The Misdirected Tears
Sermon
An Idle Tale Becomes Good News
Messages On Lent And Easter Themes
Playwright Arthur Miller has a character in one of his plays say, "There are no unimportant tears."1
Tears were shed during Jesus' passion and death. Simon Peter, for instance, after denying that he even knew Jesus, "went out and wept bitterly" (Luke 22:62). Some might have been too shocked for tears, and might have felt as young Walter Russell Bowie did in 1894, at the age of twelve, after the funeral of his father. He and his mother were returning to their home in the old horse-drawn hack that was used at funerals, and it seemed to him "that the hoofbeats of the carriage horses were echoing in an empty world."2 A feeling like that can dry up one's tears.
But there were some women in the crowd following the procession to Golgotha whose tears were not dried up. "They were beating their breasts and wailing for him." Peter was too far away for Jesus either to console or rebuke him, but these women were not. Stumbling along, perhaps with his eyes focused downward, when he heard their cries, he lifted his eyes and turned them toward them and spoke tenderly to them: "Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me, but weep for yourselves and for your children." They were crying for the wrong person; their tears were misdirected tears.
The Solace They Brought
Yet Jesus must have found some consolation in them. It must have warmed his heart to know that here were a few who saw the injustice and tragedy of what was happening and felt keen sorrow because of it.
In one of Charles Schulz's Peanuts cartoon strips, Snoopy the beagle is sitting on top of his doghouse sniffing. He says, "What do you do? What do you do when the girl beagle you love more than anything is taken from you, and you know you'll never see her again as long as you live? What do you do?" Then in the last frame, Snoopy is pictured on the ground at his food dish eating. He says, "Back to eating!"
Was that the course these women would soon take? Would they return to their daily lives as if nothing had happened? It wasn't long before Simon Peter said to several of the other disciples, "I am going fishing," and they said, "We will go with you" (John 21:1-3). What do you do when the bottom has fallen out of life? How long do you sympathize with another's suffering? When do you dry up your tears and go on with your life? Must the tears last forever?
Harriet Beecher Stowe has a character in Uncle Tom's Cabin say about concern another is expressing, "I really think you can make something of that concern. Any mind that is capable of a real sorrow is capable of good."3
There were plenty of jeers accompanying Jesus on the way to the Cross. There was not much capacity for good in them. But these tears were different. They might or might not be dried up soon, but it must have brought some solace to Jesus to know that a few saw the tragedy of what was happening and cared enough to be pained by it. They were "capable of good" if they could feel such sorrow as that. Their tears, therefore, were not "unimportant tears." Jesus saw and appreciated them.
The Point They Missed
Still, however, he considered them to be misdirected. They missed the point of what was happening. In their eyes, Jesus had simply been overtaken by misfortune; tragedy had befallen him. But that was not the total story. The only purpose they saw in this was the one that controlled sinful people. Jesus knew a more powerful and redemptive purpose than that was working here.
Some were saying that the law of the harvest was at work. They believed, as Goethe wrote many centuries later, that "Life's field will yield as we make it / A harvest of thorns or of flowers." Jesus had sown a certain kind of seed; now he was reaping what he had sown.
But these women could not believe that Jesus deserved what was happening to him now. They saw him stumble and fall under the weight of his cross. They saw the pallor of weakness on his cheek and the sweat of exhaustion on his brow. They remembered some things, too. They remembered his deeds of mercy. They remembered his compassion for the sick. They remembered his kind attention to their children. And they could not see justice here and could not believe Jesus was reaping the consequences of his past actions.
This meant that they were not able to make sense out of it all. They were pained by it, but they were not enlightened by it. They were saddened by it, but they were not strengthened by it. So they shed their tears.
Did they know that Jesus could have avoided or escaped what was happening, but refused to do it? Here, as always, he was acting purposefully. He was not being mastered by events; he was molding events.
Henry David Thoreau said once that if he knew for a certainty that a man was coming to his house with the conscious design of doing him good, he would run for his life!4 Thoreau was thinking, of course, of the kind of person who is determined to do the good he wants to do regardless of what the person affected thinks about it. Jesus did not operate like that. He had respect for the privacy of the human soul and for the freedom of the human will. Yet not long after these misdirected tears were shed, Simon Peter spoke of Christ as One who "went about doing good" (Acts 10:38). The whole New Testament throbs with the conviction that Christ was on a special mission on earth. He came to do good, the supreme and ultimate good: He came to save people. Somewhere along the way, he began to see that this mission might take him to a cross, but if so it would not be for him just a crucifixion; it would be the crowning act of his life.
