The Morning After

The Gospels are largely silent about Saturday. Sometimes when something really traumatic happens to me, I go to bed and then wake up the next morning and it takes a minute or two for me to remember what had happened. And, at times, that second shock is worse than the first.

Saturday morning would have been when Peter, John, Mary, and the rest of Jesus’ followers awoke only to be slapped with the reality of Golgotha the day before.

However absent an account of the anguish, despair and uncertainty that almost certainly set in on Saturday, the followers of Jesus were just as human as I am. I can’t imagine they didn’t spend the day in unspeakable grief and trying to make sense of something which to them no doubt seemed so senseless.

If their reaction following Jesus’ Resurrection the next day is any indication, I doubt they spent Saturday in joyous anticipation of the next day.

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