Sacred Tears
How to be with others as they cry
"There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love." - Washington Irving
Tears are the language of the heart. They express the complexities of our varied emotional experiences. I believe there is holiness in our sobbing. It gives voice to our unsaid, but embodied emotions.
As a hospital chaplain, I sit with a lot of tears.
Even in my role as an administrator, at least every other day someone sitting on my office couch will start crying and then apologize about it. It might be a student, a hospital employee or a patient’s family member, whatever the circumstance they are usually embarrassed by their tears. I try to normalize it by telling them their tears are important and worth sharing. Or that I’m honored to be with them as they cry. Sometimes I lighten the mood by letting them know, “It’s nothing to be sorry for. You’re not even the first person to cry to me today and you won’t be the last.”
There are different types of tears, representing the varieties of the human experience. The tears I see are typically those of sorrow, shame and self-realization. And occasionally, there are tears of joy. Sometimes all those types of tears are shed at the same time.
Here is a story of different layers of tearful emotions.
Whenever I am called to the Labor & Delivery floor, I prepare myself for the worst. I’m usually called upon to help parents say goodbye to their baby whose tiny life ended before it had a chance to begin. But this time the nurse surprises me: “The baby is perfectly healthy, but mom is crying a lot.” The psychiatry service saw the new mom earlier that day and ruled out postpartum depression, but her nurse sensed she needed more support.
The new mom is named Zoe. I enter her room and see that her face is red and streaky. Her partner immediately leaves the room, saying he needs coffee, but I suspect his departure is to give us privacy. The baby sleeps in the bassinet beside her, so our conversation is whispered.
She starts quietly weeping as I sit down. She punctuates her tears with the following phrases over the next twenty minutes. I listen as she cries.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying.”
“It’s just been a lot.”
“My baby is perfect and beautiful and I’m so happy.”
“I’m exhausted and in pain.”
“The breastfeeding isn’t going well.”
“What if I’m not cut out for this?”
“I really wish my mom was here.”
“I think that’s what I’m crying about. I miss my mom. She died 5 years ago. We named the baby after my mom and she’ll never know her.”
By the end, my eyes are watering too. There was a cascade of reasons Zoe was crying and as she gave voice to what was behind her tears, she realized the depths of her heart. It felt like I was on sacred ground with her as she cried her way into this new threshold.
“Tears are the summer showers to the soul” - Alfred Austin
Tears aren’t always welcome. Let’s reframe that.
We often have shame around crying, as our society and some cultures dictate that it's inappropriate or only for the weak. This is especially true for men. So many of us grew up hearing “Don’t cry,” “Crying is for babies” or other similar variations.
Tears equal vulnerability and that is viewed as synonymous with weakness. But what if vulnerability could be seen as a strength? What if we viewed tears as a source of power? Our language that connects us with our true inner selves?
Fortunately, this is beginning to change as people recognize the importance of letting tears flow instead of insisting on a “stiff upper lip.” With different parenting and generational norms, emotions are becoming part of our collective vocabulary and that helps normalize crying as a welcome response.
Even with my own elementary-aged son, I force myself to refrain from telling him to “stop crying” as he gets disproportionally upset over many things. I struggle to find the words that affirm his tears but discourage whining. “Yes, you are sad that we are having fish for dinner. How many tears do you think that’s worth?” It backfires when he answers, “One million!”
But true crying (i.e. not over dinner preferences) does serve a purpose that’s worth embracing. Tears can be a way to check in with our spiritual selves. Crying is both a human and divine experience.
“Tears are God's gift to us. Our holy water. They heal us as they flow.” -Rita Schiano
To sit with our own or others’ tears can be healing and holy. Crying can be cathartic. I cannot count the number of intense hospital shifts that resulted in me crying in the car, the shower or on the shoulder of another person. My tears are a way of honoring the suffering I see. They also serve as a prayer and a release.
What to do when others are crying?
Bless their tears & be there with them
Sometimes we are uncomfortable when other people are crying or going through something difficult. If we view tears as sacred, we might welcome them more. Invite yourself into the presence of divine trust. Consider it a gift that the person feels comfortable crying in front of you. Affirm that you are with them in the moment and can handle them being a sobbing, inconsolable mess.
One of my favorite Presbyterian ministers, Mr. Rogers frames it this way,
“People have said, 'Don't cry' to other people for years and years, and all it has ever meant is, 'I'm too uncomfortable when you show your feelings. Don't cry.' I'd rather have them say, 'Go ahead and cry. I'm here to be with you.”
Lean into the pain
My chaplain students worry about “making patients cry” and feel guilty inquiring about topics that could result in tears. This might be true for many of us. We may avoid referencing a person’s loss or grief out of fear that it will “open up a wound” and leave the patient in worse pain than we found them. But that’s not about the person crying. It’s about the helper’s desire for a conclusion that looks pretty and shows the problem has been fixed. The greater disservice is not acknowledging the pain and not giving the patient the space for others to hold it with them. I like to reframe it as giving the patient the opportunity to express the tears that are already there.
Additionally, I see lots of well-meaning individuals try to change the subject or focus on the positive when someone is weeping. This sends the message that we are uncomfortable with tears and wish the person would stop expressing themselves. Sometimes we do this unconsciously. I know some Spiritual Care Educators who tell students they aren’t allowed to offer the patient tissues – as it might convey “dry your tears” aka “don’t cry.” While I don’t go this far in my practice, it’s worth considering how our non-verbal cues may impact our ways of showing care.
Gently inquire about the tears
We never want to ask why someone is crying, as “why” questions can be shaming and carry judgment. (Imagine a police officer asking a crime victim “why” they were walking alone at night?). But we can gently inquire as to the reason behind the tears. A simple “Do you want to talk about it?” can usually suffice. Note, the person crying doesn’t owe us any explanation, but sometimes it can be helpful to let them know they can talk about the reasons behind the tears, if they happen to know what that is.
The closest thing to a script that I give my students is a list of “Active Listening Prompts.” One of the prompts is “What are your tears saying?” My students find this question odd, which I suppose it is, as it does not come up in common conversational parlance. But the phrase allows the exploration of what is being communicated by one’s soul. The tears are saying something, and sometimes our role is to help figure out what that is.
Cry with them
My students fear that patient tears might turn on their own waterworks. It sometimes does. I have been with terribly tragic situations in the hospital or intense spiritual direction encounters that have resulted in my own misty eyes.
Similarly, think about times that you’ve been laughing so hard with friends or family that you start crying. And then everyone is sobbing while chuckling.
Crying can be contagious – and that’s not a bad thing. It can unite us with one another in powerful ways. It is a way of being present that doesn’t rely on words, especially if the original person crying is not yet ready/able to articulate anything.
What a touching piece about tears, Christine.
I'm sadly on my way to say goodbye to a dear friend.
I needed to read this ❤️
So grateful for this piece, thank you.
Tears are indeed sacred and I need to cry quite often, but I need to be alone to really let it out and feel it, it’s not so much shame in crying, but I find almost any words of comfort or support can be disruptive to my process.
Having a big cry is almost like giving birth, I want no intervention however well meaning, if anything I want to be lovingly held on silence and to feel the permission in that silence