Holy Saturday has a slightly strange feel to it, sitting as it does between Good Friday and Easter Sunday. It has an air of the poor relation to it, but it has its own important message to convey, not least that Jesus was truly dead, his limp body having been cut down from the cross and now his cold corpse lay sealed in a tomb. Here’s a reminder, should we need one, that God in Christ shared not only our life but also our death, identifying with us to the last.
HOLY SATURDAY
Joseph took the body, swathed it in a clean linen cloth, and placed it in the brand new tomb that he had had built for himself, hewn out of the rock. Then, after a large stone was rolled in front of the mouth of the tomb, he departed, leaving Mary Magdalene and the other Mary sitting there opposite the tomb.
Matthew 27:59-61
Lord of my life,
hear my prayer for those I have known and loved,
who have been special to me,
precious,
important,
but who, in this world at least, are no more.
Enfold them, always, in your loving embrace,
your everlasting arms,
until that day when you bring new beginnings,
when what is perishable is cloaked in immortality,
and death finally loses its sting for ever.
Support those recently bereaved –
those for whom the pain of loss remains all too real,
the desolation all too devastating,
the shock all too overwhelming,
the grief all too hard bear;
those who know tears by day and night –
who strive to look forward,
but see only hopelessness,
who try to build a new life,
but feel that the future is empty.
Reach out to hold and heal,
to calm and comfort,
to support and sustain.
Help them to find hope even in their despair,
and light even in their darkness,
assured that night will finally give way to day,
and rain to sunshine.
Amen.