John 19:39-42 Nicodemus, who had at first come to Jesus by night, also came, bringing a mixture of myrrh and aloes, weighing about a hundred pounds. 40 They took the body of Jesus and wrapped it with the spices in linen cloths, according to the burial custom of the Jews. 41 Now there was a garden in the place where he was crucified, and in the garden there was a new tomb in which no one had ever been laid. 42 And so, because it was the Jewish day of Preparation, and the tomb was nearby, they laid Jesus there.
Luke 23:50-56 Now there was a good and righteous man named Joseph, who, though a member of the council, 51 had not agreed to their plan and action. He came from the Jewish town of Arimathea, and he was waiting expectantly for the kingdom of God. 52 This man went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. 53 Then he took it down, wrapped it in a linen cloth, and laid it in a rock-hewn tomb where no one had ever been laid. 54 It was the day of Preparation, and the sabbath was beginning. 55 The women who had come with him from Galilee followed, and they saw the tomb and how his body was laid. 56 Then they returned, and prepared spices and ointments. On the sabbath they rested according to the commandment.
Mark 15:43-47 Joseph of Arimathea, a respected member of the council, who was also himself waiting expectantly for the kingdom of God, went boldly to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. 44 Then Pilate wondered if he were already dead; and summoning the centurion, he asked him whether he had been dead for some time. 45 When he learned from the centurion that he was dead, he granted the body to Joseph. 46 Then Joseph bought a linen cloth, and taking down the body, wrapped it in the linen cloth, and laid it in a tomb that had been hewn out of the rock. He then rolled a stone against the door of the tomb. 47 Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of Joses saw where the body was laid.
Matthew 27:62-65 The next day, that is, after the day of Preparation, the chief priests and the Pharisees gathered before Pilate 63 and said, "Sir, we remember what that impostor said while he was still alive, 'After three days I will rise again.' 64 Therefore command the tomb to be made secure until the third day; otherwise his disciples may go and steal him away, and tell the people, 'He has been raised from the dead,' and the last deception would be worse than the first." 65 Pilate said to them, "You have a guard of soldiers; go, make it as secure as you can."
Twice in during this odd kind of Holy Week I heard a preacher say that because of the quarantine, because of the pandemic, we are Easter people living in a Good Friday world. That we usually are people able to embrace the possibilities of life and thus it is easier to proclaim hope and joy to the world and ourselves on a daily basis. But now, the shadow of death hangs over us like never before. We hide in the darkness of our homes, afraid of normal human contact because of what might overcome us or those we love, or the vulnerable among us.
I understand their point, and might have made one like it myself had I been still attempting to preach to a scattered congregation through technological means. I agree that this shadow darkens our existence in such a profound way that we are not even fully aware of it until we find ourselves staring into space, or with an ache in our hearts that we can’t really explain even to ourselves. The symptoms of depression seem all too evident around us and within us.
Maybe it is because of my new role, one that makes me an observer, a participant in worship rather than a proclaimer, but that didn’t ring quite true even as I heard it coming through my television on a livestream feed from my church here in Nashville. True, but not completely true. It wasn’t until much later in the darkness of the night that another metaphor came to mind. I was watching the news before going to bed on Good Friday night. The weather person was warning us about storms to come. Not the next day, but the day after that. Strong storms, bands of storms, three maybe four bands would roll through our area all day that day, starting early in the morning and then continuing throughout the day. The danger, she reported sternly, was that these bands were far enough apart that the temperature could begin to rise in between the fronts. When the temperature rises before a cold front, the air begins to circulate. If it rose enough before dropping in the trough of the front, tornadoes could form. High winds certainly, maybe hail, and lots of rain. Flood level rains. That’s our Easter forecast. Her advice? First decide where in the house we should go when it gets really bad. Second, have the egg hunt on Saturday, it’ll be a nicer day.
When I was in the parish, I struggled with local traditions in many places. Easter egg hunts are fun and active and a family occasion. I have no problems with egg hunts. Even enjoyed chatting with the Easter bunny in between her hopping around delighting children on a green lawn that sunny day. My problem was a part of me thought we shouldn’t have them until Easter. Not on Palm Sunday, or the Saturday before Palm Sunday, or, and this one was the hardest for me, on Holy Saturday.
I pulled out all the Gospel descriptions of Holy Saturday. There isn’t a lot there. Most of them don’t even mention it. Because it was the Sabbath all the good Jews would have been at home. Not working, not preparing a meal, not planning a funeral, just being at home. So, after they got the body down off the cross and carried it to the tomb late on Friday, as the sun was setting and the Sabbath was rolling in the like the tide, they went home. They washed their hands. They sat down. They said their prayers and they tried to eat the ritual meal that was prepared to welcome the Sabbath. The candles they lit seemed dimmer somehow, as if even that flame couldn’t pierce the gloom that settled in their souls. The prayers they prayed from memory sounded like a language they barely knew. Then they waited. For a long sleepless night and a dim silent day. They looked at the walls of their house as if it had become a prison trapping their hopes inside. They kept their distance from each other, no doubt. Social distance. So that no one would see their pain. Their shame. Their doubt. And they waited. Though if you were to ask them what they were waiting for, they wouldn’t have had a clue.
Matthew says things happened on Saturday. Those Romans didn’t know a Sabbath from a Saturday. And wait, there were Priests and Pharisees there too, breaking the law to make sure that the lawbreaker didn’t have an escape clause worked out with his followers. They were the essential workers of the society. Doing the work that had to be done. Maybe they wore a mask so as not to be infected by the gentiles they spoke to on the Sabbath. Maybe it wasn’t after dark, Matthew just forgot what time it was. Maybe it didn’t matter to them, or to anyone that day. Maybe it didn’t feel like Sabbath to them. Even them.
I think we are living in Holy Saturday. It is an in between kind of existence. And even though we know how the story ends, there is still so much uncertainty before us right now. We don’t know when this will end, maybe soon, maybe not. Maybe it will end only to begin again as the virus takes hold when we step out of our tombs, out of our waiting to greet the Risen Son. And what will be like when it ends. We keep saying “when things get back to normal.” But do we know what normal is any more? Will normal feel normal, or will there be a new normal? When my neighbor coughs will I flinch? When your co-worker sneezes will you say bless you or rush to spay down the tables and chairs? What will community be after this?
We don’t know. And maybe we’re afraid. Afraid of the fallout, the collapse of the economy, which was much more precarious than we realized. Afraid of the other, not just those across the water or across the border, but those across the street, or across the hall. Will we trust again? Will we live again.
Holy Saturday was a quarantine of earth shattering proportions. It was a hinge day around which all of creation swung. When the world started over the next day, there was fear and great joy. And a proclamation. He is going before you. When we reenter the world after this Holy Saturday time, we can be assured He will be going before us. Thanks be to God.
Shalom,
Derek
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