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Interesting day at church today. It was communion Sabbath, and Adventists, in addition to taking part of the unleavened bread and grape juice used by most Christian denominations, participate in a service called the Ordinance of Humility. It's taken from the experience of Jesus and His disciples at the Last Supper, when He washed their feet. The next few paragraphs are lifted, without the permission of the author <img src="/ubbt/images/graemlins/rolleyes.gif" alt="" />, from Neak's upcoming book. I thought I'd let her "give" the background and context of the ceremony, while I go across the lake to her house, and I can complete my thought over there, and explain what made this morning so meaningful to me. I haven't edited this section yet, so if there are any typos, etc., please ignore them. Oh, just for clarity, since we are jumping in here in the middle of the action, Set is Peter's tempter, Tarik, his guardian. The italicized section depicts events occurring in the unseen, spiritual realm.
From
Peter, Fisher of Men....
The Day of Unleavened Bread dawned sunny and clear, when the Passover lamb was to be slaughtered and prepared for the feast, and still Jesus had made no move to arrange for the ceremony. Finally Philip felt moved to interrupt his Master’s preoccupation with the question, “What do You want us to do for the feast? It’s almost time, and we haven’t done anything to get ready. We don’t have a lamb, and all the chambers are probably already taken.”
“You’re right, it’s time.” Jesus turned wearily to Peter and John. “Would you two make the preparations for us to eat?”
“Of course,” John said after only the briefest hesitation.
“Where do you want us to go?”
When Jesus explained what He wanted, they were too well-trained by now to express skepticism, though Peter raised his eyebrows a trifle. Still a little uncomfortable, neither of them had much to say as they went down into the city. Entering into the Ophel Gate, they looked around for the man Jesus had described.
He was not long in coming, and every bit as conspicuous as they had imagined. The hem of his robe girded up and a water jar on his shoulder, the muscular young man waited with the women at the spring above the pool of Siloam for his turn to draw water. A few suppressed giggles turned his cheeks bright red, and when one of the unmarried girls cooed, “Oh, how sweet. I wish someone would draw water for me,” he wished the earth would open and swallow him. Peter and John quietly followed him as he clenched his jaw and started back up the hill.
The house he entered was near the Temple wall, and the two disciples went up to the door. “Hello,” Peter called, sticking his head in through the opening. “Is anyone there?”
A heavyset man with black hair and a gray beard appeared almost instantly. “What is it?” He appeared distressed, the strain visible in his eyes.
Peter thought for a moment, trying to remember the exact words Jesus had told him to say. “The Master wanted me to ask you where your guestroom is, so that He can eat the Passover with His disciples.” He paused, for the man seemed stunned. “Do you know what He’s talking about?”
At last the man asked Peter, “How many of you will there be?”
“Twelve,” answered John, “no—thirteen, counting Jesus.”
“Come with me.” The man’s voice was hoarse. “I want to show you something.”
He led them to a large upstairs room dominated by a central table. Thirteen places were set, and thirteen couches ringed the table. “Will this do?”
Peter was more surprised than he should have been. “It’s perfect.”
“It’s just like He said it would be,” John whispered.
The man turned to them. “Just before you came to the door, I received word that the group, thirteen in number, who planned to rent the room for the evening suffered a delay. I thought all our work, and all the food we prepared, would go to waste. Now I see that we were just preparing it for the King. What an honor!”
“He knew it would work out,” said Peter earnestly. “That’s why He sent us.”
“I have an idea,” John broke in. “Why don’t you stay here and see if they need help with anything, and I’ll go back and get the others.”
Peter shrugged and turned away. He found himself feeling angry all over again at the way John had tried to push himself in ahead of everyone else in the kingdom, and the less he had to be around that irritating man, the better off he’d be.
“You’d be better off without him,” Set insinuated, one arm placed confidingly across Peter’s shoulders. “You’d be better off without all of them, for that matter.”
“There is strength in unity,” Tarik countered.
“Think of the thrones.”
“Think of Jesus.” Peter thought of the thrones.
“Think of the palaces.”
“Think of Jesus.” Peter thought of the palaces.
“The others are trying to rob you of your rightful place. Oh yes, Andrew too. Wouldn’t you do the same if you were in his sandals? They all want to see you in a lower place than the one they have, and it’s just not fair.”
“It’s not an earthly kingdom,” Tarik reminded, but by that time Peter had sunk too low in resentment and self-pity to hear even an echo of his Guardian’s voice.
With each of the other disciples, a very similar argument was going on, and sadly, the other Guardians succeeded no better. In fact, as the eleven walked together ahead of Jesus, the argument grew so heated that the men had to walk faster and leave Jesus behind, just so He wouldn’t hear them.
