Blessing the Wine: An ancient Jewish tradition sheds light on Jesus' last supper

Many Christian churches still follow the ancient practice of blessing the wine for communion. We trace our practice back to what Jesus did when he celebrated his last supper:

And he took the cup, and gave thanks ... (Matthew 26:27)
And he took the cup, and when he had given thanks, he gave it to them (Mark 14:23)
And he took the cup, and gave thanks ... (Luke 22:17)

The gospels do not go into exact details on what was involved in blessing the wine. We can see that the blessing was a hands-on action that required taking the cup in hand and giving thanks, but we know little more than that directly from the Scriptures.

An ancient Jewish source, the Talmud, goes into details on what went into a Jewish blessing over wine. Some of the instructions seem obscure to us today, for instance: the one who blesses is wrapped, possibly in a robe.* Some of the instructions seem obvious, for instance: the cup is washed / rinsed. And some of the instructions have been passed along to this day:

'It is taken in both hands': R. Hinena b. Papa said: What is the Scriptural warrant for this? -- Lift up your hands in holiness and bless the Lord. [Psalm 134:2] (Berachoth 51a)

'He raises it a handbreadth from the ground': R. Aha b. Hanina said: What Scriptural text have we for this? -- I will lift up the cup of salvation and call upon the name of the Lord. [Psalm 116:13] (Berachoth 51b)

Compare those ancient Jewish instructions to some modern Christian instructions on how a priest is to bless the wine:

He returns to the middle of the altar, takes the chalice with both hands, raises it a little, and says quietly: Benedictus es, Domine (Blessed are you, Lord). (from p. 40, item 142)

There are other parts of blessing the wine mentioned in the Talmud as well: the one who blesses fixes his eyes on the cup, and after the wine is blessed, it is passed around to the members of the household. These are also familiar to many Christians from our own worship services.

This practice is not limited to Roman Catholics; steps just like these are followed by a variety of Christian groups around the world. Those words and gestures are following a pattern inherited from Judaism and passed down through the ages. They may well reflect Jesus' own actions that last night. While some parts of the practice may have dropped out -- such as being wrapped in a robe -- those parts that have survived are still clearly recognizable after roughly two thousand years.

As for the history of the liturgy -- the ancient form of worship celebrated in mainstream churches -- most parts of that liturgy have names in Latin, such as the Benedictus and the Nunc Dimittis. Just a few parts of the worship service are known even in Western churches by their Greek names. Greek was used earlier in the church than Latin, so it's likely that the parts that have kept their Greek names are among the most ancient parts: the Kyrie and the Eucharist.

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* On the robe part, the Talmud mentions a disagreement on whether that was necessary. I also did not see any Scriptural warrant cited for the practice, unlike some of the others.

The baptism with which he was baptized

Remember when Jesus was headed to Jerusalem, knowing he was about to be executed? And along the way the disciples had the wrong expectation. They seemed to think that visit to Jerusalem was going to be the beginning of the Last Day. This was going to be the beginning of the Golden Age. King Messiah was coming into his own -- and they were his first, most loyal followers. They argued amongst themselves about who was the greatest. Some even came privately, jockeying for position, nominating themselves to sit at Jesus' right hand and left hand in the Kingdom. His answer was not encouraging:

Can you drink the cup I am going to drink, or be baptized with the baptism with which I will be baptized? (Jesus, to the self-promoters and would-be rulers)

When Jesus had first called them, he said, "Follow me." But as the last journey to Jerusalem got nearer, he said: "Take up your cross and follow me."

If we follow Jesus, at first we may be like the disciples -- that is, not really understanding it about Jesus' death, and jockeying for position and recognition. Or when we see the cross, we may be like the mourners who watched. But eventually the day comes when we end up less like the mourners and more like the thief who was crucified next to him. That's not a bad thing. That's the only one to whom he said, "Today you will be with me in paradise."

Utopia vs Eden

I think it's hardwired into who we are, as people, to try to create a paradise. It's the ultimate imitation of God: as he creates a paradise, so we try to create a paradise. Our own efforts may be small: maybe it's a home or a classroom or a garden. Maybe it's a holiday dinner, a summer vacation, a Sabbath -- or some other temporary paradise. Maybe it's a work of art or music.

The ambitious try to create paradise on grand political scales: cities, states, nations -- even the whole world. A big, ambitious paradise can only work if everyone works together. So it quickly seeks legal authority to make people cooperate. If we agreed on what was good and right, there would be no need to force other people to conform. And so the big, ambitious schemes usually come to that point sooner or later, where they go into the business of identifying opponents to be oppressed, discredited, and neutralized. We find that the "paradise" has come with its own ruler, a kind of god (or idol), and a system of values that must not be questioned, along with the laws to promote those values. Hitler, Lenin, Stalin, Castro, Mao, Pol Pot ... are there more? They were all, in their own minds, the heroes leading in the glorious new age, though history is tending to remember them as butchers. How many times did that pattern play out in the 20th century alone? In previous centuries there were other figures, both religious and anti-religious, who tried to create paradise on earth at any price, and likewise became tyrants in a reign of terror. If we can't agree on what is good, then attaining that "good" requires oppressing those with different ideas; whatever else you may call it, it will never be a paradise; there will never even be justice.

They say that "Utopia" is the ancient Greek word for "Nowhere". It has never lasted; in many cases it has never worked at all. In stories, there are so many tales of a utopia gone wrong. In history, there are so many accounts of good intentions, good beginnings, and bad endings.

