Today, Low (or Holy), Saturday , the day between Good Friday and Easter Sunday, is perhaps the least known but yet one of the most significant dates on the Christian calender. If faith is nothing without doubt, the low Saturday is the doubters day. Good Friday, when we remember the death of Christ heralds the time when the disciples, having been taken to the mountain-top of hope, suddenly face the abyss of what now...?
Their leader is gone and suddenly it all seems lost. So they turn in on themselves and ask was it as it seemed?
Was he what we though he was?
Were we really deluding ourselves that God was amongst us, real and human as we are?
It is Easter, much more than Christmas, that both challenges and keeps me in the faith. I live with doubt all the time and low Saturday reminds me that I am not alone.
And I wait, wait in prayer and reflection, for the hope that is the empty tomb, the new dawn of Easter day. The time when I am reminded more powerfully than anything else no matter how bad life is, there will always be hope if we search hard enough and are will to do as we are called to do, to love not just our friend or our neighbour, but the stranger and even our enemy, love and forgive, impossible as at times that seem to be.
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