The last supper

 Holy Week Reflection: The Cross, the Cup, and the Crown

Tomorrow, we remember the Last Supper—an intimate and profound moment where Jesus, fully aware of what lay ahead, chose to gather with His disciples one final time. He broke bread, poured the cup, and washed their feet. And yes—He even washed the feet of Judas Iscariot, the one who had already set betrayal in motion.

Imagine that: sitting across from someone who has sold you out for silver… and still choosing to serve them in love. Jesus knew Judas’s heart. He knew the kiss would come. Yet, He knelt and washed his feet.

That is the most outrageous act in human terms. Because let’s be honest—if it were us, we’d call it out, confront it, maybe even cause a scene. But Jesus didn’t. He taught us something eternal: love does not change based on betrayal. Grace is not earned. Mercy is not given only when deserved. It is given because it is who He is.

The lesson? Simple, yet deeply challenging. As it is written in Romans: “If your enemy is hungry, feed him… Vengeance is Mine, I will repay,” says the Lord.

Many of us have unknowingly shared meals with those who plotted against us. We’ve lived among people who have betrayed us—or will in the future. Sometimes, we’ve even betrayed ourselves… by not trusting God, by letting fear win, by stepping out of faith.

But Jesus didn’t give up on us.

As we commemorate His death on the cross, we’re reminded that we each carry our own cross. There are seasons in life when someone may carry it for us, if only for a moment—to help us gather strength. But ultimately, just as Jesus knew His mission, we too must bear what’s ours. Because only we can fulfill our purpose.

On that lonely hill, even Jesus cried out, “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?”—a moment of raw humanity. Yet even then, He knew: He was not abandoned. He was completing the greatest act of love the world has ever known.

He was pierced in His side, given vinegar to quench His thirst. That vinegar? It’s life’s bitterness—rejection, disappointment, pain. And yet, even through the bitter, He remained faithful.

And then, He said: “It is finished.”

Not defeated. Not overrun. But finished—completed, accomplished, fulfilled.

With that, He bowed His head. Victory was won.

So today, let’s hold on to that truth. Whatever burden we carry, whatever cross we bear—He is with us. Let’s believe that it is done. Let’s have faith. Let’s trust Him all the way.

He left us with His peace—not the world’s fragile kind, but a deep, unwavering peace that surpasses all understanding.

Let’s walk in that peace. Let’s forgive, let’s love, let’s trust again.

Because the Cross was never the end—only the beginning.