Matthew 26:27

At the Last Supper — the final meal Jesus shared with his twelve closest followers the night before his arrest and crucifixion — Jesus took a cup of wine, gave thanks, and passed it around the table. This meal was rooted in the Jewish Passover tradition, an annual celebration of God rescuing the Israelite people from slavery in Egypt. Jesus was reinterpreting that ancient meal, pointing toward his own death as a new kind of rescue. The single word "all" carries enormous weight here — no one at the table was excluded, not even Judas, who would betray Jesus just hours later. It was a wide-open invitation, not a selective one.

Lord, thank you for a table that was never meant to be exclusive. When I feel unworthy to sit at it, remind me that you said "all." Teach me to receive your cup with both hands — and to pass that same open grace to the people already around me. Amen.

The night before the cross, Jesus gave thanks. Not for what was coming — the betrayal, the arrest, the hours of suffering that lay ahead — but perhaps for the people around that table. For the meal itself. For the moment. There is something almost unbearable about that gratitude, offered right at the edge of the storm. And then he said "all of you." Not the loyal ones. Not the spiritually mature ones. Not the ones who would manage to stay awake in the garden when he needed them most. All of them. Judas was in that room. When did you last avoid a table — literal or metaphorical — because you felt like you didn't quite belong there? Jesus doesn't curate his guest list by merit or track record. He offers the cup wide open. The question has never been whether you are good enough to receive it. The question is simply whether you are willing to reach out your hands and drink.