It was dark in Jerusalem. Here and there the chill gloom of the April night was broken by the cheerful warmth of the watchmen's braziers. But their flickering flames were powerless to dispel the blackness of the devilish plot whose dark coils moved in the city streets. Even in the warmth and brightness of the upper room, the shadows gathered. Pride and ambition had raised their loathsome heads, and the disciples had been disturbed and dismayed by talk of betrayal. But then the betrayer went out into the darkness of the night, to complete his fateful transaction and lead the malevolent mob to the Saviour's wonted place of prayer. In the minutes after his departure the Lord Jesus did something irreducibly simple and inexhaustibly profound: "And as they were eating, Jesus took bread, and blessed it, and brake it, and gave it to the disciples, and said, Take, eat; this is my body. And he took the cup, and gave thanks, and gave it to them, saying, Drink ye all of it; For this is my blood of the new testament, which is shed for many for the remission of sins" (Mt 26.26-28).
Each of the synoptic gospels records the institution of the Lord's Supper and, in 1 Corinthians 11, Paul recounts the direct revelation that he received. The book of Acts records its observance by local assemblies (Acts 2.42). Though it was not instituted on the first day of the week, the example of the assembly at Troas demonstrates that it quickly became specially identified with the Lord's Day (Acts 20.7).
There is a very precious simplicity about the remembrance that the Saviour instituted. It required no complex apparatus. Only bread and wine were necessary to obey the Lord's command. And this simplicity has made it possible for His command to be obeyed all over the world. In homes and halls, in caves and under hedges, beneath the burning sun and amidst freezing blizzards, in diverse cultures and climates, Christ's disciples have been able, in Scriptural simplicity, to remember Him. This simplicity must be safeguarded and we must be ever watchful to identify and oppose any attempt to add to the Scriptural pattern, to introduce human laws or expedients. C F Hogg's warning is stark, but not overstated: "To make any particular person, or an act not prescribed in Scripture essential to the right observance of the ordinance, is to move on a way that lies through ritualism to clerisy and priestcraft".1 Through the centuries, men have sought to improve upon what the Saviour instituted. They have added rituals and rules in the name of enhancing the solemnity or emphasising the sacredness of the supper. And yet, there can be nothing so sacred, so solemn, and yet so gloriously joyful as remembering the Lord in Scriptural simplicity, by breaking bread, and drinking wine.
For all this simplicity, there is, nonetheless, a profound significance to the Lord's Supper. As we keep it we are obeying a command, remembering a Person, announcing a death, and anticipating a hope.
We are commanded to eat the Lord's Supper. When the Saviour said, "this do" (Lk 22.19), He was not making a request or a suggestion, but issuing a command. It is His intention, as well as His desire, that His disciples faithfully continue to break bread in remembrance of Him, until His return. The Lord's Supper is not an optional extra, but a vital part of the Christian life, as God would have us live it. If there were no other reason to break bread, no other blessing associated with it, the bare fact that Christ commanded it should be sufficient to ensure that we are never lightly absent from the gathering. And, while sickness and family responsibilities will at times curtail our ability to do as He commanded, we should order our lives so as to minimise the occasions when we are absent from the Supper. This priority may have its implications for my employment. It will certainly impose limits upon when and where I spend my holidays. But such sacrifices are surely hardly to be weighed against the privilege of remembering our Saviour, and showing forth the Lord's death, until He comes again. We will not lose by our obedient attendance at the Lord's Supper, but, like Thomas, we will find that our absence makes us the poorer, for it results in the loss of time spent with the Saviour, learning more of His Person and His ways.
As we eat the Lord's Supper, we obey His command. We must appreciate, however, that merely taking and consuming the emblems only fulfils part of the Lord's command – we must remember Him. Knowing well how fickle our minds can be, the Lord instituted the Supper as a prophylactic against forgetfulness. As we gather, we call Him to mind. Our hearts swell with thoughts of all that He is, of all that He became, of all that He has done and will do. Just as Joseph's brothers told his father "of all [his] glory in Egypt" (Gen 45.13), we delight to tell the Father of the glories of His resplendent Son. We do so with thanksgiving and gladness (Mt 26.26; Mk 14.22; Lk 24.30; 1 Cor 11.24). Scripture never speaks of the Breaking of Bread as a worship meeting – worship should have far too great a role in our lives to permit of its being confined to one hour in the week. Nonetheless, we cannot remember Him without worshipping. And as we worship our thoughts should be filled with Him. On this occasion it is inappropriate to speak of our blessings, our emotions, or our responsibilities, for we are remembering Him, and praise and not prayer must result as our focus rests wholly on His glorious Person.
But remembering Him is only part of what we do. As we break bread we proclaim His death: "For as often as ye eat this bread, and drink this cup, ye do shew [announce, JND, proclaim, NET] the Lord's death till he come" (1 Cor 11.26). The emblems themselves show His death, for it is only in death that body and blood are separated. But the word "shew" always refers to speech, and to public proclamation. On ten of the seventeen occasions that it is used in the New Testament it is translated as "preach". As we gather to "remember Him" we can range eternity; but as we proclaim His death our focus narrows to the day, and to the hours in which He gave Himself to the abuse of men and the sufferings of the cross. And if we are to proclaim His death, we must meditate upon it, as it is revealed in Scripture. What an occupation this is, to listen to the deepest moans of the Saviour's soul as anticipated in prophecy, to watch His agony in the gospel records, and to appreciate its implications as unfolded in the epistles. And how blest, in the midst of a dark and dying world, to proclaim His death as we break the bread and drink from the cup.
And we do it "till he come". Our worship must bring us to Calvary, but it cannot leave us there, for we gather around a risen Christ. Even as we proclaim the Saviour's passion, we rejoice in His triumph, and anticipate a glorious prospect. The broken bread and outpoured wine, in all their beautiful symbolism are only temporary, "sweet memorials till the Lord call us round His heavenly board". When the day breaks, "the shadows flee away" (Song 4.6), and, possessing the reality, we will no longer need the symbols. One day we will break bread for the last time. May we value each opportunity that remains to obey our Lord in remembering His Person, proclaiming His passion, and anticipating with renewed ardour the glorious prospect of His return.
To be continued.
Sweet feast of love divine!
'Tis grace that makes us free
To feed upon this bread and wine
In memory, Lord, of Thee.
But if this glimpse of love
Is so divinely sweet,
What will it be, O Lord, above,
Thy gladdening smile to meet?
(Edward Denny)
