Sermon; Holy Saturday 2020

“So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today's trouble is enough for today” – Matt. 6:34

Back when I was in seminary one of my professors introduced us to blogs and blogging. A blog, for those who don't know, is shorthand for “web log.” It is, essentially, an online diary. This was a relatively new thing, and if we didn't have one, he required us to start one. His reasoning was theology, and basically everything we were to be doing as priests, should be part of the public forum. 

I bring this up because it was through that same professor that I was introduced to a blog called Slacktivist. At that time, and for several years on, he primarily wrote a deconstruction of the Left Behind series – a series of books about the end times of biblical prophecy, and a series of books which he called, “The worst books ever written.”

He also wrote, and still writes, of many other things. One of his most popular posts over the years, and originally posted ten years ago, is one called Holy Saturday. It's a post from which I shamelessly have borrowed, but always credited.

From his post:

This is my favorite day in Holy Week, this Saturday, this unrestful Sabbath, my favorite day in the whole of the liturgical calendar.

Well, actually, “favorite” is the wrong word. It’s not that I like this day so much as that I understand it. It’s recognizable, familiar, lived-in.

This day, the Saturday that can’t know if there will ever be a Sunday, is the day we live in, you and I, today and every day for the whole of our lives. This is all we are given to know.

Easter Sunday? That’s tomorrow, the day after today. We’ll never get there in time. We can believe in Easter Sunday, but we can’t be sure. We can’t know for sure. We can’t know until we’re out of time.

Here, in time, there’s just this day, this dreadful Saturday of not knowing.

This is the day when Jesus lay dead and buried in the tomb. This was the day that everyone connected with Jesus was unsure about the future. The terror and brutality of yesterday when Jesus was crucified was over, although still fresh in our minds. The promised and hoped-for resurrection of tomorrow has yet to be fulfilled.

In the words of the Slacktivist, there is just this day, this dreadful Saturday of not knowing.

This Holy Saturday is particularly appropriate for the times in which we find ourselves. Yesterday seems but a distant memory. Tomorrow is hoped for, but uncertain. There is only today.

I saw two memes somewhere online that pretty much sum up where we are. The first was a calendar in which every date simply said, “Today.” Another one said something like, “2020 is a very special Leap Year because February has 29 days, March has 31 months, and April has 5 years.”

Thinking back, does anyone know when, exactly, we went on lockdown, or when we started talking seriously about social distancing? We had an original date of returning to church on March 27, but that was extended to May 17, and I believe that we are really looking into July. Which leaves us to live solely in this day, this Holy Saturday, where yesterday is a distant memory and tomorrow is out of reach.

It's hard, as one day melds into the next. Our sense of time is all out of whack. I sometimes don't know where I'm supposed to be, or even WHEN I'm supposed to be.

Weekly and daily routines have been upended. Is today laundry day or garbage day? Is today my “day off,” or is it math day? One of my parishioners recently commented, “I thought knowing what day it was was hard when I retired.”

For us, yesterday was the last time we gathered together in person at church. Tomorrow is the next time we will gather together in church. We remember yesterday, but we may be unsure about tomorrow. Just like the disciples on that first Saturday after the crucifixion. And, just like the disciples, we wait and we pray.

I can't tell you when tomorrow will come. Right now today is expected to last into the middle of May, but, like I said, I have a feeling it will last much longer. Some of us are scared. Many of us are worried. We are in a place where we have no control. We are in a place much like the disciples were on that first Saturday.

How do we cope in a world and time where there is only today? Based on my experience, here's what I can tell you: Try to find a routine of some kind, it doesn't have to be much. Maybe a meal at a set time or a simple daily chore that is familiar to you. Remember, Peter opted to go fishing, because that's what he knew. Try not to think too far ahead. As Jesus said, “Today's trouble is enough for today.”

We are all under a lot of stress, some of us more than others, but all of us are impacted. Don't let anyone tell you that your circumstances are any less stressful than anyone else. Don't fall into the trap of guilt shaming. Don't worry that you haven't been “productive” during this time. Don't beat yourself up because you haven't painted the kitchen, re-tiled the basement, or learned to speak Mandarin.

Today isn't about productivity. Today is about rest. Today all creation holds its breath. Today is about learning to deal with today and listening for God in unexpected places.

Where was God in your life today? Where did you hear God today?

Maybe God was present in the way the light hit a piece of stained glass window just right so as to bring a touch of beauty into your life today. Or maybe God was present when he allowed you the space to cry because you are overwhelmed. Or maybe it was when you got through today without crying.

There is a lot going on today. There is a lot packed into this Holy Saturday. There was a lot going on that very first Holy Saturday when the disciples may have seen the light just so, or maybe they sat down and cried. The trauma of yesterday is still with us. The fulfillment of hope is yet to come.

So today be gentle with yourself and with those around you. Today we hope for tomorrow. Today we hope for resurrection. Today is all we have and today will last a long time. But take heart, because Jesus also said, “Today you will be with me in paradise.”

Amen.