This time of year, I often wonder what it was like for the disciples to have been so physically close to Christ.  What joy to  have been in that All-Loving Presence-in the morning drinking tea together, walking down dusty roads, sitting at his feet while he taught.

And then I try to imagine how it was for Peter, James, Mary Magdalene and the others during those last days.  What was it like to fall so precipitously from the heights of Palm Sunday, to the depths of the crucifixion, down to the hellish darkness of what we Christians call Holy Saturday?  How deep their sorrow must have been standing outside of that tomb.

We all experience some version of this emptiness-when we cannot feel God’s presence.  When the consolation of God’s love is replaced with dark desolation.  This experience of despair can last only a few moments; other times days, months, even years are consumed by it.  Perhaps you are going through some version of this in your life now.

I remember empty and scary times of my own.  The most difficult were moving to Tokyo with young children and feeling lost and alone, grieving the death of a beloved friend, and during my divorce.  Each time I wanted to hurry through the uncomfortable feelings-looking for quick fixes to distract me from the pain.

Recently I was with a friend who had returned from India.  She had spent time with the most impoverished people there.  “I’ve traveled all over.”  She said.  “This trip was the hardest because I struggle with the fact that I don’t see any hope that things will get better for those people.”  Listening to her I thought, this is a Holy-Hellish Saturday time for her.

Thankfully, we are a hope-filled people.  Still, we have those times when we feel as if the stone has been rolled in front of the tomb.  These experiences are so difficult, it is natural to want to wish them away-for ourselves and for those whom we love.

Yet there is something in the darkness of letting go of all that we have hoped for, all that we have known before, that is essential to our journey.  I do not welcome Holy-Hellish Saturdays; and I am grateful for the truths they have revealed for me.

-Mary Bea Sullivan