Growing up in a Methodist church we celebrated Maundy Thursday. If you grew up in a traditional denomination my guess is so did you. If not, you missed out. Today I attend a church that does not have a Maundy Thursday service and it makes me kind of sad. I invite you to join me as I stroll down memory lane.
We would arrive at church for a service that started at 7. It was already dark out. You could feel the somber mood as you walked through the parking lot. Upon entering the sanctuary, soft piano music played in the background. The entire place was lit by candles only. No one talked.
We would find our usual pew, you know, the one we sat in every Sunday since I could remember. The silence made me squirm in my seat.
Our pastor would invite us to join in a song. He and his wife would sing a duet. Then he would open the Bible and read to us from one of the gospels the account of the last supper.
We were invited to come forward and partake of communion. You could kneel at the kneeling rail or take a wafer and dip it in the cup of juice. I preferred to kneel. It just felt more reverent.
He would read about Jesus agonizing in the garden, the betrayal by Judas, and the arrest of our Lord. He would then release us into the night as the disciples scattered. The entire congregation would quietly leave.
More times than not, I would leave with a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes.
I would encourage you today to pick up your Bible and read John 13 – John 18:27 to fully grasp what happened today.
Sounds so intimate and special. What a way to reflect and think upon this day. Thanks for sharing.
Thank you, Dana!