“Do this in remembrance of me.”
— Luke 22:19

The table is set.

Bread. Wine.
Betrayal within arm’s reach.

No purity tests at the door.
No background checks.
No border control.

Just a basin.
A towel.
And the Son of God kneeling.

He washes the feet of the one who will hand him over to the state.
He feeds the one who will deny him.
He blesses the ones who will disappear when the bombs start falling.

And still –
no one is turned away.

He doesn’t ask for a passport
or a profession of faith
before he passes the cup.

He feeds the one
who is about to betray the collective good
for thirty pieces of silver.

If Jesus doesn’t have a litmus test for a traitor,
why do we have one for a neighbour?

“Love one another,” he says.
— John 13:34

Not:
Love one another, except your enemies.
Love one another, except those across the border.
Love one another, unless they are inconvenient, undocumented, or different.

The table is open.

Meanwhile –
tables elsewhere are closed.

Borders reinforced.
Policies drafted.
Alliances signed.
Weapons funded.

Christians argue about who is worthy of bread
while supporting systems that decide who is worthy of life.

Who would Jesus exclude?

Not Judas.
Not Peter.
Not the ones who fail him completely.

So who, exactly, are we excluding in his name?

Reflection

Maundy Thursday exposes a contradiction at the heart of much modern Christianity.

At the first Communion, the enemy is already at the table.

Jesus does not remove him.
He serves him.

This dismantles any theology of conditional humanity – the idea that some lives are beyond dignity, beyond compassion, beyond blessing because of their identity, belief, or perceived threat.

Yet this logic persists.

Refugees are filtered.
Neighbours are categorised.
Whole populations are deemed suspect before they are seen.

We argue about the sanctity of the communion cup
while our taxes – and our silent consent –
help fill the cups of the broken-hearted in Yemen and Lebanon
with the bitter wine of displacement.

If Jesus does not exclude the one who betrays him to death,
on what theological grounds do we exclude anyone?

And if we would still offer them bread –
why do we so often deny them safety?