In A Liminal Place

Holy Saturday
Easter Eve

Today's Readings:

Holy Saturday is perhaps the quietest day of the Triduum—the day of waiting, of stillness, of what feels like absence. Christ has been laid in the tomb. The violence and noise of Good Friday has faded, but the joy of Easter has not yet dawned. We sit in a liminal place this day.

Lamentations gives some voice to this in-betweenness. “He has made me sit in darkness like the dead of long ago”. It is a stark, honest acknowledgment of sorrow and disorientation. Yet even here, in the depths, hope is not extinguished: “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases… they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness”. Holy Saturday holds these tensions together—grief and hope, silence and promise.

From a Franciscan perspective, this day invites us to embrace the humility and trust required to wait. St. Francis had a deep reverence for the humanity of Christ, not only in His life and suffering, but even in death. The Son of God truly entered into the fullness of our human condition, even the grave itself. There is no place we can go—not even the silence of loss or uncertainty—where Christ has not already gone before us.

The burial of Jesus in John’s Gospel is simple and reverent: “They took the body of Jesus and wrapped it with the spices in linen cloths”. It is an act of care, of love, even when hope seems lost. This is our calling on Holy Saturday: not to rush to resurrection, but to remain faithful in the quiet. To tend, to wait, to trust.

Peter reminds us: “Above all, maintain constant love for one another”. Even in the silence, love endures. Even in the tomb, God is at work.

Holy Saturday teaches us that God’s greatest work often happens unseen. The stone is in place. The world is still. But resurrection is already stirring.

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