The Covenant Meal and the Coming Failure Text: Matthew 26:26-35
Introduction: The Supper and the Sword
We come now to one of the central moments in the history of the world. The Lord Jesus, on the night He was betrayed, established the central ritual of the Christian faith. This was not the invention of a new ceremony out of whole cloth. Rather, He took the ancient Passover meal, the remembrance of Israel's deliverance from bondage in Egypt, and He filled it to the brim with new and final meaning. Everything the Passover pointed to, He was about to accomplish. The shadow was giving way to the substance.
But we must see this event for what it is. This is not a quiet, sentimental gathering of friends before a sad departure. This is a war council. This is the institution of a covenant meal, a loyalty oath, on the eve of the decisive battle. And immediately following this solemn meal, Jesus announces the total collapse of his entire officer corps. He establishes the sign of the new covenant, and then prophesies the abject failure of the men with whom He is making that covenant. This is a staggering juxtaposition. It is meant to teach us something fundamental about the nature of the covenant, the nature of our salvation, and the nature of our own hearts.
Our generation is allergic to covenants. We prefer contracts, which are based on mutual suspicion, or worse, casual relationships based on sentiment, which evaporate when the feelings do. But God deals with His people through covenant, which is a solemn bond, sealed in blood, with blessings for obedience and curses for disobedience. The Lord's Supper is a covenant renewal ceremony. We come to this Table not as casual observers, but as sworn soldiers of the great King, pledging our allegiance anew. And yet, like the disciples, we are men and women prone to wander, prone to fail, prone to boast one minute and betray the next. This passage forces us to confront both the objective glory of the covenant and the subjective weakness of our own flesh. The stability is in the meal, not in the men.
The Text
Now while they were eating, Jesus took some bread, and after a blessing, He broke it. And giving it to the disciples, He said, “Take, eat; this is My body.” And when He had taken a cup and given thanks, He gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you; for this is My blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for forgiveness of sins. But I say to you, I will not drink of this fruit of the vine from now on until that day when I drink it new with you in My Father’s kingdom.” And after singing a hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives. Then Jesus said to them, “You will all fall away because of Me this night, for it is written, ‘I WILL STRIKE DOWN THE SHEPHERD, AND THE SHEEP OF THE FLOCK SHALL BE SCATTERED.’ But after I have been raised, I will go ahead of you to Galilee.” But Peter answered and said to Him, “Even though all may fall away because of You, I will never fall away.” Jesus said to him, “Truly I say to you that this very night, before a rooster crows, you will deny Me three times.” Peter said to Him, “Even if I have to die with You, I will not deny You.” All the disciples said the same thing too.
(Matthew 26:26-35 LSB)
The New Passover (vv. 26-29)
We begin with the institution of the Supper itself.
"Now while they were eating, Jesus took some bread, and after a blessing, He broke it. And giving it to the disciples, He said, 'Take, eat; this is My body.' And when He had taken a cup and given thanks, He gave it to them, saying, 'Drink from it, all of you; for this is My blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for forgiveness of sins.'" (Matthew 26:26-28)
Jesus takes the elements of the Passover meal, the unleavened bread and the wine, and redefines them around Himself. The bread, which represented the haste of the departure from Egypt, now represents His body. The breaking of the bread is a clear picture of the violent death He is about to endure. He says, "This is My body." Now, we must be careful here. This is not the Roman Catholic doctrine of transubstantiation, where the bread magically becomes the physical flesh of Jesus. That is to confuse the sign with the thing signified. But neither is it a mere memorial, as some Zwinglians would have it, just a mental exercise in remembering. This is sacramental language. The sign is a true sign, and it effectively communicates the reality it points to. By faith, when we eat this bread, we are truly partaking of Christ. We are nourished by Him. His life becomes our life.
Then He takes the cup. This was the third cup of the Passover meal, the cup of redemption. He calls it "My blood of the covenant." This language is drenched in Old Testament significance. When God made a covenant with Israel at Sinai, Moses took the blood of oxen and threw it on the people, saying, "Behold the blood of the covenant" (Ex. 24:8). Blood seals the deal. A covenant is a life and death bond, and the blood represents the life poured out, and the penalty for breaking the oath. Jesus is inaugurating the New Covenant prophesied by Jeremiah (Jer. 31:31-34), a covenant not of external laws on stone, but of internal transformation of the heart.
And notice the purpose: "poured out for many for forgiveness of sins." This is the gospel in a nutshell. His death is a substitutionary atonement. He is not a martyr for a cause; He is a sacrifice for sin. The blood is not just spilled; it is "poured out." This is liturgical, sacrificial language. This is the blood that purchases our pardon, that cleanses our conscience, that ratifies the covenant of grace.
Then Jesus makes a remarkable vow in verse 29.
"But I say to you, I will not drink of this fruit of the vine from now on until that day when I drink it new with you in My Father’s kingdom." (Matthew 26:29)
This is a vow of abstention, but it is also a glorious promise. Jesus is looking past the cross, past the tomb, past His ascension, to the great consummation of all things. He is looking forward to the Marriage Supper of the Lamb (Rev. 19:9). This meal is a foretaste of that final feast. Every time we come to this Table, we are not just looking back to the cross; we are looking forward to the kingdom. This is a profoundly optimistic, postmillennial meal. We are celebrating the victory that Christ has already won, and we are anticipating the day when that victory will cover the earth as the waters cover the sea. This supper is both a memorial of a past victory and a pledge of a future, global triumph.
