First Corinthians 11:17–22.

In the following directives Paul said, I have no praise for you … he has only condemnation, of all things, the Lord’s Supper.

In the ancient Roman world, they ran on a 10-day week. In the Jewish world, they ran on a seven-day week, but in the Roman world, for much of the time that we know of, they ran on a 10-day week. That meant that Christians who met on the first day of the week on a Jewish cycle were necessarily competing with the off days of the 10-day cycle for most of their Lord’s Day celebrations. This is one of the reasons why the early church tended to meet very early in the morning and very late at night.

So if they were meeting late at night, you can guess what happened. Those who were independently wealthy could show up at any old time. They didn’t have quite the clock accuracy that we have today, but they were independently wealthy and could show up at two or three in the afternoon, or whatever. They would bring along their sandwiches, their prawn cocktails, their caviar, and a bottle of Beaujolais, and they would have some fellowship together.

Then, of course, a little later on, you’d get the independent business people, who could knock off a little early, and then the freedmen: ex-slaves, workers, and citizens who were not slaves or bound in any way. Maybe they could get there at seven.

Then, of course, there were the slaves. When could they get there?

Well, it depends on what kind of slave. In the ancient world, slaves could be almost anything. They could be learned private tutors who could presumably knock off a little earlier, but some slaves were manual workers, or maybe they were the slaves who had to put out the cat before going to bed, and they could only get there right at the very end. Whereas others had brought their chicken sandwiches and stale crusts and so on, when the lowest of the slaves showed up, they couldn’t bring anything.

By this time, of course, the fellowship is in pretty good heart. They decided to meet for a whole meal together before they actually got to that which the Lord himself had commanded: a small rite with bread and wine. Now there’s a whole meal together, at least for those who get there early. So you have a description of what takes place. “When you come together, it is not the Lord’s Supper you eat …” No siree, you’re enjoying your cocktails and your caviar.

“… as you eat, each of you goes ahead without waiting for anybody else. One remains hungry …” The people who get there last. “… and another gets drunk.” Now you come to the part of the service where you actually have the Lord’s Supper. Where is the unity in all of this? “Don’t you have homes to eat and drink in?” The Lord’s Supper isn’t primarily about satisfying your physical needs. That’s not what it’s about.

“Do you despise the church of God by this? Humiliate those people who come and don’t have anything?” Paul is blistering. “What shall I say to you? Shall I praise you for this? God forbid, certainly not!” Then by the end of his discussion, he comes up again, in verse 13, “So then, my brothers, when you come together to eat, wait for each other. If anyone is hungry, he should eat at home, so that when you may meet together it may not result in judgment.”

Then by the end of his discussion, “So then, my brothers, when you come together to eat, wait for each other. If anyone is hungry, he should eat at home, so that when you may meet together it may not result in judgment.”
He gets rid of all of this “table fellowship,” if all it’s going to do is generate more animosity, resentments, bitterness, feelings of superiority and inferiority, inclusion, and exclusion.

This rite that is supposed to be a center point of Christian unity has become the focal point for division!

Now we don’t have exactly the same problems today. But, on the other hand, we come together nurturing all kinds of resentments and miserable attitudes, one toward another, it’s pretty difficult to see how this central rite of the church, the only ongoing, enduring rite that Jesus gave, the only repeated rite that Jesus gave …

The whole emphasis here is that this religious act circumscribes us, defines us, and constitutes us a one-fellowship people of God, bound up with this rite,

It is not suggesting that we somehow ingest Christ or ingest Christ’s blood and somehow, thereby, participate in him. That is a problem of English translation. It is simply not what the text says. We are a fellowship of the blood of Christ. We are the fellowship of the blood of Christ. We are the fellowship of the body of Christ. It is a rite that serves as a center and symbol of Christian unity.

The Lord’s Supper is a time to remember.

First Corinthians 11:23–25: “I received from the Lord what I also passed on to you: The Lord Jesus, on the night he was betrayed, took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, ‘This is my body, which is for you; do this in remembrance of me.’ In the same way, after supper he took the cup, saying, ‘This cup is the new covenant in my blood; do this, whenever you drink it, in remembrance of me.’ ”
the institution of the Lord’s Supper was built off the Passover rites. The Israelites gathered year by year, once a year, to remember, on the appropriate date, the Passover. What did they do? They remembered. By remembering, it was a kind of covenantal renewal.

