“The Night”

FRI., MAR. 24, 1989, 6:35 AM
FARM, STUDY

You experienced, last evening, a service of worship and remembrance. The remembrance was of “the night” when I, as Jesus, had a final meal with My disciples, prayed in the garden, was identified and arrested. All of this preceded the trial, the crucifixion, and, finally, the resurrection. You knew, last evening, as you spoke in remembrance of the experience, that you would come on a lovely clear morning to hear My comments on these events. So listen and hear, o son.

Yes, I did put into your mind and spirit that there was plenty to remember about “the night”, without going on to “the Friday.” The essential reason is the assumption of a lack of commitment by most of you Presbyterians, or perhaps time conflicts… the assumption that not enough would go also to the service today, where the trial and the crucifixion will be remembered.

Back to “the night.” You reenacted the supper, but it was done quickly and almost perfunctorily. It should be remembered as a time when My God and My human nature were being displayed in a rather open way. It was a supper, which was tangible, but it was to be a mysterious symbol of willing sacrifice that would be “in remembrance of Me” down through the Christian era, in many, many forms.

My disciples and I gathered in a familiar and yet a remembered way. We had eaten many meals together. This was to be “the Last”… the one to be remembered. And still, isn’t it interesting that the details of the whole meal are not remembered. Who prepared the food? Who served it? Were there some others who observed this final unpressured comraderie of men, before the final dramatic events of the next day?

This is part of the mystery of life and death. There was a whole meal, but the Scriptures include only the bread and the wine. John remembers a washing of the feet, which was My symbolic way of reemphasizing this mystical Truth that the first shall be last, and the last, first. I was the Leader, and I was about to become the Savior. Yet I washed their feet, a humble act of service. It wasn’t necessary… and, yes, it was.

I broke the bread, and I told them to remember Me in that breaking. The bread was the bread of life. My life was to be broken, but because of this it would be available for the nurturing of many, even, finally, all. The bread could not have been eaten if it had not first been broken. There was other food, but it was not remembered. There are other aspects to each human individual, other dimensions, but the spirit is the one to be remembered. The spirit survives. The spirit is eternal. The bread survives and is eternal. It is the everlasting “symbol” for “the night”.

Then there was “the toast.” There had been wine with the meal, just as I had been with these disciples for these years in various places and events. But then I said, “This is the new covenant in My blood. Drink this, in remembrance of Me.” Remember Me as flesh and blood, but also as bread and wine which are consumed and yet give life. There is merit in the prescribed liturgy, but in remembrance of “the night” there is merit in exploring the mystery in greater depth.

I was to be betrayed, and yet I was willingly giving up My life. It “had to be,” and yet it should not have the taint of suicide. I prayed in the garden for proper understanding of this new balance between My humanity and My spiritual essence. I had a role to play, which would be painful and humiliating, but which would also be a powerful symbol of God’s gift of salvation and eternal life “with Us.”