Luke 23:56b A Day In Between

"On the Sabbath Day they rested according to the commandment." Luke 23:56b

The Gospels say virtually nothing about Holy Saturday. Even the "Daily Bible Reading" email I got this morning from the ELCA jumped ahead to John's resurrection account for tonight's Easter Vigil celebration.

Matthew's Gospel has the religious elites go to Pilate and ask that the tomb be made secure. In Luke's gospel, everybody rests. In Mark and John, Saturday isn't even mentioned. It was the Sabbath. Everything was on a break.

The picture you see above is of something called an Omphalos, or "navel." It's located in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, in Jerusalem. In medieval tradition, it marks the "center of the world." Everything else in the city, the country, the world, was theoretically measured by its distance from this thing: the "navel" of the world. It's located slightly off-center, on the floor of a room a little way away from the "action" in the Church. So, why is it that this spot was considered the "center"?

Well, as it happens, this humble little marker stands at a spot that's directly equidistant between the traditional spot of Golgotha--where Jesus was crucified--and the aedicule in the church, built over the empty tomb. It's the mid-point between Good Friday and Easter morning, between death and new life.

I think this spot is an important image for us to think about on Holy Saturday, because it's completely arbitrary. As far as we know, nothing of note  happened here. It's just the mid-point.

Similarly, as far as the Gospels tell us, nothing really happened on this day. People rested. Temple services went on as usual. It was a Sabbath like any other. Nobody knew what God was up to.

As I think about this "mid point" between Good Friday and Easter, this seems like the "navel of the world" to me in a symbolic way, too. Though Jesus has long-since been raised, the kingdom of life and love and justice he ushers in has not dawned in its fullness. The crosses of the world and our lives are still near at hand. But in our worship and proclamation, we dwell in the promise that one day all things will be made new. We sing with Mary, Jesus' mother, about a God who has brought down the proud and lifted up the lowly, as if God has already done so. Christians live a Holy Saturday life: knowing God's Kingdom is "already" in the sense that we have God's promise and the joy of Jesus' resurrection, but "not yet" in the sense that our own resurrection and new life is not yet complete.

This is the spot where, as far as we can know for sure, nothing is happening. But within sight is joy. It's coming. Thanks be to God.