Holy Saturday, April 3

by Martha Langford

By the waters of Babylon, there we sat down and wept, when we remembered Zion. On the willows there we hung up our lyres. For there our captors required of us songs, and our tormentors, mirth, saying, “Sing us one of the songs of Zion!” How shall we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land? Psalm 137:1–4 (RSV)

“It is finished…” words from the cross as Jesus gives up his spirit, dying on a bleak Friday afternoon. The women watch; the men carry the body away, give it the dignity of grave clothes, lay it in that garden tomb. Roll the stone in place, “it is finished.”

“It is finished…” haunting words shroud the bleakness of Saturday’s silence. Jesus entombed—the light of the world alone in the darkness. Lay down your harps, “it is finished.”

“It is finished…” execution becomes exile; we too sojourn in Babylon, weep by its waters, and wait by its rivers. How shall we sing the Lord’s song; “it is finished,” is it not?

Gracious God, lift us up when we feel ourselves in exile, when we weep beside the river, when we hear the world’s voices mocking our hope. Fortify us as we wait in silence beside the stone-closed tomb. Having heard the promise of resurrection; give us eyes to see and ears to hear and hearts to understand. Bring us through the darkness of our days into the light of your eternal kingdom. Amen.