In Eden, we see some of the same themes: a paradise lost. We see how different ways of deciding "What makes something good or evil?" made the whole thing fall apart -- and involved the question of who was really in charge. But in Eden, that is told without the oppression, and without the reign of terror. There was just a sad ending: as long as there were disagreements about what is right, and what is wrong, and who is in charge -- it can't last. That wisdom has escaped us. That "tree of life" that would make it last forever remains out of reach.

Norton Anti-Virus for the Soul

Yesterday morning as the first day of Lent began, I remembered the plan I had made the night before: Since I hadn't yet decided what to give up for Lent, I would then focus on ridding my life of the first sin I did the next day. I figured the first sin of the day is probably something habitual, so it would be a fine choice.

Naturally I wasn't even out of bed yet before my first thought went astray. It was harshness, a kind of self-directed bitterness. Sure, I've been in the middle of yet one more ridiculous busy season at work. But it was getting to me. The thoughts inside my own head were turning nasty. I told myself, "It's no use job-hunting: even if I succeeded in finding something else in this economy, the only thing that would change would be the name of the person whose unreasonable demands I'd have to satisfy." (Content warning, obviously. Not healthy thoughts.) There were a dozen more trains of thought, regularly occurring, that were just as nasty if not worse. "It's just a way of venting" I told myself. But it was a way that made the frustration worse by adding hopelessness and resentment to everything else going on.

"Get rid of all bitterness, anger, rage ... malice ..." (Eph 4:31)

"The things that come out of the mouth come forth from the heart and defile a person." (Matt 15:18)

"Out of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks." (Luke 6:15)

And so Lent is starting out like running an anti-virus on my mind. I've identified several repeated trains of thought that are now stopped in their tracks before they really get going. I suppose those problems are "isolated" but not yet "removed". And so Lent becomes my idle-time scan, to get rid of some of the harmful things in my mind.

I'm not proud of the problems, but I'll say this: I've noticed an improvement already in the atmosphere inside my mind.

Essential Bible verses on forgiveness

1. Blessed is the one whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered. (Psalm 32:2)
   
2. If we confess our sins, God is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness. (1 John 1:9)
   
3. The LORD forgives all your sins, and heals all your diseases. (Ps 103:3)
   
4. As far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us. (Psalm 103:12)
   
5. Look, the lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. (John 1:29)
   
6. There is more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous who had no need to repent. (Luke 15:7)
   
7. And he took the cup, and gave thanks, and gave it to them, saying, "Drink of it, all of you. For this is my blood of the new covenant, which is shed for many for the forgiveness of sins." (Matthew 26:28)
   
8. If God is for us, who can be against us? (Romans 8:31)
   
9. There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. (Romans 8:1)
   
10. The Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins.(Matthew 9:6)
    
11. Take heart, your sins are forgiven. (Matthew 9:2)
    
12. Neither do I condemn you. Go and sin no more. (John 8:11)

Moral Gerrymandering

In politics, a district is said to be "gerrymandered" if the people drawing the district lines have made improbable twists and turns solely to favor their own position and give an outcome more favorable to their own partisan interests. Generally, there is no identifiable reason for the final results other than the electoral advantage they give to the persons who are using their legal authority to give themselves an advantage -- and to put their opponents at a disadvantage.

The same effect takes place in morality. Often, "right" and "wrong" are gerrymandered in favor of each person's perspective. "Right" -- what is "in bounds" -- may mean nothing more than "the set of goals or virtues I am pursuing"; "wrong" may mean nothing more than "the things that really bother me, or that my opponents do" -- those are out of bounds. The problem, again, is that it's self-serving and partisan. (Can anything like that possibly be genuinely moral?) It is a truly rare situation in which all the good is on one side. More typical is that each side has gerrymandered "good" and "evil".

The original "gerrymander" -- the one that inspired the name, looked a little like a salamander. When we gerrymander good and evil, what does the picture look like? The lines we draw for "good" are typically a flattering self-portrait, and our picture of "evil" becomes a caricature of our enemies -- often a malicious one.

And in that fatal move, morality loses all its power to transform us, to guide us, to heal us, or to inspire us. It loses its power to win over our opponents. Gerrymandered morality is impotent. Morality can only transform us when it is an image that is better than we are -- that is, the image of God.

What makes a blog a Christian blog? Or a sermon a Christian sermon?

I have been pondering for some time, "What makes a blog a Christian blog?" and a related question, "What makes a sermon a Christian sermon?" There are many blogs written by Christian laymen and women that I consider good Christian blogs -- and others written by pastors or theology professors that don't seem Christian. And of course vice versa, though that one is hardly a surprise. So the question had been on my mind.

I asked for the thoughts of long-time blog-neighbor Martin LaBar because he has written about similar subjects. He was kind enough to respond at length:

On what makes a blog Christian:

• A Christian blog must glorify God
  
• A Christian blog must be excellent
  
• A Christian blog treats readers, commenters, sources [and, I'd add, opponents] the way the author would want to be treated, and the way Christ would treat them

On what makes a sermon Christian:

A Christian sermon is a discourse, relating to or derived from Jesus or Jesus's teachings.

Many thanks to Martin for lending some insightful thoughts. What would you all add? Do you all struggle with similar thoughts and questions?