Sheila Sims Iding
Holy Saturday. This day really causes me to pause, reflect and wonder. On Holy Saturday I wonder…what did Mary do this day? I spend so much time wondering about Mary because I can’t imagine what this day was like for her.
She had just watched the suffering of the first Good Friday. But before that she had to watch her Son be humiliated before a whole town. She had to watch Him be beaten…scourged. He said to watch him be afraid to the point of sweating blood. Then…she had to watch Him die. I wondered how she did that. I wonder how she endured it all. It’s against everything I know. As parents, it’s against everything we all know.
As a parent, if someone is making fun of your child…especially in front of everyone…you find a way to stop it. Mary couldn’t.
If your son falls down on the playground and gets hurt. You don’t just sit there and watch him suffer. When your son is crying and bleeding, you run to help him. Mary couldn’t.
If your son is badly injured while playing a sport, you watch as the trainers run to help him. Even if you can’t go on the field, you get to watch others care for him. Mary couldn’t.
If your son has trouble carry a heavy load from those big trucks when he was little to life’s burdens as he grew, you get to help him bear the weight of it all so he doesn’t fall…three times. Mary couldn’t.
If your son is afraid...terrified...and begging...praying...for answers. You search for answers with him. Mary couldn't.
If your son is weak or scared or unsure…and calls out to his father to help him, you go and help too. Mary couldn’t.
She couldn’t remove the crown of thorns.
She couldn’t wipe the blood from his face.
She couldn’t stop the shouts of “Crucify Him! Crucify Him!”
She couldn’t help carry that cross.
She couldn't block out the sound of the pounding of those nails.
She couldn’t stop His last breathe from being taken.
She couldn’t even stop the piercing with the sword after his death.
She couldn’t stop her heart from breaking when her eyes met His on that path to his death.
She couldn’t stop her heart from being shattered when he was taken from the cross and she got to hold him again like she did that first Christmas.
I have never had a Son die but I know family and friends who have. I can’t imagine what the day after is like. But we all have the comfort of heaven. Because of the first Easter we all have the comfort of knowing our loved ones live forever in heaven. It wasn’t the first Easter yet so on the first Holy Saturday Mary didn’t yet know of heaven and resurrection and eternal life. On Holy Saturday, we can take comfort in Jesus going to heaven to be reunited with God…and Joseph…forever. Mary couldn’t.
So what was Holy Saturday like for Mary? What images tormented her mind? What images broke her heart…again? What comfort did she bring John? What comfort did John bring her? We all know what was waiting for Mary on the next glorious day. We can picture the tomb with stone rolled away. Mary couldn’t.
I would have been shattered. I would have been crushed. I would have been angry and sad and broken. And I surely would have lost faith in this promise of eternal life. I would have lost faith in my Son’s commending His spirit. I would have lost faith in a God who had chosen me.
But Mary’s faith is so strong that even on that first Holy Saturday….even after watching her only Son suffer…even after holding his lifeless body…even after feelings of abandonment…even after being enveloped in disabling uncertainty…even after trying to gather the pieces of a shattered faith-filled heart…Mary never lost faith. Never. Why? Because her faith was so sure….so chosen…and so undying when it came to the point of losing faith…Mary couldn’t.