At the Table
If the Gospel reading from Luke that we read just now sounds a bit familiar… a gathering of disciples… Jesus appearing before them… showing the wounds of his hands and his side… if that sounds like something we read in the Gospel of John last week… well, good. Thank you for paying attention.
This week’s Gospel reading is a different account of Jesus’s appearance to the disciples after the resurrection. It’s not identical. There are some differences.
There’s not a word in the Lukan text about Thomas, or any of the other disciples, being singled out as being particularly doubtful.
In the John text, Jesus breathes the Holy Spirit on them right away, and gives them instruction to go out into the city and the world with hearts to forgive. In Luke, this morning, the message is still one of forgiveness, but Jesus tells them to wait until they have “been clothed with power from on high.”
So there are a couple differences, but the Gospels appear to be describing the same event.
There are a couple points I want to make with this today – one historical, and one theological.
The historical point is this – that is doesn’t really matter that the Gospels aren’t identical on this event, or really, any other event described in the Bible.
To the best of our knowledge, the Gospels were written between the years 70 and 90 AD – somewhere in that time frame. So best-case scenario, these books are being written some 37-odd years after Christ has died. Decades went by with these stories being shared person to person, around dinner tables and campfires. The good news of Jesus Christ being passed on, one person at a time, from village to village to village, first throughout Israel, then into Asia, Africa, and Europe, into the heart of Rome itself.
You know what happens when you try to remember something from years ago, when there’s no video to get the details right?
People remember things in different ways. We come at things from different reference points. Our minds fill in the missing details with different pieces of information.
It’s like trying to remember a particular Thanksgiving at grandma’s house from 30 years ago.
We don’t check the record book and say, “Ok… Thanksgiving was on November 20 that year, we all met at 2:18pm, the Cowboys played the Dolphins, we had a lovely time and left at 6:24.”
We don’t do that because there’s no record book.
Instead, our minds work from the things that we know, and fill in the details from there.
That was the first Thanksgiving after Uncle Jim passed, but Grandma still set a place at the table for him. Jim’s favorite food was ham, so she made a ham and a turkey that year. Aunt Julie should have stuck with the ham because she spilled the turkey gravy on her yellow dress and the stain looked like Argentina. That dress was the exact same color as dad’s old Plymouth, so it must have been in the 80’s before he traded it in for the Chevy. Nah – that Thanksgiving couldn’t have been in the 80’s because I remember watching Dan Marino in the game that year, but I don’t remember Troy Aikman. And besides, Aunt Julie’s dress was green and the gravy stain looked more like an upside-down duck than Argentina.
You get the idea.
The disciples didn’t keep minutes of their encounters with Jesus.
They couldn’t take screenshots or selfies or post their meetings on YouTube.
They talked about him. They remembered him. And sometimes it seems that those very human memories of those very human disciples make for a couple different versions of the same event. No one’s lying. No one’s proving that one is right and one is wrong. It’s just what happens when different people remember the same thing.
Maybe Julie’s dress is yellow, maybe it’s green. But everyone agrees that Grandma hosted Thanksgiving that year.
So that’s the historical point – that we can look at different Gospel accounts of the same event, see minor discrepancies… sometimes even major differences… and know that those differences are the legacy of a group of faithful people, telling the story of their time with God on earth, and telling it day after day, year after year, decade after decade. It’s a testament to the faithfulness of the storytellers. Not a knock on their accuracy.
The second point I want to make is theological.
And it’s about Jesus asking for something to eat.
In today’s scripture reading from Luke and last week’s reading from John, Jesus first greets them with “Peace be with you.” That’s the first the he says.
The second thing he does in both passages is to show the disciples his wounds, so that they may be sure of who he is.
And the third thing he does in Luke, but not in John, is to ask them, “Do you have anything to eat?”
And I suspect that Jesus asks this as a question to be polite. Because they share some broiled fish with him. And if you’ve ever made broiled fish, it’s kind of a strong odor, and if you’ve got some in the house, people are going to know it.
So Jesus, whose hands are punctured, whose side is pierced, whose forehead bears the scars of the thorny crown… but who presumably has a working nose, asks to share in their food.
I simply can’t imagine a more human request.
Jesus who has been beaten and tortured. Stabbed and crucified. Killed. And raised to life again. Is feeling a bit peckish.
This tells us a few things about Jesus.
First, it shows us that Jesus, the Son of God, the Redemption for all Mankind, our eternal advocate in heaven, is still very much human. That even after dying and resurrecting, he still needs nourishment. His flesh is still our flesh.
Which means that his needs are still our needs. It’s no accident that the first people he looks for are his friends. To reassure them, and to share a meal with them.
Often, the strongest bonds of friendship and family we make with each other are over the dinner table. When we get together on a Sunday night for a large family dinner… when we spend a Saturday at a backyard barbecue, just shooting the bull over beers and brats. When we meet up with friends or co-workers for drinks and mozzarella sticks after work. When we share a meal together, it’s a time to share a little bit of ourselves. And Jesus wants this. He wants to share another meal with these disciples who were his closest friends on earth. It’s the reason that one of the sacraments he gives us, the communion we celebrate in his remembrance, is a meal we share together.
