Holy Saturday / Easter Vigil
Tonight, we will celebrate the Easter Vigil. We wish to race to the empty tomb faster than Peter and John. We’ll even beat Mary Magdalene there with the spices and oils she is bringing for Jesus’ body. That is tonight. Today is different. Today, the tomb is closed and the guard is set. Today is Holy Saturday. Let us enter the silence.
Throughout Holy week we’ve been able to see different facets of Jesus. His humility was on display as he entered Jerusalem on a donkey, even amid cries of Hosanna. We saw his zeal and resolve as he cleared the temple. Then we were challenged by his servant’s heart in the washing of the Disciples’ feet and his authority to establish the New Covenant. Next, we encountered his mystery and enigmatic side as he stood trial. Finally, the prophecies of the suffering servant were fulfilled in the events of Good Friday.
What does that mean for us today? Are we now faced with the silent savior? The absent absolver of our sins? I think we get to encounter a few things.
First, we encounter the Lord who has drawn so near to us that he not only experienced our suffering, but also our death. His silence on Holy Saturday is not an act of abandonment or absenteeism, but of solidarity and sympathy. Sometimes the only comfort and only solace we can offer is our presence. When I find myself anxious about “not knowing the right thing to say” I am reminded of the Lord, silently laying in death in defiant contradiction to the idiom that “we all die alone.” Once that may have been true, but no more for he is there with us in all things.
Second, we encounter our individuality during a week of communal worship. There are no major liturgies to commemorate the tomb. Instead we are offered the silence. This reminds me of a principle I’ve learned in helping with our GriefShare program, everyone grieves differently. Today, we are invited to encounter the tomb differently. Our faith encompasses both the communal and personal, today is immensely personal. We must stand before the tomb and find our personal response to Jesus’ question from the Upper Room, “Do you realize what I have done for you?” How we answer that question changes the way we face our own eventual tomb.
Finally, we encounter the silence. Spiritual masters have talked or written about believers encountering a spiritual crisis during their journey. One of the most famous articulations of this is St. John of the Cross’ Dark Night of the Soul. This can be a period of desolation, crisis, or just feeling like the Lord is distant or quiet. As if He is laying in burial wraps behind stone, seal, and soldiers. But even that can be overcome. I can’t imagine the extended Holy Saturdays that some live through in their lives, but I am inspired by how bravely they cling to the hope of a rolled away stone.
Tonight, we’ll encounter the great light, the overcome soldiers, and the rolled away stone. Until then, let us enter the silence. Let us reflect on the nearness we have to Jesus through his entry into the human condition and hear him calling us to continue his ministry of presence, accompaniment, and solidarity. Let us respond to His death in our individuality, not glossing over today, but letting it reach us on a personal level. Finally, if there is an area where we have felt the Lord was distant. Let us find comfort in the promise of the resurrection.
The tomb is shut, but the Lord will not be silent, he will not lie still, we will cry out ephphatha and the light will pierce the darkness. The silence will be broken.
- Spencer Hargadon