Don't remember much of it, but the idea of waiting.
What will happen, if anything?
For the disciples, it was all over.
It was finished.
I mean, finished.
No one expected anything but death.
Death is like that, I guess.
It's the final word for us.
It's the final word for Jesus, too.
Tomb.
Stone.
I think It's Holy Saturday only in retrospect.
So the in-between time is hallowed.
Death holds on.
Even death is given its day.
For awhile, so the story goes.
But that's tomorrow.
Today, I'll wait.
1 comment:
Some, due to personal tragedy,
remain Holy Saturday Christians
for a long time -- like in Dante's
purgatory.
The sun doesn't rise
and the colors don't shine,
down in the dark night
of the soul's own coal mine.
But by the grace of God,
and that Good Friday,
Holy Saturday eventually
passes into Easter's new day.
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