From Eugene H. Peterson’s Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places:
…the death of Jesus provides our entrance into the reality and responsibilities of history: mostly, but not always, it is a mess: the daily round of failed plans, disappointed relations, political despair, accidents and sickness and neighborhood bullies. In this same mess of history in which we find ourselves, Jesus found himself. The remarkable thing is that he embraced it. This embrace involved him in enormous suffering and an excruciating death. The life of Jesus is not a happy story, not a success story. What it is (and we are coming to this) is a salvation story. His birth precipitated a bloody massacre of babies (Matt. 1-2); his entrance into public ministry plunged him into a forty-day wilderness ordeal in which he went to the mat with evil, tested to the limit of body and soul (Matt. 3-4). At the moment of what seemed to be a breakthrough understanding of his messianic identity among the disciples at Caesarea Philippi, Jesus’ lead disciple, Peter, turned out to have more affinity for Satan than for his Master (Matt. 16:15-23). And when Jesus was surrounded with the acclaim of Hosannas in that great Passover parade into Jerusalem, certainly a moment of festive celebration if there ever was one, Jesus wept (Luke 19:28-44; Matt. 23:37-39), wept for the suffering of body and the pain of soul in store for these men and women and children who were having such an innocently good time.
History is lubricated by tears. Prayer, maybe most prayer (two thirds of the psalms are laments), is accompanied by tears. All these tears are gathered up and absorbed in the tears of Jesus.