What Happened on Easter Saturday?

As we approach Easter Week (or “Holy Week” as it’s traditionally known), much attention will be focused on Good Friday and Easter Sunday, certainly from a church perspective. Others will simply focus on the fact that it’s a long Bank Holiday weekend, but I guess there’s nothing wrong with “both/and.”

You may have wondered why it’s called “Good” Friday, when it’s the day Jesus was falsely accused, wrongfully convicted, tortured, and crucified (one of the cruellest and most agonising forms of execution ever devised—our word “excruciating” comes from the same root). Not much there sounds “good.”

I know some Christians assume it must be “because good came out of it” (in a salvific sense), but no. I mean, in a sense it did, sure, but that’s not the reason. In mediaeval times, “good” meant “holy,” or “sacred”—spelt “gode” or “goode.”   

Anyway, have you ever wondered what happened on the Saturday? Interestingly, there is no single day in the whole of Scripture to which more biblical material is devoted than Good Friday. There’s also lots about Easter Sunday. And yet, when it comes to the Saturday … zilch! Nothing. Now, in part, that’s because it was the Sabbath (which ran from Friday evening to Saturday evening).

The impending Sabbath is why there was a bit of a rush to anoint, wrap, and bury Jesus’ body by Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus, two Jesus-followers in the Sanhedrin. It’s probably why the women went to the tomb with spices on Sunday morning, either to complete the task or because the men had done such a terrible job on the Friday (my assumption is that it must have been the former; female readers may demur).  

The early Apostles’ Creed covers the events of that Passover weekend: Jesus “was crucified, died, and was buried; he descended to the dead. On the third day, he rose again.” Why is that the “third” day? In Jewish counting, the first day he was dead was Friday, the second Saturday, and the third Sunday.

Depending on the version, you may have heard “to the dead” translated as “hell.” There are several problems with this way of rendering it, most significantly the implication that it’s talking about the “evangelical version” of hell as eternal conscious torment. It doesn’t mean that. The original Greek is referring to Hades (Hebrew: Sheol), which simply means “the realm or domain of the dead.” In other words, the (“holding”) place it was popularly believed that dead people go (righteous and unrighteous). The creed’s fundamental assertion is that the incarnate Jesus went where dead people always go when they’re dead. It’s affirming he was really dead; properly dead.

Back to Saturday. Though the Gospels are silent, some (minority) Christian traditions assert that while Jesus was in Hades, he preached the Gospel to those who had died before him. It’s possible you’ve read that or heard it said in sermons. I guess that something along those lines is not impossible (note my cautious tone!), but there is no direct scriptural evidence. Let me quote the passages they get the idea from. Notice how it’s possible to “read that in” to some of them, but only (I would suggest) if you already know from elsewhere that’s what it’s talking about!   

The main passages are 1 Peter 3:19–20, “he went and proclaimed to the spirits in prison, because they formerly did not obey,” and 1 Peter 4:6: “this is why the gospel was preached even to those who are dead, that though judged in the flesh the way people are, they might live in the spirit the way God does.” Other passages (that appear to me to have no real relevance, save for a very vague implication that one might “read in”) are Ephesians 4:8–10 and Acts 2:27 and 31 (citing Psalm 16). Look them up if you wish.

1 Peter 3 goes on to locate that in relation to those who died in the flood (who didn’t make it into the ark). So what about those who died between the flood and the gospel of Jesus? Is Peter affirming the Old Testament covenants as salvific during that period (and if so, what about the Gentiles)? 1 Peter 4, meanwhile, offers no additional context.

So I guess, as they say, “You pays your money, and you takes your choice” (say it in an appropriate accent for maximum impact: either Cockney or Brooklyn are recommended).   

Aside from the absence of any clear New Testament evidence, there are other conceptual problems with the idea that Jesus preached the gospel to those who had died previously.

