Sermon for April 2, 2026, Holy Thursday

Matthew 26:17-29 (Holy Thursday—The Way of Grace Series)

“Something New, Until All Things Are New”

Jeffrey Giibs, Exegetical Theology, Concordia Seminary, St. Louis

April 2, 2026

Grace, mercy, and Peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

Our text is the Gospel Reading from Matthew 26:

¹⁷ Now on the first day of Unleavened Bread the disciples came to Jesus, saying, “Where will you have us prepare for you to eat the Passover?” ¹⁸ He said, “Go into the city to a certain man and say to him, ‘The Teacher says, My time is at hand. I will keep the Passover at your house with my disciples.’” ¹⁹ And the disciples did as Jesus had directed them, and they prepared the Passover. ²⁰ When it was evening, he reclined at table with the twelve. ²¹ And as they were eating, he said, “Truly, I say to you, one of you will betray me.” ²² And they were very sorrowful and began to say to him one after another, “Is it I, Lord?” ²³ He answered, “He who has dipped his hand in the dish with me will betray me. ²⁴ The Son of Man goes as it is written of him, but woe to that man by whom the Son of Man is betrayed! It would have been better for that man if he had not been born.” ²⁵ Judas, who would betray him, answered, “Is it I, Rabbi?” He said to him, “You have said so.” ²⁶ Now as they were eating, Jesus took bread, and after blessing it broke it and gave it to the disciples, and said, “Take, eat; this is my body.” ²⁷ And he took a cup, and when he had given thanks he gave it to them, saying, “Drink of it, all of you, ²⁸ for this is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins. ²⁹ I tell you I will not drink again of this fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father’s kingdom.”

I’ll make a statement, and then I’ll explain it. Human beings like rituals. What do I mean by that? Well, rituals are patterns and celebrations that we observe time and time again, and they help to identify us, to reassure us, and to make sense of the world around us. Athletes have their pre-game “superstitions”—these are just rituals. Families have their seating arrangements at the dinner table, or traditions at Thanksgiving or Christmas—these are rituals. Little children love rituals—you always have to read that favorite book the same way, with the same tone of voice, every single time.

What happens when you break the pattern of a ritual? Well, you can have full-scale rebellion, that’s what can happen! There better be a good reason for it, that’s for sure. And for a while, there will be confusion and uncertainty. So, if you’re going to do something different, something new, you need to be sure you know what you’re doing.

The Passover festival was, for Jesus’ disciples, a ritual. We have every reason to believe that these followers had, every year, been part of this celebration that God instituted when he delivered the children of Israel from Egypt. No matter what else they were thinking, then, when Jesus asked them to prepare to celebrate the Passover, they expected a ritual. Even though Jesus had been telling them troubling things that they did not understand—troubling things about his rejection and suffering and death—this evening would be the old unchanging familiar ritual.

But no. There will be something new. In the middle of the danger, the uncertainty, the troubling prediction that one of the twelve will betray him, Jesus gives his disciples something new, a new gift that had never been given before. Something new that the disciples only understood later, but that once they did understand and believe, became a gift that would carry them into the future. This same gift comes to us every time we gather for the holy supper, to sustain and carry us into the future—until all things are made new.

Let’s put ourselves back into the events of that night long ago. We can’t know specifically what the disciples were thinking. Given their track record of not understanding what their Lord is up to, they may very well have been thinking, “At last, something normal—the Passover!” Even when sending them to prepare for this celebration, however, Jesus said something unusual. He said, “My time is near” (26:18). His time—his time to complete the work the Father had given him to do, and his time to give a gift, something NEW, until all things are made new. If the disciples thought that this Passover meal was going to be normal, they were soon shaken out of that way of thinking. Matthew writes, “And while they were eating, Jesus said, ‘Truly I say to you that one of you will betray me.’” What a shocking thing for Jesus to say! Passover was about how God had saved Israel long ago from their enemies—their enemies the Egyptians, their enemies “out there.” But now, Jesus says that the enemy is in here, right in that upper room, among the inner circle of the twelve.

The security and peace of the old ritual was gone. Whatever the disciples were thinking was shattered. The enemy is among us, one of us. And it’s even worse than they realize. The enemy is within us. The old salvation, as good and as important as it was, is not enough. A new relationship is needed, a new covenant is needed. And God will have to do it—because even among the circle of those who know Jesus best—one of them will betray him, and they will all fall away. Something new—that familiar night, Jesus made it clear that something new was needed, if there was to be forgiveness, if there was going to be a people of God, and people for God, people who are following Jesus.

So, somewhere during this familiar, old ritual, Jesus gave them an utterly unexpected gift. It’s not the kind of thing they could have been expecting. And it’s not a gift that they even understood, at least not at the moment. More than that—it’s not a gift that you or I can

understand or explain. It’s a gift that comes because of who Jesus is—God’s Son, with absolute authority to give the gifts he wants to give. It’s a gift that comes because of what Jesus said.

