In advocacy of the tears of the saints

We post-moderns are often afraid to shed tears. If you have tried to gulp them back as much as possible during a particularly moving worship song as to "not be swayed by emotions," you know what I'm talking about. I personally find this battle ironic. People cried quite often in the Bible (and most of them men, too). Hezekiah shows tears in asking God to heal his sickness; David mourns over his dead son; psalmist despairingly confesses that "tears have been [his] food day and night"; the Israelites shed many a tear in repentance and longing to return to Jerusalem. Our own Lord was of the flesh and offered up prayers "with loud crying and tears." Heck, Paul cried all the time over the churches he was administering to, admonishing and loving them.

So, why are we afraid to cry?

The Hebrew and Christian Scriptures are not the only place where we find "men who weep and wail." "Emotional expressiveness in general and tears in particular are often empowering for early modern men and women in a variety of imaginative writings," Jennifer C. Vaught writes in exploring this subject in early modern literature. (Perhaps this is why some of us find Shakespeare and his contemporaries so engaging.) In the following excerpt, C. S. Lewis refreshingly captures portrait of a pre-modern man, doubtlessly dignified, yet unashamed to shed tears.

'[Ransom] stopped, shocked at what was happening. The huge man had risen from his chair, and stood towering over him. From his horribly opened mouth there came a yell that seemed to Ransom utterly bestial, though it was in fact only the yell of primitive Celtic lamentation. It was horrifying to see that withered and bearded face all blubbered with undisguised tears like a child's. All the Roman surface in Merlinus had been scraped off. He had become a shameless, archaic monstrosity babbling out entreaties in a mixture of what sounded like Welsh and what sounded like Spanish.

"Silence," shouted Ransom. "Sit down. You put us both to shame."

As suddenly as it had begun the frenzy ended. Merlin resumed his chair. To a modern it seemed strange that, having recovered his self-control, he did not show the slightest embarrassment at his temporary loss of it.'

- C. S. Lewis, That Hideous Strength

I propose that we postmoderns are afraid of tears and other tokens that indicate strong emotions because of our heritage in modernism. We are descendants of Descartes and Paine, Kant and Bacon. Quoth Descartes, "I think, therefore I am." Like the philosophers who came after him, I find such a statement unsettling, for in such a statement, Descartes reduces the essence of his being to a mere “thinking thing”, and denies even the existence of his material, bodily essence since such an essence can only be confirmed by his immaterial sense--'to think.' Yet much of our postmodern selves still hold to this view today. I certainly have a high esteem of Reason, and especially in college was often tempted to think that, if I just think very hard, I will be able to figure things out.

In thinking about ourselves, it is good to remember Pascal's words: "Reason's last step is the recognition that there are an infinite number of things which are beyond it. It is merely feeble if it does not go as far as to realize that."

But I digress.

"You have taken account of my wanderings; Put my tears in Your bottle. Are they not in Your book?" - Ps.56:8

We see in this verse that God keeps account of the tears of His saints. Might it be a stretch to say that He deems them precious?

As bizarre a proposition it may be, I suggest that the church in the postmodern era needs to reclaim the ground for holy tears--in prayer, in repentance, in worship, in admonition.

"When you are left alone, pray. Love to throw yourself on the earth and kiss it. Kiss the earth and love it with an unceasing, consuming love. Love all men, love everything. Seek that rapture and ecstasy. Water the earth with the tears of your joy and love those tears. Don't be ashamed of that ecstasy, prize it, for it is a gift of God and a great one; it is not given to many but only to the elect."
-- Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

I think Dostoyevsky was right.

So, next time you hesitate during a song, be challenged beyond Descartes' taboo and try being vulnerable to some Spirit-led tears. I trust that you will find it enriching.