MAUNDY THURSDAY

The Table, the Towel, and the Love That Stays

Scripture for the Day

“Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.”
—John 13:1

Sacred Invitation

This is the night of love that kneels.
Of hands in water.
Of silence broken only by breath and the sound of washing.

Before the cross,
before the grave,
before the betrayal fully blooms—
Jesus takes off his robe,
wraps a towel around his waist,
and stoops low.

He does not teach with thunder.
He teaches with tenderness.
He touches the feet that will soon run,
and still,
he loves them to the end.

The table is set.
The bread is broken.
The wine is poured.
And the world will never be the same.

Daily Reflection

Maundy comes from mandatum—“commandment.”
But tonight, the command is not shouted.
It is lived.

Love as I have loved you.

Not the kind of love that seeks to win.
But the kind that kneels, knowing it will not be understood.
The kind that stays, even when it knows it will be left.

Jesus does not protect himself.
He opens.
He offers.
He holds their dirt in his hands and calls them clean.

And still—he breaks the bread.
And still—he shares the cup.
Even with the one who will betray.

This is what love looks like.
This is what love does.

Somatic Practice: The Towel Prayer

Find a towel.
Hold it in your hands.
Let its weight rest in your lap.

As you breathe, say:
“Let me serve with tenderness.”
“Let me love without needing to be seen.”

If you feel led, wash your own hands or feet slowly.
Let each gesture be a prayer.
A remembering.
A response.

You are not performing.
You are receiving.
And offering.

Closing Prayer

Jesus,
You knelt low.
You washed what others overlooked.
You held the feet of the one who would run.
And you loved him still.

Teach me the way of the towel.
The way of quiet mercy.
The way of love that does not seek applause.

Let me break bread with the undeserving.
Let me pour out my life with grace.

And when I am tempted to turn away—
remind me that love
does not flinch.

You are still here.
You are still loving.
You are still serving.

And I will stay.

Amen.