A Holy Day Of Shattered Dreams

Holy Saturday

The readings associated with Holy Saturday are for the nighttime Easter Vigil, and these scriptures really tell the story of our faith. If you have never read all of them, I’d recommend you take a look at www.usccb.org.

The day itself, however, has no readings associated with it. It reminds me of what I often see in printed books: [This space left intentionally blank]. Holy Saturday is blank, unresolved space.

I think about Holy Saturday a lot, because this is where so many of us spend a good deal of time. Like Jesus, we have experienced something painful that has upended our reality and just do not know how this story is going to turn out. Maybe we thought God had our back and then seemed to disappear on us. Maybe the people we thought would be there for us took off. Maybe the blessing that we hoped for never came.

Or maybe like the disciples, we feel lost, discouraged, alone and afraid because the path we were following suddenly disappeared in front of our eyes.

Of course we know how the Jesus story turns out, but his followers did not. And there are so many stories in our own lives where we do not have the luxury of knowing how things will end.

Holy Saturday holds up all of the bitter endings, unresolved conflicts, and painful separations that we experience and acknowledges all the disappointments and things we wished had happened that didn’t yet (or might never happen). It is the holy day of shattered dreams. 

Theologian and preacher, Barbara Brown Taylor, in a beautiful reflection entitled Learning to Wait in the Dark, says that “That is what Holy Saturday has taught me about being Christian. Between the great dramas of life, there is almost always a time of empty waiting — with nothing to do and no church service to help — a time when it is necessary to come up with your own words and see how they sound with no other sounds to cover them up. If you are willing to rest in this Sabbath, where you cannot see your hand in front of your face and none of your self-protective labors can do you one bit of good, then you may come as close to the Christ as you will ever get — there in that quiet cave where you wait to see how the Maker of All Life will choose to come to you in the dark.”

Empty waiting indeed.

I was sitting with someone recently whose mother had a “brain event” last week and since then the mother has been in a coma and breathing through a tube. The doctors are “hopeful” that she will pull through, but they don’t know for certain what brain damage might result.

Another person I know who is in their early 30’s was recently diagnosed with a stage 4 cancer and is now going through chemo. They don’t know what the future holds.

A third person I talked to in the past week is separated from their partner of 10 years and just got an apartment because their partner “wanted some space.” They fear that this relationship might be over but they’re not sure.

All of them are facing situations like Barbara Brown Taylor is describing where they can’t even see the hand in front of their face and have no certainty for this current leg of the journey.

Maybe you’re also in a similar Holy Saturday space these days. 

So many people in this world occupy this uncertain space these days from Gaza to Ukraine, Haiti to Sudan. So many have family members who have been taken, disappeared or jailed. So many do not know where their next meal will come from.

During these times we are called into a deep form of trust and hope, and we try to stay the course in spite of our fear. We may feel lost or stunned, and may want to run away from the place that we are in. Breathe and try to release the fear. On this Holy Saturday, no matter what you are holding, and even if just for a moment, try to “come up with your own words and see how they sound with no other sounds to cover them up”. Let this be your prayer. Just be still and let the “Maker of All Life” come to you in the dark.