Lamentations 3:1-9, 19-33

Mark 14:12-25

¹² On the first day of Unleavened Bread, when the Passover lamb is sacrificed, his disciples said to him, ‘Where do you want us to go and make the preparations for you to eat the Passover?’ ¹³ So he sent two of his disciples, saying to them, ‘Go into the city, and a man carrying a jar of water will meet you; follow him, ¹⁴ and wherever he enters, say to the owner of the house, “The Teacher asks, Where is my guest room where I may eat the Passover with my disciples?” ¹⁵ He will show you a large room upstairs, furnished and ready. Make preparations for us there.’ ¹⁶ So the disciples set out and went to the city, and found everything as he had told them; and they prepared the Passover meal.

¹⁷ When it was evening, he came with the twelve. ¹⁸ And when they had taken their places and were eating, Jesus said, ‘Truly I tell you, one of you will betray me, one who is eating with me.’ ¹⁹ They began to be distressed and to say to him one after another, ‘Surely, not I?’ ²⁰ He said to them, ‘It is one of the twelve, one who is dipping bread* into the bowl*with me. ²¹ For the Son of Man goes as it is written of him, but woe to that one by whom the Son of Man is betrayed! It would have been better for that one not to have been born.’

²² While they were eating, he took a loaf of bread, and after blessing it he broke it, gave it to them, and said, ‘Take; this is my body.’ ²³ Then he took a cup, and after giving thanks he gave it to them, and all of them drank from it. ²⁴ He said to them, ‘This is my blood of the* covenant, which is poured out for many. ²⁵ Truly I tell you, I will never again drink of the fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new in the kingdom of God.’

I have a soft spot for the grail scene in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, a film based (very) loosely on a medieval legend, about the supposed miraculous powers of the cup Jesus used at the first Eucharist. The characters in a climax scene face a trial to choose the true grail among dozens of perilous false possibilities. Everyone brings to the selection process a decision that reveals their own vices. A pro-Nazi villain chooses a chalice plated with gold and adorned with jewels, and has his poor choice result in an unfortunate end. But the true grail, only accessible to "the penitent one," ends up being a simple, plain, wooden cup, not adorned or plated at all.

In the text we have today, an account of the Last Supper, I am especially struck by the ordinariness of the whole interaction. In history, much ritual has been built up around the Eucharist. And much care has been taken in defending theological arguments over what Jesus' words actually mean. But at the end of the day, Jesus' actions and words in Mark are plain and bare. He took, blessed, broke, and gave. This account, like much of the Gospel of Mark, defies complexity and ornamentation. We might want to find gold and jewels here, but we are given a simple wooden cup.

It seems the Twelve in the Upper Room also wanted to find things here, but instead are given something else. They bring their own interpretive frameworks, dust from the road. They are asked to leave these at the door. Peter brought to the table his desire to be in control, wanting to be the one washing dust off other people's feet -- not to be the one whose dusty feet are washed (though that story is from John's Gospel, not Mark's). And Judas brought with him the baggage of his betrayal. There's a painting by Lucas Cranach the Younger in the City Church in Wittenberg depicting Judas at the table, receiving bread from the very hands of Jesus. In this painting Judas -- at the same time he receives communion -- clutches the money bags he has been paid to betray Jesus, which he grips intently. Judas the Betrayer is the only one of the Twelve in this painting, it seems, who comes to the table with extra baggage.

How should we react to the invitation to the Feast? And this is, as much as it was 2,000 years ago, a personal invitation. What should we bring? Christ does not ask us to bring anything at all. If anything, he asks us to leave our baggage behind. Even the Upper Room in the text is found "furnished and ready" by the Twelve, mysteriously pre-prepared. Like the original disciples, to respond to the invitation, we just need to go.

Encountering this text again today, and placing ourselves at the table with Jesus and the Twelve, we should remember there is only one thing necessary to bring here: our selves, which Jesus will make a fit offering by his own actions. From the Rite I liturgy: “And here we offer and present unto thee, O Lord, our selves, our souls and bodies, to be a reasonable, holy, and living sacrifice unto thee; humbly beseeching thee that we, and all others who shall be partakers of this Holy Communion ... be filled with thy grace and heavenly benediction, and made one body with him, that he may dwell in us, and we in him.”

Mark 12:1-11

¹²Then he began to speak to them in parables. ‘A man planted a vineyard, put a fence around it, dug a pit for the wine press, and built a watch-tower; then he leased it to tenants and went to another country. ²When the season came, he sent a slave to the tenants to collect from them his share of the produce of the vineyard. ³But they seized him, and beat him, and sent him away empty-handed. ⁴And again he sent another slave to them; this one they beat over the head and insulted.⁵Then he sent another, and that one they killed. And so it was with many others; some they beat, and others they killed. ⁶He had still one other, a beloved son. Finally he sent him to them, saying, “They will respect my son.” ⁷But those tenants said to one another, “This is the heir; come, let us kill him, and the inheritance will be ours.” ⁸So they seized him, killed him, and threw him out of the vineyard. ⁹What then will the owner of the vineyard do? He will come and destroy the tenants and give the vineyard to others. ¹⁰Have you not read this scripture:
“The stone that the builders rejected
   has become the cornerstone;^* 
11 this was the Lord’s doing,
   and it is amazing in our eyes”?’

 I have an embarrassing confession to make: I was halfway through writing my reflection when I realized that Jesus wasn’t siding with the tenants. I know this is absurd – call it quarantine-brain, where I am thicker, slower, and more forgetful than usual, and my usual is… not great. But I’m a tenant, and I automatically inserted myself into the story at the word I identified with most. And of course, I made myself the hero. Oops.
 
I am, of course, the tenant, but the tenant is not the protagonist. The tenant is a lazy cheat who hopes to get away with enjoying the fruits of the earth without giving back her fair share. That’s not how anyone likes to think of themselves, but in my case, it’s not inaccurate. 
 
I rent this body. I rent this time here on earth. I am reminded, in ways subtle and less so, that a renter can’t go through life taking up space and resources for free. But back to the message here: now that I know God is the vineyard owner, Jesus is the son, and poor shabby humanity is the tenants, the meaning is clear: get the message, or I’ll find some tenants who will. 
 
I don’t believe in storms sent as punishment or plagues sent to make a point. I don’t think COVID-19 is God’s judgement on earth. But like anything that makes a world wobble on its axis, whether it’s your own personal world or the whole planet, it does demand some stock-taking. The rent is due, and it’s not money, it’s things even more precious: patience, perseverance, kindness, courage, hard work, responsibility.