An Ambiguous Reflection for Holy Saturday
Today is Holy Saturday, that day-between-days that we’re never quite sure what to do with. On Good Friday we remember the cross of Christ. On Easter Sunday we’ll celebrate the resurrection. But what about Holy Saturday?
For Jesus’ friends and followers, it was a day of emptiness, loss, fear. The one who brought them so much hope and life was gone, dead.
I’ve been told that some church traditions have commemorated Holy Saturday with fasting and reflection upon one’s sins – getting in touch with our need for the events of Good Friday and Easter Sunday. It’s a day to “lift up the rock” of our lives and face some of the nasty things growing underneath.
I’ve heard that some churches even lock the doors on Holy Saturday, as a way of symbolizing the emptiness of this in-between time when Christ has died, but not yet been resurrected.
I am writing these words on Holy Saturday, on retreat in the Rocky Mountains with members of the Issachar Community – a dozen young leaders from inner city churches in Denver. We’re not quite sure what to do with this Holy Saturday, either. We spent the morning reflecting in somber tones upon the meaning of the cross. Then we went swimming and soaked in the hot tub. Now we’re preparing to have a Passover meal. (There’s a real lamb roasting in the oven.) Appropriately ambiguous for Holy Saturday.
We sang worship songs for over an hour this morning. Someone requested the old-school chorus, They Will Know We Are Christians by Our Love. The words are optimistic, almost triumphant:
We will walk with each other,
We will walk hand in hand,
We will walk with each other,
We will walk hand in hand.
And together we'll spread the news that God is in our land.
And they'll know we are Christians by our love, by our love;
Yes they'll know we are Christians by our love.
Such encouraging words! And we’re living them, too, at Issachar. After all, here we are: Black, Brown, and White – all praying and singing together, living with one another, becoming close friends in Christ.
I couldn’t help but mention, however, that we all attend different churches, based largely on our ethnicity. Most of us, at Issachar and throughout America, will attend Easter services tomorrow with people who are from the same race/ethnicity as us. If the world knows we are Christians by our love for one another, it won’t be on Sunday morning that they see this love in action.
Our continued unwillingness to transcend race, ethnicity and social class in our primary relationships -- including our choice of churches -- is just one of those nasty things we find growing underneath when we lift up the rock on this Holy Saturday. I'm sorry to be so negative, but that's the kind of thing one faces on Holy Saturday, if we hold to the tradition.
After we finished the song, someone noticed that “They Will Know We Are Christians by Our Love,” that optimistic, triumphant song, is written in a minor key! We’re singing happy words, but the song can’t help but sound sad, leaving us with an ambiguous feeling.
Perfect for Holy Saturday.
Comments
Jeff,
Last time in Phoenix I heard Kris mention a statement he heard somewhere that I am always thinking about...nonstop.
"The church is a place where natural enemies gather."
I am not sure who said that, but as a Mexican-American in a time of great strife over immigration issues attending a predominantly white church, I feel like I am among "enemies" at times. However, it also feels like I am not among my "people"...what a strange tension.
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April 17, 2006 08:58 AM