God is Dead

Friday was horrific. The disciples witnessed their beloved Savior and friend being betrayed by one of their own and publicly murdered by those in power. They saw the person that they had given up their previous lives for, the person that held all their hopes and dreams for a better, more just future killed right before their eyes.

Peter, he not only witnessed his loved one’s murder, but he also denied knowing Jesus. Peter, who had been so sure that come hell and high water he would be by Jesus’ side, initially scoffed when Jesus told him that he, Peter, would publicly reject Jesus. He would never! Peter’s vision of himself was better than that: of course, he would not publicly repudiate his best friend! On Friday, that vision of himself comes crashing down. Peter has to deal with the shattering of his hope, as embodied in Jesus and with his self-image in tatters.

Friday, for Mary, Jesus’ mother, means witnessing her Son being beaten, tortured, and murdered and unable to do anything to ease his pain. She can’t even hold him in her arms as he lay dying. The Son she gave birth to and nursed at her breast, the son she watched grow, the son that she loved with her whole being even as he acted in ways that confused her, dies helplessly before her eyes.

One would think that after Friday, things could not get worse. But on Friday, Jesus' friends and family, were hit by so many events at once that it is very possible that even while they looked on in horror as their loved one was murdered, that their minds did not fully grasp the gravity of what they were seeing. How could they? Even though Jesus, himself, had warned them that he would die, they laughed off his warnings. Even if they believed him, it surely it would happen much, much later. Years or even decades later, not now. Not today. So, when Jesus is arrested, beaten, and killed, their minds cannot fully process what they are witnessing.

But on Saturday the adrenaline that kept them moving forward is gone. Jesus is dead and buried. God is dead and buried. Saturday is the day when the shock begins to wear off and the unbelief that that the events of Friday have happened begins to fade. Jesus, their Savior, Mentor, Friend is dead. The visions they had for the future: of a more just society, of the overthrow of the oppressive state structures of the day, are destroyed. They had rested all of their hopes in the person of Jesus. They had given up everything: walked away from family, left the comfort of their homes behind, to journey with this strange, itinerant preacher that had called out to them one day offering them a new reality.

Not only are they grieving the loss of their best friend and Teacher, but they are grappling with the betrayal of Judas. How could someone they loved, they had broken bread with, had argued with, do this to Jesus? To them?

And while they all see Jesus tortured and killed, they each grieve alone. They are unable to comfort each other. They all mourn together but they are each incredibly alone.

And Mary’s grief is unfathomable. In the book of John, Jesus, before he dies, tells Mary and the “disciple Jesus loved” that they are now each other’s family. Yet even that comfort, is small. Mary may have a new son, but she still yearns for Jesus; the unexpected gift from God, that caused her quite a few headaches while growing up, but whom she loved with all her heart.

Holy Saturday is the day that Jesus’ loved ones come to the realization that God is dead. The God they ate with, laughed with, cried with, is no more.

On Holy Saturday the hopelessness and despair seem never ending. On Holy Saturday Jesus’ loved ones need to begin the journey of starting over, yet they have no idea where to begin. Everything they thought they knew about God, about Jesus, about the future, has been upended.

In 2020 Lent, felt like one long Holy Saturday. During the second week of March, it seemed as if events happened at a lightening pace. Colleges extended spring break, than stated classes were moving online, public schools began shutting down, day cares began closing, non-essential business were laying off workers or telling them to work from home, the stock market crashed, millions found themselves suddenly unemployed, restaurants that had been packed the day before saw their dining room capacity capped at 50%, then closed. Even more devastating have been the lives lost. COVID 19 is particularly cruel. People who were fine days before, can deteriorate quickly. Loved ones are left to die alone.

Now, a month in, there is a lot of waiting and mourning. Waiting for things to get worse or better. Waiting for sick loved ones to get better. Waiting for more deaths to occur. For those who lost loved ones, grief is compounded by isolation as funerals are put on hold or have a cap of 10 mourners or less, and burials have to be witnessed from inside a car, if they are witnessed at all.

Fear continues to gripe us-fear that things will get worse. Uncertainty plagues us-when can kids go back to school? How will those of us who lost jobs, pay our future bills? For those of us who identify as Christian, we believe that resurrection is coming. We hope for a tomorrow where fear is lessened and death is eradicated. We tell ourselves, “this too shall pass.” But we don’t know when this new day will come. We proclaim a God that defeats death, misery and injustice. We proclaim a God who journeys with us as we suffer. We proclaim a God that lives. But right now, in the midst of our confusion, depression, and grief, it feels as if God has died.

Unlike the disciples, who were completely blindsided by the resurrection, we know God lives. But that only slightly takes the edge off the pain we are experiencing. We know that to get to the resurrection we need to go through Holy Saturday. But we don’t know how long Holy Saturday will last. So, we wait, we hope, we find alternative ways of supporting one another and we find new ways of mourning the dead. We grieve for a God that we believe lives, but who today, lays dead in the tomb.