Last Suppers
By Audrey Stallsmith
Three weeks after Easter our Sunday School lesson reverted to Passover which occurred shortly before the first Easter, though it sometimes can take place after that holiday as it did this year. The lesson concerned Christ washing his disciples’ feet at the last meal he ever would eat with them. Not long after they had been bickering about who would be the greatest in his kingdom, he took on the role of a servant.
And he would die for them the following day. Our Sunday School teacher pointed out that the foot washing took place at a time when the leader of the feast usually performed a ceremonial hand washing instead. That would indicate who was in charge of the festivities. But Jesus chose instead to remind his disciples of how they should serve one another after He was gone instead of attempting to lord it over one another.
This story took on a particular poignancy this year since the Easter meal was the last my 95-year-old father would eat with his entire family. In pronouncing the blessing on the meal, he prayed for those of us who would be there the following year when he would not.
We did not want to hear that because, though Dad was increasingly frail after returning home from a hospital stay, he still was our patriarch—our leader. And he had been in and out of the hospital before and at least partially recovered.
Though some of us now were in our 60s ourselves we felt that we still needed him. He was a pillar of the church as well as of our family. In fact, many of the congregation made it a point to shake his hand every week. Since we’d been having to alternate between substitute pastors recently, the man who had attended our little church all his life was a stabilizing factor.
In fact, some probably would call him one of the last of the greatest generation. That group who had been raised during the Depression and endured World War II probably never expected life to be easy, so they developed a tenacity that many of the more pampered later generations seem to lack.
When Christ talked of serving others, Dad would know what he meant. Although he was just young enough that he didn’t have to serve in the military during the War, he did have to take on the responsibility of a farm from his dying father when he was only a teenager.
And he would move on from supporting his sister and mother after his father’s death to supporting a family of six children. A lot rested on his broad shoulders which, perhaps, is why his back always hurt so much! And our devotion to both our parents is proved by the fact that all of us ended up no more than a half hour’s drive from them.
After my mother’s death, I developed a narrative for myself that we all were going on vacation together and she simply had gone ahead to get things ready for the rest of us who would be following her soon enough after our own work was done. But it isn’t really a vacation on which we are embarking but a move to live with our heavenly Father, from whom we originally came and to whom we thankfully can return, as Dad did during the week after Easter.
Christ’s disciples didn’t want to hear about His return to His Father either, even though he tried to tell them that, unless he went away, they couldn’t begin to use what he had taught them. They still would be relying on Him to carry all the weight of spreading the gospel.
The difference is, of course, that when our earthly parents have to depart from us, we can only remember their example until we are reunited with them. But Christ, when he had to withdraw from his disciples, was able to leave part of Himself (the Holy Spirit) behind to support them through their loss. And they, who also felt like abandoned orphans, desperately needed that support.
As Martyn Lloyd-Jones notes in Seeking the Face of God, “There are certain things that always characterize truly Christian men and women. . .they have become aware of their own smallness. . .there is also a sense of homelessness. . .they are becoming aware of their complete helplessness and defenselessness. . .”
It’s no wonder we depend so much on our fathers, but too much dependence isn’t healthy in human relationships where we can smother others under our expectations. And, as Martyn Lloyd-Jones goes on to note, “even if human love does not turn its back on us, there is a point beyond which it cannot go, even when it wants to.”
In other words, although our parents understand us—a little too well at times—they can’t understand us as thoroughly as God does, nor be with us as unceasingly as He is. So, I’ve been telling myself that, as I can no longer talk to my earthly father at present, I should be talking to my heavenly Father more. After all, God wants us to rest all of our weight on Him. That doesn’t bother his back at all!