We all know the power of the table and a good meal.

The table is the central image of Christianity for me. Jesus was always around the table with the religious and the sinners of his day. Today, we talk of the Last Supper—his final time at the table.

It was around the table we may have explored the first blush of love over hamburgers and milkshakes. It is around the table we might have had to break up with someone. Where friendships are established around the cafeteria table and are maintained to this day.

It is around the table where our family gathers. Whether it’s a holiday meal and distant family from across the country or the globe make their way to share in the rituals of the day, the table has power. Weddings and funerals, folks travel. Everyone’s there: the eccentric aunt, the beloved uncle, the black sheep cousin whose history is shrouded in mystery and myth, and most are too afraid to inquire. They’re all there. The family dynamics, the stories, the relationships.

Of course, there’s the food—the holiday traditions observed. Dickens wrote of Scrooge buying the Christmas goose. We have a cookie table. Cousin Christopher brings Taco Bell, which started as a joke but has become a tradition since the pandemic. For many, there’s the Easter ham. For our Jewish friends, the Passover meal—which Jesus would have been celebrating at the Last Supper and which we commemorate at Communion.

The table is important. We are a snackish species, so the table is a holy and sacred place—even though we don’t always realize its impact.

All four Gospels explore the people, the ritual, and the food. Even Paul mentions the meal—and it’s his words that are used for the Words of Institution. These are the words agreed upon by Catholics, most Protestants, and the Orthodox as signifying the sacrament of the table. You heard them today from 1 Corinthians 11:

“For I received from the Lord what I also handed on to you, that the Lord Jesus on the night when he was betrayed took a loaf of bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, ‘This is my body that is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.’ In the same way he took the cup also, after supper, saying, ‘This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.’ For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.”

It’s interesting to note that Paul does not name Judas Iscariot, nor does he discuss the betrayal directly. His focus tends to be on the table—and more so on the resurrection—not the specific events of the Passion narrative.

John doesn’t really include the Last Supper in the same way. John 13:2 states that “the evening meal was being served” during the Passover feast. Jesus washes his disciples’ feet, predicts Judas’s betrayal, and then Judas is off to do the deed. Jesus then, for the next four chapters, delivers what is known as the Farewell Discourse.

In his final hours, Jesus comforts and instructs his disciples, revealing the coming of the Holy Spirit and commanding them to love one another. He prays for a world shaped by radical unity, mutual belonging, and the healing love that flows from God to all people.

In Matthew, Jesus directly calls out Judas. Then he gives a similar version of the Words of Institution, but he directly states what the new covenant is for: the forgiveness of sins.

In Luke, there are similarities to Matthew—prediction of betrayal, though Judas isn’t named. Peter’s denial takes a larger role. Yet even in these predictions, a dispute rises among the disciples about who is the greatest. Jesus says to them:

“The kings of the Gentiles lord it over them, and those who exercise authority over them call themselves Benefactors. But you are not to be like that. Instead, the greatest among you should be like the youngest, and the one who rules like the one who serves. For who is greater, the one who is at the table or the one who serves? Is it not the one who is at the table? But I am among you as one who serves.” (Luke 22:24–27)

In this era, we are tempted by images of wealth—of mega-yachts, shopping sprees, and exclusive dining. We confuse leadership with unquestioned command. In fact, those in power now are saying just those things and using just those images.

Not so with Christ.

Just like at our family meals—and our chosen family meals—all the people are there. Those who denied. Those who have doubted. Those who have abandoned. Those who have betrayed. All are around the table. Who are you?

The good news for the deniers, like Peter, is that he is also restored. The deniers can come around. There is community and restoration and safety to be had on the other side of denial. That’s good news.

The good news for the doubters, like Thomas, is that he gets what he needs to believe. He says, “Unless I see it for myself, I won’t believe.” And Jesus gives him that. Ask, and you shall receive. Stay open. Don’t dictate the terms. For when the answer comes, you’ll be the first to say, “My Lord and my God.” That’s good news.

The good news for those who have abandoned—like all the other disciples—is that there’s still community. The values still hold. Like our friends in AA say, “It works if you work it.” Our beliefs, as varied as they are, don’t matter much unless we put them into action. You can say you’re not prejudiced all you want—but what would others say? Self-awareness is hard to come by. I believe there is still a community for those who’ve abandoned. They found their way back. They found something they couldn’t leave—and that’s why we have these sacred stories passed down to us. That’s good news.

As for the betrayers—like Judas—he was still at the table. He still got the invite. His feet were washed. He was given the bread and wine—the symbols of the new covenant. Yet he couldn’t get over himself, his own ego. He couldn’t repent or face the consequences of his actions—whatever those might have been.

I have a lot of questions around Judas. And I think we should. Because when we start asking questions about Judas, we’re really asking questions about ourselves—and about the people who’ve hurt us or betrayed what we hold sacred. What do we do with those who betray the values we stand for? What do we do with those who break the rules?

If you speed, you get a ticket. Enough of them, you lose your license. If you kill, you go to prison. There are consequences to our actions. But what if the betrayal is bigger—what if you storm the Capitol? Crash the market to enrich your friends? What then?

It makes me wonder… what would Jesus have said to Judas on Easter Sunday?

I believe we all have a Judas in our lives. And maybe, if we’re honest, in someone else’s story—we might be that Judas.

It’s a hard path. The way of Christ is narrow, and it involves the forgiveness of sin. That’s the covenant Jesus shared with his disciples. And no matter who you are and what role might be yours in this story… you’re in the story. The invitation still stands.

Whether you’ve denied, doubted, abandoned, or betrayed, there is space here for you. You may not be ready yet. You may still be carrying shame, or anger, or fear. But the table isn’t going anywhere. Christ is among us as one who serves. And that kind of love—patient, healing, liberating—will wait for you, wash your feet, and feed you again. Thanks be to God. Amen.