The Last Supper

The heavy wooden door creaked shut behind Judas, and a chill draft swept through the upper room, causing the oil lamps to flicker. The remaining disciples sat in stunned silence, their eyes moving between the empty space where their fellow apostle had sat moments before and their Master’s face. Jesus remained still, his expression bearing both infinite sadness and strange determination, as if witnessing the unfolding of something both terrible and necessary.

Peter was the first to break the thick silence. “Master,” he said, his voice rough with emotion, “what did you mean when you said one of us would betray you? And why did Judas leave so suddenly?” His weathered fisherman’s hands gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white with tension.

Jesus lifted his eyes to meet Peter’s, and in them burned such love and sorrow that several of the disciples had to look away. “My dear friends,” he began, his voice soft yet carrying clearly in the hushed room, “what is about to unfold has been written since the foundation of the world. The Son of Man goes as it has been decreed, but woe to that man by whom he is betrayed.”

John, the youngest among them who had been reclining next to Jesus, pressed closer to his Master’s side. “But surely Judas has just gone to buy what we need for the festival, as he keeps our money box?” His youthful face betrayed his desperate hope for a mundane explanation.

A sad smile crossed Jesus’s face as he placed a gentle hand on John’s shoulder. “Little children, I am with you only a little longer. You will look for me, and as I said to the Jews, so now I say to you: ‘Where I am going, you cannot come.’”

The disciples exchanged alarmed glances. Andrew leaned forward, his broad carpenter’s shoulders tense. “Master, speak plainly to us. Where are you going? Why can we not follow? We have left everything to be with you.”

“Simon Peter asked me this same question,” Jesus replied, looking around at each of their faces with deep affection. “Where I am going, you cannot follow me now, but you will follow afterward.”

Peter’s chair scraped against the floor as he stood abruptly. “Lord, why can I not follow you now? I will lay down my life for you!” His voice rang with fierce loyalty and determination.

Jesus’s response came with gentle firmness. “Will you lay down your life for me? Very truly, I tell you, before the rooster crows, you will have denied me three times.”

The color drained from Peter’s face, and he sank slowly back into his seat. The other disciples shifted uncomfortably, none daring to make similar bold proclamations after this pronouncement.

Jesus looked at their troubled faces and continued, his voice taking on a tone of urgent tenderness. “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you?”

Thomas, his brow furrowed in confusion, spoke up. “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?”

“I am the way, and the truth, and the life,” Jesus replied, his words resonating with authority. “No one comes to the Father except through me. If you know me, you will know my Father also. From now on you do know him and have seen him.”

Philip, who had been listening intently, leaned forward. “Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.”

A look of gentle exasperation crossed Jesus’s face. “Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and you still do not know me? Whoever has seen me has seen the Father. How can you say, ‘Show us the Father’? Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me?”

The disciples glanced at one another, struggling to comprehend the depth of his words. The room had grown darker as the evening wore on, the shadows deepening in the corners, but the light from the oil lamps cast a warm glow on their faces as they gathered closer to hear their Master’s words.

“The words that I say to you I do not speak on my own,” Jesus continued, his voice growing more intense. “But the Father who dwells in me does his works. Believe me that I am in the Father and the Father is in me; but if you do not, then believe me because of the works themselves.”

James, son of Alphaeus, who had been silent until now, spoke hesitantly. “Master, these works you speak of – will we continue them when you are gone?”

Jesus’s face brightened. “Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these, because I am going to the Father. I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son.”

The disciples exchanged glances of amazement and confusion. Greater works than healing the sick, giving sight to the blind, even raising the dead? It seemed impossible.

“If you love me,” Jesus continued, his voice growing more tender, “you will keep my commandments. And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever. This is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him. You know him, because he abides with you, and he will be in you.”

Bartholomew cleared his throat. “Lord, you speak of leaving us, yet also of being with us. How can this be?”

“I will not leave you orphaned,” Jesus assured them, his eyes filled with compassion. “I am coming to you. In a little while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me; because I live, you also will live.”