They remembered when the Lord had passed over the people of Israel in Egypt who had put blood on the doorposts and on the lintel. The angel of destruction passed over the people, and the people were spared while the firstborn of all those not protected by the blood was killed. Then the people of God exited from Egypt, crossed the Red Sea, and became a fledgling nation in the wilderness on their way toward the Promised Land. Year by year, year by year, they celebrated the Passover and remembered.

All of the things that we must do as a church, buildings, etc, are legitimate things, but somewhere, along the line, the cross is so far back in the background, sort of taken for granted, but it isn’t at the pulsating center anymore.

Probably one of the most shocking paragraphs in all of the New Testament is here. There is Jesus on the night of his betrayal, the day before he goes to the cross. He has to tell his followers … as he is about to die for them and suffer the most horrible shame and the curse of his Father in unimaginable agony that they might be forgiven

He tells them, “Don’t forget me. Do this in remembrance of me.” Yet if we’ve been Christians for a while and know ourselves at all, we know how easy it is to forget? “

The old Passover remembered the old covenant. It was linked to the old covenant. Now Jesus says, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood.” This is a rite, like the old rite, that remembers the inauguration of the new covenant in the same way the Passover remembered the inauguration of the old covenant. From Jeremiah 31 on, six centuries before Christ, the prophets had looked forward to the dawning of a new covenant.

In this new covenant there would be ample forgiveness of sins for all the people of God, finally dealing with sins; the pouring out of his Spirit upon men and women so that they would all know him within that covenant, from the least to the greatest; and no longer any mediating priests or mediating kings or mediating prophets. It would be a new covenant in which God stamps his law on their hearts. It would all be secured, finally, by Christ’s death. He inaugurates it now, as he goes to the cross, and he says, “Do this in remembrance of me.”

Within that framework, if you put yourself in the disciples’ place, he takes the bread (they still don’t really understand much about the cross; they certainly don’t understand the resurrection) and he breaks it. He says, “Do this in remembrance of me.” He takes the cup and drinks it, and he says, “Do this in remembrance of me.” This inaugurates the new covenant. They don’t really know what’s going on. Then he dies. Three days later, he rises again. He talks with them for weeks before he finally ascends and leaves them behind.

Now so many of the pieces come together, and they reflect on that night when he said, “This is my body which is broken for you.” In the light of their witness of the cross, in the light of what they saw on Calvary, in the light of the night when they fled Golgotha, do you really think they focused all their energy, then, on the bread? I don’t think the first Christians could understand it in any other way than a symbol-laden act akin to the symbol-laden act of the Passover.

They didn’t look back to the bread.

They looked back to the cross and remembered that on the night before Jesus had actually died … just as the Passover feast was celebrated before they actually got out of Egypt, in anticipation, in an act that they would only understand afterward.… Jesus instituted a rite, which was to be remembered again and again and again. “Do this in remembrance of me.” It was to point to Christ’s broken body. It was to point to his shed blood. It was to force them, in a simple rite endlessly repeated, to remember.

The Lord’s Supper is a proclamation of Christ’s death.

First Corinthians 11:26: “For whenever you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.” in some churches, is invite everybody who is not a member or anybody who is not a Christian to leave now.
It is for Christians only, but apparently, in the ancient church, it was also an opportunity to proclaim Christ. It became a kind of visible word. It was a proclamation of something.

Now if you’re not a Christian, don’t take the elements. It’s a kind of contradiction in terms for you to say, ‘I remember,’ when you don’t remember. You don’t know the Lord. You ought to watch, however, how Christians think about the death of Christ and want to be drawn back to that death again and again, on which they fasten all their hopes for reconciliation to God, for the removal of their sins, for forgiveness, and for their hope of eternal life.

It thus becomes a kind of visible proclamation to unbelievers who are present.

The Lord’s Supper is a temporary ordinance.

We read, again in verse 26 that we are to do this until he comes. A little later on in the history of the people of Israel … after the experience of the exodus and then, eventually, the experience of the exile where the people were scattered all over the world … they incorporated into their Passover rite these words: “Next year in Jerusalem. Next year in Jerusalem. Next year in Jerusalem. Next year in Jerusalem.”

