Holy Saturday

I spoke with a fellow who said he had killed a man. He asked if God would forgive him. I gave him the standard answer: "God forgives even such a terrible crime if you asked." 
"But," I wondered, "have you asked the murdered man to forgive you?" 
He was surprised by the question. "Can a dead man forgive me?" 
"Jesus died and he forgave us!" 
"I never thought of that." he said.

We sometimes forget that Jesus died. In our excitement about his resurrection, we forget that he is dead.
When we think of other heroic people who have died we often invoke their spirit. We say, "If we keep doing their good work, they will not have died in vain." 
Thinking of Jesus, we remember how he urged us to "Do this in memory of me." But we sometimes suppose that, since he was raised up again, perhaps we don't have to do anything. Then, as far as we're concerned, he has died in vain. 
In our rush to announce his resurrection Christians sometimes forget the reality of death. Even my own death seems unimportant -- until I look it in the face. Then I'm not so sure.
Everything becomes cloudy. I thought I was important but death tells me I will be forgotten as surely as billions of others have been forgotten. Even the best marked graves disappear eventually.  
During the stillness of Holy Saturday, after the ordeal of Good Friday, we contemplate the death of Hope. Can I live without it? Has God punished the Earth forever for what we did to Jesus, and what we do to one another? 
Many people live without hope. Their spiritual lives have come to a dead end. They can think of no reason to live except, perhaps, to eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow we die. 
What does the faithful one do when God has died? 
We might ask forgiveness of one another -- especially from those who have died.