Dark Saturday of Holy Week

Listen: “Flood” by Jars of Clay

In Holy Week, Friday bleeds into Saturday. Darkness descends like a gloomy, thick London fog. On Friday, Mark’s gospel records: “At noon, darkness fell across the whole land until three o’clock. Then at three o’clock Jesus called out with a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” which means “My God, My God, why have you abandoned me?” (Mark 15:33-34; NLT). On Saturday, Jesus was in the grave.

It was easy to get crucified in the first century by the oppressive domination system of Rome for alleged sedition. As Jesus hung on the cross for his non-violent resistance, he quoted from a Psalm of David, one of the darkest Psalms of lament in the entire Psalter: “My God, My God, why have you abandoned me? Why are you so far away when I groan for help? Every day I call to you, my God, but you do not answer. Every night I lift my voice, but I find no relief” (Psalm 22:1-2; NLT).

When you have walked with God as your closest friend, and then feel abandoned by God in your darkest hour (like Jesus), you are not alone. Questions, doubts, and disbelief are par for the course on any authentic spiritual journey.

I think Job plunged deeply into the darkness when he cursed the day he was born:

Let the day of my birth be erased,
   and the night I was conceived.
Let the day be turned to darkness.
   Let it be lost even to God on high,
   and let no light shine on it.
Let the darkness and utter gloom claim
      that day for its own.
   Let a black cloud overshadow it,
   and let the darkness terrify it.
Let that night be blotted off the calendar,
   never again to be counted among the
      days of the year,
   never again to appear among the months.
Let that night be childless.
   Let it have no joy.
Let those who are experts at cursing—
   whose cursing could rouse Leviathan—

curse that day.
Let its morning stars remain dark.
   Let it hope for light, but in vain;
   may it never see the morning light.
Curse that day for failing to shut my
      mother’s womb,
   for letting me be born to see all this trouble.
   (Job 3:1-10; NLT)

Notice how Job exhausts the Hebrew language (Job’s language) for synonyms and metaphors of darkness: erased, night, darkness, lost, gloom, black cloud, overshadow, terrify, blotted out, childless, no joy, failing, trouble. Finally, Job just curses so loud (I’m guessing Job is really the “expert curser”) that he rouses a mythological creature from the deep dark—The Leviathan!

I can relate. Sometimes I just curse at the dark. Thank God I live alone. I’ve roused a few monsters myself! Sober!

The story of the Hebrew Bible is the story of ancient Israel navigating the darkness. Israel endured 430 years of slavery in Egypt. Then, after escaping Egypt, they wandered in the wilderness for forty years. Once the “glory” years of David and Solomon faded, the Southern Kingdom of Judah was defeated by the Babylonians. David and Solomon’s temple in Jerusalem was destroyed, the people were taken captive, and the seventy year Babylonian exile began. Once again, Israel found herself living in captivity.

Happy songs are hard to sing when you are in the depths of despair and darkness. Gratitude lists don’t come easy. Encouragements by well intended people to “get your praise on” inspire nausea. You feel like cursing or crying. Psalm 137 reflects on the emotions of captivity:

Beside the rivers of Babylon,
   we sat and wept
   as we thought of Jerusalem.
We put away our harps,
   hanging them on the branches of poplar trees.
For our captors demanded a song from us.
   Our tormentors insisted on a joyful hymn:
   “Sing us one of those songs of Jerusalem!”
But how can we sing the songs of the LORD
   while in a pagan land?
(Psalm 137:1-4; NLT)

Maybe you’ve endured deep darkness. Maybe your in the middle of it now. Darkness comes in many forms. Your child is murdered in a mass school shooting. A natural disaster destroys your home. Your loved one is killed in a senseless war. A disease ravages your system and pain courses through your body every minute. A freak accident disables you. Addiction overwhelms you. Your career comes crashing down. You wind up in divorce court.

Your impulse is to isolate and go it alone in the darkness. Shame and fear descend like a fog. Resist it! Share with a friend, a sponsor, a therapist, or a support group. You will find you are not alone. In fact, vulnerability is the doorway to authentic, deep connection.

The only hope is that darkness may give way, eventually, to a sliver of light. That God or some beautiful imperfection may emerge out of or be found in the chaos. That you will find true friends on this dark path. “…That in God’s hands, the dark past [or present] is the greatest possession you have—the key to life and happiness for others” (Alcoholics Anonymous, p. 124).

That Saturday morphs into Sunday.

Shalom

©realfredherron, 2023