In the Story of Easter, Saturday normally gets lost. The days (and even the few years) preceding it, however, were filled with amazing events and words. If it were a symphony, it would have all risen to a resounding yet horrific crescendo: the arrest and trial, the scourging and crucifixion, the agony on the cross, the death, the day turning to utter darkness, the ground shaking as if to split the earth, the veil tearing in two . . .
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