Saturday of Holy Week

The Gospel of Mark is silent on this day.  He says nothing about the sabbath day.  Jesus is dead.  Buried in the pit of a tomb.  In one aspect, what is there to say?  What words would be appropriate for such a deep sadness and loss of hope? 

In some Christian traditions, Saturday is the day where Jesus descends into the depths of hell to lead out those within.  It is a beautiful image that reminds us that no matter how far we are from God, whether by choice or not, God wants no part of our separation.  God wants to be near to us.

For those of us who don’t know what to do on Holy Saturday, perhaps we can light a candle.  Say a prayer.  Mourn for those who have lost loved ones.  Mourn for the losses we have faced.  Mourn for the hopelessness of what this day means.  There are times in our lives when God feels as good as dead.  Today is one of those days.  Though we know that God is merely working on yet another miracle of life, on Holy Saturday, we are unaware of the blessings to come.  And that is okay.  We don’t always have to know what God is up to…but we do know that God is always up to something.  And that something is good…it is for us all…it is full of life.  

 

Let us shed our tears and pray:

 

O God

On this Holy Saturday,

We don’t know what to do.

We don’t know what to say.

We have lost our footing and we can’t find a place to land our deepest yearnings and hopes.

Our Lord is gone.

The sting of death still hurts.

 

So we humbly ask

That you sit with us.

Carry us through our tears and our fears.

Hold us in the silence of the pain

When it becomes too loud to bear.

 

May we light a candle to hope 

In the hopelessness

That death brings.

It stings.

It hurts.

It is suffocating.

 

But we know,

Because of who He was

That you’ve got us.

 

You’ve got us.

 

Amen.

Friday of Holy Week

Read Mark's account of the death of Jesus in Mark 15: 1-47.

“He who hung the earth upon the waters; today he is hung upon the cross.” 

The Book of Common Prayer

 

Michael woke me up last and said he had a bad dream.  As I laid back down with him in his bed I told him that everything was okay, it was just a dream.  “Yea,” he said, “but still….” 

 

That little phrase has rung in my ears all morning.  “But still…”  It makes perfect sense.  No matter what I say, the bad dream still happened. It still scared him.  It still made him search for safety and comfort.  It still disrupted his night.  

 

Jesus died on this day so many years ago.  None of us were there and all we can do is read the gruesome details in scripture or watch a movie interpretation.  Perhaps the further we place ourselves from the realities of that day, the less it will have to have an impact on us…our lives…our choices…our world.  But still…

 

Still it mattered.  It matters like every single unwarranted death matters today.  It matters every time we see a wrongful act being done, or worse yet, participate in it.  It matters if we are going to claim to be Christians and followers of Jesus.  (Or, as Mark’s Gospel would put it, ‘followers of the way’….)  Jesus died to wake us up.  He died to show us how our sins and the injustices of the world matter.  But still…..

 

In his own way, my four-year old reminded me that I can’t take away the hard stuff with just a few words.  Still the bad thing happened.  And it would do us well to sit with it for a while; to wonder what it means for us.  It would do us well to recognize our role in the pain that Jesus’ death represents still today.  As followers of the way, there are things we can do to remember his death and to allow it to help us claim life everlasting for all the places and people in the world who need to hear it.  Who needs you to sit with them today? Who needs you to enter with them into their pain and turmoil?  Who needs you to stand up with them?

 

It probably seemed like a horrible, awful, no good, bad dream.  But still…it was real.  It happened.  May God sit with us today as we remember and pray and promise to never forget.  

 

Let us pray: 

 

In the darkness of this day

We pray, Lord Jesus.

In the pain of your death,

We pray, Lord Jesus.

In the loss of trust,

We pray, Lord Jesus.

In the abandoned friendships,

We pray, Lord Jesus.

In the wrongdoings of humanity,

We pray, Lord Jesus.

In the fear of being caught,

We pray, Lord Jesus.

 

The pain of this day causes us to fall to our knees

But still you offer grace.  

You touch us with forgiveness.

And we are healed.

 

We pray, Lord Jesus

For those who live a Good Friday

Every day of their lives.

You died so that the world would be saved.

Save us from ourselves.

Amen.

Thursday of Holy Week

 To enter into the drama of this day, read Mark 14: 22-72.

What would it have been like to be there?  To sit at the table when Jesus took the bread, blessed it, broke it, and gave it to them.  How would it feel to receive this bread and know, in the pit of your stomach, that something big was going to happen?  And then the cup.  Would the wine make your lips twinge as you took a sip?  How slowly would you let it linger on your tongue, because you knew that once you swallowed, nothing would ever be the same?

Would you have debated Jesus when he said that you would desert him?  That you would flee?  Would you argue with him and promise, like Peter, that you would never leave his side?  

And the prayer.  The bold and heartbreaking words Jesus prayed.  All the while - would you be sleeping? 

 

When the soldiers finally come, the night wakes up.  And you watch as Jesus is kissed by his old friend.  His arrest is swift and physical, accompanied by swords and clubs as though he was a bandit.

 

Perhaps the next place you find yourself is warming your hands by the fire in the courtyard.  You overhear Peter claim his innocence.  You stand there and shake your head as he drops to his knees and weeps bitterly.  The cock crows.  The accusers look at you.  You dart your eyes away and pretend you never heard a thing.

 

Let us pray:

God on this day before the day of your death,

We crawl to you and offer what we know we 

Wouldn’t have been able to give

Had we been by your side all those years ago.

 

We cannot claim to be better than those who knew you best.

We fall to our knees and ask that you make us into who you need us to be.

For this night.

For the sake of whatever goodness is left in this world.

For the sake of all the peacemakers who feel the cold sting of handcuffs

When their only weapon is words of justice.

 

Do not let us fall asleep again.  

Keep us awake to stand by your side

As we claim to be yours.

Amen.