Holy Saturday - March 30, 2013
Holy Saturday
Matthew 27:57 – 66
As evening approached, there came a rich man from Arimathea, named Joseph, who had himself become a disciple of Jesus. Going to Pilate, he asked for Jesus’ body, and Pilate ordered that it be given to him. Joseph took the body, wrapped it in a clean linen cloth, and placed it in his own new tomb that he had cut out of the rock. He rolled a big stone in front of the entrance to the tomb and went away. Mary Magdalene and the other Mary were sitting there opposite the tomb.
The next day, the one after Preparation Day, the chief priests and the Pharisees went to Pilate. “Sir,” they said, “we remember that while he was still alive that deceiver said, ‘After three days I will rise again.’ So give the order for the tomb to be made secure until the third day. Otherwise, his disciples may come and steal the body and tell the people that he has been raised from the dead. This last deception will be worse than the first.”
“Take a guard,” Pilate answered. “Go, make the tomb as secure as you know how.” So they went and made the tomb secure by putting a seal on the stone and posting the guard.
For several days I ‘ve been aware that we live most of our lives between Good Friday and Resurrection Sunday. We live in the long space of Holy Saturday . . . after dreams and plans and imaginings have died . . . after we have been forced to give up on one way and follow another way that we may not have chosen for ourselves . . . after we’ve received the diagnosis, but before the treatments has taken full effect.
Holy Saturday is a time of waiting, a time of unknowing. What we thought would happen has been dashed, and what will be has not yet been revealed to us. We are in the middle ground between death and new life. We are not yet sure what will emerge. We only know that what we had hoped or planned or counted on is no longer possible.
The temptation is to drown in the grief and sorrow of the dream that did not come to pass, to lament so deeply what has happened that we spiral into depression and despair . . . and then, perhaps, miss the next thing.
That stance for Saturday that serves us best is patience, along with openness. Death and life are woven together, as I said yesterday, but we have to stay open to the thing that is yet to be.
Yes, grieve the loss. Be sorrowful. It is the emotionally and spiritually healthy thing to do.
But also be patient and open. God’s project in you and through you is unfolding in ways you did not plan, and perhaps would not have chosen. There is something else at work that you have not yet seen. So hang in there. Be faithful, even in the devastation. It may be a long Saturday, but Saturday never holds the last word.
Matthew 27:57 – 66
As evening approached, there came a rich man from Arimathea, named Joseph, who had himself become a disciple of Jesus. Going to Pilate, he asked for Jesus’ body, and Pilate ordered that it be given to him. Joseph took the body, wrapped it in a clean linen cloth, and placed it in his own new tomb that he had cut out of the rock. He rolled a big stone in front of the entrance to the tomb and went away. Mary Magdalene and the other Mary were sitting there opposite the tomb.
The next day, the one after Preparation Day, the chief priests and the Pharisees went to Pilate. “Sir,” they said, “we remember that while he was still alive that deceiver said, ‘After three days I will rise again.’ So give the order for the tomb to be made secure until the third day. Otherwise, his disciples may come and steal the body and tell the people that he has been raised from the dead. This last deception will be worse than the first.”
“Take a guard,” Pilate answered. “Go, make the tomb as secure as you know how.” So they went and made the tomb secure by putting a seal on the stone and posting the guard.
For several days I ‘ve been aware that we live most of our lives between Good Friday and Resurrection Sunday. We live in the long space of Holy Saturday . . . after dreams and plans and imaginings have died . . . after we have been forced to give up on one way and follow another way that we may not have chosen for ourselves . . . after we’ve received the diagnosis, but before the treatments has taken full effect.
Holy Saturday is a time of waiting, a time of unknowing. What we thought would happen has been dashed, and what will be has not yet been revealed to us. We are in the middle ground between death and new life. We are not yet sure what will emerge. We only know that what we had hoped or planned or counted on is no longer possible.
The temptation is to drown in the grief and sorrow of the dream that did not come to pass, to lament so deeply what has happened that we spiral into depression and despair . . . and then, perhaps, miss the next thing.
That stance for Saturday that serves us best is patience, along with openness. Death and life are woven together, as I said yesterday, but we have to stay open to the thing that is yet to be.
Yes, grieve the loss. Be sorrowful. It is the emotionally and spiritually healthy thing to do.
But also be patient and open. God’s project in you and through you is unfolding in ways you did not plan, and perhaps would not have chosen. There is something else at work that you have not yet seen. So hang in there. Be faithful, even in the devastation. It may be a long Saturday, but Saturday never holds the last word.
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