The disciples leaned in closer, hanging on his every word, though confusion still clouded their faces. The room had grown uncomfortably warm with the press of bodies and the burning lamps, yet none moved away.

“On that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you,” Jesus continued. “They who have my commandments and keep them are those who love me; and those who love me will be loved by my Father, and I will love them and reveal myself to them.”

Judas (not Iscariot), who had been silent until now, spoke up. “Lord, how is it that you will reveal yourself to us, and not to the world?”

Jesus turned to him with patience. “Those who love me will keep my word, and my Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them. Whoever does not love me does not keep my words; and the word that you hear is not mine, but is from the Father who sent me.”

A cool breeze stirred the curtains, and in the distance, they could hear the sounds of Jerusalem preparing for the Passover festival. The contrast between the bustling city below and the intimate solemnity of their upper room gathering seemed to emphasize the weight of Jesus’s words.

“I have said these things to you while I am still with you,” Jesus continued, his voice taking on an urgent quality. “But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you.”

He paused, looking at their worried faces with deep affection. “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.”

Peter, still shaken by the earlier prediction of his denial, spoke again, his voice hoarse. “Lord, you said you are going away and coming back to us. What does this mean?”

“You heard me say to you, ‘I am going away, and I am coming to you.’ If you loved me, you would rejoice that I am going to the Father, because the Father is greater than I,” Jesus explained. “And now I have told you this before it occurs, so that when it does occur, you may believe.”

The disciples shifted uneasily, sensing the gravity in his words but struggling to grasp their full meaning. The evening had taken on a dreamlike quality, time seeming to slow in the lamplit room as their Master shared these mysterious prophecies.

“I will no longer talk much with you,” Jesus continued, his voice growing more urgent, “for the ruler of this world is coming. He has no power over me, but I do as the Father has commanded me, so that the world may know that I love the Father.”

He stood suddenly, his movement causing the shadows to dance on the walls. “Rise, let us be on our way. But first, you must understand this: I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinegrower.”

The disciples rose uncertainly to their feet, but Jesus wasn’t finished. He gestured to the cups of wine still on the table. “Every branch in me that bears no fruit he removes, and every branch that bears fruit he prunes to make it bear more fruit. You have already been cleansed by the word that I have spoken to you.”

Matthew, the former tax collector accustomed to precise language, asked, “How do we abide in you, Lord? What does this mean?”

“Abide in me as I abide in you,” Jesus replied, his voice intense. “Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me. I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing.”

The disciples glanced at their own hands, as if seeing them anew as branches meant to bear fruit. Jesus continued, his voice growing more passionate. “If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. My Father is glorified by this, that you bear much fruit and become my disciples.”

John, still standing close to Jesus, asked softly, “How have you loved us, Master? How should we love one another?”

Jesus’s face softened as he looked at his young disciple. “As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love. If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love.”

He looked around at all of them, his gaze intense. “I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete. This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.”

His voice grew solemn. “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you.”

Several of the disciples wiped tears from their eyes, moved by the depth of emotion in their Master’s words. The room had grown very still, the sounds of the city below seeming to fade away as they focused on his every word.

“I do not call you servants any longer,” Jesus continued, “because the servant does not know what the master is doing; but I have called you friends, because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father.”

He paused, looking at each of them in turn. “You did not choose me but I chose you. And I appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last, so that the Father will give you whatever you ask him in my name.”

Andrew spoke up, his voice troubled. “Lord, you speak of the world hating us. Why would they hate us for following you?”

Jesus’s expression grew grave. “If the world hates you, be aware that it hated me before it hated you. If you belonged to the world, the world would love you as its own. Because you do not belong to the world, but I have chosen you out of the world—therefore the world hates you.”

The disciples exchanged worried glances as Jesus continued. “Remember the word that I said to you, ‘Servants are not greater than their master.’ If they persecuted me, they will persecute you; if they kept my word, they will keep yours also.”

