Sunday Morning Greek Blog

May 19, 2025

Communion as a Call to Action (John 13:31–35)

I preached this message May 18, 2025, at Mount View Presbyterian Church, Omaha, NE. Fifth Sunday after Easter, Year C.

I find it interesting that in the weeks after Easter, the gospel passages in the Lectionary are revisiting Jesus’s Holy Week events. That probably shouldn’t surprise us with John’s gospel, though, as the last half of his gospel deals with the events of Holy Week. One explanation for this, I think, is that Jesus taught his disciples so much in that last week, and much of it occurred, apparently, immediately after the “Last Supper.” Given what happened in the 24 hours that followed that last supper, I think it’s safe to say that the apostles probably didn’t remember too much of that teaching. It’s a good thing John wrote it down, then! This gives them the opportunity to revisit those precious final moments with Jesus and to review his teachings to see what they missed about his death and resurrection.

Since we’re going back to Holy Week, and especially since today’s passage comes after John’s unique account of the Last Supper, I think it’s worth it to take a look at his account, especially, and add in the details that Matthew, Mark, and Luke provide. At the beginning of John 13, we see that the meal is already in progress, but we don’t get the “ritual” language we’ve become accustomed to from the other three gospels.

There’s no “This is my body” or “This cup is the new covenant in my blood poured out for the forgiveness of sins” in John’s gospel. That’s not to say there’s a contradiction here in the storyline: John focuses on a more radical form of demonstrating the forgiveness that would come from the shed blood of the Messiah. He tells us that the Messiah himself washes the feet of ALL the disciples. When Jesus gets to Peter, we find out a little more about Jesus’s motivation for doing this: “Unless I wash you, you have not part with me.” Jesus turns this act of service into a living, “practical” memorial that his disciples would not soon forget. Not only has he said his blood would bring forgiveness; he touches each one of the disciples, even Judas, who he knows will sell him and out, and Peter the denier, to give them “muscle memory” of forgiveness.

Matthew, Mark, and Luke all say something about the bread and the cup. Matthew and Mark both say simply: “This is my body,” while Luke adds two extra phrases: “This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me” (Luke 22:19). Notice that none of the gospel writers ever say, “This is my body broken for you,” although the piece of unleavened bread in this part of the ceremony was the only one formally broken. The church through history almost naturally added in that bit about “broken for you” to parallel what happens to the bread. Note also the references to the cup in the three synoptic Gospel accounts have Jesus saying that the wine is “the new covenant in my blood” or “the blood of my covenant.” Matthew is the only one who connects the blood with the forgiveness of sins.

One thing that Jesus says in all three gospel accounts may get overlooked: “I will not drink from this fruit of the vine from now on until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father’s kingdom.”[1] Jesus here is looking far beyond his own time with this statement: he’s looking ahead to his second coming where we will share in the glorious feast of the Lamb with him in heaven. It’s also worth noting here that Jesus still considers what he’s drinking is “the fruit of the vine” and NOT blood at all.

But this also begs the question: what does Jesus mean when he says, “This IS my body” and “This IS the new covenant in my blood”? I think as Presbyterians we can agree there is not some mystical transubstantiation of the wine into Jesus’s blood. Nor is there a mystical transubstantiation of the bread into the flesh of Christ. But I also don’t think the cup and the bread are merely “symbols” either. I prefer to use the word “signify” to describe the elements because they do have significance for my faith.

In this way, communion is akin to baptism. What does Paul say about baptism in Romans 6:3? “Don’t you know that all of us who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death?”[2] Baptism signifies (there’s that word again) that we have come in contact with blood of Christ, which Matthew affirms is for the forgiveness of sins. That is our “initiation” rite, a marker or monument, if you will, that God has done something special in our lives and that we are set apart for something special. The water doesn’t become the blood of Christ when we’re baptized. But in a way that only God knows, the waters of baptism are infused with the power of spiritual cleansing and renewal.

Communion, then, is our regular connection with our baptism, because in communion, as we’ve said, we also encounter the blood of Christ, or what it signifies, in the cup at the communion table. The bread reminds us of the physical suffering Christ endured on the cross. But it also reminds us that we are all part of the body of Christ as well—that’s why we take it together, whether it’s monthly, weekly, or whenever we gather in his name. Out of all the different denominations out there, communion reminds us what we have in common: faith in Christ.

