I have always been quite intrigued by Holy Saturday.
I always try to get inside the scene but it is quite a challenge.
Those disciples did not know Sunday was coming … but we do.
The sheer emptiness that the disciples must have felt is hard to fathom.
This year I have tried to get into this day a little more. The pain of absence and devastation is something I can relate to … but the pain I have experienced must, I think, pale into some form of insignificance when we consider the pain of those first disciples on this first Holy Saturday.
The pain must have been acute, and intense, inducing fear and confusion with masses of ‘what if’ questions and and ‘if only’ with a real unrational desire to pull the clock back to a much earlier time so that things could possibly be made different.
I wrote some words back in 2009 … and forgot about them …. and although they capture something of the day for me … I think they seem pretty hollow 5 years on.
If I could travel back 2000 years maybe I would be thinking…
Today is a day of total devastation
A day that carries a heaviness of heart
A sick feeling in the very depths of my existence
A day where I cannot stop tears flowing
As I search for meaning
Meaning in the face of death
death of the one who was to redeem
How do I pick up from here?
How do I move forward?
There was no plan B
this was it
But as I try to wallow in that …… I see a crack of light ….. because no matter how hard I try …. i do know Sunday is coming …..
but those first disciples
hiding in that room
they didnt …