A Prelude to a 'Theology of Lamentation'; an essay by Yaser Mirdamadi

The ultimate aim of this piece is to open, or to keep open, the door to critical theological reflection on mourning.

A Prelude to a 'Theology of Lamentation'[1]

Yaser Mirdamadi

In this piece, after defining what is meant by a "theology of lament/lamentation," I will attempt to point out two important questions among the many that a theology of lamentation would do well to address; the ultimate aim of this piece is to open, or to keep open, the door to critical theological reflection on mourning.

Theology

Theology, in a word, means the study of God. To elaborate, theology consists of performing one or more of the following actions: proposing, classifying, formulating (stating), evaluating (without refutation or defense), comparing, refuting, or defending one or more different conceptions of God that have been proposed, or could be proposed, in one of the theistic religions (such as Judaism, Christianity, or Islam).

Lamentation

By lamentation here, I mean the wailing and supplication of humans or other beings possessing will and choice before God, or the tears and sorrow of God Himself (if such a thing is possible) concerning a calamity that has befallen an individual or a people. Accordingly, lamentation in an entirely secular framework (without any reference to God) is not the subject of discussion in this piece.[2] Lamentation, in the sense under discussion, more or less takes the following form: first, God is addressed; then, the pain, suffering, catastrophe, and calamity that have befallen an individual or a people are enumerated; then, God is beseeched, with wailing and supplication, to remove that affliction and/or for the agents of that affliction to be distanced from God's mercy and for vengeance to be taken for the victims against the oppressors; likewise, forgiveness and elevated ranks are sought from God for the victims of the calamity and catastrophe, and God is asked not to let a similar affliction befall that individual or people again. Emphasis is also placed on the fact that God hears their prayers and wailing, and when their prayers are answered, they give thanks to God.[3] To speak in concrete terms, lamentation in the Abrahamic religions is generally a lamentation for the destruction of a city and the displacement of a people (Judaism), the crucifixion of God the Son (Christianity), or the martyrdom/passing of one of the saints and friends of God (all three Abrahamic religions).

Theology of Lamentation

Having defined "theology" and "lamentation," we can now better define what I mean by a "theology of lamentation." A theology of lamentation is a type of theology that speaks of God's attributes (characteristics) when a grieving individual supplicates and wails before Him, or of the possibility of God's own lamentation, and discusses the nature of the grieving individual's relationship with God, as well as God's relationship with the grieving individual. To put it more simply, a theology of lamentation speaks of the attributes related to God's lamentation. To put it even more simply, a theology of lamentation speaks of the lamenting attributes of God.

Two Questions Concerning a Theology of Lamentation

Now, having defined what is meant by a theology of lamentation, I will pose two questions that any type of theology of lamentation, from a Jewish, Christian, or Islamic theology of lamentation to a comparative theology of lamentation, seems to need to address.

1_ One of the first and most important questions facing any theology of lamentation is the intra-religious legitimacy of lamentation. The question of the theological legitimacy of lamentation can be formulated as follows: Does God want us to come before Him in a state of lamentation? To put it somewhat differently, is lamentation a path to God? And if the answer is yes, is lamentation the best path to reach/draw near to God? And perhaps the best path to God is situational and not absolute (independent of situation), meaning that in some situations the best path to God is lamentation, wailing, and weeping, and in other situations, joy, delight, and happiness. If this is the case, in what situations is lamentation the best path to God, and in what situations is joy and happiness?

A theologian of lamentation who wishes to investigate the intra-religious legitimacy of lamentation has several paths open to them: the first path is a rereading of the central texts of the religion with the aim of finding traces of the permissibility of mourning. A Jewish or Christian theologian of lamentation, for example, can cite the Book of Lamentations. The Book of Lamentations is one of the books of the Tanakh, the Hebrew Bible of the Jews, which Christians also (in some cases with additions) regard as the Old Testament, which together with the New Testament constitutes their Bible. The Book of Lamentations, generally attributed to the prophet Jeremiah (it is also referred to as the Book of the Lamentations of Jeremiah), consists of Hebrew poems composed in mourning for the captive people of Judah, the destruction of Jerusalem, and the ruin of Solomon's Temple.[4] A Christian theologian of lamentation, in developing a theology of lamentation, can also draw upon a portion of the Book of Psalms in the Old Testament, which contains mournful hymns.

