Holy Saturday

"I was born on the only day God is dead. Jesus is crucified on Friday, and he is forever and eternally resurrected on Sunday, the third day. But the interminable Saturday between, that second day, he is stone cold dead, in the tomb, behind that great rock they rolled over the entrance. It is the ultimate Sabbath, when all things cease and give way to a great sadness, a great stillness and silence. And in Sevilla and amidst the staunch Catholicism and tyranny of Franco’s Spain, it was a day between hope and despair. A day of watchful waiting."