Cycle C -- Homily -- Easter Sunday -- 17 April 2022
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Holy Saturday
Some of you have seen my Triduum and Easter poems before. And now, I am posting them again, one per day. Holy Thursday, Good Friday, and Holy Saturday were written in 2003. Resurrection was written in 1999. I have updated the copyright for all of them to 2025. I presume everyone will respect that.
Holy Saturday © 2025 Roberta Meehan
The barren cross bespeaks the truth.
He is gone; he is not here.
Unfilled promises and empty dreams
Engulf and strangle the ones who are near.
Behind the rock his body lies
Entombed in silence in a borrowed grave,
Stilled from life, alone in a shroud,
Transcending time but ensouling the now.
What did he teach them, and what did they learn?
How could he leave them forlorn and afraid?
He taught them to love; he gave them himself.
He instilled in them hope and a reason to be.
They look around and try to make sense
Of the emptiness and their fear-filled lives.
They try to make sense of his cross and his death.
They try to make sense of the time they have lost.
They look around and try to make sense
Of the Passover meal, the bread and the wine.
It’s all a blur, they feel so lost.
Nothingness fills the sorrowing, empty day.
They wait in agony to go to the tomb
To mourn, to sit, to hope, and to pray.
Their loss on this Sabbath is much more profound.
His echoing words – for whom was this Sabbath made?
They’ll go in the morning to prepare his remains.
There is nothing left of this Sabbath of God.
He gave himself in the bread and the wine.
He gave himself in his death on the cross.
And now they wait for the promise of life,
For the promise of hope in the bread and the wine,
For the promise he gave to always be near.
Could they find meaning in his death on the cross?
