The Final Cup

The Final Cup

Luke 22:7-23

April 18, 2019 (Maundy Thursday) • Mount Pleasant UMC

There’s an old saying that goes, “Give a man a fish and he’ll eat for a day. Teach a man to fish and he’ll eat for a lifetime.” That’s usually used to talk about helping those in poverty learn to become self-sufficient, but it’s also a true statement about the way we learn things. If you do something for me, I’m less likely to remember how it was done. But if you show me, if you come alongside me, if you give me something to hold onto—then I’ll remember what you were trying to teach me. Today it’s called mentoring, or apprenticeship, and, in many ways (more than we have time to talk about tonight), that’s what this night is about. It’s the last night Jesus will be with his disciples, and he wants them to remember not only this night but everything that’s to come in the next twenty-four hours. And more than that, he wants them to try to understand what it means, and so this night, he gives them something very practical, something that, after it’s all over, they can do to remember. “He gave them an act to perform…he gave them a meal to share” (Wright, Luke for Everyone, pg. 262).

Luke tells us up front that this meal was a Passover meal. It was the feast of Unleavened Bread (22:7), and for every good Jew, that statement takes them back to the story of the Exodus. Passover is the time when they remember what God did to rescue them when they were slaves in Egypt. Now, of course, this generation had never been slaves in Egypt, but when they celebrated Passover, it was as if they had been there. They were part of a people who had been rescued by the hand of God. And every year, on this night, they would gather around the family table and remember. On the table would be bitter herbs (normally freshly grated horseradish or romaine lettuce or a bitter Mediterranean root called endive), unleavened bread, wine, and the Passover lamb (Card, Luke: The Gospel of Amazement, pg. 239). It was a family feast, but a highly structured one. The entire meal was centered around a liturgy of remembering. The night focused on promises God made to Israel in Exodus 6. Each time a promise was remembered, a cup of wine is shared around the table. It was in that context that Jesus and his disciples gathered in an upper room (a guest room) to eat, drink, and celebrate. That night, no one wanted to be there more than Jesus. “I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer,” he told them. “For I tell you, I will not eat it again until it finds fulfillment in the kingdom of God” (22:15-16).

So the meal begins with a blessing as the host raises the first cup of wine. This cup is called, appropriately enough, the “Cup of Blessing,” and it corresponds to the first promise made by God to the Hebrew people in Exodus 6: “I am the Lord, and I will bring you out from under the yoke of the Egyptians” (6:6). They remembered how God chose Israel from all the nations of the earth to bless them, and when they were slaves in Egypt, he heard their cry and rescued them from the hand of the pharaoh. This may be the first cup Luke mentions, when he tells us how Jesus passed it among the disciples and told them this would be the last time he would share in such a meal, such a cup, until “the kingdom of God comes” (22:18). This is not, however, the cup of communion. That was to come later.

So the first promise, and the first cup, is this: “I will bring you out.” After that, Jesus and the disciples would have shared the bitter herbs, a reminder of the bitterness of slavery. The meaning of Passover would have been explained, and psalms would have been sung. Then, the host, who on this night was Jesus, would have raised a second cup that matched the second promise to Israel: “I will free you from being slaves…” (6:6). The second cup is the “Cup of Deliverance,” and as they drank, the disciples would have remembered Moses, how God called him and used him to confront Pharaoh, to lead the people through the Red Sea, to guide them until they came to Mount Sinai, where God established them as his people. Luke does not tell us about this cup, but it sets the stage for the rest of the meal.

At this point, the bread is brought out and broken. It was known as the “bread of affliction,” and as they remembered their ancestors’ hardships in Egypt, they would eat bread and lamb and say grace after the meal was done. However, half of the bread was put away, hidden, before the meal took place. It was called the afikomen which is a word that roughly means “dessert,” and so it was hidden until later in the meal. After dinner was over, it would be brought out as a symbol of celebration. Dessert is, after all, the best part of the meal, right? Though unleavened bread doesn’t seem like much of a dessert; I prefer pie. But, back to the story: Jesus takes this piece of bread and he changes the liturgy. He breaks it again, and he passes it among them and says, “This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance—” not of Egypt, not of slavery, not of some past event. “Do this in remembrance of me” (22:19). He changes the dessert into a symbol of his body—the very best thing God had to offer was himself, in the person of his Son. In just a few hours, Jesus’ body would be hanging on a Roman cross. He would die to save us from our sin. And every time after this night, when the disciples saw the afikomen—or maybe any piece of bread—they would remember. “Do this,” he said, “in remembrance of me.”

It is after that when the third cup of wine is shared. The promise in Exodus is this: “I will redeem you with an outstretched arm and with mighty acts of judgment” (6:6). This third cup, the “Cup of Redemption,” is the one Jesus uses to symbolize his blood, the offering he makes for the forgiveness of our sins. It’s after supper, after the main meal of the evening, when Jesus raises the cup and tells them, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood, which is poured out for you” (22:20). And, again, every time after that a cup of wine would remind the disciples of this night—and of the next day.

