Easter Saturday is a bit of a nothing day – a strange day to start a blog.
Wherever we stand in our personal faith the traditional Christian narrative of Easter still teaches timeless lessons for those who will listen.
Maundy Thursday speaks of the humility of washing feet, of betrayal, of the pictures of bread and wine, of facing a future you would rather avoid, of unanswered prayers and of friends who let you down.
Good Friday speaks of the suffering of the innocent, of judgement, of callous torture, the worst of man’s inhumanity to man and ultimately death. There are lessons about loneliness and aloneness, forgiveness of enemies, loss of hope and destroyed dreams
Easter Sunday speaks of new life and a power that is greater than death, of the rediscovery of hope through the unexpected and apparently impossible. It brings a message of transformation and reversal. It brings excitement and the miraculous as the tragedy becomes a comedy. It squares theological circles of redemption, justification and reconciliation.
Each day has a led that has led to traditional lessons and religious services or festivals.
And yet Easter Saturday is a day of silence. A day of mystery, of darkness and uncertainty. The disciples are feeling guilt, despair, fear and confusion. The soldiers are on guard outside the tomb. After all of the previous activity this is Sabbath, the day of rest. You desperately want something to happen, yet this is a day when nothing is happening.
Perhaps Easter Saturday is the right day to start a blog – uncertainty and anxiety yet hope and anticipation.
I had learned already many of the Outland methods of communicating by forest notes rather than trust to the betraying, high-pitched human voice.
None of these was of more use to me than the call for refuge. If any Outlier wished to be private in his place, he raised that call, which all who were within hearing answered.
Then whoever was on his way from that placed hurried, and whoever was coming toward it stayed where he was until he had permission to move on.