Crying Is A Form Of Edification

M

ost biblical scholars and historians agree that Jesus was likely on the Mount of Olives when He wept over Jerusalem (Lk 19:41-44). This hill lies east of the city and provides a panoramic view of Jerusalem, including the Temple Mount. In 1955 they built a small Franciscan chapel called Dominus Flevit (Latin for "The Lord Wept") with a teardrop-shaped dome to mark the site where Jesus wept over Jerusalem. As Jesus descended the Mount of Olives, the view of the city would have unfolded before Him, making it a natural place for Him to pause and reflect.

From this elevated location, Jesus could see the physical walls of Jerusalem with clarity. From such a position of clarity, Jesus sees how Jerusalem stands secure, compact, strong, and important. If you go to Jerusalem, the current walls you will find there date back to the time of Suleiman the Magnificent in the 16th century AD. However, at their base, some sections and fragments trace further back to the First Temple Period, before Jerusalem's destruction in 586 BC. It is called Walled City to emphasize the walls, which are very significant in defining the city's boundaries, offering security against external threats.

The walls of Jerusalem represented the city's identity and its distinction from the outside world. The gates of the city, each with its own size and purpose, reflected Jerusalem’s connections with various peoples, regions, and nations. Access to certain gates was restricted to maintain the city's purity. Near these gates were markets, administrative buildings, and courts, which could be swiftly closed in times of danger. The walls and gates served as vital defenses, protecting Jerusalem as the city of the Temple—the dwelling place of God among His people and the center of their worship.

Jesus wept because the city, despite its sacred calling, had turned away from God, rejecting His prophets and, ultimately, His Son. "Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you..." (Mt 23:37).

For my second point, I recall the first day of our 8-day retreat during a pilgrimage to Jerusalem last year. Instead of simply giving us scripture passages to pray with, our retreat director took us to the city wall. There, he invited us to contemplate the place as a meeting point of geography, history, and divine compassion, encouraging us to see it through the eyes of Jesus as He gazed over Jerusalem.

As I sat on one of the stones, I entered into a quiet colloquy with it. I confessed to the stone my holy envy, longing for the privilege it had—to have borne silent witness to the time of the Lord. Then, tears began to flow from my eyes. St Bernard of Clairvaux spoke of tears as a spiritual mystery, distinguishing between those of worldly sorrow and godly sorrow: "Worldly tears burden the soul, but tears shed for the love of God bring consolation and life." Why was I crying? Perhaps it was godly sorrow—an echo of Christ’s own tears as I glimpsed the depths of His love and His longing for us to return to Him. Or perhaps it was a mix of worldly sorrow and holy envy, longing to be like that stone, a silent witness to God’s presence and compassion. At that moment, my tears became my immediate consolation.

St Ignatius looks at tears as consolation among the rules of the discernment of spirits. "Similarly, this consolation is experienced when the soul sheds tears which move it to love for its Lord—whether they are tears of grief for its own sins, or about the Passion of Christ our Lord, or about other matters directly ordered to his service and praise" (SE 316).

For my third and last point, we are reminded of another moment when Jesus declared that if His followers were silenced, “the stones will cry out” (Lk 19:40). If you suppress truth it will eventually build up and demand expression. The joy and recognition of Jesus’ followers are so genuine and necessary that to silence them would be unnatural. Like water under pressure, it would burst forth, even through stones.

A favorite word of St Ignatius of Loyola is edification, which literally means "building up." This concept carries deep literal and metaphorical meaning and is closely connected to the imagery of stones used in construction. Those who allow themselves to shed heartfelt tears are like "stones crying out," giving voice to profound truths that strengthen and restore the soul.

Tears have the power to build us up. Crying can be a form of edification. St Monica, the mother of St Augustine, used her tears to pray for the transformation of the young Augustine and his father, to build them up. In scriptures, a number have cried for the Lord—such as the women who mourned during His passion. Most especially, the Blessed Virgin Mary, whose tears during her Son’s suffering and death on the cross were not only an expression of sorrow but also a way of edifying and consoling the Lord Himself. Tears are a gift because they build up faith in both the ones who weep and those for whom they weep. Let me end by quoting the chorus of Demi Lovato's song "Skyscraper,"

You can take everything I have

You can break everything I am
Like I'm made of glass
Like I'm made of paper
Go on and try to tear me down
I will be rising from the ground
Like a skyscraper
Like a skyscraper

Amen. Fr JM Manzano SJ