Last Friday I learned something about myself. Over the last few years I have not cried much. My emotions are never at an even keel but grief is not something I experienced much lately.
My mother-in-law, whose home was with us for the last 33 years, died 6 weeks ago, one month before her 95th birthday. She was quite blind and deaf and had been wanting to go to her eternal home for months. Her daughter and I cared for her while in a coma for 2 of the most stressful days of our lives. When we saw on the morning of the 3rd day that she had passed away our overwhelming emotion was relief.
When I was bullied as a child I tried not to cry. It did not always work. Once my bottom lip started quivering it was all over, to the bully's delight. But last Friday was different when I watched a funeral online. The only member of the family whom I know well was his younger son. However, when the elder son started crying during his eulogy I could not hold back the tears.
It reminded me of Jesus on his way to raise Lazarus from the dead. He knew what he was going to do and the joy it would bring. Nevertheless, when he found himself in the midst of the crying grievers he burst into tears (John 11:32-35). Why did he cry? I can only think that he experienced the same emotion that overtook me last Friday. It tells us that he was (and still is) what the Jews call a "mensch". No wonder his favourite way of referring to himself was "The Son of Man".
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