Jesus asks for something to eat. Because he is very much human.
And because he is human, he asks to share in the meal with them.
It’s an act of intimacy to sit down at a table with your closest friends and break bread with them. It’s a marker of trust and kinship. And it’s what Jesus does here, and asks us to do with each other, in his name.
Jesus is human, but also divine.
He is immortal.
He doesn’t require their food in order to live.
He’s not going to survive the bloody death on the cross, only to be brought down by hunger. He doesn’t need the food the same way we need it.
What is needed is that moment of trust that comes organically when people eat together. He needs them to believe the Scriptures – that all things from the books of Moses and the prophets, the laws and the Psalms – all must be fulfilled. And that he is the fulfillment of those things.
Now, he could have come in on a cloud of glory, back by a choir of angels, to proclaim that he is the fulfillment of the Hebrew scriptures. And they would have believed him.
He could have summoned all the pomp and circumstance the heavens have to offer, informing them of the time of repentance and forgiveness to come; repentance and forgiveness that will come to all nations, beginning with Jerusalem.
He could have said these things from on high, crowned in all the glory and splendor of God’s only Son.
Instead, he delivers the news as a friend. He visits with them in person. In one of their houses. As someone close and intimate… who truly cares for them. Who loves them.
God does not treat with us with fiats from above. God’s voice doesn’t boom down from the heavens, with instructions for us to follow, or with news of his judgments.
God treats with us as a friend.
He sent us his son, Jesus Christ, to sit with us at our tables. To seal the Good News of his forgiveness in each of us. To invite us into God’s presence. As much as we are subjects of God’s fearsome and holy kingdom, we are also God’s guests. And God treats us with far more love and deference than we deserve. Jesus shares in our meals, and invites us to dine together in his name. Jesus shares in our lives. And Jesus invites us to share in the love that God has for each of us.
For the sake of our Lord Jesus Christ, who makes us welcome at God’s table, and in thankfulness for his many loving kindnesses towards us, let us pray together in gratitude.
Heavenly Father, we give you thanks that you invite us to your table. Though you are the king of the cosmos, you treat us as beloved friends. You enter into our midst, you share in our lives, you make yourself known to us through your many acts of love and kindness. You are our Lord and you command our respect. Yet you are also our shepherd and our ever-present companion. You share our flesh and you know all the peaks and valleys of our lives. For the trust and the love you have shown us and continue to bless us with, we give you thanks. In the name of Jesus Christ, your love made flesh, we pray. Amen.
If the Gospel reading from Luke that we read just now sounds a bit familiar… a gathering of disciples… Jesus appearing before them… showing the wounds of his hands and his side… if that sounds like something we read in the Gospel of John last week… well, good. Thank you for paying attention.
This week’s Gospel reading is a different account of Jesus’s appearance to the disciples after the resurrection. It’s not identical. There are some differences.
There’s not a word in the Lukan text about Thomas, or any of the other disciples, being singled out as being particularly doubtful.
In the John text, Jesus breathes the Holy Spirit on them right away, and gives them instruction to go out into the city and the world with hearts to forgive. In Luke, this morning, the message is still one of forgiveness, but Jesus tells them to wait until they have “been clothed with power from on high.”
So there are a couple differences, but the Gospels appear to be describing the same event.
There are a couple points I want to make with this today – one historical, and one theological.
The historical point is this – that is doesn’t really matter that the Gospels aren’t identical on this event, or really, any other event described in the Bible.
To the best of our knowledge, the Gospels were written between the years 70 and 90 AD – somewhere in that time frame. So best-case scenario, these books are being written some 37-odd years after Christ has died. Decades went by with these stories being shared person to person, around dinner tables and campfires. The good news of Jesus Christ being passed on, one person at a time, from village to village to village, first throughout Israel, then into Asia, Africa, and Europe, into the heart of Rome itself.
You know what happens when you try to remember something from years ago, when there’s no video to get the details right?
People remember things in different ways. We come at things from different reference points. Our minds fill in the missing details with different pieces of information.
It’s like trying to remember a particular Thanksgiving at grandma’s house from 30 years ago.
We don’t check the record book and say, “Ok… Thanksgiving was on November 20 that year, we all met at 2:18pm, the Cowboys played the Dolphins, we had a lovely time and left at 6:24.”
We don’t do that because there’s no record book.
Instead, our minds work from the things that we know, and fill in the details from there.
That was the first Thanksgiving after Uncle Jim passed, but Grandma still set a place at the table for him. Jim’s favorite food was ham, so she made a ham and a turkey that year. Aunt Julie should have stuck with the ham because she spilled the turkey gravy on her yellow dress and the stain looked like Argentina. That dress was the exact same color as dad’s old Plymouth, so it must have been in the 80’s before he traded it in for the Chevy. Nah – that Thanksgiving couldn’t have been in the 80’s because I remember watching Dan Marino in the game that year, but I don’t remember Troy Aikman. And besides, Aunt Julie’s dress was green and the gravy stain looked more like an upside-down duck than Argentina.
