As a child, my twin and I often had elaborate bake-offs during school holidays. One year, I made an Easter cake with three chocolate crosses and a crown of thorns. I drowned these elements in great pools of jammy blood.
Of course, it was gratuitously horrible – and I’m not surprised that my sister’s moist and sweet chick cupcakes were the preferred choice. But from a young age, I eschewed the propensity to avoid the grittiness of Easter. For me, its bloodiness is the very reason the Cross brings so much hope.
Many Christians around the world will celebrate Palm Sunday this weekend to commemorate Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem. About 2,000 years ago, crowds of Jews laid palm branches on public streets to welcome their “Messiah” – the conquering king who they believed would overthrow the Roman government and free them from its hostile occupation.
Although many oppressed people still desperately need this type of physical deliverance, Jesus’ journey did not end there. Instead, his path to Jerusalem culminated with the Cross, which brought an entirely different kind of liberation.
Palm Sunday marks the start of Holy Week, the days preceding the betrayal, death and resurrection of Jesus. This is a period in the ancient church calendar when Christians eagerly await the victory of Easter Sunday.
But it is also a time of great sadness, marked by suffering, betrayal and brokenness. And for this reason, it speaks powerfully to those whose countries, relationships, or mental health situations are increasingly unstable. In a world that desperately needs hope, we cannot simply overcome the anxiety of Holy Week and move straight to the triumph of Easter.
The first days of Holy Week portend an imminent catastrophe.
Holy Monday (also known as Holy and Great Monday) marks the day Jesus cursed the fig tree for not producing fruit and then overturned the tables in the temple. The next day, Holy Tuesday, Jesus continued to teach in Jerusalem, challenging the religious leaders and informing the disciples of his impending crucifixion. The fury displayed by the teachers of the law sets the stage for the next days of Jesus’ life.
Holy Wednesday (also known as Spy Wednesday) is a particularly dark day, which refers to Judas Iscariot’s betrayal of Jesus. Judas’ duplicity would have been extremely painful for Jesus. He was not a detached observer on the periphery, but one of Jesus’ main disciples – a close friend and traveling companion. This tragedy is compounded when Judas later regrets his decision to aid in Jesus’ death, but is unable to reverse his decision and therefore tragically chooses to end his life.
Yet even in the darkest times, there is hope. Jesus’ first words on the cross were: “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34). Perhaps Jesus was assuring his friend (among others) that all is not lost and that no matter how deep our depravity, there is always the promise of transformation.
Some churches celebrate a Holy Thursday meal together in a re-enactment of Jesus’ last meal with his disciples. There, while eating and drinking, Jesus informed his disciples that his body would be broken and his blood shed – for them and for many.
Later that evening, in the Garden of Gethsemane, as his death drew near and many abandoned him, Jesus’ sweat apparently fell like drops of blood (Luke 22:44). A few speculate he may have suffered from hematohidrosis, a rare condition in which the capillaries around the sweat glands rupture under extreme distress and trauma.
Good Friday may seem like an inappropriate name for a day marked by bloodshed, suffering and death. But what is seemingly evil produces good, as Jesus’ broken body on the cross becomes the source of humanity’s redemption. CS Lewis wrote in Simple Christianity, “His death blotted out our sins and… in dying, he deactivated death itself. The cross, which was an instrument of death (and a slow, shameful and brutal one at that), ultimately becomes a symbol of life.
Yet in our attempt to move from the horror of Good Friday to the joy of Easter Sunday, many of us neglect Holy Saturdaythe last day of Holy Week.
Last Easter, I interviewed Professor John Swinton, a former psychiatric nurse turned practical theologian, said that Holy Saturday prevents us from developing a theology of glory, which glosses over the suffering of death and goes straight to the Resurrection. It reminds us that some people live in dark spaces and that we must sit with them in their despair, weeping with those who mourn (Rom. 12:15).
Holy Saturday encourages us to take suffering seriously. It also assures us that we are not struggling alone. Throughout his life, Jesus suffered on every possible level: physical, psychological and spiritual. While this in no way eliminates our own suffering, the biblical picture shows us that whatever we encounter – whether physical illness, mental health issues, or spiritual doubts – Jesus was there. He not only knows about the depths of human emotion, but it also experimented them.
Many people know the shortest verse in the Bible: “Jesus wept” (John 11:35). However, most English translations from the original Greek do not do this passage justice. Elsewhere, in verses 33 and 38, the same Greek word for “cry” expresses a guttural depth of emotion – which can also be translated “He was snorting like an angry horse.” Jesus was not only saddened by the death of his friend Lazarus; he was angry because he knew that life wasn’t supposed to be like this, and that it wouldn’t be forever.
When we are fragile, lost and alone, a watered-down victory narrative does not resonate with our pain. We need a concrete hope that has plumbed the depths of despair, sweat and agonizing death, but also declares that this is not the end of the story.
Friday is good because Easter Sunday is in sight. If Jesus did indeed rise from the dead, then death does not have the last word. Holy Week and the events leading up to Jesus’ crucifixion assure us that we are loved, that we are not alone in our pain, and that we deserve to be rescued.
During the COVID-19 pandemic, I suffered a miscarriage, and in that time, the nail-scarred hands and bloodied body of Jesus spoke to me more powerfully than ever. And later, when I conceived and gave birth to another baby, we named her Eden-Grace to remind us that loss is not the end of our story. No matter how broken our lives are, we must never lose hope for God’s promised restoration.
In JRR Tolkien The king’s return, the hobbit Samwise Gamgee asks Gandalf: “Will everything that is sad become false?” For us, the answer is yes. The resurrection of Jesus helps us make sense of the Cross, but it also offers us a way out of our suffering. That is, it points to a future reality without more pain when everything sad will become false.
Ruth Jackson is the host of the Without apologizing podcast, is producer and presenter for First Amazingand co-hosts The CS Lewis Podcast with Professor Alister McGrath.
