On the seventh day God rested in the darkness of the tomb,
having finished on the sixth day all his work of joy and doom;
Now the Word had fallen silent, and the water had run dry;
The flock had lost its shepherd, and the seed was sadly sown,
the courtiers had betrayed their king, and nailed him to his throne.
O sabbath rest by Calvary, O calm of tomb below,
where the grave-clothes and the spices cradle him we did not know!
Rest you well, beloved Jesus: Caesar's Lord and Israel's King,
in the brooding of the Spirit, in the darkness of the spring.
-from Bishop Wright's and Paul Spicer's Easter Oratorio
I think we are are too familiar with the Resurrection story, to the effect that we miss the distinct poetry in each of the gospel versions. John's is full of New Creation analogies, calling up images of the first Creation. The above account does a beautiful job of highlighting the 'week' imagery, recalling that, in the imagery of the first creation, the task was completed on the 6th day (Friday) and God rested on the 7th day (Sabbath/Saturday). The anticipation, of course, is for what the new 'week' will contain, the NEW creation. On Holy Saturday we remember the Sabbath from God's work of dealing with the brokenness of the 1st Creation. From his perspective, we contemplate what new work that means must begin on the 1st day of the new week.
But I don't find myself thinking from God's perspective this Holy Saturday. I find myself identifying more with the heartbroken, spent, puzzled, and, quite likely, angry Jesus-followers who did not understand yet the plan of a new creation. I'm 'on call' tonight, and H and A and I have no Jesus-followers with whom to share the celebration of Resurrection Sunday, and I'll likely be too tired to, from call, anyway. We are not those people who 'shop' for a believing community in the sense of looking for an organization that 'meets my needs' or 'has a relevant message' or 'has a great children's ministry' or 'has great music', although all those things would be great and I empathize with those who are. And it's not that we haven't met people that are passionate about their love for God or who are active in service to the community. I can't really put my finger on it. And I've been trying to. For a long time now. Why does 'church' turn me off? Why can't I get over my detest for the current organization? (unlike a friend of mine who once retorted that he loves 'the local church,' I just don't buy his definition of local church) Why can't I just live with the status quo, or even 'join' with the hope of change from the inside. We feel alone, isolated, friendless. And, we know, it's our own fault. But I don't like the solutions that are currently available to us. It's something about joining the system that makes me feel like I'd be selling out.
And so today I feel like a Jesus-follower on Holy Saturday, before they knew it was holy in an entirely new way (not merely "remember the sabbath, to keep it holy"): ashamed, embarrassed, wondering how I could be taken in so easily, in the dark, overwhelmed, wondering what to do after the day of rest--in what way should life proceed, who, or where, are the people who have been around me, scattered, confused, lonely, heartbroken, angry, wanting answers but not really expecting any, scared, vulnerable, defenseless. What will tomorrow bring, if this dark night ever ends? Sleep is far from me.
