Perhaps the most overlooked day in the Christian calendar is Holy Saturday. It is the lull between the intense focus on the end of Jesus’ ministry on Maundy Thursday, his death on Good Friday, and the celebration of his resurrection on Easter Sunday.

What transpired in that dark, sealed tomb between Good Friday and Easter? Was it something like how a caterpillar transforms and emerges as a butterfly? How did it take place so quickly? What does resurrection involve? Some early church fathers suggest that on Holy Saturday Jesus “descended into hell” (Apostles’ Creed) in order to release all those who populated it. But who really knows? Whatever happened, it transformed a corpse into a source of Light and Life that is still radiating, centuries later.

Art creation: From death to life
The passage from death to new life is always a mysterious one, and the process of rebirth and renewal unfolds differently for different people. One great source of rebirth for many people is art. By art, I mean both the completed work and the act of making it. A moving theatrical production, a stirring dance, or a beautiful bit of folded paper may turn around an entire life for the person who is touched by it. And sometimes it is not the beauty of a work, but the grim reality of a photograph of a dead soldier or the raw torment of twisted metal eyes on a carved mask that call us to a new direction, a new way of thinking. Art isn’t always beautiful. It may not always be comprehensible. But it very well may be a tangible sign of an inexplicable rebirth.

Hurricane Katrina and rebirth through images
After the devastation of the Gulf Coast by Hurricane Katrina in 2005, thousands of disaster relief and human service workers rushed to help. Urgent needs such as housing, food, medical assistance, and safety had to be addressed immediately. But the trauma of the hurricane and its aftereffects was not over by the time the emergency workers and recovery groups pulled out. The labor pains of rebirth continue even now, all along the Gulf Coast, as well as among those who evacuated to other places and continue to suffer. John’s Gospel assures us that “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it” (John 1:5), but for many who lived through Hurricane Katrina or other disasters, it’s still pretty dark. How long does Holy Saturday last before Easter morning finally arrives? How do you tell time in a tomb?

Though everyone in New Orleans seems to be dealing with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), long-term effects of the storm are particularly noticeable among children. Among the many other light-bearers in the darkness of post-Katrina New Orleans were art therapists. A team of these healers and other volunteers and teachers worked in a FEMA trailer park called Renaissance Village. The art therapists noticed a common theme in the drawings of displaced children: a profusion of triangles.

Among the most fundamental figures in most children’s art is a house, a symbol of security and stability. These children did not draw houses. Whether or not their own homes had been destroyed, many of the displaced children began replacing the common triangle-plus-square image of a house with only a triangular roof. Other recurring images in children’s art included alligators, dead bodies, rolling water, and black skies covering everything. One child who had drawn a swimming pool filled with black squiggly lines was asked, “Who is in the pool?” She answered, “Snakes” ("Using Crayons to Exorcise Katrina" by Shaila Dewan in The New York Times, September 17, 2007). (continued on next page)

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