Pentecost: We Came Crying Hither

Teroy Guzman as Lear and Abner Delina Jr. as Cordelia in Peta’s “Haring Lear,” directed by Nonon Padilla.

Late in King Lear—Act IV, Scene 5 to be precise—the old King, cast off by his unloving daughters and wandering in a storm, comes upon his faithful servant Gloucester. The earl’s eyes have been ripped out by Lear’s enemies. Recognizing him, the king reminds him just how human tears are:

If thou wilt weep my fortune, take my eyes.
I know thee well enough: thy name is Gloucester.
Thou must be patient. We came crying hither.
Thou know’st the first time that we smell the air
We wail and cry(165-169).



Lear himself wants to cry. He is learning that tears talk truer than the tongue. 

One might call tears a language of the body. We bespeak ourselves through them. Yes, anyone, who has known unfaithful love, knows that the body can be made to lie. There are false kisses, false embraces, false nights of love. But tears, like shudders, speak unbidden by the conscious mind. They self-attest.

Tears are a human language undivided by the tongues of earth. What they lack in articulation, tears gain in meaning. Even infants, those without a voice, can speak in tears. 

We came crying hither.
Thou know’st the first time that we smell the air
We wail and cry.


Tears mean more than words, though they don’t speak clearly without being embedded in life. Infants cry only from distress, but adults can weep tears of sorrow and of joy. Many years ago, I took of group of high school students Christmas caroling. We visited the homes of shuts-ins. I knew these people well, from hours of conversation, but, a quarter century later, I recall the eloquent face of a woman, who stood in her door and wept as the children sang. Tears bespeak a bounty deeper than words can tell.

Tears are one way to understand the mystery of the Holy Spirit. Indeed, they’ve often been seen as a manifestation of the Spirit’s presence. When we struggle to speak, we flail for words, trying to see the end of each sentence, but we do not need to articulate tears. They carry us where they will. Like the Spirit, they speak within us, through us. Like tears, the presence of the Spirit, the silence of God, is not easily feigned. It comes over us, overwhelms us. We no more control the Spirit than we choose when and where and why we cry. 

Who the Spirit is within the Godhead is difficult to say. The churches divide on the very question. What we know of God, we know in the eternal Word of God, Jesus Christ. We would not know even to address the very mystery of God as Father, had Christ not taught us to do so, and we would not know that the deep graces, the movements of life welling within us, are the very Spirit of God, had Christ not revealed this to us. 

“Let anyone who thirsts come to me and drink.
As Scripture says:
Rivers of living water will flow from within him who believes in me.”
He said this in reference to the Spirit
that those who came to believe in him were to receive (Jn 7:38-39).


We usually know why an infant cries, but we cannot always fathom a grandmother’s tears. Sometimes we need words to understand, to situate, to name our tears. In like manner, the Holy Spirit does not speak for himself. He is always the Spirit of Christ. The Spirit will never say something other than what has been revealed in Christ, yet the Spirit speaks at a deeper, more personal level. Christ would speak to us only in history, were it not for the presence of the Spirit, the one who seals his words, spoken ages past, within our living hearts. 

At the end of King Lear, the old man is reunited with his truest love, his dead daughter Cordelia. When the play began, she refused to lie about her love for him, as her sisters had, because “unhappy that I am, I cannot heave my heart into my mouth” (I.1.83-84). At play’s end, holding her body in his arms, Lear is convulsed with grief. 

Howl, howl, howl, howl! O, you are men of stones.
Had I your tongues and eyes, I would use them so
That heaven’s vault should crack. She’s gone forever (V.3.253-255).


That’s what we’ve always wanted. Tears, and inarticulate cries, that all on earth, and heaven itself, can understand. And that is what we have been given, for

The Spirit comes to the aid of our weakness;
for we do not know how to pray as we ought,
but the Spirit himself intercedes with inexpressible groanings (Rom 8:26).


Genesis 9: 1-11     Romans 8: 22-27     John 7: 37-39

Comments are automatically closed two weeks after an article's initial publication. See our comments policy for more.


The latest from america

Native American protestors hold hands with parishioner Nathanial Hall, right, during a group prayer outside the Catholic Diocese of Covington on Jan. 22, 2019, in Covington, Ky. (AP Photo/John Minchillo)
The furor over a chance meeting between Catholic high school students and Native American protesters underscores the need to listen and learn from indigenous voices.
Marlene LangJanuary 23, 2019
The staggering parliamentary defeat for Prime Minister Theresa May, seen here leaving 10 Downing Street on Jan. 23, pushed the country even further from safe dry land. (AP Photo/Alastair Grant)
After the stunning defeat of Theresa May's exit deal, Scotland is looking anew at independence, and the U.K. government fears economic disaster.
David StewartJanuary 23, 2019
Michael Osborne, a film director, documents the damage from a mud slide next to his home in Los Angeles on Jan. 18, after three days of heavy rain. (AP Photo/Damian Dovarganes)
The conceit of California-as-disaster-movie is ridiculous. But maybe watching our fires and mudslides helps other states consider both their own fragility and their underlying strength.
Jim McDermottJanuary 23, 2019
A commitment to religious liberty demands that effort be devoted to resolving, rather than exacerbating, any real or apparent tension between religious obligation and civil duty.
The EditorsJanuary 23, 2019