There are stories regarding what Jesus must have been doing on this Holy Saturday, while he waited. I rather like the one about harrowing hell, if only for the wonderful word harrowing. We like always to imagine Jesus busy about his Father*s work, in this case, emptying hell. There*s work to be done after all. There are a couple verses in the Bible which speak to this. We have the line in the Apostles* Creed (He descended into Hell). If nothing else, we can keep our imaginations busy while we color Easter eggs and wait. Wherever Jesus is, we wait in our houses, in our gardens, with the trees, for tonight. This is the story we get.
Sure Elijah or Moses or even
God could have come
To take Jesus down,
Alive and kicking,
From the cross
Before he died.
God could have even
Sent him Home,
Brought him Home,
By a different way
Like the wise men.
Sure
God could have done it
Differently,
Really all of it,
Differently.
Instead
This is the story we get.
Blood and gore and pain,
Curtain torn,
Ground heaved up to meet
The heavens rent.
Friends to carry the body.
Stones to set in place.
This is the story we get.
We wait in the garden,
The same garden that echoes
The first one,
Even the trees wait there
For his return.
Knowledge and Life wait,
Rooted in holy ground
For his return.
This is the story we get.
It all connects underground,
Above the ground,
Ground heaved up to meet
The heavens rent.
This is the story we get.
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