Judas was the most vocal, calling down recriminations on James and John for their continuing closeness to the Lord. “If you think for one minute that just because you were the first ones called that you’re going to be first in the kingdom, let me be the one to disillusion you. I am smarter, more handsome, better dressed, and have higher connections than either one of you. And, for an added bonus, I don’t stink of fish!”
James almost hauled off and punched Judas for that, but John held his arm and reminded him that while Jesus might not be able to hear them, He could certainly still see them, and even if He couldn’t, He would be sure to ask why Judas came to the feast with a fresh black eye. James relieved his frustration instead with several foul curses aimed at the ancestry of Judas.
Shihab and his cronies shrieked with laughter at the irony. There was Jesus, staggering into the city for the Passover at which He would become the Lamb, with Satan on one side and Gabriel on the other, and all the while His chosen disciples could hardly complete a ten-minute walk without violently attacking each other. Pretending deafness at the amusement of their enemies, Nadiv, Bahir, and the others bided their time.John led the stampede up the stairs. James lost precious seconds when he started to turn the wrong way down a corridor, and Judas was quick to jump ahead of him. John had the advantage, since he knew just which room it was, and he skidded across the room to throw himself down on the bench in the place of honor at the right hand of the Host. Judas, right behind him, hurled himself onto the couch at the left hand. James snarled at this heavy-handed maneuvering, but didn’t dare to take the seat that was reserved for Jesus. He stomped around to sit next to Peter, half-way down the table.
Peter eyed the pitcher of water, basin, and towel that one of the servants had left for them. Courtesy demanded they all have their feet washed, but there was no one to do it. True, Jesus had sent him and John to prepare, but if John wanted his feet washed he could do it himself. Peter sure wasn’t going to do it for him, that much was sure.
“What, all this time, and you didn’t arrange for someone to wash our feet?” James asked snidely, and loudly enough for the others to hear.
“Of course, you could have done much better,” Peter sneered back. “You could probably show us all how it’s done—you, or your snooty brother.”
“Take that back!” James raised his fist.
Jesus came in just then, alarmingly pale, and James subsided. None of the men would rise from their seats to help Him, lest someone in a lesser seat take advantage of their absence to move up. An uneasy hush attended as Jesus took His place. He looked around sadly at the discontented faces, knowing the cause of their strife and wishing He could do more to prepare them for the storm about to break over their heads.
With unsteady hands, Jesus picked up the cup of fresh wine and held it up as He gave thanks. “Take this,” He passed it to John. “Share it among yourselves, and drink it all. It is My blood, which I have shed for you. Do this in order to remember Me.”
Surprised, John took the cup. This was not how they had celebrated the Passover before. He drank and passed it on. Jesus swallowed hard before He spoke. “I will not drink this again until the day I drink it new with you in My Father’s kingdom.” When the cup had come at last to Judas, who drained the last drops, Jesus took up several pieces of unleavened bread.
Again, He lifted the bread as He prayed. Breaking the flat loaves in pieces and passing them around, Jesus told them, “This is My body, which is broken for you. Take it and eat it all. Do this to remember Me, for as often as you eat this bread and drink from this cup, you will show My death till I come.” The men chewed silently, glaring at each other when they thought Jesus wasn’t looking. Judas was nearly unbearable in his smugness, smirking at those in lower positions, which were everyone but John. Not one man had room in his selfish heart to ponder the words of Jesus. “This is My body, which is broken for you.”
Chapter 32
The meal ended in silence. That pitcher of water seemed to grow larger as they all looked at it, wondering angrily why someone didn’t just get up and wash their feet like they were supposed to. Jesus waited a long time, looking from one to the next, before standing and stripping off His seamless white robe. Tucking up the end of His undergarment, He quietly picked up the basin and towel and turned to the disciples.
With great dismay they watched as He knelt, first of all before Judas, and washed their feet. The task they considered too degrading for themselves, Jesus did for them. With shame on their faces, they put their feet into the lukewarm water one by one.
When it was Peter’s turn, he found he could not just put his feet into the water as had the others. It grieved him to see the Son of the Highest kneeling before him, towel spread across His royal lap. “Lord, are You really going to wash my feet? I should be washing Yours!”
Jesus looked up at him and smiled. “You don’t understand now why I need to do this, but someday you will.”
“No!” Peter exclaimed. “You will never wash my feet!”
Jesus held out His hands to receive Peter’s foot. “If you won’t let Me do this, you will not have a part in My kingdom.”
With comical haste, Peter thrust both feet toward Jesus at once. “Don’t just wash my feet then, wash my hands and my head. Wash everywhere—please!”
