Start:Stop - The Weeping Woman

Weeping Woman, Pablo Picasso, 1937

Hello my name is Phillip Dawson, welcome to this week’s Start:Stop reflection from St Stephen Walbrook, in which we stop for a few minutes and start to reflect on a passage from scripture. 

One of the (many) anxieties I had while exploring the possibility of training for the priesthood was ‘crying on the job’. The nervousness that the upper lip will go limp just at that moment when people are looking for a sign of strength, not sadness. I’d been in the choir, or acted as verger at several funerals and found it hard to hold back the tears; unlike our vicar who always seemed to maintain his composure (during the service at least). But when the tiny coffin of a child – Gabriella – was carried through the church, I looked up and saw him wipe away a tear. Some time afterwards, I realised how senseless my anxiety had been; that one silent tear spoke to me more loudly than any words could have done; and I heard it.

In this season of Remembrance, which includes All Souls and Armistice Day and in a year when we’ve been confronted by so much suffering so close to home, I wonder if it is actually any “easier” for us to cry (or to hear the cries of others); or is crying still seen by many as a sign of weakness? How might this this affect our feelings about crying privately – including crying in prayer?

If we are to be true to our calling to praise God in all times and all places – this must surely mean sharing our tears with Him, as the psalmist reminds us. Psalm 6:


Bible Reading – Psalm 6

O Lord, do not rebuke me in your anger,
   or discipline me in your wrath.
Be gracious to me, O Lord, for I am languishing;
   O Lord, heal me, for my bones are shaking with terror.
My soul also is struck with terror,
   while you, O Lord—how long?

Turn, O Lord, save my life;
   deliver me for the sake of your steadfast love.
For in death there is no remembrance of you;
   in Sheol who can give you praise?

I am weary with my moaning;
   every night I flood my bed with tears;
   I drench my couch with my weeping.
My eyes waste away because of grief;
   they grow weak because of all my foes.

Depart from me, all you workers of evil,
   for the Lord has heard the sound of my weeping.
The Lord has heard my supplication;
   the Lord accepts my prayer.
All my enemies shall be ashamed and struck with terror;
   they shall turn back, and in a moment be put to shame.


Reflection

Psalm 6 is the prayer of someone in great distress. The psalmist gives graphic detail about how their emotional state has affected them physically. Their bones are shaking with terror. Their eyes waste away because of grief. Their bed saturated with tears.

It is a prayer that transcends time; we move from terror and anguish to contentment in ten short verses. But what has really changed? Their circumstances? Their situation? There is no evidence to suggest either of those is any different. At first, their cry of “O Lord—how long?” seems to go unanswered. But we read later that “the Lord has heard the sound of my weeping.” 

God heard their wordless prayer; tears were the turning point.  

A turning point that meant all the “workers of evil” plaguing the psalmist can now “depart”. It is not clear if these dark forces are external or internal - a mental anguish or a physical threat. But perhaps that doesn’t matter – the fact that the Lord heard the sound of the psalmist weeping changed their perspective on life.

Here at the birthplace of the Samaritans, we know, perhaps more than most, the profound benefit of listening to tears. How tears can be a turning point. It is said that in the early days of the organisation, Chad Varah lived in a room in the church tower, so as never to miss a phone call. He wanted everyone who called the Samaritans to be heard. The work of the charity continues to show that the knowledge of being heard by someone can be life saving.

It’s become popular these days to encourage us to listen to ‘unheard voices’ – even in an age when anyone who is able to do so can take to Twitter or set up a blog to say what they want to say. But perhaps the unheard voices we really need to hear aren’t speaking to us in words at all – but tears. 

A thought that was close to the heart of Margery Kemp, a fourteenth century Christian mystic who is remembered by the church this week. Her writings (which were set down on paper by a series of scribes because she could not read or write herself) were rediscovered in the 1930’s and suggest she was a strong character to say the least; setting off alone on pilgrimages to Jerusalem and Compostela with no provisions and no knowledge of the local language. After bearing fourteen children she entered into a vow of chastity. Her book records her husband asking her, hypothetically, if a swordsman threatened to chop of his head unless they had relations, whether she would consent? She told him that she would rather seen him slain! A somewhat extreme version of the contemporary “not tonight dear.”  

Margery Kempe is known particularly though for her spiritual tears - her crying and wailing were viewed with suspicion by many including those in the church. Questioned by the erudite Archbishop of York, who asked “Why do you weep so, woman”, the illiterate mystic replied “Sir, you shall wish some day that you had wept as sorely as I."

Perhaps, like the then Archbishop of York, the rest of us need to lose our hang-up with tears. After all, as the shortest verse in the English translation of the bible reminds us; Jesus wept.


Prayer

The salt of the earth are those who weep;
Tears rolling back towards the clay. 
Crying because no words can say
What’s written on their hearts.

Teardrops for new possibilities
Or a future that could have been.
Crying out in agony
Or empathy at painful scenes.

Tears of a last goodbye
Or the first glimpse of new life.
Teardrops at a first step
Or a last throw of the dice.

Tears of shock or of surprise
Or disappointment at yet more lies.
Weeping silently, unseen
Or wailing loudly, with red eyes.

Tears of joy, a pause in time
a ray of hope; a light that shines.

Tears of regret when breaking up
Or of relief when waking up.

Welling up from memories past
Worried that these thoughts won’t last.

Crying at a coming out
Weeping at a welcome back.

Tears rolling for repentance,
and flowing in forgiveness.

Tears at the graveside,
garden
and the cross.

Jesus
wept
.

Thank you for listening to this week’s Start:Stop reflection. During the November lockdown the church is open on Wednesday from 10.30am until 3pm and on Thursday from 9am – 12.30pm and 2.00pm-4.00pm. We are unable to hold public worship but please join us online via our website. For the next few weeks we are holding a ‘Zoom Chat’ every Thursday evening at 7.30pm for half an hour, concluding with short service of Night Prayer – please get in touch if you would like to join us.

Links
Songs for Suffering - Psalm 6