I’ve been studying what the Bible says about communion for quite a long time. It was the topic of one of my early blog posts. In my home church, we take it every Sunday, because that seems to be the practice of the early church in Acts. But my church also typically qualifies it when giving the communion meditation: “If you’re a believer in Christ, we invite you to participate.” There’s no official check for membership or a communicant’s card. Just a simple question to be answered on your honor. Some denominations or branches of mainline denominations require you to be a member of the church. Others may even suggest you’re committing heresy or blasphemy if you take communion in a church where you’re not a member.

The variety in how communion or the eucharist is handled in the modern church concerns me. Communion should be about what Jesus accomplished on the cross, not about your personal affiliation with a particular church. In that early blog article, A Truly Open Communion?, I asked the question this way:

If Jesus calls sinners to himself and eats with them; if Jesus broke bread at the Last Supper with a table full of betrayers and deserters; if Jesus can feed 5,000 men in addition to the women and children with just a few loaves of bread and some fish; why do many churches officially prohibit the Lord’s Table (communion, Eucharist) from those who are not professed Christ-followers, or worse, from those professed Christ-followers who are struggling with sin or divorce or other problems?

Should we really be denying or discouraging those who come to church looking for forgiveness and a connection to the body of Christ the very elements that Jesus uses to signify those things—the bread and the cup? Author John Mark Hicks says this in talking about communion as a “missional table”:

The table is a place where Jesus receives sinners and confronts the righteous; a place where Jesus extends grace to seekers but condemns the self-righteous. Jesus is willing to eat with sinners in order to invite them into the kingdom, but he points out the discontinuity between humanity’s tables…and the table in the kingdom of God.[3]

The implication here is that Jesus is in our midst in a special way, I think, not just because “two or three are gathered in his name,” but because we are doing this “in remembrance” of Jesus. The Old Testament concept of “remembering” is what is key here. In the Old Testament, when the writer says something like, “Then God remembered his promise to Abraham” or “Then God remembered his covenant with Israel,” this not God just calling a set of facts to mind. When God remembers like this, he also acts, and usually in a mighty way.

So when we remember, I believe it is also a call to action on our part, to be empowered by the presence of the Holy Spirit in that moment to make a commitment to action for the days that follow. It’s similar to what Jesus says in the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5:23–24): “Therefore, if you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there in front of the altar. First go and be reconciled to them; then come and offer your gift.”[4] By his blood we are forgiven and cleansed to start afresh. By remembering Christ, we are empowered to go out and serve.

As we come to today’s gospel passage again, we find ourselves at the end of the dining part of the Last Supper gathering. Jesus wants this time to be memorable for his disciples, because he tells them this is the last time they’re going to have any meaningful contact with him, at least in his earthly form. John makes a point of saying “When [Judas] was gone,” Jesus began delivering his final instructions, his “action plan” if you will, to give them assurance that they will have the guidance of the Holy Spirit after his death, burial, resurrection, and ascension. All of the elements leading up to his crucifixion have been set in motion, and there’s no turning back now.

That is why Jesus can say, “Now the Son of Man is glorified and God is glorified in him.” He knows what is about to happen. Although Jesus will experience many strong emotions, including betrayal, abandonment, and those associated with excruciating pain, he knows the end result will benefit all mankind for eternity. It’s the day he prepared for but perhaps had hoped would never come, or at least had hoped he would not have to endure alone. He knows the days ahead will be difficult, so he gives them a new command.

“Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another” (John 13:34).

That word “as” carries a huge load with it. It’s not the regular word for “as” in Greek, which is also a two-letter word. The word John uses is a compound word that has the sense of its root words: “love one another according to the way I loved you.” The theme of this new command is found in a few other verses in this part of John, as well as in Luke 6:31: “Treat others according to the way you want to be treated.” “Love” is less about a feeling and more about action. Earlier in John 13, Jesus says, “I have set you an example that you should act toward others according to the way I have acted toward you.” In 15:9, he says, “I have loved you according to the way the Father has loved me,” and then repeats the command from John 13 a few verses later.

Showing this radical, sacrificial, agape kind of love that expects nothing in return is how we show the world we are Jesus followers. It calls us in some cases to reach out beyond our comfort zones and to be hospitable and welcoming to strangers. The author of Hebrews exhorts us in this way in 13:1: “Keep on loving one another as brothers and sisters. Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it.”[5] We could all use an angel in our lives from time to time, right? The first chapter of Hebrews (1:14) mentions the function of angels: “Are not all angels ministering spirits sent to serve those who will inherit salvation?”[6] God uses angels, in conjunction with the Holy Spirit, to empower and enable us to show love to others. But I digress just a bit.