There is a sense in which we say, “Until he comes. Until he comes. Until he comes.” For, in the new heaven and the new earth, we are not going to be celebrating the Lord’s Supper anymore. Will we then have to be reminded of the wounds of the Lord? Will we then have to remember his death?

“Until he comes. Until he comes.” It is a temporary ordinance.

The Lord’s Supper provides for us a regular opportunity for spiritual and moral

self-examination.

First Corinthians 11:27–29: “Therefore, whoever eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be guilty of sinning against the body and blood of the Lord.” Now it is very important to recognize that “in an unworthy manner” describes the approach.

This does not say, “Therefore, whoever eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord and is unworthy …” It doesn’t say that. It says, “Therefore, whoever eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner …” What is an unworthy manner? it is saying, “I remember the death of the Lord, his broken body on my behalf, offered up to pay for my sin,” while I am nurturing all kinds of sin within. That’s an unworthy manner. It’s essentially deceit and lies. It’s an unworthy approach.

I can never be worthy of the body and blood of Christ, but a worthy manner of approach is full of contrition and self-examination. That’s what the text goes on to say. “A man ought, therefore, to examine himself before he eats of the bread and drinks of the cup.” Failing to do this, we’re told in verse 27, makes a person guilty of sinning against the body and blood of the Lord.

The Lord hung on the cross. He hung on the cross for you, and you remember while you nurture all this sin? You’re sinning against Christ’s body. You’re sinning against the cross. You’re sinning against his sacrifice. You say you remember, and you spit in his face by nurturing your sin. That’s what’s going on here.

“A man ought to examine himself, therefore, before he eats of the bread and drinks of the cup. For anyone who eats and drinks without recognizing the body of the Lord …” That is, recognizing the body of the Lord that is being remembered by this rite. “… eats and drinks judgment on himself.” In other words, this rite is meant to be a call to self-examination and repentance.

I am not saying that we can approach the Table sinlessly perfect, or something like that. That would be a question of making us worthy. That’s not the issue. The question is the manner of our approach. The manner of approach must be self-examination and confession of sin. Otherwise the rite itself becomes not only a farce, but a blasphemous farce. We are claiming to remember that by which we are saved, while, in fact, deep in our lives, we prefer our sin.

The Lord’s Supper can be dangerous.

First Corinthians 11:30–32: “That is why …” That is, because some have not examined themselves. “… many among you, are weak and sick, and a number of you have fallen asleep. But if we judged ourselves, we would not come under judgment.

When we are judged by the Lord, we are being disciplined so that we will not be condemned with the world.”

Paul holds that at least some of the ailments in the congregation at Corinth are bound up with their nurtured sin while still they are approaching the Lord’s Table.

We should not be so foolish to think that every illness is the direct result of a particular sin, but we should not be so foolish to think, either, that it may not be. Look at Ananias and Sapphira.

When the Lord so withdraws that he lets the people of Israel in the Old Testament, or the church, go their way and says, in effect, “Well, if that’s the way you want it, go ahead,” and withdraws his chastening hand of judgment, as he withdraws his blessing, then a church descends into a kind of downward spiral of coldness, harshness, apathy, and death.

In this day of philosophical naturalism, we are not always prepared to recognize that spiritual failure may be met by God by actual illness and even death.

The worst thing that can happen to us is that he should not discipline us at all. That’s what this text says. It says, “When we are judged by the Lord, we are being disciplined so that we will not be condemned with the world.” It is a good thing to face some of the judgment of God.

God help the church where he just lets them go on their own way and there’s no judgment anywhere: no discipline, no judgment, nothing, no sanctions, do what you like! Pretty soon, you have a dead church. That means, then, that the Lord’s Table is a place that can be dangerous because we serve One who says, “I am the Lord. My glory I will not give to another.

The flip side of all of this, of course, lest we end up with just fear, is that this is a place, then, for remembering the boldness of access we have in Christ. Christ did die, and we remember.

Our sins are forgiven, and we remember. We are called to be children of the Living God, and we remember. We are heirs of the new covenant, and we remember. We remember. Amen.