The Prophecy of Failure (vv. 30-32)
After this high point of covenant institution, the mood shifts dramatically.
"And after singing a hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives. Then Jesus said to them, 'You will all fall away because of Me this night, for it is written, ‘I WILL STRIKE DOWN THE SHEPHERD, AND THE SHEEP OF THE FLOCK SHALL BE SCATTERED.’ But after I have been raised, I will go ahead of you to Galilee.'" (Matthew 26:30-32)
They sing a hymn, likely the Hallel psalms (Psalms 113-118) which were traditionally sung at Passover. These are psalms of victory and praise. And on the heels of this worship, Jesus delivers the devastating news. "You will all fall away." The Greek word is skandalisthe sesthe, from which we get our word scandalized. "You will all be tripped up, offended, and caused to stumble because of me."
Jesus grounds this prediction in Scripture. He quotes from Zechariah 13:7, "I will strike down the shepherd, and the sheep of the flock shall be scattered." This is crucial. The disciples' failure is not an unforeseen accident. It is part of the divine plan. The Father Himself is the one who will strike the Shepherd. The cross is not a tragedy that God merely permits; it is an act of God's own sovereign will (Acts 2:23). The scattering of the sheep is a necessary consequence of the striking of the Shepherd. This should be a profound comfort to us. Even our failures, our sins, our desertions, are woven into the tapestry of God's sovereign purpose. He is never caught by surprise.
But Jesus does not leave them in their failure. He immediately follows the prophecy of their scattering with a promise of their regathering. "But after I have been raised, I will go ahead of you to Galilee." He is already planning the restoration before the fall even happens. He is the good shepherd who, even when struck, is thinking of how to gather His scattered, stupid sheep. His grace runs ahead of our sin. He is the God of the comeback. The promise of the resurrection is the promise of restoration. The failure of the disciples will not be the last word. The last word belongs to the risen Christ.
The Boast of the Flesh (vv. 33-35)
Peter, as is his custom, cannot let this stand. He is full of sincere, but entirely self-reliant, bravado.
"But Peter answered and said to Him, 'Even though all may fall away because of You, I will never fall away.' Jesus said to him, 'Truly I say to you that this very night, before a rooster crows, you will deny Me three times.' Peter said to Him, 'Even if I have to die with You, I will not deny You.' All the disciples said the same thing too." (Matthew 26:33-35)
Peter's boast is a textbook example of the flesh confident in its own strength. Notice the comparison: "Even though all may fall away..." He elevates himself above his brothers. This is the seed of pride that always goes before a fall. He contradicts the Lord directly. Jesus says, "You will all fall away." Peter says, "I will never fall away." He trusts his own resolve more than he trusts the word of Christ. This is the essence of unbelief.
Jesus' response is specific, swift, and certain. Not just a general failure, but a threefold denial. Not just sometime soon, but "this very night, before a rooster crows." The Lord knows our hearts, and our breaking points, better than we do. He knows the precise nature and timing of our coming failures. We think we are pillars, but He knows we are dust.
Peter's second boast is even more emphatic. "Even if I have to die with You, I will not deny You." He doubles down on his self-confidence. And lest we isolate Peter, Matthew tells us, "All the disciples said the same thing too." They were all in the same boat of self-deception. They had just partaken of the covenant meal, a meal of grace, and they immediately began to trust in their own strength to keep the covenant. This is a perennial temptation for the Christian. We receive grace, and then we think we can now stand on our own two feet.
Conclusion: Grace for the Faithless
So what is the central lesson here? It is the absolute reliability of God's covenant grace in the face of our absolute unreliability. The disciples' promises were sincere, but they were worthless. They were built on the sand of their own good intentions. But the covenant is not built on their promises to God; it is built on God's promises to them, sealed in the blood of His Son.
The Lord's Supper is not a meal for the strong; it is a meal for the weak. It is medicine for sinners. It is a declaration that our standing with God depends entirely on the broken body and shed blood of Jesus Christ, and not one bit on our own faithfulness. Peter's fall was terrible, but it was not final. Why? Because Jesus had already promised to meet him in Galilee after the resurrection. Jesus had already prayed for him that his faith would not fail (Luke 22:32). The covenant held him fast, even when his own courage evaporated.
We come to this Table as men and women who, like Peter, are capable of great failure. We have all made our boasts and eaten our words. We have all promised to follow Christ to the death and then denied Him by our words or our actions an hour later. But we do not come to this Table trusting in our own resolve. We come trusting in His. This bread and this wine are God's sworn oath to us. They declare that even when we are faithless, He remains faithful, for He cannot deny Himself (2 Tim. 2:13). The Shepherd was struck, and the sheep were scattered. But the Shepherd was raised, and the sheep are gathered. And He will keep gathering them, from every tribe and tongue and nation, until we all sit down with Him at that great feast in His Father's kingdom, where our failures will be forgotten and His faithfulness will be our everlasting song.