These weeping women did not have that view of the pitiful scene their eyes were beholding. They saw only the injustice and tragedy of it. Jesus knew the Divine purpose that was working through it, and so recognized their tears as misdirected tears.
The Conditions They Did Not See
It is interesting, too, that Jesus considered tears for himself less appropriate than they would have been for the women who were shedding them and for their children. That must have seemed strange to those who heard him voice that feeling. He was a convicted criminal on his way to the place of execution. They were free persons and were facing no such fate as that. Their circumstances might not have been ideal, but they were better than his. If anyone was deserving of tears of sympathy and pity, it was he, not they.
But he saw things they did not see. He, too, believed in the law of the harvest, and he knew that a people who could take the course now being taken by those sending him to a cross could expect a bitter harvest. It could not be too far away, and its terror would be so great that all tears would be needed then. This harvest came a little over a generation later when Jerusalem itself was destroyed. That was a time for tears!
Jesus also saw factors in his own situation that made it less pitiable than it might otherwise have been. One of those factors, mentioned already, was the purpose of God that was working through this event. Another was what he still had left as he was moving toward the Cross.
For one thing, he was carrying his integrity. That had not been taken from him nor discarded by him.
In Jean Anouilh's play, Becket, a young woman who is being treated as a thing tells Becket that he, too, belongs to a conquered race. She adds then, "But through tasting too much of the honey of life you've forgotten that even those who have been robbed of everything have one thing left to call their own."
Becket replies, "Yes, I daresay I had forgotten. There is a gap in me where honor ought to be."5
Jesus was about to be crucified, but there was no "gap" in him "where honor ought to be." He had not sold out. He still had his integrity. His conscience was clean and clear. He had nothing to hide and nothing of which to be ashamed, which was more than could be said of so many others. That was why those women's tears were misdirected tears.
He was carrying his faith with him to the Cross, too. He still believed in God; he believed strongly enough to continue to trust himself to God.
William Gladstone was a supporter of Dwight L. Moody's evangelistic missions in England in the late nineteenth century. Once a young Scotsman heard Gladstone exclaim: "I thank God I have lived to see the day when he should bless his church on earth by the gift of a man able to preach the gospel of Christ as we have just heard it preached!" Matthew Arnold was standing beside Gladstone, and he said, "Mr. Gladstone, I would give all I have if only I could believe it."6
What a faith Jesus took to the Cross! What was happening to him would have knocked the faith out of some people, but he still had his faith. So others needed those tears more than he did.
The focus of his life, the commitment of his being, had not been changed by all that had happened to him either.
More than a few have found that focus and commitment dislodged by less drastic occurrences than these. In some instances, it is the knocks of life that do the dislodging, and they decide the price is too high. Or it may be the enticements of other things that weaken their commitment to God's service; other interests become more appealing. Or perhaps they just grow negligent and fail to keep their commitment up-to-date. Something else comes in, nevertheless, and God is pushed out of the center of their lives. Then they are suitable subjects for tears, for they have weakened or abandoned the one commitment that is capable of helping them to find the meaning inherent in life, to experience the development God wants them to make, and to realize the usefulness God intends for them. Jesus still had this commitment, and so those women were crying for the wrong person.
Jesus found solace in their caring, and he did not consider their tears "unimportant tears." But he wanted them to know that Divine purpose, not blind fate, was working in this tragic event. And he wanted them to see, too, that many others, including themselves, needed their pity more than he did. For though his circumstances were deplorable indeed, he still had his integrity, he still trusted in God, and he was still totally committed to God.
Any person who still has these, regardless of his or her circumstances, is less needful of tears in his or her behalf than so many others from whose lives these are missing.
