3 April 2021
Holy Saturday
Those of you who have the benefit of being raised in the true faith, Irish Catholicism, will be familiar with what was for many of us, the series of events surrounding the funeral: the wake, the Mass, the burial, and then the afterwards. The afterwards occurred when you went to the deceased’s house, ate baked ham and green bean casserole, and shuffled around. Slowly the crowds diminished, and the family was left sitting in the living with a few kind neighbors washing up in the kitchen. And there you sat. The events done, the body buried, and just before you launched into the details of dividing up contents of the silver chest, you sat and looked at the wall. By this point everyone was just tired of crying and tired of being tired. The finality of death is such a difficult ending and if it comes unexpected it only worsens the hurt and confusion. But you go on because that’s what you have to do. One can only imagine a similar scene with the apostles on Saturday afternoon. Too much had happened too quickly to understand in just twenty-four hours. No doubt they just sat there and stared at the wall. In the case of the Apostles, there was nothing to divide, there was nothing but themselves and their common experiences shaped by the presence of Jesus among them. Nothing made sense. Mary no doubt provided some encouragement. However, talking about confirming oneself to God’s will at this specific moment in time seemed like pious gibber for most sane men to stomach. Something needed to happen. Well, to quote Scarlet O’Hara in Gone with the Wind, “tomorrow is another day.” And, in the case of the afterwards, after the burial of Jesus, it certainly was.