Rest and nothingness

Today, Holy Saturday, has long seemed to me one of the strangest days from a theological point of view.  It is a true transition, an in-between time.  To the awaiting earth (especially to those not comprehending or truly believing God's promise - maybe all of us), it was (is) like a point in an abstract space with no known direction, no vector, no trajectory, no way to extrapolate from the past and project into the future.  It is a time of nihilism.  It is nothing.  Absence.  Yet it is also the Sabbath, a day of rest.  Out of nothing, ex nihilo, something emerges.  How can this be?  I do not want to infer a direct interpretation of this day from the world of physics, because, as beautiful and remarkable as this science is, it cannot comprehend God and does not intend to do so.  However, maybe there is something of an analogy with dark matter, and the so-far elusive Higgs boson.  But even the Higgs boson is "predicted" by physicists.  It's not detectable or observable, but it must be there.  One day it will be found, or something similar will be found.  But Holy Saturday is more blank, more vacuum like than even this.  God is resting, the universe has drawn into itself, into God Himself.  Not "Being and Nothingness" - but (God's) Rest and Nothingness.

The pslamist today says:

"My lovers and friends hast thou put away from me: and hid mine acquaintance out of my sight." (Psalm 88:18 from 1662 BCP)

Another translation puts it a different way - "and darkness is my only companion" (Psalm 88:19 in 1978 BCP).  The point is this: we are left, for this day, looking at the true and deep emptiness of meaning without God willing meaning into being.