“Ah, Peter, you’ve been baptized once already, and that was enough. You only need to have your feet washed to be completely clean.”
Humbly, Peter submitted, ashamed of his spiteful attitude. He wasn’t the only one. Except for Judas, all the disciples felt themselves drawn once again to the love and harmony they had lost. At last they could comprehend Jesus’ words as He asked them, “Do you know what I did for you tonight? Do you really understand? You say I am your Master and Lord, and I am. But if I, your Master, have washed your feet, don’t you think you should be willing to wash each other’s feet? What I did was an example for you. It is what I want you to do for each other. After all, the servant is not more important than his Lord, is he? Whoever wants to be the greatest must be a servant, the same way I have served you. You will be so much happier if you follow My instructions.”
“I know I feel better!” The relief in John’s voice made them all laugh.
Jesus embraced His beloved disciple before taking His place again. “That’s because you’re clean now, or at least most of you.”
Peter felt as if a great weight had been lifted from him, and ate heartily of the meal that followed the Passover supper. His bite of bread dipped in herbs and olive oil was part-way to his mouth when Jesus made a startling announcement. “Now, I am not talking about all of you that I have chosen, but just as the Scriptures say, one of you that is eating bread with Me has turned against Me for harm.”
Peter dropped the piece of bread on his arm, and next to him, James choked and tried to swallow. Fear gripped them all. “What are You talking about?” Peter asked.
Jesus answered the question plainly. “One of you is going to betray me.”
Peter looked wildly from one of his friends to the next. He knew them all so well, it was unthinkable that one of them could be the traitor. He saw the amazement on Andrew’s face and his heart constricted. Please, Adonai, don’t let it be my brother. He ran his fingers through his hair, frantic to know who it was. He looked down at his own hands. Oh, dear God, don’t let it be me!
Nathaniel was the first to speak. “Am I the one?” His voice shook, and he slumped in relief when Jesus shook His head.
“What about me?” Philip was next.
“Hope it’s not me,” Thomas looked aghast. “Never did anything on purpose, anyway.”
Peter gathered up his courage and asked, “Lord, is it I?” Again Jesus shook His head.
By now the table had become a scene of distress and confusion as each man asked if he was the one who would bring disaster on them all. Through it all, Judas sat silently, not even listening, and Peter came to regard him with suspicion.
Finally, John could take no more. “Who is it, then?”
Pain engulfed Jesus as He answered, “The one who dips his bread with Me is the same one that will betray Me.” All eyes went to Judas, as he obliviously dipped his bread in the same dish with Jesus. “The Son of Man must go to His death just the way it was written, but what wretchedness will come to the man who betrays Him!”
Confused by the sudden silence, and not sure what had just been said, Judas asked quickly, “Am I the one?”
Jesus nodded slowly. “It is just as you said.”
He was caught! Judas jumped to his feet, determined to fight his way out if need be. To his surprise, no one tried to stop him. Jesus touched him gently on the arm. “What you’re going to do, do quickly.” Without thinking, Judas swallowed the last bite of bread he still held into his mouth, before hurrying into the night.
“Where is he going?” Simon asked the younger James.
“I don’t know.” Already Jesus’ words seemed misty and unreal. None of them could comprehend the reality that one of their tight little band was collaborating with the enemy. “Maybe to get something else for the feast?”
“Simon!” Both Simons jumped when Jesus called their name, but Jesus was looking at Peter. “Simon, Satan wants you.” Peter was so surprised to be addressed by his old name it took a moment to assimilate the rest: Satan wants you. He stared in shock at Jesus, hoping to see a gleam of humor, some indication that this was only an ill-chosen jest, but Jesus was entirely serious. “He hopes that if he sifts you like wheat, you will be blown away with the chaff. I have prayed for you, though, that your faith will not fail. After you are changed, give strength to these men, your brothers.”
Could Jesus really have meant that I was the one who would betray Him, and not Judas? It can’t be! “No!” Peter shouted. “It won’t happen that way—I won’t let it!” His voice turned pleading. “Lord, I’m ready to go anywhere with You. I would go to prison, or even death!”
Jesus dropped back into the old familiar form of address. “Ah, Peter, I must tell you that before the rooster crows, you will deny that you even know Me.”
Cut to the quick, Peter buried his face in his hands, unable to look at any of the others. “No,” he sobbed quietly to himself. “It can’t be true! Please, Father, don’t let it be true!”
There was little any of them could say after that, and in near silence they finished the meal. Jesus smiled tiredly at them. “Before we go, let’s sing the hymn.”
Be back soon...
t&l
