Holy Saturday

They must have been devastated. Nothing had prepared them for this. Grief and guilt. I’d bet they didn’t eat or sleep. Some of them remained and witnessed it, perhaps mostly the women, but at some point they must have come together—maybe all together on what is now Holy Saturday.

We have a tendency to jump from the crucifixion to the resurrection—we forget that Holy Saturday was a full day. I suspect one of the longest days of their lives. It’s important to note that although Jesus makes it obvious in the Gospel accounts that he will resurrect on the third day, I think historically, his disciples had no idea that was going to happen. So imagine how hopeless they must have felt on this day.

We have good reason to believe that they truly left their lives behind to follow him. Three years traveling town to town, village to village. They probably got lost together. Maybe they were shipwrecked. They ate together. They laughed together. They watched this man heal and draw crowds. Imagine how close Jesus and his disciples must have been. They believed in him.

And now he was dead, by such a torturous means.

Their mission was ruined. This was not how it was supposed to happen. Maybe they felt abandoned by God, the way Jesus did on the cross in Mark and Matthew. And they spent this day, this long day, sitting in the grayness of it. We have the foreknowledge of the resurrection, but they didn’t.

I don’t know what you should reflect on during Holy Saturday, but I can tell you what I reflect on—the times in my life when I’ve felt similarly. Any memory of despair or abandonment. It helps me imagine how the disciples must have felt. I don’t think it’s entirely unhealthy to reflect on memories like these, as long as they don’t stick around.

And most of these memories of devastation and abandonment turned out okay, in very unexpected ways, like Easter.

---

Art by Karl Wiener. “Erinnerung an…” (1940)