what do we know about tears?
We don’t know why humans cry.
We know why we have tears—they lubricate our eyes and can remove dust or dirt. But we don’t know why humans cry emotional tears.
Not only that, but emotional tears are chemically different than other kinds of tears. They literally contain different elements.
And we don’t know why.
Philosophers, scientists, and researchers of many disciplines have offered theories for why we cry.
Some ancient thinkers believed tears were the result of the heart’s material being turned to water. Others said that emotions heated the heart, which generated water vapor that escaped through the eyes. Some more recent and ridiculous claims have included the assertion that since we evolved from aquatic apes, our tears allow us to “live in saltwater,” if only for a few moments.
Other theories continue to make the rounds, even though there isn’t conclusive evidence to support them, like the one that crying removes toxic substances from the blood that build up in times of stress. Charles Darwin declared emotional tears “purposeless.”
The latest theories have less to do with physical science and focus on the connective aspects of emotional tears.
“Crying signals to yourself and other people that there’s some important problem that is at least temporarily beyond your ability to cope.”
(See reference.)
When we see and hear each other cry, something happens.
The intangible nature of our suffering and our struggle becomes tangible.
It can be seen.
It can be heard.
And somehow, in ways we can’t explain, we enter into the suffering and the struggle together.
We’re connected through our tears.
And there’s something beyond painful when the cry is
not heard,
not seen,
not acknowledged.
When someone is crying and the people around them
dismiss it,
ignore it,
don’t seek to understand it,
something fundamentally human is fractured.
This year has brought many tears for many people.
Tears because of sickness and death—more than usual.
Tears because of oppression and violence—more than usual.
Tears because of ever-increasing political anger and social division.
Tears because of disrupted lives and disconnected living.
Tears because of simple things like
missed moments,
unmet expectations,
and normal, everyday activities being infused with fear, frustration, and confusion.
And one thing I’ve wrestled with through it all is the inability—or unwillingness—of some of us to see the tears of others.
When a loving father’s daughter cries, does he enter into a long debate
on whether or not her tears are valid?
When a caring mother’s son cries, does she share a video with him
about how the reasons for his tears have been debunked?
When a friend cries, do you dismiss it, gloss it over, and continue on with your to-do list?
Or do you pause … listen … and put everything else on hold … to hear and understand?
When a friend cries, we re-prioritize.
(I know. It rhymes. I couldn’t help it.)
When we are unmoved by the tears of those around us—whether they are our friends or not, whether they look like us or not, whether they believe like us or not, whether they vote like us or not—we not only cut ourselves off from them … we are cutting ourselves off from what makes us human.
We lose a little of our humanity.
I’ve certainly been guilty of this at times.
I’ve read words without taking the time to see the tears between them.
Because oftentimes words shared in anger or frustration or contempt
contain tears that are unexpressed, unacknowledged, or unconscious.
And so I distance myself from them—the people who say those things.
And my world contracts.
And I lose a tiny piece of myself.
Hearing and seeing the tears of those around me
causes my heart and my world to expand.
I can, in some small, profound way,
enter into their suffering and their struggle
through their tears.
And that is the beginning of every meaningful change.
Thousands of years ago, a new conception of what God was like was presented to the world.
This God was not distant. This God was not on the side of the powerful and the privileged.
This God heard the cry of the oppressed.
“During those many days the king of Egypt died, and the people of Israel groaned because of their slavery and cried out for help. Their cry for rescue from slavery came up to God. And God heard their groaning, and God remembered his covenant with Abraham, with Isaac, and with Jacob.”
Exodus 2:23-24 ESV
This was a brand new idea. Up until then, the assumption was that the gods were on the side of the powerful. How else would the powerful obtain and maintain their power? The gods must be on their side.
But this God was different. He heard the cry of the unpowerful.
Then, I think, the most profound statement about this world-shaking understanding of God is in verse 25.
“God saw the people of Israel—and God knew.”
God saw. God knew.
And immediately, in Exodus 3, God launches His rescue mission, recruiting Moses to lead His people to freedom and a better future.
God heard the cry. God saw. God knew.
And He entered into the suffering of His people,
recruiting others to join Him in this mission.
To set them free.
The life of Jesus, of course, is the ultimate expression
of God hearing and seeing the cry OF THE WHOLE WORLD.
He didn’t blame or judge us for how we had broken His creation.
He didn’t treat us with contempt because of our brokenness.
He didn’t send an army to put us in our place and “restore order.”
He didn’t act as though our suffering and our struggle wasn’t real …
claiming it was our fault in the first place and we needed to just work harder to find a way out of it for ourselves.
He heard the cry. He saw the tears. He knew.
And He entered into the suffering with us.
He CHOSE to identify with us.
To set us free.
When we see and hear the tears of others—
people with different skin, people with different experiences, with different beliefs, with different reactions to suffering—
when we enter into their tears and
allow them to connect us at a deeper level,
when we even allow their tears to reshape our priorities—
to change what we think is most important and what we should do about it—
that is when we are most human.
That is when we are most like our Creator.
And that is when we are truly following Him.
A Note About Your Humanity
There is a thing called compassion fatigue. You are a human being, not God. You are not personally capable of entering into the suffering and struggle of every person, always, in the entire world. (Forget the whole world … you’re not even physically capable of entering the suffering of every person on your news feed!) So listen to your soul and find ways to refresh and replenish yourself. Entering into the suffering of others is a part of what it means to be human. But so is the need for rest and recovery and joy. The point is … even when you can’t emotionally engage with someone’s tears, you can see them and validate them and try to understand them. That is the first step on the pathway out of this mess.
Exodus 3:7-10
John 11:35
Revelation 21:3-4
The Science of Crying, Time Magazine
Why Do We Cry? Exploring the Psychology of Emotional Tears, Psychology Today
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