Grief is never simple. At a funeral, you might notice a range of emotions: Some mourners are in tears, others share laughter and memories, while still others sit quietly, lost in thought. This mixture reflects the tension Catholics often feel in the face of death. On the one hand, we profess faith in the Resurrection and entrust our loved ones to God’s mercy. On the other hand, we feel the deep sorrow of separation, knowing we will not see them again on this side of eternity.
At the tomb of his friend Lazarus, Jesus wept (Jn 11:35) — the shortest verse in Holy Scripture, yet one of the most profound. It raises an important question: Why would Jesus cry at the death of his friend if he knew that only moments later he would call Lazarus forth from the grave?
Christ shows us that his humanity is not a mere likeness but something entirely real. Jesus’ tears show the depth of his love for his friend. He wept not out of despair but out of love and in solidarity with our human condition. Further, in his “Homilies on the Gospel of John,” St. John Chrysostom emphasizes that if we are to weep as Christ did, we should do so “gently, but with decency,” and “with the fear of God.” In other words, we must keep always before us our trust in God’s redemptive power, especially over death itself.
The example of St. Augustine
The paradox of grief and hope is captured vividly in St. Augustine’s account of his mother’s death, proclaimed annually in the Divine Office. Shortly before her passing, St. Monica and St. Augustine shared a deep conversation, lifting their hearts and minds to the life that is to come. “We were asking one another in the presence of the Truth — for you are the Truth — what it would be like to share the eternal life enjoyed by the saints,” Augustine recalls in “Confessions.” As Monica neared death, Augustine was overwhelmed with grief, but he was quickly steadied by his mother’s profound faith: “One thing only I ask of you, that you remember me at the altar of the Lord wherever you may be.”
Augustine wept for his mother even as he trusted that she had entered into glory. This is what the Church reminds us in her liturgy: “Indeed for your faithful, Lord, life is changed not ended” (Preface I for the Dead). Like Augustine, we may weep bitterly at the loss of a spouse, parent, family member or friend, but this does not diminish our faith. Our tears acknowledge the change, but they do not deny our hope in the promise of eternal beatitude.
In Christ, grief is transformed into a prayer of hope. In our mourning, we unite our tears with the tears of Jesus, who himself wept, longing for the day when death will be no more and we will share the life of the world to come.
