Jesus wept

All forms of human suffering can bring us closer to God because they unite us with Jesus himself.

Bishop Edward B. Scharfenberger

While I know of no scripture painting Jesus with a laugh — or even a smile — I find no reason to assume he avoided them or, for that matter, kept many emotions much to himself. He is pure revelation! The Gospel is full of hope and joy. The Gospel itself means “good news.” How could it not be when its soul is the fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy (Lk 4:16-21, cf. Is 61:1-3).

It has been suggested that to laugh is to be surprised, taken by an incongruity or an odd connection. Yet we read that Jesus certainly showed amazement, in some cases with the unexpected faith of a person (e.g., the centurion, Lk 7:9), in others at their lack of it (Mk 6:6). And he could get quite peeved about hypocrisy (cf. Mt 23-26) and commercialization of religion (Mt 21:12-17). Is there something disconcerting, that makes us uncomfortable, with Jesus exhibiting strong passions or emotions, as if this is unbecoming of a divine person or even a holy human being? I wonder if this is more of an issue about our comfort with our own humanity, rather than a question of faith at all. Is it okay, we may ask ourselves, to feel a certain way, and to give it expression.

One thing we hear clearly is that Jesus wept. Two instances in particular stand out: the death of his friend Lazarus (Jn 11:35) and his awareness of the eventual — and brutal — destruction of the Jerusalem temple (Lk 19:41). Reading these accounts in context, we learn that Jesus was not crying about his own personal pain or jeopardy. In some passages he displays great anguish, particularly on the night before he died. This pain was surely psychological, but with physical manifestations in his sweating of blood. Incidences where he wept, however, involve the grief and suffering of others. If they say nothing else to us it is that it is okay to have such feelings at the death or illness of a loved one, a tragedy that may even involve people we do not know but for whom we feel great empathy or compassion.

At the imminent death of Lazarus, we recall, Jesus did not proceed in haste to cure him. He knew, of course, what he was going to do. In fact, it becomes clear that he wanted to do something even more momentous than “just” perform a miracle. Jesus well knew that Lazarus would die and be resurrected as we will all be one day, a faith Martha affirmed (Jn 11:24). What drew tears from Jesus, however, was the grieving of his friends, not the death itself. Why did it have to be this way, we might ask. Why does God allow for a period of time that we experience pain and grief? Well, Jesus was divine. And yet, in his humanity he did not choose to separate himself from this experience of ours. Rather, he entered fully into it. We need not look any further than the accounts of the passion of Christ to know that Jesus experienced excruciating personal pain. One like us in all things but sin (cf. Heb 4:15), who “though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God something to be grasped. Rather, he emptied himself …” (Phil 2:6ff).

What is, I believe, of great importance to us, one might even say a great relief, is that all forms of human suffering can bring us closer to God because they unite us with Jesus himself, the God-man, and what he experienced himself in our fallen world. God did not reject humanity simply because we entered into a pact with the devil, the great hater of humanity, that led to sin and suffering. Instead, Jesus took that burden upon himself, lifting us up with him and, ultimately, giving meaning even to suffering itself. Jesus unites with us even as we, in some way, bear alongside with others who suffer. But there is much more.

Accounts of Jesus weeping over Jerusalem remind me so much of the agony of all who must watch, often at great distance, others suffering from evils often brought upon them by their own actions. I think of parents and grandparents who might have children or grandchildren in desperate situations, a vicious circle of addiction or domestic violence, watching their loved ones drawn into a legal system that does not always operate with fairness toward those most vulnerable, who can be exploited by predatory agents. 

The heart of Jesus is full of the anguish of a parent so full of love, who wants to protect his or her loved ones and spare them even the consequences of their own sins and failures. At times in our own lives, are we not caught in such patterns of self-destructive behavior, and we will not let even God help us? We may complain that God has abandoned us — the Psalms are full of such laments — and even throw it in God’s face that we have been “good” (or were “good” at some past time), wondering why God repays us by showing no mercy. Well, did not Jesus have that feeling too! Remember? On the cross, which he did absolutely nothing to deserve. He accepted the will of his beloved Father, that he take it up along with all of our sins in order to save us from eternal damnation. As he hung there between heaven and earth in the worst agony imaginable, his divinity did not “save” him from the feeling of being utterly abandoned — by God.

Though he cries out — again, no emotions are held back — he also asks the Father to forgive us, “for they know not what they do” (Lk 23:34). In his humanity, Jesus invokes the mercy and compassion of God, offering us also the consolation that in the most desperate of situations which we or our loved ones may encounter, it is okay to plead for relief, for mercy. Christian faith does not demand that we be stoic, simply grinning and bearing it all. 

Sometimes, may I be bold to suggest, holding back and pretending everything is fine, or going to be okay, could be a not so hidden note of pride, especially when deemed good advice for someone in great pain or sorrow. It is fine for Jesus himself to say to a grieving person “do not weep,” as he did sometimes just before a healing action. Living the joy of the Gospel, however, does not mean we hold back in showing our sorrow, sympathy and even tears to console those who are grieving or in pain. Clowns may “put on a happy face” which, we all know, is just makeup and make-believe. Real joy, as Christians are invited to live it, comes from trusting in God’s abiding love, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, not a denial of what is after all, as Jesus himself exemplifies, perfectly human.  

 @AlbanyDiocese