Every Sunday since the days of the apostles, Jesus' followers have met. In obedience to one of Jesus' last requests, Christians through the ages have come to break bread, to show forth his death and to share his risen life. And to do so on the day of his resurrection.
"Do this in remembrance of me," were his words. But what relation is there between our service, with Richard at the altar, the candles, the stained-glass windows, the organ and the music group, the rows of people ushered up to stand or kneel at the edge of the sanctuary, the little wafers, the ritual, the ornaments, and what Jesus did when he and his disciples met in the upper room to celebrate the Passover?
When we think of the Last Supper, we think of Leonardo da Vinci's painting in Milan. A spacious hall, like the refectory which it adorns, a long table with Jesus and the twelve grouped eloquently on the far side. But Jerusalem was a crowded city, made even more crowded by the tens, perhaps hundreds, of pilgrims who flocked there for the major festivals. The upper room may have been big enough for Jesus and his disciples, but it was no palace!
The twelve and their master would have reclined on the floor - or perhaps on couches - eating and drinking from a low table. There would have been bread, specially baked without yeast, and the wine - not one sip, but four cups, if it was indeed the Passover meal. And more besides - lamb, bitter herbs, all the dishes that reminded the people of their people's escape from Pharaoh at the time of Moses.
When we meet on Sundays at the Eucharist, however, our main thought is not to have a meal together. It is to worship God. Sharing and fellowship have come to take second place - perhaps too much of a second place. In the Peace, where we show our openness to each other by clasping hands or embracing, and in receiving communion, where we take our place beside those who follow Christ's way along with us, we recall something of the muted party feeling of that first and last meal. But it is for worship that we come.
So the table is now more than a table. To call it an altar raises difficult questions, but it reminds us that at this table we are showing forth Jesus' sacrificial death. We are guests at a meal where Jesus is the unseen host. Richard, or whoever presides, stands behind the table not because he is the host and we the guests, but to emphasize the idea of fellowship - we are all together around God's table.
The table itself is laid with the best linen. The Son of Man had "nowhere to place his head". He might not have used our rather complex set-up, with its corporal, or place-mat, its coloured veil to keep the flies off the chalice, or its burse to keep the table-linen neatly. But these allow us to recall the Last Supper with dignity, and are practical as well! The richness of the cloth at the front of the altar, the frontal, helps direct our thoughts towards the source of all richness and all beauty, as well as recalling to us the season of the year - white for rejoicing, violet for penitence, red to recall the martyrs (but also the fire of the Spirit!), black for death, and green ("the colour of nature") for the rest of the year.
Whoever presides at the service wears clothes that none of the disciples at the Last Supper would have worn. They are the stylised dress of a Roman gentleman - a courtier in his best clothes. It is a reminder that we too owe God what is best - and worship is no exception.
Our candles recall him who is the light of the world, and the window behind the altar (which always gives me food for thought!) recall him who saves, and who has the whole world in his hands. There may well have been candles in the upper room, but one thing certainly was not there, but was nevertheless there.
For behind the fellowship of the meal lay the shadow of the cross. The cup which Jesus shared was a cup of suffering, and the blood shared through the cup was part of the agony of Jesus' death. There was no cross, no crucifix in the upper room. But in our showing forth each Sunday of what happened, we need to place the cross in the centre. For by God's giving of himself on the cross, we can be led through death to life. And in the cross we are all drawn together and made one.
HD