The streets were quiet. Night had fallen, everyone sleeping or praying, except for them.
“Strange about the bread,” said James, still tasting forbidden matzos eaten after lamb.
“And the blessing”—“This is my body,” the master had said, reminding them of something they were too full, or too tired to remember.
They stopped at a garden, sat on rocks, lay on grass, their bodies weary with food. And they barely noticed when Jesus left to pray with Peter, James and John.
Matthew looked up. “Huh? Where’d they go?” then, “Wonder what happened to Judas.”
Voices whispered. Armor jangled. Footsteps approached.
Mark 14:22 “…Take, eat: this is my body.”
After they’d eaten the Passover meal, Jesus blessed and broke another matzo. He prayed over the third cup of wine—cup of redemption, blood of the lamb—and the feast drew to its end.
Maundy Thursday evening begins a three-day celebration of Easter: Maundy pennies to the poor; priests washing the people’s feet. But it’s communion that matters most—bread and wine shared in remembrance of Him. We file out from church, leaving the light shining in a tiny garden—shrubs and flowers, a place of Easter prayer.