Suffering: In-Between

On occasion we use a phrase that captures the significance of one particular day.  We say that the “day before” was one way, the “day after” another, all because of the eventful day in-between.

Thus we felt nervous the “day before” the wedding, and relieved the “day after.”  Likewise, we felt fear the “day before” the championship game, deep disappointment (because of a loss) the “day after.”  We felt excitement the “day before” the retirement party, a sense of lostness the “day after.”

The truly eventful day—the wedding, the championship game, and the retirement party—was the day in-between.  That day held center stage.

An event of suffering changes the sequence.  Suffering suspends us between two eventful days or periods of time, two realities—a past that can’t be changed and a future that can’t be known.  It’s an in-between space of uncertainty, sorrow, and brokenness; but also of expectation and hope.

We have entered the season of Lent, which begins with Ash Wednesday.  Fire refines gold, making it more pure and valuable.  Fire burns wood, turning it into ash.  Ash symbolizes sin and mortality.

Ash Wednesday reminds us that we are destined to die.

Most churches around the world observe Ash Wednesday, Lent, and Holy Week, which culminates on Easter Sunday, the day of Resurrection.  Far fewer observe Holy Saturday, which stands between the horror of Good Friday and the triumph of Easter Sunday.  Holy Saturday is the ultimate in-between time, the “day after” and the “day before.”

The Gospels mention only two events about that day.  One text says that a few female followers of Jesus rested, as Jews were supposed to do on the Sabbath.  They had hurriedly prepared Jesus’ body for buriel; they hoped to visit the tomb the next day to continue their ritual of mourning.

The other text recounts that leaders of the Jewish Sanhedrin asked Pilate to roll a heavy stone over the mouth of the tomb and post guards so that the followers of Jesus could not steal his body.  Jesus had caused enough trouble as it was.  A missing body would only cause more.

One other text illustrates the true significance of the day.  Luke 24 tells the story of two disciples walking to Emmaus early Sunday morning.  A stranger (Jesus) joins them and asks them why they are so sad.  They respond with incredulity because the stranger seems to be the only one who has not heard about Jesus’ death.  “We thought that he was the one to redeem Israel.”

But Jesus had failed, or so it seemed to them.

Holy Saturday is the day that allows us to live suspended between two realities: it is the “day after” Good Friday, which marks the day Jesus died on our behalf, and the “day before” Easter Sunday, which marks the day Jesus was resurrected, which of course makes Good Friday truly good.  Holy Saturday is the in-between day.

Perhaps it is time to reclaim the significance of the day.

Many of us spend long periods of time living in this kind of suspension: the “day after” we sign divorce papers; the “day after” we receive the diagnosis of cancer; the “day after” we lose a job.  But the “day before” something else might happen that changes the entire plot of the story.

It is the time in-between: the “day after” and the “day before.”

What about the disciples?  We know they went into hiding because they they were afraid for their lives.  We know they had just witnessed the brutal execution of the man they believed was the Messiah.  We know they felt the full weight of shattered dreams.

Terrified.  Sad.  Uncertain.

We can hardly blame them.  It is how we often feel, suspended, as we are, between a past we can’t change and a future we don’t know.  Holy Saturday invites us to sit in silence and to mourn our losses, but also to wait for the surprises and opportunities awaiting us.

Like me, you have probably spent a lot of time in some kind of Holy Saturday, an in-between time of darkness.

Can you expect more from it than merely to survive?  Yes, I think so, though it is not easy.  You can and should mourn, but also look for moments of joy.  You can and should feel anger, but also move toward forgiveness.  You can and should feel the full weight of calamity and confusion, but also seek clarity and peace.

Holy Saturday reminds us that, however true and perfect Christ’s redemptive work, we still suffer.  The suffering of Holy Saturday is like winter.  The death of fall gives way to the decay of winter.  But spring turns that decay into fertile soil for the new life soon to emerge.

Jesus died; Jesus was resurrected.  But there is a moment between the two that is full of bleakness, confusion, and pain.  Holy Saturday marks that day.  There is reason to mourn; but there is also cause for hope, if we are willing to wait, watch, and pray.

Why are you cast down, O my soul?

And why are you disquieted with me?

Hope in God, for I shall again praise Him,

My help and my God.