Maundy Thursday: The Way Jesus Comes to Mind
Eight Days that Changed the World
The Way Jesus Comes to Mind
“Do this in remembrance of me.” —Luke 22:19
Let me tell you a story.
It was wrapped in her silk scarf.
Scented.
A small gift.
Overlooked until it was needed most.
Many years ago, I traveled to Russia for a ministry mission. Twelve time zones away. Pre-internet. No email. No easy way to call home. Days were full. Nights were not. Jet-lag lasted days and days.
Somewhere around 3 a.m., restless and far from everything familiar, I rummaged through my suitcase. I found it. A small photo album wrapped in the silk scarf I had given Fran the Christmas before. Tucked inside were pictures of our family—my kids, my home, my dog. My wife.
She had scented the scarf with my favorite perfume of hers. Then, I did something simple.
I lifted the scarf to my face.
I breathed in.
It was her scent that brought her back to me. Not just a memory of her, but her presence. I could almost hear her voice. See her smile. It was a moment of reunion—though I was still 6,000 miles away.
A Sacrament
That scarf was sacramental.
Outward.
Visible.
Tangible.
A physical thing that carried a spiritual connection.
A way to re-member someone I loved.
Maundy Thursday is just that.
On this night, Jesus took bread and wine—ordinary things—and said:
This is my body…
This is my blood…
Do this in remembrance of me.
And for 2,000 years, we’ve done just that.
We lift the bread.
We lift the cup.
We taste.
We drink.
We remember.
Not just in our minds. But in our bodies. With taste. With touch. With tears. Because Maundy Thursday isn’t just about remembering an idea. It’s about re-membering a Person.
Jesus gave His followers a gift—not of pictures, not of silk—but of a meal. Something to hold on to when the night grows long and lonely.
And in that meal, He remains.
The fragrance of His love still clings to the bread.
The memory of His mercy flows in the cup.
He is near.
Even now, He is with us.
And the fragrance remains.
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Collect: A Prayer for Maundy Thursday
Almighty Father, whose dear Son, on the night before He suffered, instituted the Sacrament of His Body and Blood: Mercifully grant that we may receive it thankfully in remembrance of Jesus Christ our Lord, who in these holy mysteries gives us a pledge of eternal life; and who now lives and reigns with You and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
The Anglican is the Substack newsletter for LeaderWorks, where I share insights, encouragement, and practical tools for clergy and lay Christians. I’m also an author of over a dozen books available on Amazon.
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Thank you for this wonderful analogy, Father David. I learned as a child that a "sacrament is an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace". But your post gave me a mental picture of sacrament that is more powerful. I'm grateful for this story!
Wonderful. You wrote that Christ's love is "not just in our minds. But in our bodies. With taste. With touch."
For thirty five years, I was in a church that, while very dedicated to biblical knowledge and preaching, only celebrated communion a couple times a year. Yes, a year!
And it was all so casual. So for all that word preached, it did not become visible and tangible. I'll never forget the Sunday in 2017 when I received communion in a liturgical setting, and the pastor looking me in the eye, saying, "The body of Christ broken for you, Mark." He said my name! I felt seen by Christ. And whenever I smelled again the bread dipped in the wine, I remembered, "Christ's body broken for you, Mark."