Read the Text: Mark 15:42-16:1
OK, I cheated. There is no text for Holy Saturday. It goes from the evening before the Sabbath to the day after. No Sabbath.
Writers and theologians have been searching for the missing day for centuries. One of my favorite apocryphal stories comes from Piers Plowman, a medieval poem that involves Jesus going to the underworld to liberate the dead. A common understanding. Pure speculation, but common.
The turn in Piers Plowman is, of course that the church screws up and victory becomes defeat. That’s totally my favorite part. And fitting.
More fitting that we have a day to wait. A day with nothing but dreams for our imaginations to go crazy. A day for Sabbath. Free of rules and absolute truths.
The white board we need. The white board ready for all the dry erase markers we have. And when we’re done, we can wipe it all away. For today, Jesus is gone and we have no idea where He went. What He left behind was Sabbath.
[This is Part 7 of a series of meditations for Holy Week. If you haven’t, you might want to start from the beginning.]