Maggie Lou's Musings, Lessons, and Blessings

I wanted to name this post “The Day the World Held Its Breath” until I realized that the world did not and does not hold its breath on Holy Saturday. On the first Holy Saturday, Jesus’ followers were in mourning because their leader had been killed. They didn’t know what was next and they feared for their own lives. Maybe some remembered that Jesus said he would arise from the grave, but I doubt they remembered and if they did, I doubt they thought it would happen. Faithful Jews were observing the Sabbath. The religious leaders had accomplished their goal—the troublesome Galilean was dead. His followers had scattered when he was arrested. Without a leader, the band of followers were not likely to cause trouble. The Romans continued their routines as they usually did after crucifixions. Maybe some of the soldiers had some sort of “clean-up” duty. Before nightfall, a group of soldiers were assigned to guard the tomb. Perhaps one Roman soldier had a sleepless Friday night and a troubled Saturday for he recognized that Jesus was the Son of God. Scripture does not indicate that anyone expected the resurrection, except the One who would be resurrected.

Some 2000 years later, Christians around the world know that the resurrection occurred. Some churches hold an Easter vigil, but in my area of the United Sates at least, Holy Saturday looks pretty much like any other Saturday. Golfers hit and chase little white balls; tennis players hit and chase bigger yellow balls. Soccer players, baseball and softball players, and other sports enthusiasts engage in their favorite recreational activity. Lawn mowers hum. Home chores that have waited all week finally get attention. Preparations are made for a big family meal on Sunday. Clothes, often new clothes, are set out to be worn on Sunday morning. A few eggs may be dyed. Easter egg hunts may be held. Children may excitedly anticipate the Easter bunny. But, truthfully, how many of us think about Jesus on Holy Saturday?

Sunday morning will come. Some will attend the early sunrise services. Others will wait for regular worship times to celebrate the resurrection. In between these times, mothers will be bustling about, preparing a breakfast that has to compete with the lure of chocolate bunnies and sugary peeps. Drivers will be worried about finding parking spaces. Church leaders will be holding their breaths until all worship participants arrive and are in their places. at some point we will remember—today is special; today we see the results of the business conducted Friday on the cross; today is Resurrection Sunday! We will celebrate.

What about before Sunday morning comes? What about Holy Saturday? On Good Friday, we remember the sacrifice of Jesus and what our salvation cost. On Sunday we celebrate the resurrection and the victory that was won. What about Saturday? Mourning does not seem to be appropriate but neither does rejoicing. So, we wait. In our own ways, each of us waits.

I am reminded of a story a heard sometime ago. It is one those good preacher illustrations that might or might not have happened.

It seems that a young man was having an Alexander type of day—you know the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad type of day. (Term borrowed from the title of a book by Judith Viorst and Ray Cruz. If you are unfamiliar with the book, asked your favorite preschool teacher.) On top of all his troubles–personal, financial, work-related– he is now walking home in the rain. As the man is trudging along, feeling sorry himself, he meets an old woman selling flowers from a make-shift shelter. The old woman cheerful greets the man.

“How can you be so cheerful?” the man asks. “Obviously you don’t have much money. You’re getting wet. Does anyone really buy your flowers?”

The old woman hands the man a small bouquet. “On the house,” she says. “You look like you need some hope in your day. These flowers aren’t much, but they should last three days.”

“Three days?” the young man asked.

 “Yes,” the woman replied. When I am having a bad time, I wait three days before becoming too upset. Usually by the end of that time things are better.”

“Why three days?”

 “Because,” the woman said, “Jesus was in the tomb for three days. After those three days, everything changed.”

So, on Holy Saturday we wait. It has not been three days yet.

BTW, for those of you, who like me, are not morning people, a friend once said he believed Jesus arose Saturday night, not early Sunday morning when the women found the tomb empty. After all the stone rolled away to let the women in, not to let Jesus out. Jesus was still in the tomb three days—day one: Friday before sunset, day two: sunset Friday until sunset Saturday, day three: sunset Saturday until sometime before sunrise on Sunday morning. So, if you get too tired waiting for Sunday morning, you can start celebrating the resurrection Saturday night. Just don’t tell the kids. After all you want to get some sleep, not sugar, chocolate, children, and sleep are not compatible.