"What the Son did for his Mother on that holy day before dawn"

"Mary,

How can we think of your Holy Saturday in any other way than perfect silence? Once the tomb was closed, Saint John took you to the house where he himself was staying in Jerusalem. This probably happened in silence.

Respect for your suffering must have kept them all silent. You only made it clear that you wanted to be alone. Of course, it was impossible to go as usual to the Sabbath and the feast in the Temple, among the people who had crucified Him and who would now be pointing at You.

Being alone was the only relief. For once, tears had to have their way. If the Lord had wept over the death of Lazarus, shouldn't You also weep after all that had happened?

His whole life, which was Your life, appeared once again before your soul; all the allusions to suffering, all the passages of the prophets. And with it the announcement of the Resurrection.

What the Savior explained to the disciples on the road to Emmaus, You said to Yourself: wasn't it necessary for Christ to suffer all this to enter into His glory?

In this way, Your suffering is transformed into thanksgiving for the "Consummatum est" ("It is finished"), and into a silent, believing expectation of Easter morning: on the third day, He will rise again.

I can't think of it any other way than in Your presence.

What the Son did for his Mother on that holy day before the dawn of the Resurrection can only be intuited...

Before daybreak, did not the angel of the Annunciation noiselessly guide You from the house of Your hosts and lead You to the tomb? Didn't the Alleluia at the tomb resound from the mouths of angels like the Gloria in the Bethlehem countryside? In the glowing dawn, did He not advance from the tomb enveloped in resplendent light into the garden in full bloom as in paradise?

No one recorded this encounter. No human eye saw, no human ear perceived, no human heart heard what the Lord was preparing for His Mother who loved Him more than anything we could ever conceive."

Saint Edith Stein, The Science of the Cross