Silent Saturday

This morning, during my usual walk, things were really quiet. Even the birds were muted in their chirping. Traffic was light on the road and few people were out. And I began to ruminate about that long-ago Saturday, the day after the crucifixion, the day before the resurrection. When I returned home, I quickly looked through the four gospels, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. Not a word about Saturday.

They have a great deal to say about Friday. The early morning betrayal of Jesus in a dark garden where torches were necessary to guide the way. The trials before the high priest and Pilate. The beating and mocking and gambling for the tunic. The cross, the nails, the two thieves. The last cry of an innocent man, “It is finished!” The men who came and prepared the corpse, the new tomb, the big stone. Then, silence.

The soldiers probably went home, washed their hands and had supper and wine. The crowd dispersed; the spectacle over. Those who were Jews went home to observe the sabbath. The priests, and sadducees and pharisees went home, glad to have avoided defiling themselves by letting Pilate do their dirty work. Jesus? Problem solved.

The disciples went into hiding; confused, brokenhearted, afraid. Blank stares, some weeping, maybe a little bit of anger. What do we do now? And maybe some hope? Look, didn’t He say He’d come back? Yes, but His corpse is in a sealed up tomb.

Christians have liturgies and worship services for Maunday Thursday, Good Friday and Resurrection Sunday. But what are we supposed to do on the un-titled day, Saturday?

Maybe since scripture is silent that’s what we are to do. Pause for a day. Reflect on the cosmic events of Friday. Take a breath. Wait. Do what God says, 

Be still, and know that I am God.

I will be exalted among the nations,

I will be exalted in the earth!”

Psalms 46:10 (ESV)

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