As a widow, I have newfound appreciation for why the mourning of Holy Saturday is indispensable to the journey toward joy.
Clarissa Moll
The
most striking of my childhood church memories occurred during our
parish’s Good Friday service each year. At the end of the service, with
the lights dimmed, our pastor would draw a black drape across the altar
at the front of the sanctuary. As a child, the gesture reminded me of
physicians ...
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