Tears are our first words.

The beginning way we have of communicating is through tears. Is there anything that gets a baby more attention than tears? Is there anything that can command complete, immediate devotion more than a torrent of tears. Is there anything that can makes adults feel more dismal, daunted, desperate than the wailing of an infant?

Our baby’s tears can bring us to tears as well.

In earlier cultures the tears of mourners were gathered into something called a lachrymatory, or “tear-catcher,” a specially created container for human tears of grief or sometimes of joy. In fact, a company is now bringing them back and selling them online. Here is the website with great images of what some of the early ones looked like:

 http://www.tearcatcher.com/tearbottle.html

Mourning tears were believed to have extreme powers—-of solace, of sustenance, of spiritual healing. There were beautiful, delicate lachrymatory tear bottles for women and more masculine cigar-shaped tear bottles for men. Traditionally all were designed with an evaporation chamber. When the last of the gathered tears finally evaporated, the official mourning period was over.

In Roman times women were paid to cry into tear bottles, so that as many filled bottles as possible could accompany the extensive mourning processions that befitted any important, powerful figure. In typical Roman fashion, more was always better—-whether one was dead or alive.

Even the most humble burial ceremony involved the presence of paid mourners. In Jewish culture the bare minimum required two flute players and professional wailing woman. Anything less was an insult to the family name. The grief industry in the first century—-like that of the twenty-first century—-was big business.

Have you noticed that as the economy has fallen, the number of ads for life insurance are on the rise? In the face of an uncertain economic climate, unstable global relationships, catastrophic environmental scenarios, and butt-headed political stalemates, there is always one thing that remains certain . . . death. You can always bank on death showing up. The grief industry never has a down turn.

When Jesus finally arrived at Bethany the first-century grief industry was already well represented. “The Jews” who came down from Jerusalem to “console Martha and Mary” (v.19) undoubtedly included many professional mourners, musicians, and trained tear-producers. The family had purchased a costly cave-tomb to lay Lazarus in. His body had been carefully wrapped with burial linens, and anointed with the oils and spices commonly used to hold the odor of death at bay as much as possible.

Although both Martha and Mary confessed a conviction that had Jesus been present at Lazarus’ sickbed he would not have died, both sisters had now resigned themselves to their brother’s death. They had given themselves over to grief. They had abandoned all hope.

They were prepared for tears.

They were prepared for separation from their beloved brother. They were prepared for the finality of death.

They were not prepared for what Jesus was bringing to them.

They were not prepared for a miracle.

They were not prepared for hope.

They were not prepared for resurrection.

They were not prepared for new life.

This October marks the twentieth anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall. That most hated symbol of repression, that most revered symbol of communist power, came down after decades of being one of the most feared symbols in the world. It came down not in a hail of bullets and butchery. It came down through the unstoppable power of hope. Who can forget images of East Germans, mostly young people, standing on top of the wall, waving flags, hammers and screwdrivers and tearing wall down with their bare hands. And when The Wall came down, and the communist regime in East Germany came down, the domino effect seemed to take effect, and the Soviet Union came down and the communist regimes in Eastern Europe came down.

That’s right. You heard me. Instead of an underground army of freedom fighters launching guerilla attacks on that concrete barrier, the force that finally toppled the Berlin Wall was made up of nothing more than candles and prayers.

That’s right. You heard me. “Candles and prayers.”

This fall churches in what was once East Germany are celebrating the peaceful revolution, now known as the “Protestant Revolution.” On 09 November 1989, the first plink of hammers could be heard at Checkpoint Charlie, the icon of the Cold War. This year on 09 November 2009, the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall will be celebrated by tourists at Snack Point Charlie café. And at the “death strip” where 136 people were shot dead trying to escape from East to West Berlin, there is now a Chapel of Reconciliation which holds weekday services in remembrance of those members of the “communion of saints” who helped to bring down the walls of hatred and prejudice.

