The Next-to-the Last Supper Revisited

The scriptures are full of amazing stories from what has come to be known as Holy Week in the Christian church. With today being the Monday of that very week, here's a bit of a different take on one of those stories. I love to share this every year at this time...

Mark 14:1-9 (The Message)

In only two days the eight-day Festival of Passover and the Feast of Unleavened Bread would begin. The high priests and religion scholars were looking for a way they could seize Jesus by stealth and kill him. They agreed that it should not be done during Passover Week. "We don't want the crowds up in arms," they said.

Jesus was at Bethany, a guest of Simon the Leper. While he was eating dinner, a woman came up carrying a bottle of very expensive perfume. Opening the bottle, she poured it on his head. Some of the guests became furious among themselves. "That's criminal! A sheer waste! This perfume could have been sold for well over a year's wages and handed out to the poor." They swelled up in anger, nearly bursting with indignation over her. But Jesus said, "Let her alone. Why are you giving her a hard time? She has just done something wonderfully significant for me. You will have the poor with you every day for the rest of your lives. Whenever you feel like it, you can do something for them. Not so with me. She did what she could when she could—she pre-anointed my body for burial. And you can be sure that wherever in the whole world the Message is preached, what she just did is going to be talked about admiringly."

Curt

My old friend Curt Cloninger, the amazing actor and interpreter of scripture, calls the meal Jesus is eating in the scripture above "the next to the last supper." In Curt's brilliant one-man play entitled Witnesses, he plays a fictional character (Abe the Banana Man) who was present at this meal. He used to be unable to speak, he tells us. In fact, he points out, almost everyone there (in Curt's version) was a "used to be." Simon (their host) used to be a leper. Bart used to be blind. Lazarus used to be dead! Curt points out that Jesus most likely ended the party during his speech praising the woman who had anointed his feet with perfume, because he once again announced that he would soon be dead. Now THAT would end a party. The whole evening must have been indicative of the highs and lows of that last week.

We all used to be something else before Jesus got hold of our hearts. Some of us still are people that we would rather not be. Holy Week is a wonderful time to let Jesus make you a "used to be" all over again. He will- if you seek sanctuary in the grace he offers you. Honor him this week (and every week) with your very life.

Because of Jesus,

The Next-to-the-Last Supper

The scriptures are full of amazing stories from what has come to be known as Holy Week in the Christian church. Here's a different take on one of those stories that I love to share every year at this time...

Mark 14:1-9 (The Message)

In only two days the eight-day Festival of Passover and the Feast of Unleavened Bread would begin. The high priests and religion scholars were looking for a way they could seize Jesus by stealth and kill him. They agreed that it should not be done during Passover Week. "We don't want the crowds up in arms," they said.

Jesus was at Bethany, a guest of Simon the Leper. While he was eating dinner, a woman came up carrying a bottle of very expensive perfume. Opening the bottle, she poured it on his head. Some of the guests became furious among themselves. "That's criminal! A sheer waste! This perfume could have been sold for well over a year's wages and handed out to the poor." They swelled up in anger, nearly bursting with indignation over her. But Jesus said, "Let her alone. Why are you giving her a hard time? She has just done something wonderfully significant for me. You will have the poor with you every day for the rest of your lives. Whenever you feel like it, you can do something for them. Not so with me. She did what she could when she could—she pre-anointed my body for burial. And you can be sure that wherever in the whole world the Message is preached, what she just did is going to be talked about admiringly."

My old friend Curt Cloninger, the amazing actor and interpreter of scripture, calls the meal Jesus is eating in the scripture above "the next to the last supper." In Curt's brilliant one-man play entitled Witnesses, he plays a fictional character (Abe the Banana Man) who was present at this meal. He used to be unable to speak, he tells us. In fact, he points out, almost everyone there (in Curt's version) was a "used to be." Simon (their host) used to be a leper. Bart used to be blind. Lazurus used to be dead! Curt points out that Jesus most likely ended the party during his speech praising the woman who had anointed his feet with perfume, because he once again announced that he would soon be dead. Now THAT would end a party. The whole evening must have been indicative of the highs and lows of that last week.

We all used to be something else before Jesus got hold of our hearts. Some of us still are people that we would rather not be. Holy Week is a wonderful time to let Jesus make you a "used to be" all over again. He will- if you seek sanctuary in the grace he offers you. Honor him this week (and every week) with your very life.

Because of Jesus,

"He didn't look like a Messiah..."

