Meals to Remember

Exploring the greater significance of gathering around the table

My MaMa loved having everyone together. In the months leading up to Thanksgiving, she would work the phones trying to secure each family member’s commitment. Her tactics included guilt trips and the bribery of promising to cook favorite dishes. Guaranteed on every occasion—German chocolate cake and regular chocolate cake with layers numbered in the high teens. She knew the exact excuses for every missing person. She never granted her approval for an absence easily.

My mother-in-law prioritizes having everyone together, too. She often reschedules get-togethers because one person has a conflict. She works hard to make her home a welcoming place everyone enjoys. She used to get mad at me for telling her I had “things to do” as a reason for not showing up. It’s a joke now—“I bet Casey has ‘things to do.’”

For the longest time, I didn’t get it. Don’t we see each other enough? We just did this last year, and I’ve done it every year of my life. It’ll be fine if a few people miss. Life will go on, and we’ll try again next year. Don’t they realize some people just have “things to do”?

I see it their way now. You see, my MaMa passed away a couple years ago. Those meals with everyone present aren’t possible anymore. We only have our memories of them now.

There’s a reason the Bible connects wisdom with growing older. Psalm 90:12 is one of my favorite verses: “Teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom.” My MaMa knew something I did not yet understand. She had lived long enough to know that the ability to get the whole family together doesn’t last forever. It’s only a matter of time before the young people get too busy and the old people die off. She fought until her dying day to keep us all together because she understood the significance of having everyone present for a meal.

The meal is never the point. It’s just an excuse for the opportunity to forge something more significant—identity, belonging, and love. When we gather around that table, we affirm that we belong to each other. By prioritizing the meal with our presence, we remind one another that we’re committed to them in love.

This dynamic helps us understand the significance of the Lord’s Supper. In Luke 22:14-23, Jesus gathers with his disciples in an upper room in Jerusalem to celebrate the Passover. Unlike the disciples, he knows that this will be his last meal with them, giving him perspective that they clearly lack. He also knows that he’s about to give profound significance to this meal beyond the normal significance of Passover. This meal will serve as a meal of remembrance and proclamation until his return (1 Cor 11:26).

In the history of the church, we’ve really made a mess of the Lord’s Supper or the Eucharist, if you prefer. In response to the Roman Catholic error of literally sacrificing Christ upon each observance, Protestants too often overreact by underemphasizing its importance. I grew up in a church tradition that celebrated the Lord’s Supper four times per year. When we did gather on those seldom occasions, confusion abounded on what we were even doing.

Just as family get-togethers aren’t really about the meal, the Lord’s Supper isn’t really about the bread and the wine. In both cases, the meal represents something far greater.

In Luke’s account, the meal does at least four things. First, it fulfills the past. Jesus connects his new meal to the Passover because it fulfills the Passover. For Israel, Passover was synonymous with salvation. In the Exodus, God had delivered and covenanted with his people. For 600 years before Jesus, the prophets had been promising a second exodus would occur. Jesus’s life and death is the new exodus. Just as Israel went through the sea and into the wilderness where they were fed miraculously by God, Jesus went through his baptism and into his wilderness testing before miraculously feeding the five thousand. The Lord’s Supper reminds us that before we can go forward, we must look back. Advancement depends on remembering.

Second, the Lord’s Supper anticipates the future. It’s an appetizer preparing us for greater fulfillment. We eat the meal “until he comes” because when he comes, we will sit down with him for a greater meal (Rev 19:6-9). Just as we look back to acknowledge that he has already saved us, we look forward to remember that our salvation is not yet complete.

Third, the Lord’s Supper enacts the gospel. In the Passover, Israel would physically replay the events of the Exodus from Egypt. In the Lord’s Supper, we physically enact the sacrifice of Jesus. He’s not sacrificed again, but his one sufficient sacrifice is tasted anew by faith. The physical bread and cup help us get the story of Christ’s sacrifice down into our bones.

Fourth, the Lord’s Supper creates family identity. In the new covenant in his blood, we belong to him and to one another. Our new family is not defined by ethnic identity. Our family isn’t nationalistic; it’s Christocentric. When we gather around the table with the church, we affirm that we belong to each other and that we will keep loving each other. Our presence signifies our commitment.