Holy Saturday

Saturday. Coffee. Sofa.

At the Ongoing Bible Study this week Doc Joe reminded us that it is easy to want to jump directly from Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday to the celebration of the Resurrection on Easter Sunday. But, he reminded us, to better understand the meaning of the resurrected Christ, it is important to explore what happened in between.

Honestly, I don't have that particular problem. (I savor the moment when I hear of a problem I don't have.) I am amazed by Holy Week. Jesus being welcomed by the adoring crowds. The power and urgency of Jesus' preaching and actions during the week. His absolute control of the events around him in the temple. The discourse with religious authorities and government officials. His constant awareness and closeness to the least of these even as he engaged the powerful. The strength Jesus exhibited in humility. The tragedy of religion gone wrong. The frustration of a spineless politician. The fickle nature of humanity. The cruelty of man. Fear. The determination of Christ. The pain of a mother. The friendship of Mary. The humanity of Christ. The divinity of Christ.

The week starts with a parade that seems to run downhill as the week progresses. Events come faster and faster. So much to do before the end. Faster and faster. Actions, stories, prophesies and confrontations. Throw in a meal or two with friends. Then a trial and an execution. Suddenly, the apparent end on Friday.

Everything stops.

So it is Saturday. We are told that Jesus' friends did nothing because it was the Sabbath, and it would be improper. The only activity is the Roman officials watching the tomb to prevent the body being stolen to set up some crazy story about a resurrection.

So today is a day of waiting. Fear, sorrow, frustration, heartbreak. We who are followers in the 21st century know that Sunday is coming. But maybe it would be helpful to us to take a moment today to feel the intensity of emotion, or the absolute numbness, of those who were devastated by Jesus' apparent horrible, meaningless end. They did not know what Sunday would bring. If Jesus had only spoken more clearly.

Today is the ultimate in-between, that time that exists between certainty, a dimly lit way filled with doubt. Nothing is left but faith, and that is feeling slippery.

Sounds a little familiar to me. Like the hyphen on the tombstone. The time between birth and death.

Like life.

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