Why Did Jesus Weep? Unpacking the Bible’s Most Famous Sob Story
When asked, “Why did Jesus weep?”, most people remember the shortest verse in the Bible, John 11:35, with the emotional punch of a sneaky onion in a salad: “Jesus wept.” But why? Was He mourning? Was He disappointed in humanity’s inability to grasp His metaphors? Or did He just lose His sunglasses and stub His toe?
Before jumping to conclusions, let’s lay out the scene. Jesus was at the tomb of Lazarus, surrounded by mourners, a handful of confused disciples, and definitely someone selling hummus in the background. Late to the party (fashionably so, if you consider raising the dead is a suitable party trick), Jesus faced tears, grief, and bitter complaints from Lazarus’s sisters, Mary and Martha. Rather than launch into a motivational speech or hastily arrange a resurrection, Jesus did the one thing sure to baffle theologians and comfort the crowd—He cried.
Weeping with the Crowd: Divine Empathy or Just a Really Sad Day?
It’s tempting to imagine Jesus as the archetypal tough hero; steely-eyed, miracle-ready, and not one to shed a tear unless cutting onions. Yet, as Mary Luti points out in her reflection, “If you don’t learn to weep, you can’t be a good Christian.” That weeping is not a sign of weakness—it’s spiritual contact lenses dropped directly into the soul. Tearful eyes, she notes, help us see the raw edges of reality. In this scene, Jesus isn’t just mourning Lazarus; He’s diving headfirst (with waterworks) into shared human pain.
In that moment, Jesus becomes the original group therapist. There’s no rush to turn pain into profit, no quick-fix formula. Instead, the Son of God models staying still, folding hurting hearts in a holy hug, and letting the tears fall. Was He overtaken by grief? Was He overwhelmed by the suffering of those around Him? Perhaps He was expressing the cosmic ache for all of Creation’s heartbreak. Either way, His tears became a holy symphony of empathy.
Holy Tears: Not All Showers Are Weather-Related
Archbishop Scicluna, chiming in from his All Souls’ Day homily, has a thing to say about tears: “Our tears are holy because they are the price of love… If the Teacher wept, who am I not to weep before the loss of someone dear?” In a world inclined to bottle up emotion, the Christian tradition stubbornly insists that crying is commendable.
Far from being an embarrassing loss of composure, these tears are woven into faith itself. Grief, for the Christian, isn’t a damp squib but a sacred spark. While the resurrection hope never leaves the room, it shares space with sorrow—like peanut butter and jelly, but a little saltier. The comfort in Christ’s tears is not about avoiding pain but about going through it with divine company.
And let’s be honest: Christians have spent centuries trying to dodge this lesson. There’s always someone ready to slap a “God has a plan!” bumper sticker on the back of heartbreak. Yet, the story of Jesus weeping reminds us not to fast-forward through the sadness, but to hit pause and sit with it. If He, of all people, could let the mascara run, maybe there’s hope for the rest of us.
Divine Drama: The Ultimate Plot Twist (And a Few Dad Jokes)
The story doesn’t end with tears. After the waterworks, Jesus delivers the ultimate comeback and raises Lazarus from the dead. It’s the sort of plot twist Hollywood dream of, except without explosions (unless you count the bursting hearts in Bethany). The lesson, though, is tied up with both crying and celebrating—no resurrection without first facing the sting of loss.
Theologically, why did Jesus cry if He already knew what would happen next? Maybe He was illustrating that true power lies not in bypassing suffering but embracing it. Perhaps He was mourning how misunderstanding, loss, and grief are real even when hope is around the corner. Or maybe, just maybe, He was demonstrating that being the Messiah doesn’t mean ducking out on emotion. If the Son of God faced tears, humanity doesn’t need to fear them.
Some speculate—tongue planted firmly in cheek—that perhaps Jesus simply needed a moment before handling another miracle. After all, even miracle-workers need to practice self-care, and what better way than a cathartic cry? If His tears confused the disciples, then at least they made for a memorable sermon.
What Does This Mean For Modern Sobs, Sniffles, and Snot-En-Trane?
Hang around any community long enough—churches, support groups, family reunions, or the queue at the local bakery—and you’ll see tears. Lindy-Ann Hopley’s wild testimony rides this emotional rollercoaster. Her journey from brokenness to wild revival is punctuated by ugly crying, soaked jackets, and nose-running confessions. In her experience, tears are an entry ticket to transformation, as much as any prayer or hymn. “If you don’t come as you are, you aren’t coming at all,” she says, proving that sometimes the road to God is paved with snot and trane (Afrikaans for tears).
Her ministry is a parade of weepers—from hardened gang leaders to skeptical kids—finding healing not by dodging tears but facing them. Tears, Lindy-Ann insists, are echoes of Christ’s embrace; the water that carries the wounded to new hope. Whether it’s in revival meetings or quiet prayers, every holy sob tells the story of love meeting pain—and winning.
Learn To Weep: A Missional Mandate With Punchlines
If Jesus wept, then the bar for emotional expression is set pretty high. We live in a culture obsessed with stoicism, yet here is the ultimate leader wiping His own tears. Christians are encouraged (and occasionally gently mocked) to take up the ministry of mayonnaise—spread a little comfort, sit with the pain, and let the tears come.
Tears connect humans to each other and to the divine. They are not evidence of failure but of participation in something real—love, loss, longing, and laughter. Theologically, emotionally, and even humorously, learning to cry is foundational. Lentils may not trigger them, onions might—but life’s sorrows certainly will. Don’t skip them.
Resurrection Hope: The Last Word, Not the Only One
Ultimately, Jesus’ tears point to resurrection, but they don’t erase the reality of suffering. Archbishop Scicluna says, “tears of the Christian are tears of love, but there is also the hope of the resurrection.” The mystery is not why sadness exists, but why love enters into it full force—and pulls us out, occasionally after a good cry.
So next time someone asks, “Why did Jesus weep?”, resist the urge to Google for quick answers or reach for an emotion-suppressing snack. Instead, remember: whether you’re at a tomb, in a church, staring at old heartbreaks, or losing at board games, tears may just be the holiest sign that love is near—and hope isn’t far behind.
And if anyone asks you why you’re crying, you can always say, “It’s just allergies”—but deep down, you know it’s because you, like Jesus, are led by love.
