Words of light by Omar Haramy
On this Holy Saturday, we share with you a very moving message, written by our friend and colleague Omar Haramy, director of Sabeel Ecumenical Theology Center in Jerusalem.
Holy Saturday: From Darkness to Light, From Occupation to Liberation
Today we stand in the sacred pause of Holy Saturday—the day between Jumu al-Hazeena (Sad Friday) and the dawn of resurrection. On this day, we remember that Christ was buried in haste, treated as a terrorist and outlaw, abandoned and alone. Even His tomb was given in charity—no flowers adorned His grave, no proper farewell was offered. How familiar this sounds to our Palestinian experience.
As the loving church in Jerusalem, we gather in our sorrow to remind our community and all pilgrims who seek us: the tomb is empty, He is risen. Today, as tradition holds, a light appears in the grave. Some call it miracle, others see it as symbol, but we know it also as resistance. When the rulers of Jerusalem once banned Christians from proclaiming the resurrection, our ancestors lit candle from candle, person to person, carrying the testimony of life conquering death.
As many churches worldwide extinguish their lights on Good Friday, they will rekindle them from the flame that originates here—in Jerusalem's Church of the Resurrection. From Friday's darkness, Saturday brings light, connected by one sacred flame. This is our miracle: that change happens, that though darkness feels powerful and overwhelming, nothing is faster than light.
Our candles teach us about prayer—they work silently, bring change, and grow smaller as they give more light, teaching us humility and sacrifice. They melt like tears, and when spent, can be recycled—a testimony to resurrection itself.
Yes, our church building may be closed this year, but this matters little—it was already empty, for the tomb is empty. We worry more for the tombs being opened by war and our collective silence. Buildings do not pray; people do. When people are afraid, we must remind them: when it was forbidden to say "He is risen," when the impossible seemed never possible, a small community of faith lit their candles and turned light around the world.
Freedom is coming. The good news is coming—but only if we are willing to receive it and share it.
From occupied Jerusalem, we light our candles tonight, knowing that every flame carries the promise that oppression does not have the final word.
Christ is risen.
Truly He is risen.