God demonstrated his great love for us in Jesus through his life among us, his crucifixion, and his resurrection. I want to bring in the last couple verses of our reading from Psalm 148 this morning, because it is one of the foundational prophecies that show us what the Israelites expected of the Messiah, and Jesus proved faithful to that promise:

13 Let them praise the name of the Lord,

for his name alone is exalted;

his splendor is above the earth and the heavens.

14 And he has raised up for his people a horn, k

the praise of all his faithful servants,

of Israel, the people close to his heart.

Praise the Lord. [7]

Jesus is our horn, the strength that we need to endure each day. Let us continue to hold fast to our Savior so that the world will know him, his salvation, and the power and love of God Almighty. Amen!


[1] The New International Version. 2011. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan.

[2] The New International Version. 2011. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan.

[3] Hicks, John Mark. “The Lord’s Supper as Eschatological Table” in Evangelicalism and the Stone-Campbell Movement, Volume 2: Engaging Basic Christian Doctrine. William R. Baker, ed. Abilene: ACU Press, 2006.

[4] The New International Version. 2011. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan.

[5] The New International Version. 2011. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan.

[6] The New International Version. 2011. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan.

[7] The New International Version. 2011. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan.

February 21, 2011

εἰς ἄφεσιν ἁμαρτιῶν (eis aphesin hamartiōn, ‘for the forgiveness of sins’)

From February 13, 2011.

For centuries, scholars have debated the significance of Jesus’ words in the Gospels’ descriptions of the Lord’s Table, or what other traditions call “communion” or “eucharist.” The four short verses in Matthew have quite a bit to unpack, and I will not be able to do them justice here, but I do want to highlight a few things. The parallel passages are Matthew 26:26–30, Mark 14:22–26; Luke 22:15–20; John 13 has a very different account of that last night with the disciples.

First, Jesus treats the bread and cup differently, at least in Matthew’s and Mark’s accounts. Both of those Gospel writers say that Jesus “blessed” (εὐλογέω, eulogeō) the bread (reminiscent of Matthew 14:19, the feeding of the 5,000), but he “gave thanks” (εὐχαριστέω, eucharisteō) for the cup. Luke says in his account that Jesus “gave thanks” for both.

Second, Jesus does break the bread when he blesses it, and he does say, “This is my body,” but nowhere in any Gospel account does he say, “This is my body, broken for you.” That final phrase is found in some manuscripts (MSS) of the account in 1 Corinthians 11:24, but those MSS do not carry the same historic or epigraphic weight as those that do not have the phrase, so you will not find it in most contemporary English Bibles.

Third, when Jesus takes the cup, Matthew and Luke (Paul follows Luke in 1 Corinthians) have slightly different versions of what Jesus said, but not necessarily contradictory. Matthew records Jesus’ words as, “This is my blood of the covenant.” But that could be rendered a couple different ways depending on how one understands the “my” (μου, mou) in that verse.

In Matthew 16:18, when Jesus says, “I will build my church,” the μου comes before the Greek word translated “church.” So it is possible to render Matthew 26:28 similarly: “This is the blood of my covenant.” In Greek grammar, μου, as genitive pronoun, could also indicate source: “This is the blood from me of the covenant,” anticipating his very next words after that, “which is poured out for many.” However, I think the best explanation, though, is that μου comes between “blood” and “covenant” because it applies to both: “This is my blood of my covenant.”

Luke’s (and Paul’s parallel) account is slightly different, perhaps reflecting the liturgy that had developed among the congregations at the time: “This cup is the new covenant in my blood.” The significance here is that Luke and Paul both make the connection between the covenant and the blood, just as Matthew does.

But finally, I think the most significant aspect of this passage, particularly in Matthew’s account, is the final phrase in Matthew 26:28: εἰς ἄφεσιν ἁμαρτιῶν (eis aphesin hamartiōn, ‘for the forgiveness of sins’). The almost identical phrase is found in Acts 2:38, except it adds the definite article with “sins” along with the possessive pronoun “your”: “Repent, and let each one of you be immersed in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins.”

The connection between immersion and forgiveness has been downplayed by many. My own background, Independent Christian Church/Church of Christ, has, I think, made the best sense of this verse: The preposition εἰς generally implies motion “into” some place or state of being. Bringing Romans 6 and 1 Peter 3:21 into the mix, I believe we get the full counsel of Scripture on this topic. Here’s the logic as I see it:

  1. John immersed with water for repentance, and Jesus was obedient to that immersion (Matthew 3:11–17).
  2. Jesus says his blood is poured out “for the forgiveness of sins” (Matthew 26:28);
  3. Peter commands the crowd, “Repent and let each one of you be immersed for the forgiveness of your sins” (Acts 2:38; ties together John’s immersion philosophy and Jesus’ blood);
  4. Paul makes the connection between immersion and the death of Jesus, i.e., the pouring out of his blood at the cross; the water is important as a “signification” of burial (Romans 6:1–10);
  5. Peter says that immersion saves, but by the power of the resurrection, not by the power of the water; the water is still important, because without it, you can’t be immersed (1 Peter 3:21).

