From Death to Life in Upper Rooms

Text: Matt. 26:17-30

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

            When we look at Scripture, we can’t help but notice patterns. It’s a reward, in a way—the more time we spend in God’s Word, the more it reveals greater depths, fresh new light on ancient unchanging truths. We’ve spent this Lent looking at the resurrections in Scripture and we can’t help but notice recurring patterns, details that shine through the more we look at each account. And a rather striking detail that emerged as we’ve gone through those passages, as we’ve drawn closer to this evening, the night when our Lord Jesus instituted the Lord’s Supper, is that so many of the resurrections in Scripture take place in an upper room.

            This indeed is a pattern that goes back even further than we realize. In her wisdom, gathered through the centuries, the Church on earth has recognized this by giving a particular set of readings for this evening. We heard in our Exodus reading about how Moses was instructed to take his brother Aaron, the high priest, along with Aaron’s sons, Nadab and Abihu, and seventy elders of Israel up the mountain. The time had come to meet their God who had led them out slavery in Egypt and seal the covenant with Him. Sealing it with the blood of the sacrifice, Moses took half the blood and threw it against the altar, signifying the Lord entering the covenant. The other half he threw onto the people of Israel themselves, binding them into it as well. “Behold the blood of the covenant that the Lord has made with you,” he declared to them.

            And then we have a great marvel. Moses, Aaron, Nadab, Abihu, and the seventy elders went up the mountain and there they saw the God of Israel. It was there, in the heights where heaven met earth, that they beheld God and ate and drank. A covenant meal was eaten in the presence of God, and He did not lay His hand on them, in that elevated place.

            Thus the pattern was established: Blood, covenant, meal, life with God above. The Lord dwelt among His people through the shed blood of the sacrifice and the breaking of bread. And yet, we can discern that something was not quite complete. For later Nadab and Abihu died. One by one the seventy elders of Israel met their mortal end. Aaron died. Even Moses himself died and was buried by the Lord. This covenant on the mountain couldn’t solve the problem of death. The sacrifices had to be repeated. The blood of bulls and sheep and goats couldn’t stop death. Something more was needed to complete it; something that could answer death.

            It was not God’s good pleasure to leave His people without hope though. He would answer the problem of death. For the centuries that passed, as Israel settled in their Promised Land, through their rises and falls, the Lord gave previews of what He would do. He sent prophets to speak His words of warning and promise. He sent them to instruct and call His people back to Himself as the source of all life. He even gave glimpses of His power over death—what He would do to death eventually. And strangely, these glimpses kept happening in upper rooms. Elevated places are where death is defeated.

            But notice that there’s a progression. Each time there’s an upper room, an higher place where death is defeated, God draws closer. When Elijah raises the widow of Zarephath’s son, he stretches himself over the boy and calls out to God. The life of the child came into him again and in that upper room the dead boy went from death to life. And then, when Elijah’s successor Elisha raised the Shunammite woman’s son who had unexpectedly died, we saw Elisha shut the door and prayed. Then, like his predecessor, he stretched himself over the boy, but with even closer contact. We read that it was mouth to mouth, eyes to eyes, hands to hands. God was drawing near to death, even touching it, before resurrecting the child. Then, when Elisha had died, we heard the strange account of when a burial was interrupted and a corpse was thrown quickly into Elisha’s tomb, and the moment the body touched Elisha’s bones, the dead man sprang back to life. It was contact with God’s anointed servant that brought life back to the dead; and that burial chamber, that tomb, became yet another elevated place of life. Centuries later, when faithful Tabitha died in Joppa, as recorded in the book of Acts, they laid her in an upper room, where the Apostle Peter came in, prayed, and spoke a word of command, “Tabitha, arise.” She opened her eyes and sat up, alive in that upper room, where the Church witnessed Christ’s ongoing power of life over death. And finally, last week, we heard of Jesus going into the house of Jairus, the ruler of the Capernaum synagogue, and also to the tomb of Lazarus, his beloved friend, and in those places, the private room and the grave, Jesus spoke to those who had fallen—tenderly, familiar, personal. And when Jesus spoke, death dissolved and they were raised. Running through all these upper rooms we see physical bodily contact of life touching death, we see intimate presence, we hear the Word of God. And then, wonder of wonders, we see resurrection—life restored.

            But tonight we reach the upper room, the place where all these other upper rooms, all these elevated spaces where life conquered death draw their resurrection power. It’s similar, yes—Jesus gathers with His disciples in an upper room furnished for them for the Passover, the celebration of going from slavery to freedom. But it’s also different. This time the One who raises the dead is Himself preparing to die. For five weeks we’ve been hearing about the bodies of the dead being brought to upper rooms, to burial chambers. But tonight, Jesus has the upper room prepared for Him. He’s not raising anyone else. He is instead offering Himself to die. The One who has raised all these dead is now going to die as a sacrifice. And this sacrifice, reaching backward in time to the prophets Elijah and Elisha, flowing backward into the resurrections performed by Jesus in His ministry, shooting forward into the future when the Apostles will raise the dead as a testimony to the Church—all of these resurrections we’ve been hearing about draw their power from this night, from this sacrifice. It’s only possible because of this night.

            The author of Hebrews has instructed us this evening: Christ “entered once for all into the holy places, not by means of the blood of goats and calves, but by means of his own blood… He has appeared once for all at the end of the ages to put away sin by the sacrifice of Himself.” So the widow of Zarephath’s son was raised by the power of this blood, poured out, shared with Christ’s Church on this night, but still so powerful that the sacrifice of it could reach back through the ages and raise this boy. The Shunammite’s son was raised by this offering of Jesus’ body and blood, planned before the foundation of the world. Tabitha was raised by the authority of life over death sealed by this covenant in Jesus’ body and blood. All resurrection power flows from the cross.            

            So in this upper room, when Jesus took bread, and after blessing it, broke it and gave it to the disciples, saying, “Take eat; this is my body”; and when He took the cup and blessed it, giving it to them saying, “This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins,” we can find the echo of Moses sprinkling God’s people with the blood of the covenant on the mountain. But this—what happens tonight—will never need to be repeated. This is the fulfillment of all that was leading up to it. This is the great upper room they’ve all been leaning forward to. This is the blood of God Himself sealing the promise of life over death.

            And just as we saw that physical bodily contact between the ones being raised and the ones performing the resurrection, in this Sacrament we see it in an even greater way. The body of Jesus, His true body, comes into contact with us, who are dead in our trespasses, so that His life would be given to us. His blood, present and real because of His Word, is given to us so that we would receive all the benefits of His sacrifice: the forgiveness of our sins, communion with Christ, healing, life everlasting. It’s not just a symbol; it’s not a sign of something greater still down the road. This is His body. This is His blood. This is receiving the One who touched death and purged it away, who spoke and sent death running, who died and rose again to share His resurrection with His people for all eternity.

            Tonight Jesus establishes the final upper room, to which you are called. Every time we receive His Supper, we’re receiving the promise He established there. And it’s there that His resurrection life flows to us. And that will be important, because tomorrow we face death head on—Jesus’ death and our own. We will have these continual reminders of our mortality, tomorrow and beyond. We will have sins always interrupting our life. We will have the world undermining our faith and hope. So we come to this upper room, this holy mountain, this altar, this place where life defeats death again and again, to receive the promise anew—to receive forgiveness, life, and salvation anew. Come to the Lord’s Supper and be forgiven. Be healed. Be raised from the death of your sins. Lift up the cup of salvation and call on the name of the Lord. In the name of Jesus, who gives us Himself in this Sacrament. Amen.