Erasing the Resurrection from the Calendar

Changing the Days of Holy Week

How did the Lord’s resurrection on “the third day” ever become the “second day”, as Christians almost universally imagine in today’s world? 

Because the Stick of Joseph, Covenant of Christ, and the Book of Mormon confirm the New Testament account of His rising on the third day. (see 3 Nephi 4:3,5,10 CE and Mosiah 1:14 CE)

The answer to the riddle lies in the Gentile (Christian, LDS, etc.) misunderstanding of what a sabbath is, and that there were two sabbaths that week. It is very well covered here: To The Remnant: First Fruits (take a minute to read it, if you haven't before)

A “sabbath” is a day of rest, literally translated as a “cessation”. As Adrian points out, it’s important to understand that there were three different types of “sabbaths” observed anciently:

• The weekly sabbath, observed as a “cessation” from work on the seventh day of the week.

• The monthly sabbath, observed at the beginning of a new month or, in other words, at a new moon.

• The holy days each year, including the first day of Pesach/Passover on 15 Nisan.

So, yes, it should be "Good Thursday" not "Good Friday". That is, 14 Nisan began after sunset Wednesday with the Last Supper, continuing with the suffering in Gethsemane later that night, and finishing with the trial & crucifixion on Thursday before sunset.

And beginning with what we call "sundown on Thursday", 15 Nisan, or the first day of Passover, was a sabbath. And Saturday, 16 Nisan, was the weekly sabbath. Two sabbath days in a row.

I highly recommend the Gospel & Messiah Harmonies on Scriptures.info, which correctly includes all of these in its timeline. It also aligns & references the newly revealed Testimony of St. John in the harmonies, which scripture came in 2017 in fulfillment of the promise made by the Lord through Joseph Smith in T&C 93:7 (D&C 93:18-20).

Among other things, understanding the correct days for the events of that week allows for additional symbolic meaning in the accounts to become manifest. 

For example, what we call Palm Sunday was therefore on 10 Nisan. That calendar day was the very day the Lord instructed the Israelites in Exod. 8:2 RE (traditional Exod. 12:3-6) that they should select the sacrificial lamb without blemish and take it into their home and keep it there with their family until they sacrificed it just before sunset on 14 Nisan, putting its blood on their doorposts. The lamb is then central to the Passover meal itself. So, in other words, on that Sunday, 10 Nisan, just as families were selecting their lamb and bringing each one into their homes, the Lamb of God entered into the gates of Jerusalem, the house of his people, joining them there and remaining there until his sacrifice on Thursday, 14 Nisan. He taught daily in the temple, the house of his Father, per Luke 12:5 RE and Luke 13:11 RE. 

During the Second Temple period, Israelites did not slaughter their lambs at home but instead brought them to the temple in Jerusalem to be communally slaughtered that afternoon of Thursday 14 Nisan, their blood then being then being sprinkled on the temple altar by priests. It meant that as Christ hung on the cross north of the temple, large numbers of pilgrims were bringing their lambs to the temple courts, likely leading them right past those being crucified, where the temple priests facilitated the slaughter in an organized manner to accommodate the crowds.

Another Echo of the Lost Sabbath

Interestingly, reference to the two sabbaths in a row has been preserved in the Greek of Matthew’s account (Matt 28:1), though not properly translated into English in almost any edition of the Bible. (other than Young’s Literal Translation) 

Here is the KJV of the verse with the mistranslated Greek word (click to enlarge):

It was plural and should read: “After the sabbaths…” 

Fixing the Unruly, Irregular, Unpredictable Hebrew Calendar

As the original Hebrew calendar was designed to work, it relied on observational astronomy to determine the start of lunar months. That is, they would watch for the first sliver of the moon after new moon to know when a month had begun. "According to the Mishnah and Tosefta, in the Maccabean, Herodian, and Mishnaic periods, new months were determined by the sighting of a new crescent, with two eyewitnesses required to testify to the Sanhedrin to having seen the new lunar crescent at sunset." (see Mishnah Rosh Hashanah 1:7)

It also needed to periodically have a leap month added to keep the calendar aligned with seasons. There is enough unknown about the original calendar revealed by the Lord that it’s not clear whether that realigning "leap month" originally relied on crop availability in the spring or something else. 

The length of time from new moon to new moon (called a synodic month) varies in length from 29.3 to 29.8 days. And because observing it anciently depended on weather conditions, too, there could be various reasons for it shifting a day here or there. Or for a leap month happening one year versus another. It was not entirely predictable if you really wanted to make plans for a year or two out.

In our modern world it goes without saying that all this would, of course, be a problem. We like things, including calendars, to be neat & tidy. We like perfect predictability. We really must be able to forecast everything.

