Holy saturday meditation: momamic (psalters)


Holy Saturday is the darkest day of the Christian year. The day when Jesus has died and is buried in the grave, and not yet come back from the death. The disciples must’ve been pretty devastated. We know how the story ends, but it’s good to for one day try to imagine their feeling.

My holy Saturday meditations mostly are quite dark, like they probably should be. Last years whe had Peter Rollins’ parable and Friedrich Nietzsche’s story of the madman, which both focus on the more metaphysical aspects of the death of Christ, who is God incarnate; but now I want to focus on our human experience in which it looks like God is dead.

Or absent. where is God when cities fall, when people starve in countries without any water, when no stone is left on the other in the ongoing destruction our fellow humans cause each other…

How hard is it for people who have lost everything and who still trust in God, and yet it seems like all there is is death and destruction. Refugees and victims of war, the oppressed and downtrodden… Those with whom Jesus identified when He shared in our suffering…

the next song captures the feeling perfectly for me:

The man in the moon and the man in the cup (psalters)

His step is fallin’ hard tonight.
eve has long broken,
cold black fell open,

Shine burns through fog
we sought for shelter from that light
It’s time we eat that dust up and take It in
It’s where we come from,
where were goin,
where we sin.

We’re the boots put us on tie us up,
You’re the Feet,
You’re the Blood,
we’re the cup

runneth over, runneth over me.

The cold moon is looking down on me

It shines my crooked face,
my wretched bones, my losing race
There’s no escape,
these cruel eyes of stone.

Alone alone alone with that cold moon.
Oh Lord oh Lord oh Lord
You said You were comin’ soon

Good God it’s You we love yeah.
Good God look up above,
there we are smiling down on You

Step in me fill me up,
we’re the boots
we’re the cup

runneth over, runneth over me

Save us from all we’ve done
with the blood of our Father’s Son
until that moon turns blood red,
until my wretched face has gone and fled,
until that moon is washed anew,
until these bones can rest again with You….
with You ….
with You.

peace

Bram

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