After the third cup, there is more singing, and then there is fourth cup. It’s the cup that corresponds with the fourth promise in Exodus: “I will take you as my own people, and I will be your God” (6:7). This was called the “Cup of Protection.” It’s the promise that God will watch over the people. It’s the promise that, from that moment on, they would belong to God and they would have his protection. It’s the promise that never would they have to cry out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” because in that cup, God promises he will never leave them nor forsake them (cf. Deuteronomy 31:6). Did you know: the Gospels never record that Jesus drank from that cup, and in fact, he willingly gave up that protection so that he could, in fact, in some way we don’t understand, be forsaken the next day on the cross. You might remember that those words, taken from Psalm 22, are among the last things Jesus cries out from the cross: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Jesus willingly gave up what had been promised to every Jew since the beginning of their history of a people—he allowed himself to be forsaken by God the father on the cross so that he could save us. He was forsaken so that we don’t have to be. Jesus didn’t drink from the cup of protection that night (Vanderlaan, The Path to the Cross Discovery Guide, pgs. 208-209).

Now, in Luke’s account the disciples next begin fighting amongst themselves, as they often did. But Jesus talks to them, and eventually the Passover meal ends, as it always does, with more music. Mark says, “When they had sung a hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives” (14:26). Now, let me go back to Luke and let you hear how he records the next thing that happens. “Jesus went out as usual to the Mount of Olives, and his disciples followed him. On reaching the place, he said to them, ‘Pray that you will not fall into temptation.’ He withdrew about a stone’s throw beyond them, knelt down and prayed, ‘Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done’” (22:39-42). We usually focus on his final statement, and that’s a good one to focus on. It ought to be the prayer of each of our hearts: “Not my will, but yours be done.” But did you hear what he said just before that? “Take this cup from me.” Now why would he say that? What “cup” is he talking about?

As I’ve said, there were four symbolic cups on the Passover table during the meal. At some point in history—and there is discussion as to whether or not this was true in Jesus’ day, so I won’t argue with you about this one way or the other—but at some point in history, a fifth cup was added to the Passover table. A final cup. A cup that you did not drink from. In some traditions, it came to be known as “Elijah’s cup,” because the prophet Malachi had promised that before the Messiah would arrive, Elijah, who had not died, would come back and turn people toward God (Malachi 4:5-6). It’s the very last promise of the Old Testament, and the tradition was that Elijah would answer the questions for which no answers could be found. One of those questions had to do with God’s wrath. If you remember the story of the Exodus, you remember God’s wrath was poured out on Egypt and the firstborn of every family in Egypt, including Pharaoh’s, died. Throughout the centuries, there were times when the prophets particularly saw God’s wrath being poured out on the people for their disobedience. So this fifth cup came to represent the punishment, the wrath due the people for their sin (Vanderlaan 231). Now, think about Jesus in the Garden, praying “take this cup from me.” Is he seeing that fifth cup? Does he recognize, as the Gospels seem to indicate, that the next day he will, in some way, be experiencing the wrath of God the Father? I think, as Jesus stared ahead, he realized what an awful experience the cross would be—not just physically, though that was awful enough. But Jesus sees all the sin of humanity being poured out on him, he sees himself taking the punishment for that sin, and so this night he cries out, “Take this cup—the final cup—take it away! Take it from me!”

And we’re here tonight to remember and to celebrate the fact that Jesus did not get his prayer answered the way he wanted on that night. He took the wrath that was intended for us. He drank the cup. Tonight, it’s an empty cup! Paul told the Thessalonians that Jesus is the one “who rescues us from the coming wrath” (1 Thessalonians 1:10). And later in that same letter: “For God did not appoint us to suffer wrath but to receive salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ” (5:9). John uses similar language: “He is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not only for ours but also for the sins of the whole world” (1 John 2:2). Jesus drank the cup to the bottom. He took on himself the punishment that should have been ours, and all we have to do is to receive his gift and allow him to begin transforming our lives into something that looks like him. That’s what people throughout the ages have learned as they’ve come to know Jesus, that if it weren’t for him, life would have no meaning.

If it weren’t for him…where would any of us be? If he hadn’t drank the final cup…what hope would we have? For the last several weeks, we’ve been talking about the shape and the nature of the good life, but none of that would be possible if it weren’t for Jesus. All of what we take for granted—hope and grace and mercy—is only possible because our Lord drank the final cup, took upon himself God’s wrath, our punishment. But he wanted to make sure that we remembered, that we had a way to experience this promise over and over again, and so he took bread, and he took the cup, and he told his disciples then and now to “do this in remembrance of me.” So we gather tonight, in hope, in gratitude, in joy. We gather. We take, and we eat, and we drink, and we give thanks for Jesus who drank the final cup for us.