So what is Saturday?
With a little wiki-digging I found it to be celebrated as “Holy Saturday,” or “Black Saturday [hmmm made me think of a rock group from another era],” or “Low Saturday,” or “White Saturday.”
However the title I liked best was “The Great Sabbath.” In Eastern Orthodoxy it is the holiday commemorating the day Christ “rested” in the tomb of death.
What a strange “day of rest.” The rushing about by the Jewish crowds and religious leaders to get ready after the protracted crucifixion. Breaking legs to hurry the death of criminals; puncturing the side of a dead man to insure all would “rest in peace.”
The scurry of frantic followers to bury an assassinated Icon before the setting of the sun. Sondown had come.
He uttered “It is finished!” – Scattered disillusioned disciples would have certainly concurred. The grand vision of a revolution was washed up, finished, shattered, as the Miracle-man was executed.
What a strange mysterious calm must have fallen over earth and heaven. As the torture of the Creator of the Universe was coming to an end, a collective gasp of nature and extra-terrestrials created gale force winds and black holes—all creation completely astonished at human depravity and Divine degradation. But now it was done, and the quiet reverence of this unholy act stills the landscape, the spacescape. The Way, The Truth, and The Life is gone.
Light had given way to darkness. Sonset had come.
As Sabbath morning arrives, folks are off to church as usual. Services are held, observances remain unaltered. People go about their religious way. Business as usual. The Lord of the Sabbath had been neutralized. Now things can get back to normal.
But for some, nothing will ever be the same. The paranoia was high, the shock was setting in. There was an emotional cocktail of terror, shame, and bewilderment. Once extra-ordinary fishers of men, their superhuman powers stripped at the very apex of what was to be the crowning of a new regime.
Powers to heal—gone. Ability to cast out demons—demolished to the point of inability to cast out their own. Huddled in the crevices of the city, the followers of the Rabbi come into the Great Sabbath, heavy laden, rest-less.
All the while, along the streets of the city, the worships and rituals of Sabbath continue as scheduled. The bustle of temple practices, the observance of travel limits, the carefulness to observe the Sabbath doesn’t lose step. Rest-lessness abounds.
Only One rests. In the darkness of a cave, One tastes the eternal, dream-less slumber. What a strange, mysterious rest.
Rest well Beloved One.
Sonrise is just around the corner.