Maundy Thursday (the day where we remember Jesus’s last meal with his disciples before his death) is almost here, and the main way we observe this holy day is by taking communion together. Given the nature of this occasion and the loss of my friend and mentor, Dr. Bill Quick, several months ago, there’s one memory I just can’t get out of my head this week:

It was February of 2015, and I had just served communion for the first time at my new church. This church didn’t observe communion very often, and it bothered me. In my previous placement, we had communion services three times a week, but at this new church, I hadn’t said the communion liturgy in five whole months. In fact, it had been so long I even forgot a few words toward the end— one simple but crucial phrase.
My conversation with Dr. Quick that evening ensured I would never forget those words again.

I was tired when we talked that night. It had been a long weekend of church activities, and though I was struggling to keep my eyes open, I wanted to hear Dr. Quick’s voice and know he was well. He was one of the few who knew just how much I was struggling at my new church, and he had a way of helping me find joy and insight even in the roughest parts of that ministry. It was a short conversation, but when I mentioned serving communion, it triggered something in him.

Tom, do you know what the most important words in the communion liturgy are?

My old div school autopilot kicked in, and the words dribbled out of my mouth without so much as a pitstop in my brain: “The Body of Christ broken for you and the Blood of Christ shed for you?” Dr. Quick actually chuckled a little and responded,

Well, yes, those are the words we use to remember the divinity of Jesus,
his holiness which conquers all pain,
his grace which restores us,
his perfection which death could not contain.
But there are two words which give us a glimpse into Jesus’s humanity—
after all, he was fully human too!

Tom, I’m not sure you can understand this yet. It’s something you don’t understand until you’re staring directly at your own death, and frankly, I am. Jesus didn’t have the sacred meal with his disciples just so we would repeat it two millennia later; their supper was the last time he could see them before his death!
While Jesus —being God— must have known what was about to happen,
I wonder if Jesus —being man— still had some doubts and fears.
I imagine him sitting there with his disciples, breaking the bread and perhaps even weeping a bit, as he gave them his most heartfelt plea, the most important words we say when we take the bread and cup:
“Remember me!”

Those were the very words I had forgotten to say just before:
“Do this always in remembrance of me.”
Dr. Quick continued:

We know the disciples didn’t understand. With the exception of Judas, they didn’t believe anyone would betray Jesus. They didn’t believe one of their own would hand him over to die. This was their teacher and their friend, and yet, there he was, staring his own death in the face. And Tom, when you come face to face with your death, there’s nothing more terrifying than being forgotten— to be unimportant, simply left out of history.
It brings me some comfort thinking the Son of God faced that fear too, yet we still remember him and celebrate him and join him in eternal life,
where we are fully known,
where we can never be forgotten.

I would get to have two more years of phone conversations with Dr. Quick, but I promised then and there to remember him always. I’ve never seen communion the same way since.

Jesus, we remember you. Thank you for remembering us. Amen.