This week my 4th Week of Lent journey with a Different Kind of Fast by Christine Valters Painter was to fast from holding it all together and embrace tenderness and vulnerability. I don’t know about you but when you are not feeling 100%, that kind of openness and sensitivity comes even easier. It seemed that no matter where I turned there was a story that resulted in an easy flow of tears. Our practice this week was to resist the demand to keep pushing through when your heart (and in my case this week, also my body) is crying out for a pause.

It seemed this openness attracted even more stories that pulled at my heartstrings and resulted in a pause of compassion and benevolence. A concerning personal update, reasons to stop and assess my all too frequent judgements, a friend’s family member hospitalized and on life support after a fluke accident, prayers for the daughter of a social media friend who became ill while studying in Italy, endless stories of children and families impacted by the war, a cat that was returned to a foster home after the traveling pet owners decided they couldn’t properly care for him (who is expressing his displeasure and fear openly), and another one, locally, who was placed in a shelter due to military relocation. If it wasn’t for the recent death of Bela, I might have considered bringing her home, but tears at PetSmart quickly helped me realize I don’t want to open myself to that kind of attachment again.

Christine Valters Painter shares in our Lenten study, a statement by Orthodox Christian theologian John Chryssavgis: “Tears and weeping indicate a significant frontier in the way of the desert. They bespeak a promise. In fact, they are the only way into the heart.” St. Ignatius of Loyola, Christine states, told us that the tears make us more attentive to the longings of our hearts. In other studies I have learned that St. Monica was known to weep daily for the conversion of her son, St. Augustine. Those tears obviously bore much fruit. St. Catherine of Siena, a personal favorite, was known for her gift of tears that were seen as a sign of her sensitivity and compassion.

I found myself pausing on the verse, as I prayed our Lectio with John 11:32-35, crying with Mary, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” It was a fitting passage for this week because today, the Fifth Sunday of Lent, we heard this gospel of the death and raising of Lazarus. Pope Leo XIV reminded us, today during his Angelus message, that this gospel is an invitation to hear the Lord’s call to new life, reminding us we get lost looking to the world in things that will never bring true happiness, that we are longing, in fact, for the infinite.

After this Angelus message and prayer, Pope Leo once again called for an end to violence, reminding us we cannot remain silent. We cannot ignore, he said, that what is harming those who are impacted by war and violence is harming us all. He urged us to persevere in prayer, reminding us that war is “a scandal to the entire human family and a cry before God.”

It might feel safer to pretend it isn’t happening and imagine that life is just fine, ignoring the news and tragedies occurring in the lives of our brothers and sisters. Or we can risk the compassion of Jesus, weeping at the death of his friend, embracing tenderness and vulnerability for those in need. We share our tears with those shed by others and make a cry before God for peace in our lives, personal and global.

I pray for peace in our hearts and in our world. Deena

Image: A photo I took of a stained glass window of our Lady with the body of Jesus being removed from the cross, in the chapel above the Holy Stairs, Scala Santa, in Rome. These stairs are believed to be the stairs leading up to the praetorium of Pontius Pilate in Jerusalem that Jesus had to climb several times before his death.