Holy Week, Saturday

How did they get through Saturday, those disciples of Jesus, after that horrific Friday afternoon when He died a criminal’s death, marked by the agony of physical suffering, and no spoken condemnation from that cross. Instead, on the cross, he spoke forgiveness for the ones who nailed him up there, “Father forgive them. They have no idea what they’re doing.”

And neither, truly, did the followers of Jesus. Sabbath started Friday evening, so they, like all good Jews, stopped work, prayed, no doubt stayed together as much as possible. 

Peter remembered his betrayal, three times denying knowledge of and friendship with Jesus…….

John contemplated taking care of Mary, the beloved mother of Jesus, such a responsibility given to him by Jesus in the final moments of His life……

The nine remaining men, strong fishermen, a tax collector, working men all of them, thought of dashed hopes…….

They relived the past three years, his stirring, triumphant words, his astonishing, inexplicable miracles, raising the dead, feeding 5000 men, their wives, their children, trying to figure out what went wrong……..

They prayed for, what? A sign? Another leader? A greater, bigger, grander miracle? 

Here is the Western Wall, the holiest site in the Jewish faith, last remaining part of the Temple in Jerusalem at that

time. No doubt, the Jewish leaders felt triumphant attending services that Sabbath.....back in charge, another minor trouble maker tossed aside by history. Before long, Jesus of Nazareth would fade to history, his followers scattered, his teachings erased.

The women and men who had followed Jesus, walked with him around Palestine, seen—and participated in—three amazing years of hope……now sat stunned, waiting, confidence crushed on that previous Friday afternoon, courage stymied. They had the Sabbath, the day set aside by God to rest, to refresh. Heartbroken and afraid, the followers of Christ huddled and waited.

Till, finally, in marched Sunday morning.