Suffering

Today millions upon millions of traditional Christians will celebrate Palm Sunday. In the Christian calendar Palm Sunday marks Jesus’ triumphant arrival in Jerusalem. It also marks the beginning of Holy Week, which commemorates the betrayal of Jesus, his trial, torture, execution on the cross on Calvary and the celebration of Easter.

The image of Jesus on the cross is central to our religious culture. Christian art over the centuries has emphasized the suffering of Jesus on the cross. I recall seeing scores of crucifix sculptures and paintings in Mexico and Peru, each one seemingly bloodier that the previous one. In image after image, bright red blood drips down from the crown of thorns, the nails in Jesus’ feet and hands and from the spear wound in his side. I found these images striking, evoking a strong reaction that was a mixture of empathy and revulsion. Of course, that was the artists’ intent, to convey an emotionally powerful portrayal of horrific suffering. Recently the graphic film The Passion of the Christ was seen by millions, moving this artistic tradition from sculpture and painting into the modern medium of cinema.

In orthodox Christian theology, it is the suffering and death of Jesus that atones for our sins. The suffering of Jesus saves us; without that suffering we are eternally lost. All of this has had the effect of glorifying suffering, somehow making suffering part of a divine plan. In the monastic traditions there is a long history of monks and nuns inflicting suffering upon themselves as a means of discipleship, as a way of following the example of Jesus. There are tales of monks whipping themselves, wearing painful garments and reenacting Good Friday scenes as part of their discipleship and religious practice. Some of these traditions persist to this day.

This morning’s reading was taken from a book by Rebecca Parker and Rita Nakashima Brock. These two theologians take issue with Christianity’s historic view that suffering can be redemptive. Parker and Nakashima Brock see a connection between orthodox Christian teachings and the acceptance of abuse and violence by women in our society. I doubt religious teachings are a significant cause of violence and abuse against women. There is plenty of abuse in non-Christian cultures. However, I believe there is a clear connection between the image of Jesus’ passively accepting his suffering and a twisted image too many victims have of there being some nobility and virtue to accepting abuse.

If we hold up the image of Jesus’ suffering as part of a perfect life, it is only a short step to imagine that a true disciple of Jesus will follow his example by humbly accepting unjust suffering. The combination of the promise of an afterlife with the affirmation of the virtue of suffering can serve as a powerful means to help perpetuate all kinds of cruelty and injustice.

I find this emphasis on suffering and the glorification of suffering bizarre. Even we progressives are not immune from glorifying suffering. We have our own martyrs. We revere Michael Servetus who was burned at the stake by John Calvin for being a Unitarian heretic and Francis David who was imprisoned for his heretical unitarian beliefs. Millions of progressive and liberal Christians have moved away from the traditional theology of blood atonement, choosing instead to emphasize, as do we, the teachings and the life of Jesus over his torture and execution. Next week, in our Easter service, I will offer some reflections on core religious teachings of Jesus that would not die on the cross.

But today, on this Sunday before Good Friday, I want to reflect upon suffering. It is not enough to reject the theology of sacrificial atonement. Suffering remains a central reality of the human condition. Each of us has experienced suffering and will suffer again. And because suffering is a central and a common experience, our religious outlook must address suffering. Can suffering make us better human beings? When we face suffering, as we must, how shall we respond?

It is hard for us today to appreciate the amount of suffering most human beings have experienced and witnessed through human history. At the most basic level of feeling physical pain, our experience is dramatically different from that of most people who have ever lived. Imagine life with no pain killers. Three and a half months ago I hurt my back. I missed one Sunday and spent almost three months with nagging back pain ranging from mildly annoying to moderately severe. Of course, when it got bad enough I took pain killers. A week ago I spoke on the phone with a good friend I chat with every month or so. He commented that I sounded more animated and cheerful. I was surprised by his comment. Nothing of any emotional significance had changed in my life. I suddenly realized that I probably sounded different because my back didn’t hurt anymore. And my experience was very minor, for I could control the pain with medication. I reflected on what it must have been like to live just a couple of lifetimes ago before aspirin, before ibuprofen, before anesthesia, before the variety of powerful prescription pain killers that fill our medicine cabinets and purses. Imagine toothaches, childbirth, surgery, migraine headaches, the final weeks of life with advanced cancer. Imagine warfare in which the injured have no pain killer. Imagine being unable to give your child anything to alleviate his or her pain. Even for the healthy and pain free, the experience of seeing someone in terrible pain and suffering was an everyday part of life. The experience of losing someone you loved to a painful death was a shared experience for anyone well into childhood. For most of human experience the average span of life has been below 40 years. Those of us over 35 years of age are already experiencing a kind of afterlife.

