The Last Supper Revival
(A midrash based on Mark 14:12-18. A midrash is a commentary on or expansion of a story in Scripture that attempts to fill in details surrounding a biblical character without changing the narrative itself. One of my favorite writers, Madeleine L’Engle, used to have the students in her writing workshops write a midrash as part of the class. Reading about this writing assignment several years ago was the spark for this story.)
One morning, a man stood in the courtyard of his home. He noticed one of his servants heading up the stairs to the upper room with table settings. “Naomi, come here,” said the man. She turned and started towards him.
“Yes, Jerah,” she replied.
“Where are you going with those things?” he asked.
“The lady of the house requested them,” Naomi replied.
“She did?” he replied. “Are we having a great feast that I don’t know about?”
“I don’t know, my lord,” she replied.
“Very well,” he said. “Continue with your preparations.”
Naomi took her leave and climbed the steps before disappearing through the entrance to the upper room.
Jerah surveyed his neighbors and the passersby along the street. All was abuzz in the city as people made preparations for the upcoming Passover feast. He turned back inside and entered his home.
Jerah found his wife at the back of the house. She was instructing Rafa, their male servant, about what to buy at the market. “… and seven loaves of bread. I don’t want the two-day old bread. Make sure Zechariah gives you the fresh bread,” she finished. “Yes, my lady,” Rafa replied.
“Miriam, my dear,” said Jerah. “What is the meaning of all this?”
“Jerah, there you are,” she replied. “I’m only preparing for Passover. You know that these gatherings don’t prepare themselves. Unless, perhaps, you wanted to do the planning this year.”
“No, no,” said Jerah, chuckling. “I know my areas of expertise. I want to let you thrive at what you do best. Making our home a warm and welcoming place.”
“Thank you,” Miriam replied, smiling at her husband.
“My only question,” continued Jerah, “is about the size of the supper. You are buying enough food for our house to eat Passover four times. I saw Naomi with table settings for a much bigger gathering than the four of us.”
“This is what we always do,” Miriam replied. “Why would this year be any different?”
Jerah paused and looked lovingly at his wife. “Because this year is different.”
“I see no difference. It’s Passover. I’m making preparations as I always do,” she replied, avoiding his gaze.
“Our table is smaller this year, my dear,” he said. “I don’t want it to be different, but it is. Our family is different.”
Miriam polished the cup in her hand. “What a difference a year can make,” she said, her voice trailing off.
Jerah walked over and put his hand on her shoulder. “I know, dear,” he said.
“If I prepare for less, then it means that it’s all true. That the shadow of our home is real. That our family is changed. That we can’t go back,” she said.
She paused for a moment before turning to face her husband. “But you’re right,” she said. “I just want it to be how it ever was. I’ll get Rafa and Naomi to help me bring it all down.” She started for the door.
“Miriam,” said Jerah.
“Yes,” she replied.
“Prepare as you always do. Don’t change a thing,” he said.
She smiled at him.
“I like leftovers,” he said, grinning.
-
As Miriam continued her preparations, she thought about all they had been through in the last year.
The sickness had come quickly. By the time we received word here in Jerusalem, our youngest grandchild was already gone. We made preparations and journeyed to our son’s town of Emmaus as fast as we could. By the time we reached them, burial arrangements were being made for not just one grandchild, but three. No doctor could heal. No prayer could break the grip of the fever.
We got word of a teacher traveling in the hills and the countryside that healed by his holy hand, but he never made it to this town. We never doubted the goodness of our God, but we begged Him to spare our family from this plague of death. As weeks in our son’s town stretched to months, the mourning never ceased. By the time we left, we had buried all six grandchildren, our beautiful daughter-in-law, and, finally, our beloved son.
Our weeping and wailing filled the town to overflowing until we had no more tears left to shed. The love of our two devoted servants carried us home even as they wept bitterly themselves. They kept us afloat when it seemed we may down in our sorrow. Even in the midst of severe pain, we recognize now that his mercies were new every morning, softening the blows to our hearts.
-
Naomi walked up behind Rafa in the courtyard and tapped her hand on his shoulder. “Rafa,” she whispered.
He turned to see Naomi standing behind him with a worried look on her face. “Yes, Naomi,” he replied.
“I’m worried about Miriam,” she said. “She’s carrying this all so heavy. I want to stay close to her, but I must go to the well to fetch water for tonight.”
“Let me get the water,” said Rafa. “Stay here with her.”
“No, you can’t do that,” she replied.
“It’s fine. She needs you here,” he said, smiling at her. “I feel like taking a walk anyways.”
Before she could protest, he picked up the large earthen jug, smiled at her, and slipped out of the gate into the street. Rafa got a few strange looks as the only man carrying a water jug, but he didn’t care. On the other side of deep pain and loss, he had given up caring about the small things in life, especially what other people thought about him. Plus, he’d do anything that Naomi asked of him.
