Some days I think the Saturday between Good Friday and Easter Sunday must get the short end of the stick. While I know some traditions observe services on this day, we never have in any of the churches I've been around. Yesterday evening we celebrated Good Friday with a number of other local churches as we gathered to remember the sacrifice Jesus made on the cross for us. Tomorrow morning our church, along with thousands of others, will celebrate the epoch-making event of Christ's resurrection. Some will do so with paegants, others with musicals, others with dramatic presentations, and others in a quiet, understated way.
But what about Saturday? I thought about that this morning when I woke up, and then several times again throughout the day. The first Good Friday would have been a brutal day to be a disciple of Jesus. They had misunderstood so much of Jesus' message throughout his three years that they couldn't have fully understood the significance of his death at the time. Their hopes and dreams for a restored kingdom of Israel had been crucified along with Jesus on the cross.
And the first Easter Sunday must have been equally as dramatic - just on a much more positive note. All of a sudden the Jesus whom they had seen crucified on Friday has unexpectedly turned up again, revealing himself to restore their hopes and dreams, but in a totally different light. There's an empty tomb, word of angels sitting on large stones in front of that empty tomb, and whispers about Jesus' appearance to Mary, and then to some others who talked with him on the road to Emmaus, and finally, there he is standing in the middle of a locked room inviting them to believe that somehow he had conquered death, and was as much King of Israel now as he had ever been.
But what about Saturday? Did they go to the synagogue to worship, to pray, to cry out their laments in the Psalms? Did they hear the readings from the Torah, or from the Prophets, and feel in their hearts that maybe they had been deceived all this time as they had followed Jesus? If Friday was a dark day, I wonder if Saturday wasn't even darker - darker in the way that it feels like night falls when the reality sets in after a tragedy has occurred.
Saturday they must have been processing what this loss of hope meant for them. Perhaps they gathered together to talk about it, or maybe it's more likely that they decided not to see each other because to see each other again would suddenly have made Jesus' absence all the more immediate. Maybe they spent the day weeping, or maybe they spent the day in frustration and anger, knowing that the next day they would have to get back to work, get back to life as it had been before Jesus showed up, knowing that they would now have to get on with whatever it was they were going to get on with now that he was gone.
Saturday is the in-between day, the in-between place. It's a mysterious day because we don't really know what's happening - the Scriptures are totally silent on Saturday. It's like a big, dramatic pause in the story. Tension builds as the pause extends past expectation and on into the uncomfortable silence range. And still we wait, not knowing what will happen, or when it will happen, or if anything will happen at all. We don't like Saturday because we can't control it.
Friday we can process with Scripture showing us that Jesus had to die, and that his death bought our salvation. Sunday we can celebrate because it brings a satisfying, happily-ever-after ending to the events. Saturday is much more elusive, but yet still seems necessary to the story somehow, like a Saturday morning resurrection would have been just a bit premature, like God the Father as he was telling the story wanted to make sure that there was enough tension in there for the resolution on Sunday to be all the more satisfying.
So tonight as I write, pray, and think about Sunday, I'm trying to remember not to rush there yet. I'm trying to allow Saturday to do its work in me and my story, and to inspire me to tell the Sunday resolution in an even more hopeful, powerful, dramatic way tomorrow.
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