I recall an older parishioner talking to me about some family issues that had been troubling her.  She became rather teary so I passed her the box of tissues that I kept handy for such occasions.  She thanked me and then, as she dried her tears, soberly apologised with the words: “Sorry!  But I’m afraid that as I’ve got older my eyes have moved closer to my bladder!”  We had a good laugh at her explanation of why tears often come more readily to older people.

Emotions are strange things aren’t they?  A recent family wedding that I attended was very emotional.  However the couple had twice delayed their wedding because of government Covid-19 restrictions.  I could understand their tears – tears of delight because finally they could be married in the midst of their family and friends.  In contrast I have also officiated at weddings where everything was very cerebral and where there was not a tear in sight.  For that matter I’ve experienced the same contrast at funerals   I recall one funeral, at which I officiated, where proceedings had to pause again and again while participants got their emotions under control.  But I’ve led other funeral services where, again, there was not a tear in sight.  The difference can’t always be explained in terms of the closeness of family ties either, nor in terms of the tragic nature or otherwise of the death of the dearly departed.

The fact is that people are different and we are all raised differently.  Let me use myself as an example.  I was brought up in a family where my mother and father were rather reserved when it came to the expression of their emotions.  As a child I knew I was loved but I don’t recall ever being told I was loved.  I knew that my father and mother had a good and loving relationship but I don’t remember ever seeing them kiss each other until well after I was married and had left home.  I guess that they were children of their age – a time when any public show of affection was frowned upon.

That leads me to the cultural aspect of showing our emotions.  I grew up in an Australia where we were told that big boys don’t cry.  If I did cry I was told not to be a sook!  I could add to that my sober Dutch Calvinistic background.  My church background didn’t leave much room for spontaneity.  Instead there was an attitude of: if we’re going to do anything spontaneous, let’s organise it and do it together.  That kind of background did tend to encourage the growth of some emotional cripples – although, strangely, the emotion of anger seemed to be okay to express.

Interestingly, today I can relate to that parishioner who complained that her eyes had moved closer to her bladder.  So what’s made the difference?  Well, for one thing, I got married.  I suspect that my marriage put me more in touch with my feminine side so that I learnt that it is a lie that boys don’t cry.  A second thing is that age tends to mellow us all.  The other things is that as I’ve got to know the Bible better over the years I’ve learnt that the Bible doesn’t want us to be emotional cripples.  Already in the book of Ecclesiastes there is the observation that there is a time to laugh and a time to weep.  If laughter is fine, so are tears.  The Bible clearly describes the tears of Jacob and Joseph, and of kings such as David and Hezekiah.  And there’s even the tears of Jesus, who weeps at the grave of His friend Lazarus and over the unbelief of Jerusalem.  In Luke’s gospel, chapter 6, Jesus even pronounces a benediction on those who weep.

I guess the all-important thing is what we do with our tears.  If they are simply an expression of self-pity that tries to get us some sympathy from others then we’re better off suppressing them.  But if our tears are genuine expressions of sorrow, grief or joy then perhaps we should offer them to God.  In Psalm 56 we’re told that God preserves our tears in a bottle.  That’s a lovely way of reminding us that our God cares deeply about our tears.  More importantly the Gospel story of Jesus even shapes my tears, so that I may indeed weep... but I will never weep as those people who have no hope.

John W Westendorp