Until recently I was completely unaware Saturday of Holy Week had a name. I knew of Good Friday, though the brutality, hopelessness and agony of the day hardly seem good.
I am aware of Palm Sunday and the little lesser-known Maundy Thursday. And of course, the climax of Holy Week is Resurrection Day.
Saturday is simply known as Holy Saturday. It has stolen it's nickname from the week as a whole.
Saturday seems insignificant in the Holy Week calendar. Nothing happens. Nothing is hoped. Nothing is looked forward to. Nothing is heard.
I think it should be called Silent Saturday.
On Silent Saturday it is as if a cosmic vacuum has sucked all life and joy from the world. Colors are faded. Grays invade. Songs are muffled. Even birds sing in a lifeless monotone. And a dull numbing silence sits over the earth like a heavy wool blanket.
Angels with tear-filled eyes shuffle sullenly through the corridors of heaven. But as the silent day moves on a murmur begins to resonate. A warrior angel has been given a morning assignment - something about an earthquake, a stone-throw and a message to two broken-hearted women.
A buzz begins to build. Heavenly instruments are being unpacked and tuned. They will be played in the morning. Choirs are warming up. At sunrise songs will be sung.
What began as a buzz is now being shouted through heaven. In the morning... HE will be here! And he will be on the dusty ball. He will be in both places as only he can be. But come morning, the one place he will not be... is in the grave!
The silence of Saturday is about to be shattered. The curtain is just about to be pulled back. The orchestra is tuning - though on this dusty ball it cannot yet be heard.
Everything will change.
Everything will be new.
Hope restored.
Life given.
The silence of Saturday is about to give way.
Joy comes in the morning!
The angel will say, "Why do you look for the living among the dead? HE IS NOT HERE, HE IS RISEN!"
(Queue music)
God, He is Risen! He is risen indeed!
For now...
D
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