Holy Saturday is always a bit odd for me....the mourning, deprivation, and somber sensibility that marks Good Friday morphs into a held breath: some anticipatory suspension of belief awaiting...what? A different outcome? To wake up from a bad dream? A resurrection?
This photo (obviously not chosen for its artistic merit) shows the sanctuary of the church as it exists only on Good Friday and Holy Saturday....bereft. No candles, no statues, no vestments, no Host. A stripped stone altar; a tabernacle with door flung open announcing that yep, No One Special is here. A completely empty thing.
I've given up hope before, and I've experienced a resurrection before, of sorts. But that period between, that emptyness -- perhaps it's a necessary place to exist, but gratefully short, just as the time between Good Friday and Easter is short. God must know we just can't wait too long for our resurrections to arrive.