Today is Holy Saturday, the day I most acutely feel our Lord's absence. No matter my circumstances on this day each year, I think about the dark church, with the eternal flame extinguished. The rest of the time, when I'm troubled or in some kind of turmoil, I go into the quiet nave and simply sit with the Holy Spirit. When I look toward the altar, my eyes are drawn to the candle at the aumbry that signifies the presence of the Holy One. This practice has brought me comfort, wisdom, and transformation more times than I can count. Between Maundy Thursday and tomorrow, Easter day, the presence is not available, and I feel at sea. A deep sadness settles in, and I'm able to mourn for Jesus and what the authorities did to him.
The gruesome crucifixion is over, and Christ's body lays in the tomb, lovingly provided by a rich man, Joseph of Arimathea. I try to spend this day imagining what it must have felt like to the women who did not yet know the rest of the story. Mary Magdalene, Mary Mother of Christ, Jesus' friends Mary and Martha - all they knew was that Jesus was dead. Their despair must have been crushing. I will sit with them for the course of this day and let that universal feeling of loss settle in my bones.
As with most of my spiritual practice, there's a hymn for that. From the Methodist hymnal:
O Love divine, What has thou done?
The immortal God hath died for me!
The Father's co-eternal Son
bore all my sins upon the tree.
Th' immortal God for me hath died,
My Lord, my Love, is crucified.
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