So there seems to be trend as you read from Matthew to Revelation to heighten increasingly the significance of immersion. In fact, immersion is a “signification,” not just a symbol, of forgiveness and salvation, not just an optional exercise or an outward show. Everything about immersion in the Scriptures indicates that some inward transformation is occurring. At the very least, it is commanded, so it can’t be optional, regardless of what else you may think of immersion. On the other hand, when the people in Acts understood the significance of immersion, they didn’t hesitate to get it done (e.g., Acts 8:36–38, 9:16, et passim). That should suggest something about how it was presented in the early days of the church.

Some scholars have tried to argue that the phrase in Acts 2:38 should be understood “in reference to the forgiveness of your sins,” implying that immersion is a response to forgiveness already received. I would like to know how those scholars would apply that translation to Matthew 26:28. Do they really want to say Jesus’ shed blood was only “in reference to the forgiveness of sins”? I don’t think even the most stubborn evangelical scholars would want to downplay the blood of Christ to that extent.

Peace!

For further reference, see sense 2 of the meaning of “signification” in Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary.

A Truly Open Communion?

Today is President’s Day, so I have the day off and the opportunity to record some of my thoughts in writing again. Today, I read Mark 2, and God reminded me of an issue that is very close to my heart. I realize I may stir up a hornet’s nest with this as well, but here it goes.

In Mark 2:13–17, Jesus calls Levi (aka Matthew) from his tax collector booth to follow him. Levi takes Jesus home and organizes a meal for him and many other “tax collectors and sinners.” Mark tells us in this pericope (puh RIK uh pee; fancy theological word for “story”) that Jesus already had a large following, including the Scribes and Pharisees, who were criticizing his every move.

True to form, the Scribes and Pharisees question Jesus’ disciples (note they don’t ask Jesus directly): “Why does he [Jesus] eat with tax collectors and sinners?” But Jesus, always in the know, calls them on the carpet: “The strong have no need of a doctor, but those having sickness [do]. I did not come to call the righteous, but sinners.”

Here is the question I have that gets at the heart of something I’ve been studying for the past few years: If Jesus calls sinners to himself and eats with them, if Jesus broke bread at the Last Supper with a table full of betrayers and deserters, if Jesus can feed 5000 men in addition to the women and children with just a few loaves of bread and some fish, why do many churches officially prohibit the Lord’s Table (communion, Eucharist) from those who are not professed Christ-followers, or worse, from those professed Christ-followers who are struggling with sin or divorce or other problems? (The latter tends to happen in congregations that have a very legalistic or ritualistic view of communion/Eucharist; some Catholic traditions deny the Eucharist to the divorced.)

Our Sunday school class just finished a series of lessons on the Good Samaritan and how that story should call us to social justice in many areas that the contemporary church ignores. Our final lesson yesterday was on loving the forsaken. I asked myself this same question during the video portion of the lesson, but didn’t get to raise the issue in class. Are we neglecting an opportunity for the Lord to minister to the lost by restricting communion?

Think about it: Jesus knows his disciples will betray him and desert him, yet he still offers up his blood “for the forgiveness of sins.” Jesus, the one who healed us by his stripes, says the sick need healing. In Evangelicalism and the Stone Campbell Movement, vol. 2, John Mark Hicks tells the true story of an 18th-century Scottish preacher who, when approached by a “seeker” who asked if she could take communion, told her, “Tak’ it; it’s for sinners.”

The bread and the cup are a signification (there I go using that word again) of the salvation we have in Jesus. How healing would it be for sinners, the disenfranchised, the prisoners, the divorced, etc., to “taste and see that the Lord is good” by partaking in that salvation event for themselves? This is not to say that taking communion saves you in the same way that I have spoken of immersion in my previous notes, but it does prefigure that salvation event for the one seeking forgiveness and restoration.

And it is, after all, the Lord’s Table, not ours, so who are we to uninvite those whom the Lord has invited?

I can’t speak for other congregations, but I would like to encourage my friends, especially my pastor friends, to rethink how they understand and present the Lord’s Table to their respective congregations and to those to whom they are ministering. The Lord’s Table is a powerful evangelistic element of our services, and as such, it should be completely open to all, regardless of their faith profession or background.

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