Holy Saturday

I think I know how my ancient sisters felt on this day.

They who prepared the spices and the linens for the tomb.

Who cooked food for the mourners who would come by to whisper their grief and confusion and fear into each other's ears.

Whose tears would sprinkle the mundane tasks of the day with unspeakable sadness.

They did not know - could not know - what was about to happen.

How their world would be turned upside down and 'round right again.

How their confusion would turn to wonder.

Their wailing to shouts of joy.

Their broken hearts now open as a vehicle for love and healing.

They could not know.

Tonight we will recreate and live into the story of God's love for us.

From the Garden.
Through the Garden.
To the Garden.

Some will come. Many will stay home.

They do not know. They do not understand. What is about to happen.

So it is with the Resurrection. So it has always been.

We await its coming centuries after it has already arrived.

It continues to reveal itself in the midst of the mundane and that which is unspeakable.

Transforming
Our hearts.
Our minds.
Our lives.

So, into Holy Saturday, then.

To enter into the comfort of ancient rituals as a solace to ancient grief.

To prepare for the unexpected.

To wait.

To grieve the lowering of expectations.

To anticipate the rising hope of possibility.

I think I know how my ancient sisters felt on this day.