astonishingly, he removed his undergarment and folded it on top of the other. He now stood before them naked from the waist up, with only his loin cloth covering his private parts.8 This, in itself, was shocking. No self-respecting rabbi would uncover himself in such a humiliating way in front of his disciples! Cephas shook his head, perplexed. Now what is he doing?
As they all watched, their partially clad rabbi walked to the landing at the top of the stairs where a towel was hanging from a peg in the wall. Yeshua wrapped the towel around his waist. He picked up the water jar that had stood there all afternoon and poured water into the large bowl alongside it.
Cephas’ eyes widened. No! Surely not!
As the disciples had arrived, they had all noticed the water jar and bowl for foot washing at the top of the stairs and had momentarily looked around for a servant girl to perform the traditional duty. The washing of grime from feet was the first act of hospitality of any host, and the unpleasant job always fell to the lowliest of the household servants. The absence of a servant to perform the task on this occasion meant that the twelve disciples now sat at the table with filthy, unwashed feet.
With mounting disbelief, the disciples watched as Yeshua carried the bowl to the end of the table. Then, to their horror, they watched as their rabbi knelt before Judas and gently placed his feet in the bowl. He washed the filth from Judas’ feet with his bare hands, then used the end of the towel to dry them.
Yeshua moved on to the next disciple and repeated the process. No one spoke. No one moved. They had never seen anything like this. Their rabbi was humiliating himself.
The shocking sense of impropriety rose within Cephas. This should not be happening! It must not be allowed to continue! He looked at John who sat directly opposite him and tried to get his attention. In the absence of a servant girl, the lowliest among them should have done this job. John, as the youngest of the disciples, should have taken this task upon himself. As Yeshua continued to wash the feet of his disciples, moving ever closer to Cephas, anger now rose up within the fiery disciple. His eyes drilled holes into John until the younger man finally glanced his way. Cephas’s face was now an angry scowl and he aggressively nodded at John and jerked his head toward their master, silently urging the young disciple to take up his responsibility and save their master from further disgrace. But John, his face registering the shock they all felt, shook his head, somehow unable to interrupt the awful scene that was playing out before them all.
Yeshua now reached Cephas and knelt before him, the rabbi serving the disciple, an action Cephas had never thought possible. Cephas could not tolerate this any longer. He leapt to his feet and shouted, “No!”
There were stunned faces around the table. Without realising it, Cephas had made the scene even more incongruous, for the rabbi was kneeling at the feet of his disciple who was now standing over him and shouting.
“Master? You would wash my feet?”9 Cephas trembled with pent up emotion and his face was flushed with a mixture of outrage and embarrassment for his master.
There was compassion in the eyes of Yeshua as he continued kneeling before his disciple, and he spoke with great tenderness. “You do not realise what I am doing, but later you will understand.”10
Cephas shook his head. “No! Never! You shall never wash my feet!”11
Yeshua’s countenance grew stern and his voice took on a serious tone. “Unless I wash you, you can have no part with me!”12
The tableau remained frozen for several moments: the kneeling rabbi and the indignant disciple standing before him. Yeshua’s stern words hung in the air and Cephas’ face betrayed the struggle that was taking place within him. The master was asking him to discard a lifetime of learned cultural mores, to set aside values that were at the very foundation of their ordered society and completely turn upside down everything that he believed about the hierarchical nature of relationships. For several more heartbeats, no one spoke or moved. All eyes were now focused upon Cephas as the struggle raged within him. Finally, something broke within him. He exhaled a long, slow sigh, bowed his head and dropped to his knees.
“In that case, Master, don’t just wash my feet, but my hands and head as well.”13
For a moment, they remained like that, the disciple with his head bowed and the partially clad rabbi, both kneeling in an attitude of subservience toward one another. Then Yeshua reached out toward Cephas. He cupped his face gently in both hands and raised Cephas’ head so that they were staring directly into one another’s eyes. He smiled and spoke tenderly to his disciple.
“Those who have had a bath need only to wash their feet; their whole body is clean.” The master’s smile softened, and his eyes were filled with tenderness. “And you are clean.”14 Yeshua’s smile then quickly faded, and his countenance darkened. He looked toward the end of the table and spoke solemnly. “Though not every one of you.”15
No one dared to ask what he meant, although several curious glances were cast toward Judas. The moment passed, however, and the tenderness of the master returned as he began washing Cephas’ feet. All thought of the succulent roast lamb that was waiting for them in centre of the table had long-since deserted them, so focused were the disciples on the scene playing out before them. As their bare-chested rabbi continued to move around the table, kneeling before each of them and washing the filth from their feet with his hands, they realised that something profound was occurring. Everything they thought they knew about their ordered world – about the nature of authority and the very definition of greatness – was being overturned. The full implications of what was transpiring were yet to take root, but soon they would comprehend. For the rest of their lives, they would look back on this incident as the defining moment for their understanding of leadership and ministry.
For God had come among them and had washed their feet. They had encountered the foot-washing God, and nothing would ever be the same again.
Nearly two hours later, the roast lamb had been completely devoured and the disciples reclined around the table, their stomachs full and their hunger satisfied. All that remained now was the fourth and final cup of blessing that would formally signify the end of the meal.
Yeshua took hold of his cup of wine and stood. All conversation around the table ceased and they each took hold of their own cups. Twelve pairs of eyes stared up at their master, waiting for the familiar final words of the Passover Seder. But once again Jesus went completely off script.
“This is my blood of the new covenant which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins. Truly, I tell you, I will not drink the fruit of the vine again until I drink it anew with you in my Father’s kingdom.”16
Once again, the disciples were confused. This was not the familiar final blessing of the Seder. Had Yeshua forgotten the words? Why was he saying these things? They glanced at each other with perplexed expressions.
Yeshua drank deeply from his cup and nodded encouragement for them to do the same. Tentatively, they each sipped from their own cups and replaced them on the table. A strained silence now hung over them and they saw a deep sadness in their master’s eyes. As Yeshua began singing the final hymn,17 his voice soft and mournful, they stood and sang with him, noting the tears that were now glistening in his eyes. They did not yet understand the significance of what their rabbi had just said but very soon they would.
This had been a Passover Seder unlike any they had ever known.
(This dramatised account of the Last Supper is an excerpt from my book, Leading Like Jesus, which is available through my website, smartfaith.net).
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FOOTNOTES:
- The Gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke indicate that the Last Supper was, indeed, a Passover Seder, while John’s Gospel refers to the Last Supper as occurring one day before the more traditional Passover celebration. The two competing traditions for the celebration of Passover in the first century may explain this apparent anomaly.
- The Kadeish: “Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Ruler of the Universe, who has sanctified us with laws and commanded us to light Shabbat lights and the festival lights. As we light the festival candles, we acknowledge that as they brighten our Passover table, good thoughts, good words, and good deeds brighten our days.”
- Luke 22:15-16
- Luke 22:19
- John 13:7
- Matthew 20:25-28; Mark 10:42-45; Luke 22:25-27. Although Matthew and Mark record this statement by Jesus as being separate from and earlier to the Last Supper, Luke records it as taking place at the Last Supper.
- John 12:12-19
- John 13:4
- John 13:6
- John 13:7
- John 13:8
- John 13:8
- John 13:9
- John 13:10
- John 13:10
- Matthew 26:27-29
- Psalms 115 to117