Curt Cloninger

In my old friend Curt Cloninger's wonderful one man show Witnesses, the first character we meet is the famous/infamous innkeeper of Bethlehem. Curt portrays him some years after the blessed event, explaining how Mary wound up having the baby out back of the inn. He jokes about not knowing that she would "bingo with the baby that night," or he would have given her a room. He speaks of missing marketing opportunities, because had Jesus been born in his inn he could have posted "the Messiah slept here" signs all over the place. But mostly he defends himself. And his primary defense is this: "He didn't look like a Messiah- he looked like a baby!" Had he known who Jesus was, he implies, he would have found a room for Joseph and Mary. Instead, as we know, the Prince of Peace was born in a barn because there was no room in the inn.

Today, as we continue in the season of Advent, I ask this question: Has anything really changed? We still, far too often, claim not to recognize Jesus. We warp his teachings. We don't love like he taught us to love. We hurt people in his name. And at Christmas we are quick to embrace the baby in the manger, but slow to recognize the things he would come to stand for as a man. Peace. Love for everyone. Forgiveness for all. How often, when we come face to face with Jesus in our own lives do we send him out to the barn, declaring that we have no room for his radical teachings and demands on our lifestyles? Just like Ricky Bobby in the movie Talladega Nights, we are much more comfortable with the non-threatening, cute little baby than we are with the One who came to save the world.

My prayer today is that I will remember that while Jesus may have come to us as a baby, he was always the Messiah. Help me be like the shepherds who recognized him that first Christmas and told the world what they had seen. Help me to "go tell it on the mountain" that the Messiah has come and the world will never be the same. He did look like a baby- but that baby would grow up to change the world. That cute little manger that served as a cradle pointed directly to an ugly wooden cross where he would save us all. May we always have room for him in our hearts.

Jesus, the only hope for me is you...and YOU alone!

The Next To the Last Supper

Mark 14:1-9 (The Message)

 In only two days the eight-day Festival of Passover and the Feast of Unleavened Bread would begin. The high priests and religion scholars were looking for a way they could seize Jesus by stealth and kill him. They agreed that it should not be done during Passover Week. "We don't want the crowds up in arms," they said. 

Jesus was at Bethany, a guest of Simon the Leper. While he was eating dinner, a woman came up carrying a bottle of very expensive perfume. Opening the bottle, she poured it on his head. Some of the guests became furious among themselves. "That's criminal! A sheer waste! This perfume could have been sold for well over a year's wages and handed out to the poor." They swelled up in anger, nearly bursting with indignation over her. 

But Jesus said, "Let her alone. Why are you giving her a hard time? She has just done something wonderfully significant for me. You will have the poor with you every day for the rest of your lives. Whenever you feel like it, you can do something for them. Not so with me. She did what she could when she could—she pre-anointed my body for burial. And you can be sure that wherever in the whole world the Message is preached, what she just did is going to be talked about admiringly." 

My old friend Curt Cloninger, the amazing actor and interpreter of scripture, calls the meal Jesus is eating in the scripture above "the next to the last supper."  In Curt's brilliant one-man play entitled Witnesses, he plays a fictional character (Abe the Banana Man) who was present at this meal.  He used to be unable to speak, he tells us.  In fact, he points out, almost everyone there (in Curt's version) was a used to be. In his mind the party guests included many of the people who had encountered Jesus over the previous 3 years.  Simon (their host) used to be a leper.  Bart used to be blind.  Lazurus used to be dead!  Curt points out that Jesus most likely ended the party during His speech praising the woman who had anointed His feet with perfume, because He once again announced that He would soon be dead.  The whole evening must have been indicative of the highs and lows of that last week.

We all used to be something before Jesus got hold of our hearts.  Some of us still are things that we would rather not be.  Holy Week is a wonderful time to let Jesus make you a used to be again.  He will- if you become WIDE OPEN to the grace he offers you.  Honor Him this week (and every week) with your very life.


Because of Jesus,

Curt Cloninger: Tasting By Memory

Today I am praying for my dear friend Ashley Goad Broadhurst as she begins another mission trip to Haiti to provide clean water for the people there.  Please join me.