____________
1. Arthur Miller, After the Fall (New York: Bantam Books, 1965), p. 93.
2. Walter Russell Bowie, Learning to Live (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1969), p. 23.
3. Harriet Beecher Stowe, Uncle Tom's Cabin (New York: Harper & Row, Publishers, Perennial Classic, 1958, 1965), p. 309.
4. Henry David Thoreau, Walden (New York: Harper & Row, Publishers, Perennial Classic, 1958, 1965), p. 54.
5. Jean Anouilh, Becket (New York: Signet Books, 1960), p. 44.
6. J. C. Pollock, Moody (New York: The Macmillan Company, 1963), p. 154.
Tears were shed during Jesus' passion and death. Simon Peter, for instance, after denying that he even knew Jesus, "went out and wept bitterly" (Luke 22:62). Some might have been too shocked for tears, and might have felt as young Walter Russell Bowie did in 1894, at the age of twelve, after the funeral of his father. He and his mother were returning to their home in the old horse-drawn hack that was used at funerals, and it seemed to him "that the hoofbeats of the carriage horses were echoing in an empty world."2 A feeling like that can dry up one's tears.
But there were some women in the crowd following the procession to Golgotha whose tears were not dried up. "They were beating their breasts and wailing for him." Peter was too far away for Jesus either to console or rebuke him, but these women were not. Stumbling along, perhaps with his eyes focused downward, when he heard their cries, he lifted his eyes and turned them toward them and spoke tenderly to them: "Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me, but weep for yourselves and for your children." They were crying for the wrong person; their tears were misdirected tears.
The Solace They Brought
Yet Jesus must have found some consolation in them. It must have warmed his heart to know that here were a few who saw the injustice and tragedy of what was happening and felt keen sorrow because of it.
In one of Charles Schulz's Peanuts cartoon strips, Snoopy the beagle is sitting on top of his doghouse sniffing. He says, "What do you do? What do you do when the girl beagle you love more than anything is taken from you, and you know you'll never see her again as long as you live? What do you do?" Then in the last frame, Snoopy is pictured on the ground at his food dish eating. He says, "Back to eating!"
Was that the course these women would soon take? Would they return to their daily lives as if nothing had happened? It wasn't long before Simon Peter said to several of the other disciples, "I am going fishing," and they said, "We will go with you" (John 21:1-3). What do you do when the bottom has fallen out of life? How long do you sympathize with another's suffering? When do you dry up your tears and go on with your life? Must the tears last forever?
Harriet Beecher Stowe has a character in Uncle Tom's Cabin say about concern another is expressing, "I really think you can make something of that concern. Any mind that is capable of a real sorrow is capable of good."3
There were plenty of jeers accompanying Jesus on the way to the Cross. There was not much capacity for good in them. But these tears were different. They might or might not be dried up soon, but it must have brought some solace to Jesus to know that a few saw the tragedy of what was happening and cared enough to be pained by it. They were "capable of good" if they could feel such sorrow as that. Their tears, therefore, were not "unimportant tears." Jesus saw and appreciated them.
The Point They Missed
Still, however, he considered them to be misdirected. They missed the point of what was happening. In their eyes, Jesus had simply been overtaken by misfortune; tragedy had befallen him. But that was not the total story. The only purpose they saw in this was the one that controlled sinful people. Jesus knew a more powerful and redemptive purpose than that was working here.
Some were saying that the law of the harvest was at work. They believed, as Goethe wrote many centuries later, that "Life's field will yield as we make it / A harvest of thorns or of flowers." Jesus had sown a certain kind of seed; now he was reaping what he had sown.
But these women could not believe that Jesus deserved what was happening to him now. They saw him stumble and fall under the weight of his cross. They saw the pallor of weakness on his cheek and the sweat of exhaustion on his brow. They remembered some things, too. They remembered his deeds of mercy. They remembered his compassion for the sick. They remembered his kind attention to their children. And they could not see justice here and could not believe Jesus was reaping the consequences of his past actions.
This meant that they were not able to make sense out of it all. They were pained by it, but they were not enlightened by it. They were saddened by it, but they were not strengthened by it. So they shed their tears.
Did they know that Jesus could have avoided or escaped what was happening, but refused to do it? Here, as always, he was acting purposefully. He was not being mastered by events; he was molding events.
Henry David Thoreau said once that if he knew for a certainty that a man was coming to his house with the conscious design of doing him good, he would run for his life!4 Thoreau was thinking, of course, of the kind of person who is determined to do the good he wants to do regardless of what the person affected thinks about it. Jesus did not operate like that. He had respect for the privacy of the human soul and for the freedom of the human will. Yet not long after these misdirected tears were shed, Simon Peter spoke of Christ as One who "went about doing good" (Acts 10:38). The whole New Testament throbs with the conviction that Christ was on a special mission on earth. He came to do good, the supreme and ultimate good: He came to save people. Somewhere along the way, he began to see that this mission might take him to a cross, but if so it would not be for him just a crucifixion; it would be the crowning act of his life.
