The journey we find ourselves on

The Silence of Saturday

I have always wondered about the silence of that Saturday Sabbath that followed Jesus’ crucifixion. For a day, the world stood still and waited in a state of breathless anticipation. Would the horror of Friday be the end? Was God dead?

The disciples hid in the upper room, fearing they would meet the same fate as their master. The rest of the city went about their usual Passover week Sabbath practices. The priests were likely anxiously awaiting the end of the Sabbath so they could mend the torn curtain of the Temple. The Sanhedrin celebrated the removal of another threat to their power. Jesus’ body lay lifeless in the grave. It was a silent Saturday.

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