"Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted." (Matthew 5:4 RSV)
Marc-James Manor Bed and Breakfast here in Bellingham, Washington, has an antique china collection boasting 323 teapots that date back as far as 1740, and more than 1,400 teacups and saucers, salt boxes, coffee "cans" and pieces of table décor. Two of the sets absorbed my attention: they were completely black. "See how elaborately they're decorated?" Marc pointed out. "The mother and child, the shrouded windows -- they're for mourning."
Mourning tea sets, I thought. How wonderful it would be to live in a culture that allowed sadness without spiritual or psychological condemnation. When my fifteen-year-old brother snapped his neck and was paralyzed, I was told to stop grieving; this was God's will. When my grandmother died, I was told to stop weeping; she was in heaven. When I broke into tears while telling of my sister's death several years earlier, I was told to get over it; let the dead bury the dead. It isn't "Christian" to lament. Lamentation reveals a bankrupt faith.
Over the years, though, I've not been good at hiding my grief and, after seeing Marc's collection, I confessed my struggle to my youngest child, then twenty. Blake challenged me to find a scriptural basis for tears and weakness, futility and dependency. "Culturally, we give no value to the sick and poor and the bereaved," he explained, "and so our Christianity mirrors the same sorry mistake. Yet didn't Jesus preach, 'Blessed are those who mourn'?"
So I spent the year getting reacquainted with David, Jeremiah, Isaiah and Job -- men who wept and wailed, who dressed in sack-cloth and sat in ashes and denied themselves food whenever they found themselves dismayed by turmoil, torn apart by grief or terrified out of their minds. Even Jesus wept. Reading on, I realized that their tears were not a sign of a bankrupt faith, but the prism through which they saw clearly. Jeremiah saw his mandate, Job his confusion, David his fear, Jesus His sorrow. And in seeing, they found comfort.
We have a shop in town that lets you paint and fire your own tea sets. This Christmas, I'd like to make a mourning set.
Dear Lord, thank You for tears. They open my eyes to what I need the most, and in You I find the comfort I need.
-- Brenda Wilbee from Guideposts 2003
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