the day of not

Daily Devotion - April 11

I will send a brief message each day (except Mondays) while we are pausing gathering in person.
- Kara

HOLY SATURDAY

Today is Holy Saturday. Other traditions do better with this day than ours - we kind of act like it's a day to shop and prep for Easter. We are not sure what to do with a dramatic pause in the action, so we fill it up.  But Holy Saturday is a sacred, strange, pause of a day.

Jesus is dead. All hope has died with him. All his disciples believed in, all they gave up for him, all they were trusting would come to pass - it's done.  The revolution is over, it all came to naught.

If we want to get theological about it, we might say today that God is dead. The Son has died. The Spirit that is the energy of the Father to the Son ceases to exist without the Son. The Father cannot be the Father without the Son. The Trinity is shattered. Death has penetrated the heart of God.

But whether you want to get that deep or not, Holy Saturday is for when the story has ENDED and nothing new has begun. It's a vacuum, a hole, a day of emptiness.

We have a unique opportunity this year, like none we have ever had or may ever have again, to really sink into Holy Saturday.
Let's see what God might do with us today.


THE DAY AFTER THE WORST DAY  

"It is finished."

It simply does not get worse than yesterday.
The world has ended.

And then there was evening and there was morning.
The second day. 
Today is the day after the worst day of all.

Yesterday happened.
We are stripped of illusions now.
We have stared evil in the eyes,
and it has won.
It's ok to lay down and
curl in on yourself
for a little while.
It's ok not to be vigilant today.

Today is the day
of not knowing and not doing.
It's ok not to know.
It's ok to just be.

This is a day for silent shock and hushed sorrow.
It's a day for heaviness, and slowness,
and not talking too much, or too loudly.
This is a day to tread tenderly on the earth,
to respect the pain that each one bears,
to be gentle with yourself,
and cautious with each other.
To eat simply and sleep hungrily,
and leave the lights and your shoes off.

It's a day to stop
reacting and acting,
and let the shock sink
into our bones,
stores shuttered, freeways empty,
death running rampant,
the people
entombed at home.

Did you know, that
between
the Friday and the Sunday
came a Sabbath day?

The greatest drama
of all creation and eternity
pauses
for the day of remembering
God is God and we are not,
in a most inconvenient
and even ironic,
place
in the story.

It stops
at the absence of God
from the earth;
the death of it all;
the day after the worst day.

And it stays here a bit.
Sometimes sabbath is for keening.

After the worst day of all
comes
the day of nothing left to lose.

So rest
in the gaping hole of today.
It's ok to pause here; (God did).
It cannot swallow you whole.
It's ok to stop
and not look ahead.


(Kara Root)


CONNECTING RITUAL:

Perhaps, tonight before we go to bed, whatever time that is in each of our homes, we might pause, reflect, and pray in this way, and so join our hearts:

Set a timer, and sit, silent and still, for three minutes.
Amen.

The day after the worst day

A Reflection for Holy Saturday

"Holy Saturday is final day of Lent, the day between Good Friday and Easter. It is historically commemorated as a day of somber reflection, contemplating the world of darkness that would exist without the hope of Christ's resurrection."  

Last week I was on vacation with my family in Mexico.  One morning, I did yoga on the beach, led in Spanish by a skinny, weathered, aged man, with a faded turban and a long, grey beard. At one point, he had us sitting with our legs crossed, and he picked up his leg carefully, with both hands, and gently tucked his foot into the crook of his arm, smoothing out his toes. He cradled his knee into the fold of his other arm, and rocked his lower leg softly back and forth like an infant. Then he invited us to do the same.  

When I picked up my leg and held it like that, the underside of my foot staring me in the face, my toes splayed up brazenly toward the sun, when I felt the weight of part of myself in my arms that I have never held before, and rocked it back and forth, I welled up with unexpected tenderness.

I keep thinking of this image for Holy Saturday.

 I keep sensing an invitation to gently lift my soul into my arms and rock it softly back and forth.

Between the crash in the darkness that threw us 
into the night air on Friday to make our ways home in silence, 

and the trumpet fanfare that draws us back 
into the warmth and light of Sunday morning,

is there something deep within your soul, 
in the dark corners you haven't swept in a very, very long time,

that wants to rise up and be cradled today? 

THE DAY AFTER THE WORST DAY

"It is finished."

It simply does not get worse than yesterday.
The world has ended.

And then there was evening and there was morning. The second day. 

Today is the day after the worst day of all.

Yesterday happened.
We are stripped of illusions now.
We have stared evil in the eyes, and it has won.
It's ok to lay down and curl in on yourself for a little while. 
It's ok not to be vigilant today. 

Today is the day of not knowing and not doing.
It's ok not to know. It's ok to just be.

This is a day for silent shock and hushed sorrow. 

It's a day for heaviness, and slowness, 

and not talking too much, or too loudly.

This is a day to tread tenderly on the earth, 

to respect the pain that each one bears,

to be gentle with yourself, 

and cautious with each other.

To eat simply and sleep hungrily, 

and leave the lights and your shoes off.

It's a day to wake up to the shocking four inches of new snow and the blustery wind, 
and think, Yeah. That feels about right.

Between the Friday and the Sunday came a sabbath day.

The greatest drama of all creation and eternity

pauses

for the day of remembering God is God and we are not, 

in an inconvenient

and even ironic,

place in the story.

It stops at the absence of God from the earth; 

the death of it all; 

the day after the worst day. 

And it stays here a bit.

Sometimes sabbath is for keening.

After the worst day of all comes the day of nothing left to lose.

So rest in the gaping hole of today. 

It's ok to pause here; (God did). It cannot swallow you whole.

It's ok to stop and not look ahead.
Yet.