Bent

Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb. – John 20:11 (NRSV) 

Can you imagine what Mary must have been thinking as she bent down to look in the tomb? Resurrection was not on her mind, for sure. You and I know what had happened, but to her, the only options were to look in and see Jesus’ broken body, or to see that someone had stolen it away. She had already looked once; John and Peter had come and looked and gone away. Was she hoping they’d been wrong? That somehow they’d missed his body lying there? My God, which would be better? Dead and still there, or dead and stolen? 

And yet, she bent again. And she looked again. She would not refuse to know. She would not stand up and look away; she was going to look until it made sense. And in the bending, she saw: angels first, and then, soon enough, Salvation standing there right before her. 

Look up at the cross, they tell you these days. Look to the skies and watch for stars and omens and the Son of Humanity coming on the clouds. OK. Do that. Tilt your head back and scan the heavens. 

But don’t forget to bend down low, too. To look into the dark holes of your riddled heart. To look into the lowliest, the dirtiest, the dankest places, the kind of places where they shut up goodness to die. Get right down on your knees and stare into the oubliette they dropped love into. 

Because it was just when Mary was bent lowest, not knowing which terrible thing to long for, that Hope came to her in her crouch, and lifted her up high. 

Prayer
When I am bent and searching, come to me. Amen.

About the Author
Quinn G. Caldwell is Chaplain of the Protestant Cooperative Ministry at Cornell University. His most recent book is a series of daily reflections for Advent and Christmas called All I Really Want: Readings for a Modern Christmas. Learn more about it and find him on Facebook at Quinn G. Caldwell.