The Sleep of Death
A short meditation for Holy Saturday
I arose to open to my beloved,
but my beloved had turned and was gone.
My soul failed me when he spoke.
I sought him, but did not find him;
I called him, but he gave no answer.
Song of Solomon 5:5, 6
Holy Saturday is a strange day. It embodies the peculiar liminality that permeates all of life. It is the space between hope and fulfillment. It encompasses all the nights we’ve sat and wondered, “Is it worth it?”
Whenever I think of Holy Saturday and what must have been going on inside the hearts of Jesus’ disciples, this passage from the Song of Solomon comes to my mind. This section of the Song opens with the woman dreaming of her beloved - “I slept, but my heart was awake. Listen! My beloved is knocking!” (5:2). In the dream, the man stands on the other side of the bedroom door, asking to be let in. After some playful banter, she goes to let him in, but when she opens the door, he’s gone.
Again, I think of the disciples. The whole week must have been electrifying. Imagine their elation as they walked behind Jesus as they entered Jerusalem with throngs of people shouting, “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!” Imagine their amazement as Jesus singlehandedly challenged the economic exploitation happening in the Temple, throwing tables, dumping coins, and using a rope like a whip to chase people out of the courtyard. They must have felt unstoppable as Jesus confronted the entirety of the religious system without a hint of resignation or timidity. It must have felt like a dream.
But the last two days were a nightmare. What began as a calm, evening meal with the best of friends led to a betrayal, then an arrest, then blood curdling torture, then a sham trial, then a crucifixion. I wonder if they pleaded in their hearts, using the Pharisees’ words, “If you are the the Messiah of God, come down from there and save yourself!”
Did they wake up that Sabbath morning wondering if it had all been a dream? Did they sleep at all?
I imagine they kept the Sabbath that day, not out of devotion or intention, but in shock. What could be done? Where could they go? They did nothing. Their souls had fallen inside them, and no matter how they called out to him, he gave no answer.
Through all of this, Jesus sleeps, an appropriate thing for the Sabbath day. But what the disciples cannot see is that through this rest, Jesus is is conquering sin and death. Christian tradition has long believed that on Holy Saturday, Jesus harrowed hell. He entered this place of death and crass existence and led those trapped there into paradise to live with God forever. The iconography often shows Jesus in a cave-like place extending his hands to the dead, often Adam and Eve. I don’t know if Jesus was literally, spiritually present in a place called hell, leading Adam, Eve, and the rest of fallen humanity out, but what I do know is that Jesus’ body literally slept. He was literally dead, and in that state of uttermost rest, Jesus was changing everything.
Holy Saturday recapitulates that night Jesus slept while the storm was raging, and as the boat seemed like it would finally give up to the chaos of the Sea of Galilee, his disciples cried, “Don’t you care that we’re dying!?”
The testimony of Holy Week is that, yes, God does care that we’re dying. He does care that our lives are on the brink of shattering into innumerable pieces. He does care that forces and institutions beyond our control seek to destroy us, and he’s doing something about it. Through the Incarnation, God enters our boat, as it were, and goes to sleep. In that sleep, in his death, he gathers up all the pain, suffering, and sin of humanity and all creation into himself and takes it with him into the depths.
Today, on this Holy Sabbath, Jesus rests. All creation stands still, listening for the voice of the Beloved. And the sleep he sleeps is that of the caterpillar, cloaked in darkness where a beautiful, stunning transformation is taking place.
Wow, I have never thought or heard to compare Holy Saturday to the story of Jesus sleeping through and then calming the storm! Thanks for sharing :)
"In that state of uttermost rest, Jesus was changing everything." Such a beautiful reminder.