Holy
Saturday . . . the day nothing happened. The day we wait.
I
can’t even really imagine what it must have been like that first Holy Saturday,
being one of those closest to Jesus, and knowing you just ate this meal with
him, where he told you the bread was his body and the wine was his blood. Then
he takes you to a garden to pray, where he is arrested, tried, beaten,
crucified, and buried . . . and now what? It is hard enough to lose a friend or
family member, but what about one in whom you hoped for your salvation? I can’t
even imagine the anguish, the despair, the fear that because you were with
Christ, one of his close companions they would come after you. I think about
St. Peter a lot. He and I have the same disorder, FIMD, Foot-in-mouth disease.
Almost every story of Peter in the Gospels is one where he sticks his foot in
his mouth, except for one, when Jesus asked the disciple who they say He was,
and Peter answers that “You are the Christ.” In turn, Jesus appoint Peter as the
leader of the Church. He is the Rock the Foundation, the man who 3 times as the
Lord is being tried denies he even knew him. But honestly, I can’t say as a
human I blame him. How many times have we denied Christ either by our words or
our actions?
This
Holy Week as I have participated in the liturgies and reflected on my vocation,
I have had a very strong understanding that I nailed Jesus to that cross, that
it was my sinfulness that drove the nails through his hands and feet. It struck
me on Palm Sunday when during the Gospel I could barely choke out the words “Crucify
Him,” because the thought I was the one crucifying him was too strong. And
yesterday, as I knelt to embrace the cross, it was with great sorrow for I knew
I put him there. As I kissed his foot it was in reparation for the nail I drove
through it. I’ve always liked the veneration of the cross, yes it is a symbol
of great suffering, but it is a symbol of the greatest expression of love. All
love involves and at least the risk of suffering, but this love, the greatest
love, was expressed through the greatest suffering, and then, what?
 |
| This painting by Thomas Blackshear, "Forgiven" depicts it well. How Jesus loves us even though we have nailed him to the cross. |
Holy
Saturday, the day nothing happened, the day Jesus laid in the tomb, the day I
am sure the disciples questioned whether they’d placed their faith in a lunatic
or a criminal, the day their faith was tested. How many doubted that his words
were true, that he would rise again? How often do I doubt it?
I’ve
been in Holy Saturday for a while now. I am finishing up my program and I have
no idea what happens next I am just waiting, waiting, waiting, much like the
disciples locked in the upper room. Because I have faith and hope that I am
being lead where I am supposed to go, and a strong willingness to follow, I
described my feelings in this waiting as a peaceful anxiety (which I am so glad
I have friends I can say something like that to and they get it). Cardinal
DiNardo once spoke of a “joyful disquiet” in regards to Lent, and as the old
translation of the Mass, during the Lord’s Prayer, the priest would say, “We
wait in joyful hope.”
Thursday
night at Mass, I sat slightly left of where I normally sit, and as such I
notices a statue of Mary on the left side altar, I had not seen. The Mass was
bilingual, so after father gave the homily in English, he gave it in Spanish,
it was then I noticed Mary, and I was so captivated. I was filled with a desire
to be like her, and I asked her to share her bravery with me, and that’s when
it started. I wanted to be brave like her to say yes to whatever it is that God
is asking of me: Be it done as you have said, I am the handmaid of the Lord. I’ve
prayed this many times, but Thursday it was real, a stirring, a longing was
built up in me, and I felt weird, and after receiving communion, it
intensified. This feeling of a peaceful anxiety, knowing that my yes will lead
to good things, but still apprehension about what it means and following
through. It was intensified after receiving the Eucharist because while I have
always loved Jesus, I have a real sense of being in love with Jesus now. I have
given him my heart, my whole self, and it is scary and wonderful all at once. But
it doesn’t change that I am waiting to see what is to be resurrected in this
choice, just like the Apostles and Jesus’ friends on the first Holy Saturday.
There is a stillness an unknowing.
For Holy Saturday, I think these words from Wayne Kerr's song "Three Days" are appropriate:
Three
days, since we saw you
And
three days
Since
you’ve been gone
I
never thought that I’d see the day
I
never dreamed it would end this way
But
it’s been 3 days since you were my friend
And
3 days without you
These
days how will we begin?
Where
do we begin?
Last
night I thought that I heard you
And
you were teaching
And
then I awoke to find
It
was just a dream in the night
Could
it be that they, they were all right?
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