Rejoicing and Mourning

Romans 12:15
“Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.”

Simple, blunt, and to-the-point. This is one of my favorite verses because it contains core instructions for how to build a community. Paul tells us to participate in both the happy times and the sad times with those we care about. A caring community can multiply the happiness when there is reason to celebrate and it can divide the burden of sadness when there is reason to mourn. The church that I attend right now carries out Paul’s instructions so well and I think it’s a strong point of our church. After my step-grandfather Bob passed away, we received lots of cards and calls from members of the congregation who wanted to be a link in our support system. Our pastor even called to ask if he could come to our house and pray with us or talk with us, whatever we needed. It’s such a blessing to be a part of a community like this that knows how to rejoice and mourn with its members.

Personally, I am not so great at rejoicing and mourning with others. I always start out with every intention of doing so, but my emotions and self-centeredness often get in the way. Weddings are a prime example of my failure to rejoice with those who rejoice.

I love the concept of weddings. I love knowing that one person has found their person and that they are ready to commit themselves to each other for the rest of their lives. I love that moment when the bride appears around the corner and the groom gets his first glimpse of her in her beautiful dress. Whenever I go to a wedding, I watch all the attendants come down the aisle and coo over the dressed up little flower girls and ring-bearers. But as soon as the bride’s song starts playing, I turn around and look at the groom. His face breaks out into a big grin and he can’t take his eyes off of his bride. I love all of these things about weddings. In theory.

In actual practice, I dread going to weddings. Weddings remind the hopelessly single girl that she is not getting married any time soon. Weddings give other couples the opportunity to celebrate their own relationships and reminisce about the time they have spent together. Weddings decrease the available single friends that a single person can turn to for support when they feel completely steamrolled by their singleness.

When it comes to weddings, I fail at rejoicing with those who rejoice. I can put on a good face and smile and give genuine congratulations because a part of me is truly happy for the couple. But the rest of me is breaking because I want to be in the bride’s place, knowing that someone loves me and that my future is secure.

A part of me dies every time I see another friend get engaged on Facebook. I desperately wish it wasn't that way, but the pain is instant. It’s probably God’s way of telling me that I need to learn a very important lesson: how to rejoice with those who are rejoicing. A wedding day is a day set aside just to focus on two people and participate in their celebration. It is not a day to complain to other single guests, mourn the "loss" of another single friend, or think too deeply about life and become miserable. No, a wedding is a day for those two people up in front who are taking the first step on a lifelong journey hand-in-hand. This is where my self-centeredness tends to get out of control. I get so hung-up on how I feel, why I’m single, will I ever get married, etc. I, I, I. But it’s not supposed to be about me, which is something I need to improve on a lot.

Mourning with those who mourn is a different story entirely. I’m both very good and very bad at this. If the person that is mourning needs empathy, then I can succeed. But if that person needs sympathy, I fail. Here’s why.

Empathy is “I know how you feel;” while sympathy is “I feel how you feel.” In my experience, sympathy often goes hand-in-hand with tears. I never cry. Or rather, I feel like I can’t cry. Physically incapable. I have never been able to summon tears at funerals, weddings, sad movies, sad books, divorces, not even deaths. I dread going to funerals almost as much as I dread going to weddings, not because of what happens at funerals, but because I’m afraid of being judged for not having any tears to shed. I find it so difficult to feel what that hurting person is feeling in that moment because I can’t summon up tears.

Crying is essential for mental health. Crying can release physical and emotional tension that we didn’t even know we had. Have you ever wondered why you feel physically tired or weak after a long cry? Through crying, your body released a great deal of physical tension. If it was a cathartic cry, you feel exhausted, but in a good way. It’s as if you are releasing your emotional pain drop by drop until there is nothing left.

In Spanish, the word for ‘exhausted’ is agotado, which comes from the verb gotear, which means ‘to drip,’ and the noun gota, which means ‘drop.’ We take agotado to mean ‘exhausted’ in English, but when literally translated, it provides a single word for “being completely dripped out." Whatever the gota is, whether it is water, oil, strength, funds, or happiness, agotado is the end state of being completely dripped dry of that thing.

I have never felt that kind of exhausted before, in large part because I can’t cry. I would love to know that feeling because the most intimate moments between friends can be shared by having a good cry together. Being stuck in the emotional pain of that period before the good cry is both frustrating and wearing. I should know. I’ve been stuck in that place for the better part of the last four years.

The beauty that rises from the ashes of that pain is my unique ability to empathize. Empathy is “I know how you feel. I know how that feels. I’ve been there. I’ve been where you are. I know how that struggle goes. You’re not the only one that has ever felt that way. I’ve felt it too.” The empathizer probably isn’t feeling that emotional pain at the moment, but it’s almost better that way, because then he or she can be the strong safe place for the person who is feeling that pain.

At the beginning of my battle with depression, I wanted people who would show sympathy. I wanted them to feel the way I did and sit with me and hold me and comfort me. But as I grew older, I came to realize that this wasn’t helping. In those moments, I was weak, and if the person next to me was feeling my pain, then he or she was weak too. Two weak people can’t be the strong safe place for each other. Instead I needed someone who knew my pain intimately but had not been overcome by it. I had to see evidence that this pain was not all-consuming, not all-powerful, not ever-present.

To this day, the best words of comfort that I have ever received came from my friend Jessica, who routinely tells me, “I know how you feel. I don’t know what to say to you, but I know how you feel.” If you’re not used to empathy, this seems kind of harsh. You might think that she could have taken a little bit more time to think of something more reassuring to say. But what she comes up with may not be genuine. I’d rather have Jessica’s words because they are honest. I know she doesn’t know what to say because if she did, she’d be able to tell it to herself and she wouldn’t know exactly how I feel.

Mourning with those who mourn requires empathy, if you ask me. Those who mourn are looking for a safe place to hide while they let their guards down and make themselves vulnerable. If you are feeling all of their emotions with them, you are just as vulnerable and you can’t hold them up. As unfeeling as empathy seems at first, in the long run, it’s the most healing. One person can be strong for the other, instead of both people feeling weak and exhausted.

Rejoicing and mourning are a group effort. Rejoicing alone is lonely. Mourning alone is devastating. God calls us to rejoice and mourn as a family, each one paying attention to the needs of the others. Like me, you might find that hard to do sometimes. Let your community help you and cover your weaknesses. There might be others that could use you to cover their own weaknesses. To me, that’s what community is all about.