You get the idea.
The disciples didn’t keep minutes of their encounters with Jesus.
They couldn’t take screenshots or selfies or post their meetings on YouTube.
They talked about him. They remembered him. And sometimes it seems that those very human memories of those very human disciples make for a couple different versions of the same event. No one’s lying. No one’s proving that one is right and one is wrong. It’s just what happens when different people remember the same thing.
Maybe Julie’s dress is yellow, maybe it’s green. But everyone agrees that Grandma hosted Thanksgiving that year.
So that’s the historical point – that we can look at different Gospel accounts of the same event, see minor discrepancies… sometimes even major differences… and know that those differences are the legacy of a group of faithful people, telling the story of their time with God on earth, and telling it day after day, year after year, decade after decade. It’s a testament to the faithfulness of the storytellers. Not a knock on their accuracy.
The second point I want to make is theological.
And it’s about Jesus asking for something to eat.
In today’s scripture reading from Luke and last week’s reading from John, Jesus first greets them with “Peace be with you.” That’s the first the he says.
The second thing he does in both passages is to show the disciples his wounds, so that they may be sure of who he is.
And the third thing he does in Luke, but not in John, is to ask them, “Do you have anything to eat?”
And I suspect that Jesus asks this as a question to be polite. Because they share some broiled fish with him. And if you’ve ever made broiled fish, it’s kind of a strong odor, and if you’ve got some in the house, people are going to know it.
So Jesus, whose hands are punctured, whose side is pierced, whose forehead bears the scars of the thorny crown… but who presumably has a working nose, asks to share in their food.
I simply can’t imagine a more human request.
Jesus who has been beaten and tortured. Stabbed and crucified. Killed. And raised to life again. Is feeling a bit peckish.
This tells us a few things about Jesus.
First, it shows us that Jesus, the Son of God, the Redemption for all Mankind, our eternal advocate in heaven, is still very much human. That even after dying and resurrecting, he still needs nourishment. His flesh is still our flesh.
Which means that his needs are still our needs. It’s no accident that the first people he looks for are his friends. To reassure them, and to share a meal with them.
Often, the strongest bonds of friendship and family we make with each other are over the dinner table. When we get together on a Sunday night for a large family dinner… when we spend a Saturday at a backyard barbecue, just shooting the bull over beers and brats. When we meet up with friends or co-workers for drinks and mozzarella sticks after work. When we share a meal together, it’s a time to share a little bit of ourselves. And Jesus wants this. He wants to share another meal with these disciples who were his closest friends on earth. It’s the reason that one of the sacraments he gives us, the communion we celebrate in his remembrance, is a meal we share together.
Jesus asks for something to eat. Because he is very much human.
And because he is human, he asks to share in the meal with them.
It’s an act of intimacy to sit down at a table with your closest friends and break bread with them. It’s a marker of trust and kinship. And it’s what Jesus does here, and asks us to do with each other, in his name.
Jesus is human, but also divine.
He is immortal.
He doesn’t require their food in order to live.
He’s not going to survive the bloody death on the cross, only to be brought down by hunger. He doesn’t need the food the same way we need it.
What is needed is that moment of trust that comes organically when people eat together. He needs them to believe the Scriptures – that all things from the books of Moses and the prophets, the laws and the Psalms – all must be fulfilled. And that he is the fulfillment of those things.
Now, he could have come in on a cloud of glory, back by a choir of angels, to proclaim that he is the fulfillment of the Hebrew scriptures. And they would have believed him.
He could have summoned all the pomp and circumstance the heavens have to offer, informing them of the time of repentance and forgiveness to come; repentance and forgiveness that will come to all nations, beginning with Jerusalem.
He could have said these things from on high, crowned in all the glory and splendor of God’s only Son.
Instead, he delivers the news as a friend. He visits with them in person. In one of their houses. As someone close and intimate… who truly cares for them. Who loves them.
God does not treat with us with fiats from above. God’s voice doesn’t boom down from the heavens, with instructions for us to follow, or with news of his judgments.
God treats with us as a friend.
He sent us his son, Jesus Christ, to sit with us at our tables. To seal the Good News of his forgiveness in each of us. To invite us into God’s presence. As much as we are subjects of God’s fearsome and holy kingdom, we are also God’s guests. And God treats us with far more love and deference than we deserve. Jesus shares in our meals, and invites us to dine together in his name. Jesus shares in our lives. And Jesus invites us to share in the love that God has for each of us.
For the sake of our Lord Jesus Christ, who makes us welcome at God’s table, and in thankfulness for his many loving kindnesses towards us, let us pray together in gratitude.
Heavenly Father, we give you thanks that you invite us to your table. Though you are the king of the cosmos, you treat us as beloved friends. You enter into our midst, you share in our lives, you make yourself known to us through your many acts of love and kindness. You are our Lord and you command our respect. Yet you are also our shepherd and our ever-present companion. You share our flesh and you know all the peaks and valleys of our lives. For the trust and the love you have shown us and continue to bless us with, we give you thanks. In the name of Jesus Christ, your love made flesh, we pray. Amen.