When we consider the intra-religious legitimacy of lamentation in Islam, it appears that in Sunni Islam and Ibadi Islam[5], lamentation lacks the status it has assumed in Shi'ism (especially Twelver Shi'ism). In such a situation, it is natural that a theology of lamentation would not take shape among Sunnis and Ibadis, except perhaps merely to the extent of deeming the lamentation and mourning of Shi'ites as "illegitimate." Such anti-lamentation literature is, of course, also considered part of the theology of lamentation, but in the minimal sense of the term. In a minimal theology of lamentation, it is said that mourning is not a path to God and that God has not opened such a path to Himself. Such a theology, however, ends right there, which is why I have called it a minimal theology of lamentation. A maximalist theologian of lamentation, however, because they deem the intra-religious legitimacy of lamentation permissible, faces many other theological questions in addition to demonstrating the legitimacy of lamentation, and this is why I have called it a maximal theology of lamentation.

Leaving aside the Sunni and Ibadi theology of lamentation, we arrive at the Shi'i theology of lamentation. It goes without saying that the theology of lamentation in Shi'ism (especially Twelver Shi'ism) has been shaped around the axis of mourning in lamentation for Husayn ibn Ali (61–4 AH), the maternal grandson of the Prophet of Islam and a shared Imam of all branches of Shi'ism (Zaydi, Ismaili, and Twelver). A Shi'i theologian of lamentation, in order to legitimize lamentation for Husayn, can cite numerous hadiths attributed to the Prophet of Islam and also the Shi'i Imams regarding the reward for mourning Husayn ibn Ali. On the other hand, such a theologian can also provide intra-religious responses to the religious arguments against lamentation that have been raised by critics.

Thus far, I have spoken of text-centered arguments that a maximalist theologian of lamentation can resort to in defense of the intra-religious legitimacy of lamentation. However, appealing to the central texts of a religion is not the only source for legitimizing or delegitimizing a method or practice. Although, in theory, the central texts of a religion hold a special place within that religion, in practice and even in theory, there are many other things within a religion that play a role in the process of legitimation or delegitimation. The accumulated experiences of the pivotal figures of a religion can also be considered an intra-religious source of legitimation or delegitimation. In our discussion, these experiences could, for example, be the mystical experiences of renowned Muslim Sufis. These experiences may have reached us in the form of poetry, their pulpit sermons, eyewitness accounts of them, or otherwise.

The experiences of a mystic like Rumi (604–672 AH), expressions of which have reached us in various forms, are, as an example, worthy of pause. In a famous and influential ghazal, Rumi says: “Come to my grave without a tambourine, brother / for sorrow is unbecoming at God’s feast.” In this line, and indeed the entire ghazal, Rumi does not deem mourning at the graves of God’s saints permissible, and therefore instructs bringing a tambourine (presumably instead of chains, banners, standards, and the like) to the graves of God’s saints. He then explicitly states the reason for this instruction: bringing a tambourine is because at God’s feast (visiting the graves of God’s saints), being sorrowful is not fitting; rather, such a place is for joy and delight. A maximalist theology of lamentation cannot simply bypass such experiences by saying that in the process of intra-religious legitimation or delegitimation, only the definitive Book and Tradition are the criteria for judgment, and the experiences of the esoterics are not worthy of consideration, even at first glance (prima facie). The maximalist theologian of lamentation must make room in his theology for this kind of joyful comportment, which has an esoteric and mystical dimension, or, if he finds no room for it, argue against it in a comprehensive manner (that is, not only by appealing to an understanding of the Book and Tradition, but also with extra-religious reasons).