He said, “Take this bread, and eat it. This is my body.” Talk about something new! It’s not, “This reminds us of the bread of affliction, the bread of haste that our fathers had to eat when they left the land of Egypt.” It’s not just participating by faith in something that happened long ago. It is right now, amazing, miraculous, stunningly new. That night, Jesus’ body will be broken. With his own hand, he does something new. Take this bread and eat it. This is my body.

There’s more. Jesus took the cup of wine, and gave it to them, and something new happened, for the first time. That very night, Jesus would be betrayed, and his betrayal would mean his blood would be poured out to forgive sins. The old sacrifices were pointing forward to this all along. Now, the Son of God’s blood would flow, to bring cleansing and forgiveness for everyone. Jesus gave them the cup and said, “All of you, drink from it. This is my blood of a renewed and repaired relationship, a covenant between God and you all. I want you to believe this. This is my blood that is being poured out to forgive you.”

Long ago, that night when he was betrayed, Jesus gave a new gift. Yes, God was keeping old promises, but now, in the middle of that age-old Passover ritual, Jesus gave his disciples something new, a gift that would sustain them in their life as his disciples. Jesus’ body and blood would forgive them, as they believed his words in the days and years to come. Jesus’ body and blood would bind them together as a people—as his people—as together they learned that Christ was risen from the dead, and that he ascended into heaven, and that he was with them as they baptized and taught new disciples. He would be with them, and this new gift would also sustain them.

But there would be a time limit on this gift—Jesus said, “I will not drink of this fruit of the vine with you until I drink it anew in the reign of my Father.” One day, God will set the full feast, and unbridled banquet, and the whole creation will rejoice. One day, many will come from east and west and sit at table with Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, and Moses, David, Isaiah, and Paul and Peter and Augustine and Luther. God will offer the feast, and Jesus will be the host. On that day, all things will be made new, in heaven and on the earth.

This is what happened that night, so long ago. It was unexpected. It was new, a new gift from Christ, his body and blood to strengthen and forgive his disciples, to bind them together as one people. It was a new gift, until all things are made new. And all things are not yet fully made new—still there is sin and darkness and brokenness, as you know, as you feel, as you and I do.

Since the glory and the banquet are not fully here, this gift that Jesus gave long ago—this new gift—is here also for us. It is Christ’s new gift for us, until all things are made new.

This old, old story of what Christ gave his disciples—this story comes true again, right now,

among us. What we do today is not just a remembering, it’s not just a symbol, it’s not an echo of what Jesus did. What Jesus gave his disciples that night, he gives also to us. Do not ask how. Do not ask why, except to believe that he loves us and we need it!

Yes, indeed, we need this gift. It was not I back then, long ago, who betrayed the Lord, and it was not you. It was Judas, tragically turning away from his master to betray him unto death. It was not you. But it could have been I or you, or any one of us. The same seeds of uncertainty, of doubt, of cowardice live in me and in you, even as believers. Remember what we are taught to say: “O almighty God, I a poor, miserable sinner . . . .” That’s not talking about how you feel, emotionally. It’s an acknowledgement of a fact. Perhaps we should say, “O almighty God, I am still, even after all this time, a sinner . . . and I stand purely by your mercy, by your love, because of your support and strength and forgiveness. I have been afraid to follow you, Lord. I have spent whole days and weeks focused on where I wanted to go, and doing what I wanted to do. I have actually thought that my life was mine, instead of yours. I am no more deserving to be here, no more deserving of this new gift than the twelve were, huddled up there with you in that upper room.”

But just as Christ gave this new gift to them, so he gives today. Every time Christians gather to believe what Jesus said about this bread and wine, Jesus gives. We believe his words that tell us that our mouths eat his body and our mouths drink his blood. Our hearts believe that this gift is to forgive us and to bind us together with each other in him—because we are gathered here again today with our same old lives and our same old struggles in this same old tired and worn out world—Jesus gives a new gift, until all things are made new.

So our thirst is quenched—even as we thirst for living water that will never stop flowing. Our hunger is satisfied, again, even as we hunger for God to put the world right and to make us holy and loving and obedient children. Our stains are wiped away, even as we walk in a world stained with sin. We eat and drink together, as one people, even as we long for the day when all disciples will eat together at the table of the Lord. Because all things will be made new.

It was dark outside that night, long ago, and the disciples were troubled, afraid. They didn’t even recognize the new gift that Jesus was giving them. But after he rose from the dead, then they saw and believed. The new gift sustained them, until the day when all things are made new.

It can be hard to be his disciples, also today. It can be dark in our world, dark in our hearts. But fear not! Christ Jesus has given his body and poured out his blood to conquer your enemies, and to forgive your sins, and to bind you together in faith and in purpose. This old gift—is new again today. Receive it, receive him again and again and again, until he comes to make all things new. Amen.