Jesus was lifeless in the tomb. Stone cold, stone-sealed.
His disciples were also lifeless. Their inner lives executed along with their rabbi, their physical lives under threat of the same kind of death.
The Eucharist is partly a remembrance of Christ’s death. “Whenever you eat this, remember me.” It is also a re-identification with his death. “Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you.”
From Easter and beyond of course, the Eucharist takes on a third meaning: rebirth along with Christ. “Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise them up at the last day.”
But not just yet.
Holy Saturday is the day when none of this makes sense yet. The day when there is only past torture and current lifelessness. No resurrection. The day when we are invited not to identify with Christ in his death, nor in his resurrection, but with his disciples in their own sense of lifelessness, confusion, and despair.
Thank God for this day. Thank God that it is only one day out of the year.
