When Holy Saturday Meets MLK: Grief, Justice, and Hope

When the pandemic hit in 2020, our parish quickly moved to livestreaming all our worship on social media. We had done a fair amount of livestreaming in the past, so the move was relatively seamless for us (even if it was through a smartphone!). But when we were still under quarantine, Holy Week came along, and I hesitated.  After nine years as a Rector, I had established the practice of offering worship every day of Holy Week, with my absolute favorite being the Easter Vigil. But as my Minister of Music and I brainstormed Holy Week offerings, we struggled to imagine how we could do justice to an Easter Vigil with only three people in front of the camera. 

And so, with a bit of a broken heart, I began exploring other ideas for Holy Saturday. I remembered there is an actual liturgy for Holy Saturday, typically offered in the morning when the disciples would have been deep in mourning and despondency. But when I looked it up in the Book of Common Prayer (p. 283) and saw that it’s only a single page long, I was initially skeptical. What is offered doesn’t even cover the full page! I was unconvinced, but figured my options were pretty limited, so we turned on the camera and filmed.

What I found was a beautifully simple service with powerful lessons and a portion of the burial liturgy that read totally differently with Jesus in the tomb. After we hit the stop button, I found myself enamored with this “new” service that hit just the right tone for Holy Saturday, a day when we more often find ourselves hustling around with Easter preparations instead of lingering by the tomb. I also realized that for churches where a full Easter Vigil simply isn’t possible—because of size, available liturgical support, or the congregation’s interest—a Holy Saturday Liturgy could offer a meaningful and workable alternative.

That learning has never been more relevant than this year, when Holy Saturday coincides with the Feast Day of Martin Luther King, Jr. Perhaps you do not normally celebrate MLK’s Feast Day in April because your parish normally ties celebrations to MLK Day in January (an accommodation offered by the Episcopal Church). But if ever there was a time to experiment with honoring King’s Feast Day on the day of his death, this year might be the one! While the Feast Day lessons differ from the ones appointed for Holy Saturday, the parallels between Jesus’ crucifixion and King’s assassination might heighten the bereft nature of Holy Saturday for a congregation.

Now, I am not arguing that King was the same as Jesus; there is one Savior, and King was a flawed man and leader. Yet King understood, preached, and practiced Jesus’ commitment to the poor, the oppressed, and those suffering injustice. Bringing Jesus’ story into the twentieth century through another man who was killed for calling those in power to justice may help congregants recognize twenty-first century prophets, as well. Likewise, the shock of King’s death can help them connect more tangibly with the shock Jesus’ disciples felt—not as people who have heard this story for over 2,000 years, but as those experiencing it for the very first time. On this year’s Holy Saturday, King functions as saints are supposed to function: as a conduit through whom we encounter God.  

And if you still need convincing, tying Holy Saturday and the Feast of Martin Luther King, Jr. might also be the perfect opportunity to bring together communities of faith that typically stay separate on Sundays, such as ecumenical brothers, sisters, and siblings, and our BIPOC neighbors who do not feel seen, especially in predominantly white congregations in the middle of an intense week of worship. Who knows? You might just discover a new tradition that enriches people’s spiritual journeys in new and fresh ways.