2. Another important question that can be raised in the theology of lamentation is this: Does God, in a non-metaphorical sense of the word, share in the mourning of human beings? Does God also grieve? The answer that immediately comes to mind is that God, in the Abrahamic religions, possesses the attribute of transcendence, and a transcendent being or existence assumes no human attributes and consequently does not grieve. Yet God in the tradition of the Abrahamic religions, while transcendent, is an agent in history and is immersed in particulars—or at least the dominant theological tradition of the Abrahamic religions (cataphatic theology as opposed to apophatic theology) tends to portray God in this way.

According to this dominant portrayal, God has sent down revelation through the prophets to guide human beings, answers the prayers and supplications of His servants, observes their every single action, and on the Last Day (the Resurrection) will examine their deeds, rewarding good deeds and punishing evil ones. On this basis, why should a God who is immersed in particulars not grieve? In the view of many, however, God’s being a mourner is incompatible with God’s omnipotence (His absolute power): human beings mourn because they lack the power to prevent a catastrophic event, such that if they could prevent the catastrophe, they would gird themselves to prevent it rather than mourn. God could have prevented the catastrophe, but divine providence did not require such a thing; therefore, God’s mourning over the occurrence of the catastrophe is meaningless.

This answer, however, is not complete. For God, at least according to a common conception, has granted free will to human beings, meaning that in the realm of their voluntary and conscious actions, human beings themselves determine their own deeds. The implication of this analysis is that God voluntarily intends not to intervene in this realm so as not to deprive human beings of their free will, because He sees interests in this that outweigh the interests of constant intervention in the voluntary affairs of human beings. Then, according to this portrayal, if human beings misuse this God-given free will, God, in order to safeguard human free will, will not intervene, yet will regret such misuse, and if a catastrophe occurs as a result of this misuse, He will grieve for that catastrophe, without this grieving of God impairing His omnipotence (absolute power). On the contrary, God’s being absolute goodness requires that, while not intervening in that catastrophe (in order to safeguard human free will), He grieve for this event and not be indifferent to it. In other words, since the perfection of a “person” lies in not being indifferent to a catastrophe, even if for some reason they cannot or will not prevent its occurrence, then if God is “personal,” the personal God can, precisely on this basis, grieve for the catastrophe of human beings.[6]

The cultivation of a theology of lamentation, in which God shares in the grief of human beings and weeps with them, occurred in Jewish theology especially after the catastrophe of the Holocaust (1941–1945 CE). The Holocaust was an event with devastating theological consequences for the Jewish people, who throughout their history (until the establishment of the State of Israel) had almost always been an oppressed and persecuted people: “When millions of Jews were suffering in the Holocaust, where exactly was God standing? Why did He not come to the aid of suffering human beings?” The theology of lamentation (meaning a mourning, weeping God) was one of the most common responses of Jewish theology to the Holocaust catastrophe: “God was also standing in that corner, weeping.” However, the problem of God’s absence or hiddenness is another question that immediately arises here: “Then why do we not see His tears and hear His lamentations? If He did not wish to intervene, He could at least have made His tears visible to console our hearts. Was this also beyond His power?”

A fascinating and rare example of this type of theology of lamentation, cultivated precisely in the midst of the Holocaust catastrophe (early 1950s) and from the perspective of Hasidic Judaism (Jewish devotional mysticism), is the theology of Rabbi Kalonymus Shapiro (1889–1943 CE), the Grand Rabbi of the Warsaw Ghetto in Poland (ghettos were places to segregate Jews from other city dwellers during the Nazi era and even before). Shapiro lost most of his family and relatives to the war and was ultimately executed by the Nazis in a death camp. Shapiro wrote his Sabbath sermons in the Warsaw Ghetto and hid his manuscripts. These manuscripts were found and published long after his death.

