When I read passages about Jesus’ emotions, especially sorrow, I become baffled.
This isn’t because I think it is wrong for Him to express Himself through tears. We give Him much to grieve with our sins and disbelief. I’m personally to blame for some of His tears.
This isn’t because I see Jesus as stoic. I imagine him as a great leader, even charismatic in His expressions and teachings. I picture not just a gentle face but a broad smile. I think Jesus smiled a lot. Smiling people tend to be must easier to follow.
I struggle with the thoughts of Jesus’s tears because on the few occasions we read of His tears, it seems as if He has no reason to cry (I understand the amount of opinion in that statement.).
The first occasion for Jesus’s tears is in Matthew 14, where Jesus receives the news of John, His cousin, the Baptizer, being beheaded. “Then his [John’s] disciples came, removed the corpse, buried it, and went and reported to Jesus. When Jesus heard about it, He withdrew from there by boat to a remote place to be alone” (14.12-13). It doesn’t mention tears, but I assume that tears were involved. He was distressed. He wanted to be by Himself. The crowds followed Him, so He fed the 5,000 and then sent them away, and then retreated to the solitude of the mountain to pray well into the night.
The second equally well-known occasion for Jesus’s tears is found in John 11 when it says, “Jesus wept.” Jesus intended to let Lazarus die. Jesus purposefully allowed the circumstances that He could easily have prevented. Jesus knew Lazarus would come out of the tomb. Jesus was aware that the sorrow around Him would soon be joy. Jesus did what He did to bring glory to His Father. What was there to get teared up about?
There are other moments of sorrow, some which we know, some which we assume. But in every case I can think of, it baffles me that Jesus is sorrowful.
I don’t think the answer is some dichotomy of spiritual-versus-physical, spirit-versus-body, humanity-versus-divine explanation. Jesus was fully human. Jesus is also clearly divine. Both humans and the divine have emotions. There’s no disconnect here. Jesus did not only cry as a human, and if that were the case, I think we struggle to explain why. The human reason for sorrow, especially in the case of Lazarus, was about to end. I believe His tears were more divine on this occasion.
I don’t think the answer is that Jesus was just sorrowing because those around Him were sorrowful. If that were the case, He would be suffering with others in Matthew, and He would be excited to erase their sorrow in John. I don’t cry with those crying if I know there’s no reason to cry. This doesn’t mean He doesn’t experience our grief. I just don’t see that it sufficiently explains what Jesus is experiencing in these stories.
In both stories, and likely the others you can think of, the connecting piece is the people's misunderstanding. I think the reason Jesus weeps and retreats is because of our inability to understand life with eternal eyes. In the story of John’s death and the feeding of the 5,000, it is significant that Jesus sees that their desire for spiritual teaching exceeds their desire to fulfill their physical needs, which prompts Him to feed them in the first place. He’s glad to do that. It’s not until the next day, when they betray this insight to seek physical needs instead of the spirit that He becomes frustrated with them. Jesus wants them to stop seeing with their stomachs and start seeing with their souls. Likewise, Jesus’s sorrow at John’s death might have had to do with losing a fellow worker, one who had disciples and shared the gospel. Jesus knew John was faithful. Jesus knew God approved John. Jesus Himself proclaimed that there were none as good as John (cf. Mat 11.11). Jesus hadn’t lost John, but He had lost his fellow worker.
In the story of Lazarus’s death, the same sense of loss is noticeable. When Jesus sees the despair of Mary and Martha, He weeps. He knew Lazarus’s death was temporary, and so was Mary and Martha’s sorrow, but their lack of perspective, understanding, and faith was distressing. He was deeply moved by Mary’s crying and the crying of all of those around Him. He prayed aloud, “Father, I thank you that you heard me. I know that you always hear me, but because of the crowd standing here, I said this, so that they may believe you sent me” (Joh 11.41-42). His concern was not physical death. His concern wasn’t even human sorrow. His concern was a lack of faith. Martha expressed confidence in the final resurrection, but she did not know Jesus as the source of current resurrection. These people still did not know the full extent of who He was. He was the Defeator of Death, the promised Expeller of the Serpent of old, the Conqueror of the grave, the soon-to-be Firstborn of the Resurrection.
He still is the Defeator of Death. And not just in the final resurrection, as Martha understood. He can conquer the grave now.
Shame on us when we let a diagnosis defeat our trust in Him.
Shame on us when we decide a pandemic is more powerful than our Protector.
Shame on us when we let circumstances depress us instead of drawing us closer to the One who provides.
Shame on us when we stand there, our Savior nearby, ready to reach out and rescue us, but we still choose sin over salvation.
Shame on us when we seek to satisfy the lusts of the flesh and eyes, or we boast in the accomplishments of life when He already offered us everything we need from the cross.
Shame on us when we are blind to the needs of the soul.
I wonder if He still weeps when we don’t get it.
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