Earlier,
I suggested that we try to put ourselves in the place of one of the disciples
at the Passover meal before Jesus died. I would suggest that we engage in that
same exercise again, this time imagining what it would have felt like for one
of them after his death.
The
next day it was still the Sabbath. Normally you would have been with Jesus at a
synagogue service, but you and the others dared not go out. It was the longest
day of your life. The Sabbath ended at sundown. You slept fitfully that night.
The morning of the first day of the week started with the others in awkward
silence. No one seemed to know what to do or what to say. The word was that
some of the women were trying to find the tomb where Jesus’ body had been
taken. You had a vague feeling you should be doing something, but you were too
numb to act.