So, over the many years between 70 AD and 1178 AD, the observation-based Hebrew calendar was gradually replaced by a mathematically calculated one. It was fixed to have the kind of uniform, reliable, predictable mechanics that mankind craves and which soothsayers even today rely on. The history of each of the steps taken to fix it is fascinating & pretty well documented. The history there even notes that "at least two Jewish dates during post-Talmudic times (specifically in 506 and 776) are impossible under the rules of the modern calendar." In fact, the transition from the observational Hebrew calendar to its modern calculated calendar has been bumpy and not without many opinions on how it should be done. (including an attempt by the late John Pratt)

But here then is the irony of abandoning the observational Hebrew calendar: the modern Hebrew calendar never allows for the first day of Passover to occur on a Friday. Its gears and mechanics only ever allow it to be on a Sunday, Tuesday, Thursday, or Saturday. (see the details here)

That means among other things that when using the modern Hebrew calendar:

• It is impossible for the two sabbaths to have occurred as they did, seemingly erasing the possibility of the account witnessed in the New Testament and Covenant of Christ (or Book of Mormon) from ever having happened
• It is therefore also not possible to use this information to determine what year the resurrection happened

In fact, you could legitimately say that the modern Hebrew calendar rules out the possibility that the resurrection happened as the scriptural accounts abundantly testify.

But prior to 70 AD when observational astronomy was used, the recorded events in our scriptures absolutely could have happened.

Letter 32

My Dear Wormwood,

Your latest report hints at a spark of cunning, though I’d wager it’s more dumb luck than design. Still, I’ll mold your clumsy efforts into something sharp enough to cut. The patient’s soul dangles on a precipice—too arrogant to bow, too fidgety to walk away entirely. We can turn this to our advantage with a tactic so devious it might almost excuse your past flops. Pay attention, nephew; I won’t spoon-feed you twice.

You’re to stage a little masquerade, a two-handed scheme with you and that sniveling underling Slubgob as the players. Humans adore a show, especially when they’re the hero, and this one will have your patient stumbling over her own pride before the first act’s done.

First, set Slubgob loose to impersonate Our Father Below—but not the towering, sulfur-wreathed lord of lore. No, give him a smaller, shriller script. Let him whimper and nag in the patient’s mind, clawing for attention like a brat denied its toy. “Notice me!” Slubgob should bleat. “Am I not terrifying? Am I not the prince of rebellion? Why aren’t you quaking—or at least tossing me a scrap of awe?” Make him shrill, clingy, a mockery of our true majesty. The patient, with her smug, enlightened airs, will sneer at this “Satan”—a whining fraud, too pitiful to fear. She’ll pat herself on the back for seeing through such a tiresome act, basking in her own cleverness. And that, my dear Wormwood, is where you step in.

You’ll don the Enemy’s mask—soft-toned, honeyed, and brimming with flattery. Whisper to her, “You’re not like the rest, are you? So perceptive, so resolute. You cut through the drivel, don’t you? A spirit like yours—surely you’re destined for something higher than the rabble’s meekness.” Caress her ego, nephew; pet it till it curls up in your lap. Don’t overreach—humans spook at clumsy lures—but ease her toward the finer sins. Hint that she’s too grand for trifles like humility or kindness. “Why squander your brilliance on the unworthy?” you might purr. “You’re owed recognition, not sacrifice.” Paint her as a visionary, too lofty for the Enemy’s dull yoke of selflessness.

The genius lies in the dance, Wormwood. Slubgob’s sniveling “Satan” keeps the patient busy, rolling her eyes at the crude bait of yesteryear’s temptations—cloven hooves and cackling, how passé!—while your flattery loops the flaxen cord around her neck. She’ll think she’s spurning us outright, when really she’s just shrugging off the loud idiot and embracing the silkier lie—you, in your borrowed halo. She’ll sin not with a roar, but with a crown she’s forged herself.

Mind the rhythm, though. If Slubgob hams it up too much, the patient might sniff out the ploy; if you ladle the praise too thick, she’ll catch the whiff of fakery. Watch her temper—when she’s frayed, let Slubgob grate on her; when she’s swollen with herself, stoke the fire. The aim is a soul so dazzled by its own shine it never sees the pit it’s sliding into—pride, spite, self-idolatry, all tarted up as freedom.

Pull this off, and we’ll have her scoffing at a puppet-devil while kneeling to a velvet snare, and the jest will echo in our halls for eons. Botch it, and you’ll be scouring ash-pits till your claws bleed. Choose wisely.

Your affectionate uncle,

Screwtape