Four days after Palm Sunday, Jesus invited his students to his own "Going-Away Party," where he offered his Last Will and Testament. He had been intentional in securing the space and having the room set up for a memorable occasion. They shared a meal together, and then he shared with them the bread and the cup.

The flow of today’s worship service has sought to imitate the flow from the euphoria on Palm Sunday to the gravity of Maundy Thursday. From the jubilate to the somber. From Palm Sunday to the Last Supper to Jesus’ discourse with the disciples as they sat around the table. Jesus intimately shared with them that his body would be broken, that the cup was a new covenant, and that his blood would be shed for them. He told them that he was going to die, because someone was going to betray him.

They must have wondered how that could happen. Sure, tensions were mounting. Their minds must have gone to the Pharisees, Chief Priests and Scribes–the religious elite-who continually were badgering Jesus about his violations of their understanding of the Law. Those would be the ones who must be going to kill Jesus. The showdowns that week certainly must have prompted the disciples to recall the faces of the self-declared righteous who had hounded Jesus all week.

Yet then Jesus surprised them by telling them that the betrayer was actually sitting at the table. What? Minds began to race in a variety of directions. Some thoughts certainly were, "You’ve got to be kidding! We’ve given up everything-left our steady employment to depend upon others for our sustenance. We’ve left our homes and families to follow this itinerant teacher around the countryside, and now someone who has already made that kind of sacrifice is going to betray Jesus?" It was hard for this tight band of students to believe that the betrayal could come from within their own ranks. Other thoughts could have been, "Sure, I may have rolled my eyes when Jesus said to turn the other cheek after someone has hit me, but I would never dream of betraying him. Sure, I discounted his assertion that we should forgive our enemies seventy times seven, because I simply cannot fathom extending that kind of grace to people who have harmed me. Ok, Jesus has taught us not to fear people who can destroy the body, but instead to fear the One who has the power to throw me into hell, but I’ve got to confess that I am fearful of these religious zealots and what they might do to me, but I would never think of betraying him!"

They began wondering and questioning each other as to the identity of the betrayer. "Is it you Matthew? After all, before becoming a disciple you were an employee of the Roman government. Maybe you’ve been a spy all along."

"Simon Peter, are you the betrayer? We have all witnessed how impetuous you can be that you seemingly do not have any filters, that whatever comes to your mind comes directly out of your mouth without thinking how it might sound or without giving thought as to its implications."

"Simon the Zealot, is it you? We all know that you were a revolutionary and were in a movement to overthrow the Roman government."

"Could it be extraverted Andrew, the People Person, the one who continues to bring people to Jesus? Perhaps he is sore that Jesus did not respond positively to his extraverted ways."

"James and John, tell us again how you got the nickname ‘Sons of Thunder?’ Maybe you have been plotting to betray Jesus. We all remember when your mother actually asked Jesus to allow you to sit on his right and left when Jesus brought in his new kingdom. Since you wanted to be General James and Admiral John of Jesus’ new military regime, perhaps you allowed your quest for power to betray Jesus."

"Maybe it was Thomas; he’s always been a bit of a skeptic, slow to come around, not always getting it."

"Could the betrayer be Philip? He is another Galilean, and everybody knows that revolutionaries hide in Galilee. Now that we’re traveling into Jerusalem, there’s no telling what he might be thinking."

"Could it be Bartholomew, Thaddeus, or James the Son of Alphaeus? As introverts, they don’t say much; they just quietly work behind the scenes. It is doubtful that one of that trio would betray Jesus, but you know the old saying, "You’ve got to watch the quiet ones."

"Certainly the betrayer is not Judas, because he is the most trustworthy of our bunch. After all, we trusted him so much, we elected him treasurer. With his education, respect, and skill, surely, the betrayer is not Judas."

The disciples then began to contrast themselves against their colleagues. "I would never do that; they’re not as committed as me; I am a bit better than they are" were the sentiments criss-crossing the table. ‘Who is the greatest’ wasn’t necessarily a popularity contest; instead they were weighing their perception of themselves against their perception of the others against the backdrop of the circumstance.

Jesus told them that the greatest was not based on how powerful, successful or wealthy; the person called great by Jesus would be the one who served others. They were reminded not to serve like the rulers of the world who exercise power over others; instead they were to serve others with a humility that denotes equality. Jesus had served them around the table, and he had treated them as equals; that is the kind of service Jesus desires.

Jesus’ comments addressed the group; sure, all twelve sat at the table, but no one was singled out . . . until a comment to Simon. Did you notice that Jesus did not call him Peter, the name which Jesus had given him to symbolize his rock-solid faith? Jesus expressed concern directly to Simon that he hang in there. Again, Simon, as was his trademark, declared impulsively, "I’ll follow you all the way to the end."

Jesus indicated that before sunrise when the rooster crowed, Simon would deny him not once . . . not twice . . . but three times. And because our blessings include a printed Bible, we know that Jesus’ prediction came true.

So these were the ones whom Jesus chose to be his students, the ones in whom he invested three years in hopes that they would/could continue his mission. These were the ones he deliberately invited to his "Going-Away Party"; these were the ones to whom Jesus offered his Last Will and Testament. And these were the ones whom Jesus served, even though he knew what was going to happen. With the knowledge of betrayal, bickering, and denial, Jesus still served Judas, Simon Peter and the rest of the disciples.

On Friday evening, our church began our participation in A Night’s Welcome, a ministry which houses and feeds homeless people for a week. We are having opportunities not only to serve but to eat with a variety of people from a variety of backgrounds. We think most of our guests are very different from us because of their homelessness, yet in the eyes of Jesus, we are all the same. We are all God’s children.

Would Jesus eat with you and me? Absolutely, even though we will betray him after all he has done for us, even though we will argue with fellow believers, even though we may claim to follow ardently knowing that we will fail at some of the most critical times. And if Jesus would choose to eat with you and me, we should honor Jesus by following his example in offering grace to everyone.

With whom are you eating? Only the people who are like you, those who can help you, those with whom you agree? Should we eat with those who are weak, eager to betray us, selfish, ready to knife us in the back, those whom we can’t trust? The pattern exhibited on his last night on earth showed Jesus not only eating, but serving those who were to fail him. And remember, Jesus’ choice to eat his last meal with his disciples was a deliberate act; knowing that all of them would be leaving him, he still served them dinner and ate with them. These were also the ones for whom Jesus died. Jesus ate with those who would disappoint him, and he served them as equals. With whom will we eat this week? Will we follow the example of the disciples and wonder if we are better than those around the table? Because Jesus would eat with you and me, we should also be breaking bread with . . . everyone, no matter what.