It may be worth a minute to retell the story of how the Wall came tumbling down. By the spring of 1989, people of East German cities like Leipzig no longer could take totalitarianism. There weren’t many churches left in East Germany. The state tried its best to annihilate all of them. The state did let a few churches remain visibly open to PR the rest of the world that there was freedom of religion. The current chancellor of Germany, Angela Merkel, is the daughter of a pastor of one of those churches. But most churches became museums, libraries, and office building. The magnificent Gothic church on the campus of Leipzig University was an embarrassment to the regime, so it was blown up and replaced with a gray administration building.

No Christian could hold party membership, which meant no Christian could hold a state job.

No Christian could teach.

No Christian could work in hospitals.

No Christian could hold offices in high levels of business and industry.

No Christian parents could send their children to the best schools . . .

Yet in April of 1989 there was an ecumenical assembly in East Germany with delegates from whatever Reformed and Lutheran churches were left. In April 1989 that assembly of Lutheran and Reformed Christians did something that took a huge amount of courage: they demanded freedom. They demanded freedom of religion and speech. They demanded freedom of travel, freedom to form groups and clubs. One of the leaders of that assembly, Bishop Christopher Kahler, says that the ecumenical assembly was the “handwriting on the wall.”

Then it began. . . . After work, people started flocking to those few PR churches. There they sang hymns, prayed, lit candles, and then left the church to march silently in the streets. The first march of 15000 people was in Plauen 20 years ago the first of October, when Jörg Schneider types and distributes 120 flyers in Plauen. This inspired other cities like Leipzig to demonstrate...a very risky business in the GDR 20 years ago. (http://bit.ly/RdL8K)

In Leipzig, at the huge Nikolai Kirche, hundreds and then thousands of East Germans gathered, lighted candles, marched into the town square, filled the streets. Gradually, the crowds grew in size until they filled the road ringing the city. The city of Leipzig was surrounded. The city of Leipzig was under siege . . . by candles and prayers and silence.

A member of the Politburo, Horst Snidermann, said later: “We were prepared for everything, but not candles and prayers.”

(For more see Presbyterian Outlook, 1 June 2009. Story told by John Buchanan of Fourth Presbyterian Church and editor of Christian Century).

One of the worst, most oppressive regimes the world had ever seen, the communist regime of East Germany, quietly and quickly collapsed.

What was it that member of the Politburo said?

“We were prepared for everything . . . but not candles and prayer.”

It had been easy for the East Berlin army to shoot or capture anyone who tried to sneak out to freedom in the West. But candlelight processions and all-night/all-day prayer vigils at the wall weren’t so easy to deal with. Candles and prayers undermined the powerful. Candles and prayer unnerved the armed forces. Candles and prayer unraveled the blanket of fear.

The eastern bloc had prepared for riots. The East Germans had prepared for economic boycotts. East Germany had prepared for violence. The Politburo politicians had prepared for outside political pressures.

But they were not prepared for candles and prayers.

By the time the first person finally took the first swing of a pickaxe at that Berlin Wall…

By the time the first piece of concrete crumbled into the crowd . . .

By that time the barrier had already been broken.

The prayers and candles on both sides of the Berlin Wall had reduced it to insignificance, to a non-entity, long before the bulldozers finally cleared away the last of the rubble.

The miracle of the resurrected Christ undermines, unnerves, and unravels the powers of doubt, despair, and death that once defined the human condition.

And we are never fully prepared for the power of the presence of Christ when it breaks into our lives.

The Philistines were prepared for everything . . . . . . .but not a small boy, stones and a sling.

Pharaoh’s army was prepared for everything . . . . . .but not a wave of water.

Jericho was prepared for everything. . .but not a marching band and a trumpet.

Martha was prepared for everything . . .but not a brother brought back to life.

Martha would have had Jesus hold his nose to block the stench of death; Jesus had Martha open her arms to receive back her brother in life.

How many of us are like Martha . . . preparing for everything, but not the power of candles and prayer?

I think of a teen who has had a few drinks and calls his parents because he is afraid to drive ... he is prepared for everything, and he gets a prayer of thanks and hug from grateful parents that he called home rather than drove home.

I think of a husband who arrives unexpectedly on the porch of his estranged wife . . . a wife who is prepared for anger and divorce papers, and instead is offered flowers and floral apologies.

What in your life is prepared for the worst…but not candles and prayers?