After pulling the water back up and lifting it on his shoulder, Rafa began his walk back home. As he walked, he thought about how much life can change in an instant. Last Passover, their home had been filled with rejoicing and laughter and love. How quickly things can be thrown upside down. At that moment, two men walking on the street towards him stopped and looked at him. They looked at each other and nodded, then back at Rafa. “Man, take us to the master of your house.” Rafa did not know these men, but he felt a strange call to do as they said. “Follow me,” he replied. They did not speak on the journey but followed closed behind him. They reached the gate to the house. “Here we are,” said Rafa.
“Thank you,” they replied.
Rafa approached Jerah in the courtyard. “Master,” he started, “these two men have followed me all the way home from the well. They are here to see you.”
“Who are they?” asked Jerah.
“They didn’t say,” said Rafa.
“Thank you, Rafa,” said Jerah. “You may go.” Rafa took his leave.
“Welcome,” said Jerah as he approached the two men, “what is the purpose of your visit?”
One of the men spoke, “The Teacher asks: Where is the guest room, where I may eat the Passover with my disciples?”
“The Teacher?” thought Jerah. “Did they mean Jesus? The great teacher that they say has done many wonderful and astonishing things in this land. They had heard rumors of him last year while in Emmaus. They had even prayed and hoped that he would come near and take their pain away, but it was not to be. How does he even know who we are?” A million things raced through his head in just a few seconds, but the only thing that came out of his mouth was, “Let me show you to the room.”
They climbed the stairs as Jerah led them into the upper room. Inside, Miriam and Naomi were busy preparing the table. It was a long wooden table that had been able to sit their large family easily in years past. A large cloth lay draped over it. Settings were being into place. Lampstands and candles were being prepared.
“Miriam,” said Jerah.
“Yes,” she replied.
“These two men are here with a message,” he said.
She stopped her prep and looked at them.
“My dear,” said Jerah, “Jesus is coming.”
“To Jerusalem?” she replied.
“Here,” said Jerah, “Jesus is coming here.”
“Here?” she said.
“Yes, these two men are followers of Jesus,” he said.
John spoke, “Jesus is outside of the city right now, but he has sent us here to you with a request.”
“Ask anything and it shall be given unto you,” she replied.
“Jesus desires to use this room for the Passover meal,” Peter answered.
“I am the Lord’s servant. May it be as you have said,” said Miriam.
“Thank you,” said John. “You have most certainly found favor with God to host the teacher here in your home.” He turned to Peter, “Let us begin preparations. We need to go the market and get …”
“Excuse me,” said Miriam. They turned towards her. “If I may save you some trouble, you do not need to go to the market. It’s all here. Everything you will need for the Passover, it’s all here. In my heart, I have been expecting you. Let me show you to the storeroom.”
-
The two disciples thanked Jerah and Miriam for their hospitality before leaving to go gather Jesus and the other disciples for the Passover.
As they left out of the gate, Jerah and Miriam looked at each other in amazement. Jesus, the good teacher that they had hoped to see last year, was coming to their house for Passover. “How could this be?” said Miriam, “that we have found such favor with God.”
“It baffles me too, my dear,” said Jerah. “Thanks be to God for this blessing. Perhaps he looked down from heaven and searched this city over and back again to see who was preparing a place for his Holy One.”
Miriam did not reply, but only pondered these things in her heart.
“So, how should this work tonight?” asked Jerah. “Do we eat with them? Eat separate and give them space?”
“We serve,” she replied. “We serve them. We prepare and bring out the food. We take away the dishes and clean up. We pour their drinks. We embrace this opportunity to bless the Holy One of God.”
“Ahh, you speak wisely, dear,” replied Jerah. “So it shall be. Let’s go get ready.”
-
Everything was ready for tonight. The guests should be arriving shortly. For a moment, Miriam sat alone in her quiet place. A little room on the upper floor with a small window facing east. No bigger than a closet. The place where she had come to pray for so many years. This past year, she had wept in this room as much as she had prayed. She knew that God could handle her tears and her questions and her doubts that had overflowed this little room. She took out a small piece of paper on which she had written out her very soul one night soon after they returned. David had pled with God and poured out his heart with the pen. At her rawest and most vulnerable state, Miriam had done the same.
Our lives sit in shambles
Burned through but still smoldering
The road travelled to this place ripped our hearts out and broke our bodies
We see nothing
We have nothing
We hope for nothing
Ashes cover our faces and hide the death that spared us
This very same death rescued the others from this anguish
The silence is the only witness to our suffering
Scorched earth is our warm bed
Sunless days are our cool spring
Emptiness floods our souls
Our wounds stir us from our sleep and sear us
until we have relived the painful journey all over again
The debris of our lives haunts us
Do we dare sift through it?
Or do we forsake it and start with dust alone?
Our prayers cry out for a healing rain to purify our rotting bones
The echoes of unanswered pleas fill the air
Darkness washes over our world
Exposing how little light remains in us
We barely even flicker and produce no warmth
Cold and sick flames that beg to burn or be put out mercifully
All is dark within us and around us
The night gets darker and darker
But no dawn ever breaks
What hope can be summoned in such a place?
To hope is to betray what is true
Even in the midst of all this doubt and pain and questioning, she had written at the bottom of the page in big, bold letters: “Though he slay me, yet will I hope in him.”
That had been the beginning of her recovery, where God seemed to gently scoop her up in His arms and nurse her back to wholeness. To read it was to remember the depths of her sorrow and what God had brought her through just to get here today.
Miriam heard footsteps of many walking through their gate and headed downstairs to greet them. Peter and John had brought Jesus over to Jerah.
“Thanks be to God that He has considered us worthy to host the Messiah,” said Jerah. “Our home is your home.”
Jesus smiled. “What a blessing it is to be in your home. Your faith and obedience have brought healing to this home.”
“Thank you, my lord,” said Miriam.
Judas spoke to Jerah, “Tell me how much you are expecting to be paid back for tonight’s dinner.”
“What?” asked Jerah. “I don’t understand.”
“I want to go ahead and handle the money,” said Judas. “Just tell me how much you want.”
“Oh, no,” replied Jerah. “We cannot accept any repayment. It is our honor to do this for the Teacher.”
Jesus interrupted. “Judas, don’t steal this act of joy and obedience from them. They have given freely from the overflow of love in their hearts. Their grief has turned to joy and blessing is upon their house. Truly I say unto you, no one can take it away.”
Jesus turned to Rafa. “My good servant,” said Jesus, “can you make sure that there is water, a basin, and a towel upstairs?”
“Yes, my lord,” replied Rafa, “all those things are already in place. I beg of you only one favor. Please allow me the honor of washing the feet of you and your companions.”
“Thank you,” said Jesus, “but I will take care of it on this night.” Jesus continued, “Rafa, my son, your heart is true. You are a faithful and devoted servant to your master. The day is coming soon when you will no longer be a servant, but you will be called a son, both here on earth and in heaven. Your spirit will live on here through your descendants for generations.”
-
As Jesus and his disciples filled the seats of the upper room, Jerah, Miriam, Rafa, and Naomi served them with joy and with love. As the meal began and the four of them headed for the door, Jesus began to speak to his disciples, “I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer. For I tell you…”
-
It was night now. The four of them were too excited to even eat and stood in the courtyard together. As they were talking, they heard the door to the upper room open and slam followed by footsteps coming rapidly down the stairs. It was Judas. “Do you need something, my lord?” asked Jerah. Judas didn’t reply or even acknowledge their presence. Instead, he just kept running right past them out of the gate and into the street. They looked at each other puzzled.
Miriam went up the stairs and peeked her head into the upper room to see if everything was alright and if the group needed anything. Jesus was speaking,” Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms…” She quietly closed the door and slipped back downstairs.
-
After the dinner was over, the guests in the upper room emptied out into the courtyard below. Jesus found Jerah and Miriam to thank them for their hospitality. “Peace and blessing be on your house, Jerah,” said Jesus. “May your strength of spirit grow evermore.”
“Thank you, my lord,” replied Jerah. “It was truly our honor.”
Jesus then turned to Miriam. “And my dear lady,” he continued, “you have blessed us tonight with your hospitality and your graciousness.”
“How blessed we are to serve our God on this day,” replied Miriam.
Jesus continued, “For some time now, I have longed to come here and break bread at your table. How often I’ve seen both your tears and your faith in your upper closet.”
She gave him a strange look. How did he know about her upper closet?
“My dear one,” Jesus said as he put his hand on her hand. “You were never alone.”
“Not in Emmaus. Not as you dug graves for those you loved so dearly. Not on the way home when you thought your very bones would give way. Not in your upper closet where you poured out your heart. Never once were you alone.”
Tears welled in Miriam’s eyes. She had known back then that she’d been carried by more than just her own strength.
“You weren’t alone when you hoped against hope for one last supper to remember. A holy expectation that bread would be broken again, that your table would be filled back up, and that your upper room would ring out with laughter and life once more. Bless you, my daughter, for your faith has carried you through to the other side of this dark valley of grief.” Jesus leaned down to kiss her on her forehead. “May you carry that spirit of welcome and holy expectation as long as you live.”
And so, she did.
Every Passover for the rest of her life, Miriam prepared for a great banquet never knowing who would come. Every year, one by one they stumbled through that gate and found their way to her upper room. It always came together in a way that she couldn’t have imagined, but her table never went quiet. When Miriam and Jerah passed away at a very old age without any descendants, they named Rafa and Naomi, now married themselves, as their heirs. The two kept the tradition going in that upper room for many years before passing it down to their own children. Every Passover, the host of this dinner would tell their guests the story of how those empty seats were filled that very first year by none other Jesus himself.
-
Every empty seat at the table has a story, but on the other side of that pain is an opportunity for God to show up, to fill that seat, and to make whole what has been broken.