Here’s some trivia. The shortest verse in the entire Bible, traditionally, is “Jesus wept.” Just two words and like all those little phrases we use (and abuse) so much—“I love you,” “not guilty”—it carries so much weight. Now, whether Jesus’ tears are a literary and theological device to display our Lord’s humanity is interesting, but for me, fairly irrelevant. The entire biblical interpretation can be summed up for me by Pope Leo I’s words: “In his humanity Jesus wept for Lazarus; in his divinity he raised him from the dead.” So, where does that leave us? This is such a deeply personal moment in Christ’s life; one gets the sense that it was unexpected too—stirring commentary by the people around him.
It shouldn’t shock us, of course. Jesus had just learned of his friend’s death and we cry for many reasons far more complicated than that. We cry when we’re sad, but also when we’re angry, tired or even laughing—hardly shocking that Christ’s tears be present. And yet, when I pray over this reading, such a physical response, such a human response from our Savior is so beautiful that I realize his crying isn’t about his tears, but ours. It’s about us. When Jesus cries he is connecting himself to us in the most personal of ways. Not all of us can create physical miracles or give our physical lives to martyrdom like he did, but all of us cry. So, I suppose this Sunday Jesus’ tears aren’t the point, but the door to thinking about what makes us cry, what moves us? What joys, fears and sadness do we have to ‘let out’?
As we prepare for Holy Week let us be re-baptized by our tears. Perhaps it will be us saying sorry, perhaps it will be us saying thank you, or I miss you, maybe it will be in front of a painting or the altar. Whatever it may be, when we cover ourselves with the water of our personal experience, Jesus will be weeping beside us. Happy Lent.
I’ll be seeing you,
Elliot