Holy Thursday

Some of you have seen my Triduum and Easter poems before. And now, I am posting them again, one per day. Holy Thursday, Good Friday, and Holy Saturday were written in 2003. Resurrection was written in 1999. I have updated the copyright for all of them to 2025. I presume everyone will respect that.

Maundy (Holy) Thursday -- © 2025 -- Roberta M Meehan

Holy Thursday

The meal complete, he looks around.
Are they ready? His humanity wonders.
Challenge and pain curl his brow.
And emptiness closes his eyes.

Tightness grips his chest as he surrenders to the moment.
Then back – a slight smile spreads across his lips.
A laugh teeters in his throat.
Now! He thinks. Now! Now is the time.

They look at him – not knowing what to expect.
Wondering what he is thinking, planning….
He reaches for the breadbasket
And pulls it toward himself.

He chooses a small loaflet.
Elbows on the table, piercing dark eyes in a gentle teaching mode….
“Do you know what this is?”
Disbelief shrouds their sighs.

“A remnant of bread?” ventures one.
“From our Passover meal?”
“Not so,” he instructs. “Not so.”
“Think!” He pauses. “Think and watch.”

His attention shifts to his cup.
He toys with the edge and again questions them.
“Do you know what this is?”
“Your wine?” One asks.

“You haven’t finished your wine. Do you need more? We have plenty.”
He becomes somber.
“No. Not so. You do not understand. Think. Think and watch.”
He studies the bread – contemplating, visioning.

A serious focus embraces the wine.
Back and forth he gazes, blessing and knowing –
Past and future merge!
Bread and wine converge on NOW!

He holds the bread, intently, carefully.
He instructs, “This is my body!”
“Here, take it!” A commanding offer. “Take it and eat it.”
His eyes meet the first and move from one to another.
“All of you! Eat it!” And they do.

He holds his wine cup – studying it, swirling it.
“And this,” he says, “This is the cup of my blood! This is the cup of salvation
Which will be shed for you and for many.
Here. Take this cup and drink from it."

Again their eyes meet.
“All of you! Drink from it!” And they do.

Solemnity falls on those assembled.
They look each to the other.
They know only vaguely the enormity of what has happened.
He looks lovingly, sadly, at each of them.

“You,” he says. “Now you are my body; now you are my blood!
Furthermore, I tell you to do this. Do this in remembrance of me!
Do this until the end of time! And I am with you!”

He looks down. They become – all of them – one in him and he in them.
And he whispers, “It is finished!”