For example, it presupposes a requirement for a temporal chronology in Jesus’ work. It assumes that no one was/could have been saved before Jesus’ death and resurrection, because no one could have heard and responded to the gospel before then. It further assumes, following the same logic, that no one who dies after his death and resurrection will/can be saved unless they, too, have heard the gospel and responded to it.

This is not the place to get into the various theories about the destinies of those who have not expressly heard and responded to the gospel, but the reality is (a) the vast majority of humankind in the past two millennia and beyond will be in that category, and (b) whatever was going on while Jesus was in the place of the dead that Friday through Sunday, he won’t be going back there to repeat it (one assumes).  

What we can say is that Jesus’ sacrifice was sufficient for the sins of the world (whatever the mechanism—whatever “atonement” model we subscribe to). Hence, the only question is how we access its benefits in terms of eternal life. (I am consciously oversimplifying and stating things somewhat transactionally.)

There is certainly an important theological question concerning the eternal destiny of those who have not expressly heard and responded to the gospel in this life. I have written on that elsewhere. But perhaps a broader question concerns the concept of “second chances.”

(For the avoidance of doubt, the Catholic/Orthodox concept of Purgatory is not a “second chance.”)

With no direct biblical material to guide us, we must look to indirect data. I would suggest our best lens to answer the question is our view of the nature and character of God, as we see that in Jesus. Ask yourself: what would the God we see in Jesus want to see happen? I don’t mean what this or that selected proof text says. I mean, what does the overall big picture portrait of God revealed in Christ look like?

If we take seriously 1 Timothy 2:4 (that he’s a God “who desires everyone to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth”), then I interpret that as a God who will go “out of his way” to have as many people as possible join him in eternity. Who will metaphorically bend all the “rules” (including the rules that Christian doctrines impose on him) to the maximum to enable that to happen. Note that I am not proposing universalism; what God desires doesn’t always come about, since free will comes into play.

I can never understand why some Christians seem to delight in asserting that the boundary lines of salvation are tightly drawn. I can only assume that, like Jonah, they’re cheesed off at the thought that God could be abundantly gracious and merciful beyond human reason; in this instance, by including people that our construction of the rules says he shouldn’t.

Might there be any supporting scriptural evidence for what I’m suggesting?

I’ll start with a question: The last person we see in the Gospels responding to Jesus before his death (Jesus’ final conversation) is … who?

Answer: One of the two thieves crucified beside him, to whom Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise” (the conversation is in Luke 23).

To what “gospel” was the man responding? What was his “confession of faith”? It was three statements: “We deserve to die for our crimes,” “This man hasn’t done anything wrong,” and “Jesus, remember me when you come into your Kingdom.”

Clearly, this so-called confession was deeply flawed! Why did Jesus not walk him through the Sinner’s Prayer so that he could be saved? Why did Jesus ignore the Four Spiritual Laws (surely they’re called “laws” for a reason)? We’ll let Jesus off failing to share the Romans’ Road, since Paul hadn’t written Romans yet. But you get my point.

One might respond, “But this is just one conversation, Steve! It’s not normative.” That’s fair, but that doesn’t mean it’s irrelevant to what we’re discussing. Remember that “You must be born again” (Nicodemus: John 3) is only one conversation, as well! Jesus never said that to anyone else, either.

Bottom line: Transactional thinking about getting people saved risks undermining what ought to be our overriding goal, which is to introduce people into a relationship with Jesus now, not simply to get them a boarding pass for the journey to heaven when they die.

At the end of the day, God is allowed to save whoever he likes. Jesus has made that possible; God will interpret and apply that as broadly as he wishes (almost inevitably more broadly than our evangelical doctrines would suggest, but that’s his prerogative). In John 3:16, God so loved the world that he gave his Son, not just a relatively small number of churchgoers. The God who knows all our thoughts and all our hearts is in a far better position to determine that than either we or our doctrines. And thankfully, the broad gamut of Scripture indicates that he’s far more merciful, gracious, and inclusive than many Christians assume.

When we ask “why?” God asks, “Why not?”