Yesterday I received an email from my old friend Curt Cloninger.  If you don't know Curt, he is an Atlanta based Christian dramatist who has shared in ministry with thousands over the years, including at the Youth Specialties conventions and at three different churches I served.  His one man show Witnesses is still one of the powerful statements on the life of Jesus that I have ever had the privilege to see.  To learn more about Curt, visit his website at www.curtcloninger.com  These words spoke to me in so many ways, and so I re-print it here for my friends to enjoy. Thanks Curt- and not just for these words of inspiration.  You have inspired me so often through the years.  Blessings to you and Tish!

My wife, Tish, has, over the last few years, lost her sense of smell.  That’s not the worst thing in the world.  It even has a bit of an upside.  She can’t smell our wet Springer Spaniel.  She can’t smell ... well ... me, after a dinner out at Armando’s, our favorite Spanish restaurant.    Her life is in no imminent danger because of her loss of smell. 
 

But, her loss of smell carries with it an unspoken tinge of sadness. She can’t smell the clean sheets, or a fine spring morning, a good cup of coffee, or her favorite perfume.   Probably most disconcerting of all, she can’t smell food.   And, because she can’t smell food, she is unable to really taste food   For her, there is no subtlety, or variety, or nuance in what she eats.  It’s all just ... food. 
 

I’ve tried to persuade Tish, when we go out to eat at Armando’s, to order, say ... just rice and beans, instead of the more expensive Seafood Paella.  After all, to her, it all tastes the same, and would save us at least $20.   She refuses.   When asked “why?” she simply replies, “Because, in my mind, I remember what it tasted like.”   So, we order the incredibly seasoned Paella for Two, and my job becomes assuring Tish that it still tastes as good as she remembers.  It’s actually a delightful assignment.  I get to eat fabulous Paella.  I get to be with my wife.  And I get to stretch my communication skills (I don’t have the most sophisticated palette.)   All of this because my sweet wife is determined to “taste by memory”. 

The poet David once encouraged me to “Taste and see that the Lord is good,” which is fine ... except when my ability to smell is damaged, or when my palette is skewed.
 

Here’s the truth:  sometimes I can’t even come close to tasting the goodness of God.  Life is stale, boring, with all the excitement of a bowl of white rice.  That’s when I find it’s important for me to have a “Taster”.  Someone, like the poet, to help me “taste by memory”.  (The guy also wrote, “Why are you so downcast, Oh my soul?  Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him.”)    
 

This year, if, for you, life has lost its’ savor, don’t despair.  Find yourself a Taster.  Someone to remind you that God is good, and that you will yet praise him.  And, this year, if, for you, life is tasting particularly full and rich and sweet, make a point to be the taster for someone else.  It’s a delightful and important job.  And, frankly, it’s not even all that important that you have a very sophisticated palette.  (Trust me.)  ~ Curt Cloninger

Because of Jesus,

"He didn't look like a Messiah..."

Curt Cloninger

In my old friend Curt Cloninger's wonderful one man show Witnesses, the first character we meet is the famous/infamous innkeeper of Bethlehem.  Curt portrays him some years after the blessed event, explaining how Mary wound up having the baby out back of the inn.  He jokes about not knowing that she would "bingo with the baby that night," or he would have given her a room.  He speaks of missing marketing opportunities, because had Jesus been born in his inn he could have posted "the Messiah slept here" signs all over the place. But mostly he defends himself.  And his primary defense is this: "He didn't look like a Messiah- he looked like a baby!"  Had he known who Jesus was, he implies, he would have found a room for Joseph and Mary.  Instead, as we know, the Prince of Peace was born in a barn because there was no room in the inn.


Today, on this third Sunday of Advent, I ask this question:  Has anything really changed?  We still, far too often, claim not to recognize Jesus.  We warp his teachings. We don't love like he taught us to love.  We hurt people in his name.  At at Christmas we are quick to embrace the baby in the manger, but slow to recognize the things he would come to stand for as a man.  Peace. Love for everyone.  Forgiveness for all.  How often, when we come face to face with Jesus in our own lives do we send him out to the barn, declaring that we have no room for his radical teachings and demands on our lifestyles?  Just like Ricky Bobby in the movie Talladega Nights, we are much more comfortable with the non-threatening, cute little baby than we are with the One who came to save the world.


My prayer today is that I will remember that while Jesus may have come to us as a baby, he was always the Messiah.  Help me be like the shepherds who recognized him that first Christmas and told the world what they had seen.  Help me to "go tell it on the mountain" that the Messiah has come and the world will never be the same.  He did look like a baby- but that baby would grow up to change the world.  May we always have room for him in our hearts...


My Deliverer is Coming....