A heavy silence fell over the room as the implications of his words sank in. James, son of Zebedee, asked quietly, “Will they do to us what they plan to do to you, Master?”

“They will put you out of the synagogues,” Jesus replied frankly. “Indeed, an hour is coming when those who kill you will think that by doing so they are offering worship to God. And they will do this because they have not known the Father or me.”

The disciples’ faces showed their fear, but Jesus pressed on. “But I have said these things to you so that when their hour comes you may remember that I told you about them. I did not say these things to you from the beginning, because I was with you.”

He moved toward the door, then turned back to face them. “But now I am going to him who sent me; yet none of you asks me, ‘Where are you going?’ But because I have said these things to you, sorrow has filled your hearts.”

Peter stepped forward, his earlier bravado replaced by genuine concern. “Lord, we are asking now. Tell us plainly what is to come.”

Jesus’s face showed both love and sorrow as he replied. “Nevertheless I tell you the truth: it is to your advantage that I go away, for if I do not go away, the Advocate will not come to you; but if I go, I will send him to you.”

He continued with increasing intensity. “When he comes, he will prove the world wrong about sin and righteousness and judgment: about sin, because they do not believe in me; about righteousness, because I am going to the Father and you will see me no longer; about judgment, because the ruler of this world has been condemned.”

The disciples struggled to understand these mysterious words, but before they could ask for clarification, Jesus spoke again. “I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth; for he will not speak on his own, but will speak whatever he hears, and he will declare to you the things that are to come.”

John stepped closer to Jesus, his young face troubled. “Master, you speak of going away and coming back, of seeing and not seeing. What do you mean?”

Jesus looked at him with deep affection. “A little while, and you will no longer see me, and again a little while, and you will see me. Very truly, I tell you, you will weep and mourn, but the world will rejoice; you will have pain, but your pain will turn into joy.”

He gestured to a woman passing on the street below, heavy with child. “When a woman is in labor, she has pain, because her hour has come. But when her child is born, she no longer remembers the anguish because of the joy of having brought a human being into the world. So you have pain now; but I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you.”

The disciples exchanged glances, trying to comprehend this metaphor. Jesus watched them with patience and continued, “On that day you will ask nothing of me. Very truly, I tell you, if you ask anything of the Father in my name, he will give it to you. Until now you have not asked for anything in my name. Ask and you will receive, so that your joy may be complete.”

He paused, looking around the room one last time. “I have said these things to you in figures of speech. The hour is coming when I will no longer speak to you in figures, but will tell you plainly of the Father. On that day you will ask in my name. I do not say to you that I will ask the Father on your behalf; for the Father himself loves you, because you have loved me and have believed that I came from God.”

Drawing himself up to his full height, Jesus’s voice took on a tone of profound authority. “I came from the Father and have come into the world; again, I am leaving the world and am going to the Father.”

The disciples stirred, and Philip spoke up eagerly. “Yes! Now you are speaking plainly, not in any figure of speech! Now we know that you know all things, and do not need to have anyone question you; by this we believe that you came from God.”

A sad smile crossed Jesus’s face. “Do you now believe? The hour is coming, indeed it has come, when you will be scattered, each one to his home, and you will leave me alone. Yet I am not alone because the Father is with me.”

Looking at their troubled faces, he added gently, “I have said this to you, so that in me you may have peace. In the world you face persecution. But take courage; I have conquered the world!”

Then, lifting his eyes to heaven, Jesus began to pray, his voice filling the room with authority and love. “Father, the hour has come; glorify your Son so that the Son may glorify you, since you have given him authority over all people, to give eternal life to all whom you have given him. And this is eternal life, that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent.”

The disciples stood in awed silence as their Master continued his prayer. “I glorified you on earth by finishing the work that you gave me to do. So now, Father, glorify me in your own presence with the glory that I had in your presence before the world existed.”

Jesus looked lovingly at his disciples as he continued praying. "