Holy Saturday marks the death of God. The day is akin to an eerie silence that pervades all around us and everything is still. Bereft of all plans, all hopes, of everything we had, we stand still. Not sure what next. It is like Saul after he was blinded after his encounter with the Lord near Damascus. Utterly helpless. Not sure what the future holds. Not convinced of the past one has lived. Yet it is these days that mark the conversion of Saul to Paul. His introspection where he has nothing to claim his own or anything for sure is what paves the way for his transformation. Holy Saturday offers us the same tomb-experience. Of being silent. Of being still.
As Christians, we often kill this experience or brush past this opportunity for the silence is haunting. We prefer the sentimentality of Good Friday or the thrill of Easter Sunday. The stillness of Holy Saturday is too demanding. Yet one is challenged to live it. Imagine the state of the apostles, of Jesus’ disciples, of Mother Mary. They did not have the assured guarantee of the Sunday resurrection. They lived through the Holy Saturday and therefore Easter meant more than Jesus’ resurrection to them. It paved the way for their own transformation too.