These weeping women did not have that view of the pitiful scene their eyes were beholding. They saw only the injustice and tragedy of it. Jesus knew the Divine purpose that was working through it, and so recognized their tears as misdirected tears.
The Conditions They Did Not See
It is interesting, too, that Jesus considered tears for himself less appropriate than they would have been for the women who were shedding them and for their children. That must have seemed strange to those who heard him voice that feeling. He was a convicted criminal on his way to the place of execution. They were free persons and were facing no such fate as that. Their circumstances might not have been ideal, but they were better than his. If anyone was deserving of tears of sympathy and pity, it was he, not they.
But he saw things they did not see. He, too, believed in the law of the harvest, and he knew that a people who could take the course now being taken by those sending him to a cross could expect a bitter harvest. It could not be too far away, and its terror would be so great that all tears would be needed then. This harvest came a little over a generation later when Jerusalem itself was destroyed. That was a time for tears!
Jesus also saw factors in his own situation that made it less pitiable than it might otherwise have been. One of those factors, mentioned already, was the purpose of God that was working through this event. Another was what he still had left as he was moving toward the Cross.
For one thing, he was carrying his integrity. That had not been taken from him nor discarded by him.
In Jean Anouilh's play, Becket, a young woman who is being treated as a thing tells Becket that he, too, belongs to a conquered race. She adds then, "But through tasting too much of the honey of life you've forgotten that even those who have been robbed of everything have one thing left to call their own."
Becket replies, "Yes, I daresay I had forgotten. There is a gap in me where honor ought to be."5
Jesus was about to be crucified, but there was no "gap" in him "where honor ought to be." He had not sold out. He still had his integrity. His conscience was clean and clear. He had nothing to hide and nothing of which to be ashamed, which was more than could be said of so many others. That was why those women's tears were misdirected tears.
He was carrying his faith with him to the Cross, too. He still believed in God; he believed strongly enough to continue to trust himself to God.
William Gladstone was a supporter of Dwight L. Moody's evangelistic missions in England in the late nineteenth century. Once a young Scotsman heard Gladstone exclaim: "I thank God I have lived to see the day when he should bless his church on earth by the gift of a man able to preach the gospel of Christ as we have just heard it preached!" Matthew Arnold was standing beside Gladstone, and he said, "Mr. Gladstone, I would give all I have if only I could believe it."6
What a faith Jesus took to the Cross! What was happening to him would have knocked the faith out of some people, but he still had his faith. So others needed those tears more than he did.
The focus of his life, the commitment of his being, had not been changed by all that had happened to him either.
More than a few have found that focus and commitment dislodged by less drastic occurrences than these. In some instances, it is the knocks of life that do the dislodging, and they decide the price is too high. Or it may be the enticements of other things that weaken their commitment to God's service; other interests become more appealing. Or perhaps they just grow negligent and fail to keep their commitment up-to-date. Something else comes in, nevertheless, and God is pushed out of the center of their lives. Then they are suitable subjects for tears, for they have weakened or abandoned the one commitment that is capable of helping them to find the meaning inherent in life, to experience the development God wants them to make, and to realize the usefulness God intends for them. Jesus still had this commitment, and so those women were crying for the wrong person.
Jesus found solace in their caring, and he did not consider their tears "unimportant tears." But he wanted them to know that Divine purpose, not blind fate, was working in this tragic event. And he wanted them to see, too, that many others, including themselves, needed their pity more than he did. For though his circumstances were deplorable indeed, he still had his integrity, he still trusted in God, and he was still totally committed to God.
Any person who still has these, regardless of his or her circumstances, is less needful of tears in his or her behalf than so many others from whose lives these are missing.
____________
1. Arthur Miller, After the Fall (New York: Bantam Books, 1965), p. 93.
2. Walter Russell Bowie, Learning to Live (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1969), p. 23.
3. Harriet Beecher Stowe, Uncle Tom's Cabin (New York: Harper & Row, Publishers, Perennial Classic, 1958, 1965), p. 309.
4. Henry David Thoreau, Walden (New York: Harper & Row, Publishers, Perennial Classic, 1958, 1965), p. 54.
5. Jean Anouilh, Becket (New York: Signet Books, 1960), p. 44.
6. J. C. Pollock, Moody (New York: The Macmillan Company, 1963), p. 154.
