faith · Following Jesus · Poetry

Today Is A Quiet Day

This is a companion poem to the Holy Saturday Poem that I posted a while ago.

The new, companion poem is partly inspired by a TV programme called The Pitt. (Spoiler Alert).

It’s set in the emergency ward of a hospital in Pittsburgh. This particular scene concerns an elderly man who is dying. His daughter is distraught and cannot let go, and keeps insisting that the doctors do more to save him, including intrusive procedures that simply keep him alive.

In the end, the siblings accept that they need to let their father go. Doctor Robbie, (played brilliantly by Noah Wylie) tells about four things that another wise doctor taught him. Four things that they could say to their father. I love you; thankyou; I forgive you; please forgive me.

These words unlock memories and emotions that allow them to be able to say goodbye.

In my prayer time today, I was reflecting on our lives now. In retirement, the pressure of work is no longer there. It’s not exactly ‘an empty day’ as in the Holy Saturday poem, but this is a different season of life. There’s a looking back element, as well as reflecting on the future. But in the end, it’s about living in the here and now.

A quieter time, with more space to simply ‘be.’
More space to listen.
More space to see the presence of Christ.
And God willing, to be the presence of Christ in some small way.

Here are the two poems.

Holy Saturday

Today is an empty day.
Yesterday was full
of waiting; for a trial to end;
a judgement to be given.

Following in his footsteps,
but only so far
and no further.

Behind the corner of a building,
I peer round
and draw back.
Fearful of being seen

Later I am told.

Today is an empty day.
Tomorrow will be full
of something
I cannot quite name.

The questions almost
shroud the wonder.
But in the end,

there is a room where we meet.
No more hiding
from myself

And he is there.

Holy Wednesday

Today is a quiet day.
Yesterday was full
of working; for an ending;
a judgement to be given.

Following in his footsteps
as far as I could,
and further if you showed me

It was enough to be like the teacher.
Listening
to the voice.
Seeing and being seen.

Shepherding the fold

Today is a quiet day.
Tomorrow will be full
of something
I cannot quite name.

Will the questions
still shroud the wonder
in the end ?

There is a place where we will meet.
No more hiding;
face to face

And he is there

faith · Poetry

A Poem For Holy Saturday

Today is an empty day
Yesterday was full
Of waiting for a trial to end
A judgment to be given

Following in his footsteps
But only so far
No further

Behind the corner of a building
I peer round
And draw back
Fearful of being seen

Later I am told

Today is an empty day
Tomorrow will be full
of something
I cannot quite name

The questions almost
Shroud the wonder
But in the end

There is a room
where we will meet
No more hiding
From myself

And he is there

Today is an empty day



Bible · faith · suffering

When The Work Is Done

Holy Saturday and Prayer

Today is Holy Saturday. An important day in the Christian calendar. The day between Good Friday and Easter Day. That holy space between death and resurrection. The space between desolation and life.

My reading in the book of Lamentations, still despairing over the destruction of the Holy City, Jerusalem, has these words, addressed to God:
You have wrapped yourself with a cloud so that no prayer can pass through. Lamentations 3 verse 44

But even in the midst of this despair, we read just a few verses later:
I called on your name, O Lord, from the depths of the pit;
You heard my plea …
You came near when I called on you; you said, ‘Do not fear!
You have taken up my cause, O Lord, you have redeemed my life. (Lamentations 3 verses 55-58)

Somehow in the life of faith of the Old Testament saints is a recognition that even in a time of loss and grief, when God seems to be absent, the only thing to do is to pray. Prayer is all that is left. It’s a paradox. We see no hope, and yet, in spite of that, we hope. These passages are a deep well of resources for the person of faith.

Walter Brueggemann puts it like this:
“Faith is the capacity to hold both honest reality and open possibility”

I wonder if Jesus’ disciples were able to draw on those resources after the crucifixion. I wonder what hope, if any, they were able to find ?

Holy Saturday and Rest

In the Jewish faith Saturday is the seventh day of the week. The Jewish Sabbath. A day of rest. It starts on Friday night and lasts until Saturday night. This recalls God’s work of creation, where each of the acts of creation ends with these words:
And there was evening and there was morning, the first (second etc) day. Genesis Chapter 1

The Sabbath day of rest mirrors God’s own rest at the end of the work of creation:
On the seventh day God finished the work that he had done, and he rested on the seventh day from all the work that he had done. So God blessed the seventh day and hallowed it, because on it God rested from all the work that he had done in creation.
(Genesis 2 verses 2 & 3)

This Sabbath day, Holy Saturday, is also the culmination of God’s work. As God rests at the end of the work of creation, so now another work is finished. Jesus’ dying words on the cross are ‘It is finished’
When Jesus had received the wine, he said, ‘It is finished.’ Then he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.
(John 19 verse 30)
It is at the cross where Jesus finishes his work to be with us in solidarity until the very end.

So this day is a day when we wait. Nothing happens on Holy Saturday. It’s a day for quiet contemplation. Until the celebrations that begin to signal the resurrection, there are no services. Everything stops.

It’s a day when we might recall those aspects of our lives where, like the writer of lamentations, we hold those two ancient prayers together. The prayer of absolute despair and the prayer of hope in the face of no hope.

You have wrapped yourself with a cloud so that no prayer can pass through.
And
I called on your name, O Lord, from the depths of the pit; you heard my plea … you came near when I called on you;

In some mysterious way, the hope doesn’t deny the state that we are in, and yet the reality of that despair cannot stop us from praying.

Grace and Peace.