Holy Thursday

On Holy Thursday, we gather to remember the night that changed everything—not with trumpets or power, but with a towel, a basin, and a meal shared among friends.

Jesus knew the hour had come. He knew betrayal was at the door, suffering close behind. And what does He do? He kneels. He washes feet. He takes bread, blesses it, breaks it, and gives it away. On the edge of darkness, Jesus chooses love.

Holy Thursday, also called Maundy Thursday, takes its name from the Latin mandatum, meaning “commandment.” “I give you a new commandment,” Jesus says, “that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another” (John 13:34, NRSV). Not a suggestion. A commandment. Love one another. Not when it’s easy. Not when it’s convenient. But always.



In the upper room, we witness three powerful acts:

1. The Footwashing – Jesus, the Teacher and Lord, becomes the servant. In a culture where feet were dusty and washing them was reserved for the lowest servant, Jesus flips the script. He takes on the role of the servant, washing the feet of His disciples—including the one who would betray Him. What does it mean for us to follow that example today? Whose feet are we called to wash?
2. The Meal – At the table, Jesus breaks bread and shares wine, saying, “This is my body… this is my blood.” The simple becomes sacred. The ordinary becomes holy. In this moment, we are invited into communion—not just with God, but with each other. Every Eucharist echoes this night: take, bless, break, give.
3. The Commandment – “Love as I have loved you.” A love that serves. A love that forgives. A love that stays—even when it's hard, even when it's not returned, even when it costs everything.

On Holy Thursday, we remember that the path to the cross begins with love. Not sentimentality, but a radical, embodied, sacrificial love. The kind that kneels and serves. The kind that shares a meal with friends and enemies alike. The kind that holds nothing back.

As we keep watch this Holy Week, may we not rush past this night. May we linger at the table, listen to the water being poured into the basin, feel the towel brush against our feet. May we hear again the commandment to love—really love—with our hands, our hearts, and our lives.

Because on this night, love took a towel. And love will carry the cross.