Jesus Wept

One of the many reasons the Johannine literature appeals to me is its elegant weaving together of our Lord’s dual natures. Start with its opening lines:

To a Greek listener of the time, this would certainly have come across as more than a religious claim, but a philosophical one, as well; the Greek term λογος that we translate as “the Word” was used as a term for divinity by multiple schools of philosophy, such as the Stoics and Philo of Alexandria — all contemporaries of Jesus and the first evangelists.

Now move to the center of the Gospel:

Halfway through the Gospel, God’s Word, who participates in the creation of all things, has not merely become human, not merely been baptized and worked miracles such as transmuting water into wine in order to rescue a wedding: he is so fully human that emotion overcomes him and he weeps at the death of a friend. His tears are not hidden, and his grief is deep enough that those standing nearby remark that Jesus must have loved his deceased friend greatly.

“Jesus wept.” When I was a child, they taught me at Sunday School that this is the shortest verse in the Bible. I recently asked myself how much that depends on the translation; the Southern Baptists I grew up with relied on the King James, where the verse is a mere two words, but the Catholic translation above is three.

I looked up how some other languages have translated this verse, and copy them below, in order of descending comprehension on my part: Two, three, four words; quite a variety. (There are other translations for each language, as well; I chose these for my own reasons.)

The Italian caught my attention the most, and not only because I understand it best: Gesù scoppiò in pianto. In English that would read: The Italian Jesus doesn’t just weep; he bursts into tears. That illuminates Jesus’ humanity in a way in a new way, the sort of way you’d expect from someone who later writes: