Saturday, April 11, 2020

At home in Holy Saturday

Which may sound odd.

This isn't about liking or disliking or agreeing or disagreeing with Christianity or a particular stand of its orthodoxy or orthopraxy.

This isn't about belief in Christian creeds or faith in Christian visions of divinity.

And this isn't about provoking or instigating.

It's about using imagery from a religion that has dominated western cultures for a couple of millennia and that was influential in my childhood.

But my appreciation of that imagery is very likely different than yours. Some people are bothered by that. If it bothers you, you can stop reading, get upset, or consider a different view. That choice is wholly yours. I don't feel like arguing about your reaction, however.

Of course, I didn't know the term Holy Saturday growing up. I was familiar with Easter Sunday. Didn't have much on Good Friday, either. The Holy Week schedule came in later as I learned about strands of Christianity that focused more on the liturgical calendar and rites.

But it fits me in some ways. Holy Saturday, that is. Not necessarily what other people have written about it. Maybe, depending on what they wrote. The story goes that Good Friday commemorates the crucifixion and death of Jesus Christ, while Easter Sunday commemorates the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Holy Saturday technically has a name, but it's kind of the filler day for some people. The day in between the highlights.

Or, if you focus on it, it's the day when hope dies. When you lose faith or are sorely tested. When you just don't feel like putting on the act and airs of a normal day. When you are down, depressed, tired, or at the end of your rope. When you feel disappointed or defeated. Pointless. Useless.

So naturally for Christians, Sunday morning is the big relief. The happy ending after the dark period in the story of their lives. A new chance. A renewal of hope and opportunity. And so on. When everything was at its worst, a complete reversal, snatching victory from the jaws of defeat.

I can see why that's popular. Why it resonates with so many people. Why they look forward to Easter Sunday. But it doesn't resonate with me. Not my lived experience. Not my personality. It isn't a match. Good Friday and Holy Saturday, sure. But not Sunday. It feels contrived. Forced. I don't begrudge those who find solace and hope in Easter. That's great! For them.

In the sense of renewal or passing the torch, I find a little common ground. But total and final victory? Unwavering faith and confidence in the surety of a future that is the culmination of the noblest wishes and highest good our species can imagine? Naw. That doesn't compute. The ultimate pipe dream, however various Christian imagine it, is too remote.

But picking up the pieces and carrying on after disappointment? Even with no guarantees or assurances? Hard, yes. For many, too hard. For me, too, sometimes. But it has the ring of genuineness to it. It may not be a first pick for many people, but it feels and reasons as accessible. Meaningful. True.

Whatever your take, be well.




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