Throughout human history religion helped people cope with suffering by offering comfort. Beyond the comfort of loving family and a caring community, religion taught people of another realm to come, a heavenly realm that was free from suffering, a realm where we would be joyously reunited with all those people we had lost. Religion still does this. And, sad to say, too many people on earth still live lives where terrible physical suffering is part of daily experience.

Sadly, a few of us face intense physical pain like uncontrollable migraines. Luckily, most of us do not. The suffering you and I face today is something quite different.

You and I are much more likely to suffer emotional pain of loss and a kind of spiritual pain of isolation and meaninglessness.

The fact that much of the suffering we face is not physical does not mean that our suffering is not real. In some ways emotional and spiritual suffering is more difficult. Physical pain hurts, but in different ways. Much of the suffering we face in modern life is from our disconnections. Much of what has traditionally given people a sense of belonging and a sense of meaning has been eroded. Extended family, village, a knowledge of one’s place in the social order, the fixed authority of leaders, all served to give life a sense of stability and certainty. Our mobility has given us great affluence and freedom, but we have also lost much. Ours is a world of uncertainty which breeds a pervasive sense of anxiety, insecurity and alienation. The emotional suffering it causes is very different from physical pain, but it is real.

Ironically, much of the suffering you and I face is self inflicted. That is, much of the emotional suffering we face is a byproduct of the attitudes we bring to life.

A central insight of the Buddha is that much of life’s suffering is brought about by our emotional attachments and by our sense of our selves as being separated from others. The unhappy person who “has everything” has become a cliché of our time. The things we desire in life can so easily entrap us and cause us terrible suffering. Think about this for a moment. Think about something in your life that you have wanted very much. Perhaps it was the love of a particular person. Perhaps it was a dream job you sought or a dream school you applied to for admission. It might even be something very unselfish — something we want for our child. Usually the thing we want is good in and of itself. I remember wanting desperately to complete a doctorate after completing all the course work and all the exams. Events I could not control prevented my doing it. However, looking back now I realize that my attachment to that dream caused me all kinds of anguish. How many of us cause ourselves suffering by pining after a lost opportunity or a lost love? How many of us have caused ourselves grief by holding on stubbornly to a relationship or an ambition long after we should have let go? Our attachments, even to things that are wonderful, can so easily blind us to the simple joy of being alive. It is so easy to see what we do not have and not see all that we do have. We are alive. We are surrounded by good and gentle people who can be our friends and companions. Our lives are filled with possibility. We have the stunning beauty of nature. We have music, art and the wonders of science. We can connect to life through our senses: we can taste it, smell it, see it, hear it, touch it. So much of spiritual enlightenment is about literally coming to our senses—to experiencing life here and now.

Some of our suffering is self inflicted. Much of it, the pain and loss that comes into every life, is inevitable. Can our suffering come to good? Is there something redemptive in suffering? What can see us through our dark times? What comfort can there be in a modern religion like ours that offers no blessed assurance of supernatural intervention?

I cannot believe that suffering is part of any divine plan. Jesus’ horrible suffering will not save me. Your suffering will not save you; my suffering will not save me. Inflicting suffering on myself does not make me a disciple of Jesus. That part, for me, is clear. God is not sending suffering into my life or into your life to help grow our characters or our souls.

Yet suffering can, if we have eyes to see and ears to hear, teach us important lessons in life. The lessons are simple, yet essential.

Suffering is part of the human experience. We cannot avoid it. We can, however, transcend it.

When you and I realize that each one of us will suffer, that awareness ought to make us more compassionate. We are in this together. Suffering is part of life. Life is also miraculous and wonderful. Suffering and joy are both part of life.

The fact that we cannot avoid suffering ought to make us more hesitant about inflicting suffering on others or inflicting suffering on our selves. The fact that we all suffer ought, it seems to me, make us more gentle with one another.

Our suffering should also teach us that a burden shared is much lighter. I cannot take away the suffering in your life; you cannot take mine. Yet it is also true that we can comfort each other in our suffering and that the comfort that true compassion brings makes all the difference. Compassion saves lives. None of us is alone. Suffering does not save us. Compassion does.

You are going to suffer in this life. So am I. The suffering of Jesus, horrific and cruel as it was, cannot save us. Suffering does not atone.

Love, however, can save us. Suffering can help bring us to our senses. When we come to our senses we realize that life can be wonderful. When we come to our senses we realize that we are deeply connected. When we come to our senses we know we are not alone. When we come to our senses we see that together we can transcend suffering. When we come to our senses we see that love, joy and meaning are ours. When suffering brings us to our senses we see just how precious life is, how precious love is.

Let us not glorify suffering. Far better, may the suffering that is our lot as living beings help bring us to our senses. When we come to our senses we see that we can lead lives filled in joyful connection that far transcends suffering. Let us lead such lives together. Amen.