Mary stood weeping at the tomb, and the tomb was closed to her, and she could not find the one she loved. This sonnet stands with her in that moment, before the calling of the name, in the raw ache that does not yet know what is about to change.
The Sonnet
I stand outside a tomb I cannot open, The stone is set, the morning cold and gray, The one I loved is silent, gone, betoken Only by absence in this quiet way. I do not yet know what the day will bring, I only know the ache of what is lost, The weight of missing that will not take wing, The steady grief that pays its bitter cost. And yet I stay. I will not leave the ground Where love has laid the one I loved to rest, And in the staying, tenderly, is found The nearness that will meet me at my best. So I will weep, and stay, and trust the day, For love has ways I cannot see or say.
Reflection
Mary Magdalene went to the tomb in the dark, before the sunrise. She did not know what was about to happen. She only knew that the one she loved had been laid in the stone, and she was going to grieve there. The gospel record is careful to keep her weeping for a while before the recognition comes. There is a whole morning of tears before the calling of her name.
This is important for those of us who stand at closed tombs of our own. The resurrection is real, but it does not always meet us at once. Sometimes there is a long dawn of weeping before the voice calls us by name. What Mary teaches is that we should stay. Stay at the place of grief. Stay through the tears. The calling comes to those who do not leave.
If you are standing at a closed tomb this morning, stay. The one who calls the dead by name has not forgotten how to speak yours, and dawn is coming, however slowly the light approaches now.
