Personally I’ve always considered Holy Saturday to be a bit of a let down. After all the gloom of Good Friday it’s a bit much to expect Biblical Christian Leaders like myself to wait more than a whole day before enjoying the bumper offertories to be gleaned on Easter Sunday. Besides, if the whole atonement business is simple enough for Deacon Dobby Ould to explain in a few short lines there’s no reason for Our Lord to have been so tardy about things. If David Ould can be believed (don't worry, we're only speaking hypothetically here) he could have wrapped the whole business up in under an hour, which I'll admit with advertising could have made a fantastic 90 minute TV presentation.
Still, the break does give everyone a much needed chance to go shopping: three days without an opportunity to purchase whitegoods is probably more than any civil society should endure. Here at St. Onuphrius’ we spent much of the day nailing little Brad Evans’ crate shut and shipping him back to the Institute. Not only did he prove incapable of handling the part we’d prepared for him in our Easter pageant (he was to have played the stone outside Jesus’ tomb, but lacked sufficient personality), but the endless droning on and on about vestments became more than anyone could bear. Don’t get me wrong; I love a good bit of man-lace as much as the next homophobic clergyman, but the boy’s obsessional. Back when Dicky Dawkins could still be bothered indulging in community with carbon molecules arranged in such a way as to display an illusion of sentience there was somewhere Brad could relieve himself of his tensions, but now? Dear me, I don’t know how Matron manages: the woman must have the patience of a saint. Either that she was weaned on the same lemons as Alison Barfoot. Although Matron doesn’t forget to pay her web hosting bill.
I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.