By Maria Sermersheim, Meditatione Ignis
When we are confronted by sorrow, whether it is easy or difficult to cry, we might be tempted to compare our weeping to the water of summer storms: if only our tears could make flowers grow like the showers outside. Instead, tears can be seen as a sign of weakness. We can be embarrassed to cry, and frustrated that crying seems to solve nothing. But as we see in classic literature and in Pope Leo XIV’s first encyclical, tears and weakness have a dignified place in this earthly life.
In “The Little Prince,” an insightful short story originally written in French by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, there is a moving scene in which the little prince, who has come to earth from his home, an asteroid far away, describes his love of watching sunsets—especially when he’s sad. The narrator, an aviator lost in the desert, describes his mounting anxiety to fix his plane and escape the heat before his water runs dry. However, his dismissals of the little prince’s sorrow bring the prince to a sorrowful rage, which discloses just enough for the aviator to know that the prince’s heart is broken, and the broken engine no longer matters. The aviator embraces and comforts the little prince as much as he can, and the chapter concludes with the comment, “It is so mysterious, the land of tears.” As the story continues, there is a marked shift in the depth of understanding between the two characters, and the little prince shares more of his heart, while the aviator’s heart is thus transformed.
In “Magnifica Humanitas,” Pope Leo XIV highlights the value of weakness and limitation in our human experience, writing of moments of rejection, loss and failure, “Mysteriously, it is precisely in such moments that we can discover a new wisdom, tangibly experience the closeness of others, and encounter the presence of the Lord” (119). He later expanded this analysis of human finitude and weakness with direct reference to the incarnation of Christ, writing, “The living God descends into our history in order to free us from all forms of slavery. He takes upon himself our weakness and transforms it into a setting for salvation. There is no moment or human situation that is not worthy of God. …What saves humanity is the divine love that descends into the most fragile point of our history and renews it from within” (232). Even the weakness of tears is worthy of God, as “Jesus wept” (John 11:35).
Whether we’re self-proclaimed “criers” or well-trained to hold back tears, there is something sacred about sharing that vulnerable space—sharing it with other people, or sharing it with God alone. Regardless, in the land of tears, we are never alone, and our weeping does not make us weak. It displays some of that “magnificent humanity” which has true emotions, reasonable reactions and a straining hope for a deep goodness that we can’t always attain.
Yes, in the kingdom of heaven, every tear will be wiped away, and those who weep will laugh…but for now, until then, while this fading sun still sets, we can be sure that God draws close to us, even and especially in the mysterious land of tears; and he will make them fruitful like the summer rain.