The theological significance of Shapiro’s writings lies especially in the fact that, unlike most theological reactions to the Holocaust, they were written not after the event and not by those who escaped it, but from within the event and by a victim of the event. Drawing on portions of Talmudic literature, Shapiro emphasizes that although human suffering is finite, God’s suffering is infinite because everything that relates to God is infinite. But as we noted a little earlier, this type of theology of lamentation faces the problem of God’s concealment or absence: “If God weeps with us, where then is the trace of His tears and lamentations?” Shapiro’s answer is this: if even a particle of God’s lamentation and tears were to be revealed to the world, the world would utterly collapse, for the world cannot bear God’s lamentation; therefore, God weeps in secret, and not even the angels see His weeping. Accordingly, the fact that God’s reaction to the catastrophe is not felt is not because God is indifferent, but quite the opposite: it is because God’s reaction is so intense that it must remain hidden to prevent the world from collapsing.[7]

This type of Jewish theology of lamentation may, at first glance, seem entirely alien to the Shiite theology of lamentation. However, considering the numerous hadiths attributed to the Shiite Imams concerning the weeping of the angels and the inhabitants of heaven over the mourning of Husayn until the Day of Resurrection, formal similarities can be found.[8] These similarities could provide a fertile ground for a comparative theology of lamentation, a ground that has rarely been explored thus far.

[1] I feel it necessary to thank the esteemed scholar, Mr. Ali Mahjour (University of Religions and Denominations, Qom), who kindly provided me with his writing on the theology of lamentation before its publication. Portions of his writing inspired the composition of this text. I also thank Mr. Reza Sajjadi and Ms. Fatemeh Tofighi, who suggested writing on the theology of lamentation. I also extend special thanks to Ms. Fatemeh Tofighi, whose remark led to the correction of a substantive error.

[2] For a fascinating example of the study of mourning in a secular framework, which examines feminine mourning traditions in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, the emancipatory aspect of mourning, and its relation and connection to modernity, see:

Saunders, Rebecca. Lamentation and Modernity in Literature, Philosophy, and Culture. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2007

[3] Coogan, Michael D. The Old Testament: A Very Short Introduction. Oxford/New York: Oxford University Press, 2008, p. 72

[4] One of the most comprehensive works written in commentary and exegesis of the Book of Lamentations is this work:

Salters, R. B., Graham Davies, John A. Emerton, Charles E. B. Cranfield, and C. M. Tuckett. Lamentations: A Critical and Exegetical Commentary. London/New York: Continuum, 2010

[5] Ibadism is a branch of Islam, distinct from Shiism or Sunnism, which historically traces back to one of the Kharijite sects. Ibadis now live mostly in Oman. This branch of Islam is less well-known.

On this subject, see, among others, this recently published book:

Hoffman, Valerie. The Essentials of Ibadi Islam. Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 2012

[6] For an account of this type of theology of lamentation in which God also weeps, see this article (a particularly important point in this article is that its author, a specialist in evangelical and systematic theology, attempts to present a theological image of a weeping and mourning God that could also be a discussable, and perhaps even acceptable, image for Muslims):

Cole, Graham A. “The God Who Wept A Human Tear: Some Theological Reflections.” Global Missiology 4, no. 8, July 2011

[7] Polen, Nehemia. “Divine Weeping: Rabbi Kalonymos Shapiro’s Theology of Catastrophe in the Warsaw Ghetto.” Modern Judaism 7, no. 3 (October 1987), pp. 256-8

[8] As one example, see chapters twenty-seven through twenty-nine of the book “Kamil al-Ziyarat” by Ibn Qulawayh (d. 369 AH). In these three chapters, the author transmits numerous hadiths from the Shia Imams concerning the weeping of the angels, the entire earth and sky, and also the jinn over the martyrdom of Husayn ibn Ali.

The ultimate aim of this writing is to open, or to keep open, the door to critical theological reflection on mourning.