Journal of Sacred Work

…crying is healthy. It is the twin emotion of laughter.   – Dr. Linda E. Jordan

   Enchanted as I am with poetic language, I could not resist seeking out the genesis of Lucretius’ phrase, the "Tears of Things" when I saw it referenced by poet Robert Bly in one of his essays. In the course of tracking this phrase, I found, on the Internet, an exceptional essay on the role of tears in caregiving. It by Dr. Linda E. Jordan, Manager of Duke Community Bereavement Services, part of Duke Community Care. Dr. Jordan’s brief essay is a brilliant commentary on the respect we need to offer to the unusually visible way that our grief may express itself – if we let it.
   I offer Dr. Jordan’s one page reflection in its entirety. It may forever change the way you give care:

“The Tears of Things”

    That wonderful Latin phrase, lacrimae rerum, (“the tears of things”) by Lucretius is worth
contemplating. As a grief counselor, I
am used to tears. In fact, Kleenex is my
stock in trade. I measure my day’s success
by how many boxes of tissue are used. One of the most important aspects of my work is to make a safe place for
people to cry.
   For the most part, we are ashamed of tears. They embarrass us, and most tragically, we
view them as a sign of weakness. We hate
to cry because it messes up our appearance. Tears make us vulnerable. Some people fear that if they allow
themselves to start crying, they will never stop (though they will). Others fear that their emotions will be
discounted and belittled. Tears are
scary for the person crying.
   Tears are also scary for those who witness the tears. We think it is our job to “stop” the
tears. We try to console with trite and
often hurtful platitudes in an effort to soothe the pain. It never works. Our motives may be kind, but our efforts
merely reinforce the idea that tears are bad; they are to be avoided. We praise people for “holding up so
well.” Our discomfort in the midst of obvious
and palpable pain speaks loudly: “For God’s sake, don’t cry in front of me; I
can’t take it.” Maybe we secretly fear
the tears of others because they call forth so many “tears of things” stored up
in our own lives that have long gone unexpressed. Well, I would like to suggest two radical
attitudes about crying. These are not original insights. As always, they come from my
teachers—grieving people.
    First, crying is healthy. It is the twin emotion of laughter. In fact, only those things that evoke profound joy can evoke profound
tears. And one of the precious gifts we
can give is our undivided and uninterrupted attention to the tears of
others. I learned this lesson years ago
when I was a chaplain in the Air Force. I was among the first females to serve as a military chaplain. My counseling popularity with young airmen was
very gratifying; however, I falsely supposed it was due to my superb counseling
skills. In reality, it had to do with my
gender. I represented for them a safe
place to let down their guard and cry.
    This insight came to me one day when a young airman came
into my office, introduced himself, sat down, and launched wholeheartedly into
spilling out his heart and “the tears of things.” At the end of the hour, the airman stood up,
thanked me for all my help, and left. I
never said a word. I didn’t even get the
chance to introduce myself. No
need. What I learned that day was that
helping people cry is not a passive, helpless act. Tears are not only good for our souls, but
also good for our bodies. The physical
release of tears, like the sweat that comes when we exercise, is
cleansing. (There is, after all, more
room on the outside than on the inside.) The more at ease we are with tears
(ours and others), the more healing we offer. People don’t need advice. Most
people have the answers they need within them. What they need is presence and safety.
     Second, crying is an expression of love. The story that prompted me to write this
article came from a woman whose husband died in hospice. She said that as they approached his death,
she cried when she was with him. Her son
suggested that they should not be so emotional in front of him. They needed to be strong for him, to set
their own feelings aside. This wise
woman one day asked her husband of 52 years, “When I cry, do I look weak?” Her equally wise husband replied, “When you
cry, it looks like love to me.” All too
often our efforts to “protect” leave those we love more isolated in their
pain. “WHEN YOU CRY, IT’S LOOKS LIKE
LOVE TO ME!” What a great alternative
consciousness for our culture.
    Well, the “tears of things” are part of life. They are part of death. They are part of love. They are part of healing. They are part of remembering. And they are part of moving forward. Bless them, for they are the ultimate gift of
our deepest humanity.

—
   My hope is that this essay by Dr. Jordan may influence us in our work – not to discourage tears, but to recognize and honor them as "part of love" and a "part of healing."

-Erie Chapman

*The ceramic plate – Tears of Things – is by John Waterman