The Silent Day

A professor of a New Testament Survey always gave the same final exam essay question: List the events that occurred from Palm Sunday to Easter Sunday. It was a hard question, but each Easter I reflect on what I learned. There was a good bit written about what happened during that week, except the day after Christ died. That seems to me to be the silent day.

A death is a sad thing for those left behind, but if you shared a vision with the deceased--dreams, plans--it is harder still. I think about a parent losing a child. The parent expected to see that child graduate from school, marry, and have a family of his/her own. When the child dies, the parent knows he will never see any of that, never hold a grandchild in his/her arms. A child has died and dreams have died.

The same is true when losing a spouse. When my ex. husband died a few weeks ago, I thought about all the things we planned. We were going to grow old together, be grandparents together. We divorced and dreams died. In the back of my mind I played with the idea that, by some miracle, we might someday reconcile. When he died that silly dream is also died.

The followers of Jesus had dreams, plans, too. The mother of James and John planned that her sons would rule alongside Jesus. Isn't that just like a mother? Simon thought he was a part of a revolution. Peter had only a glimmer of insight and still denied knowing his master. All of the followers had some kind of dream. They mourned the loss of their Rabbi, but they also mourned losing a dream.

Not much is written about that time that the followers hid and mourned, just before the resurrection. Maybe it was all too painful to write about. I kind of think this is an example of an occasion when silence speaks volumes.