Tag Archives: suffering

September 17, 2012 · 11:40 am

Never As Good?

With some regularity, I have a habit of listening to song lyrics addressing one topic, and seeing how they could be re-interpreted to address another.  In the song “Never As Good As The First Time” for example, pop-jazz singer Sade croons about how nostalgia for the past, the good memories and thoughts of what might have been, always seems better than starting over again with second chances.  ”The rose we remember,” she sings, “the thorns we forget.”  I have always thought rather a nice turn of phrase.

Now, this is not merely an excuse for me to plant a song earworm in your head, gentle reader.  Rather, I would like you to consider whether in the present age, we increasingly look at the world around us as a series of compartmentalized experiences of either roses or thorns, when the truth is that both are essential parts of the whole.  This is true not only in the romantic, as this pop song points out, but also in the broader questions of life reflecting on society as a whole, and our role within it.

This weekend I had three separate, rather long conversations with three different friends in three different cities and time zones, about the question of living out one’s purpose in life. When one is no longer young but not old YET, as Mac and Katherine Barron like to put it on the “Catholic in a Small Town” podcast, certain doors are closed. It is almost guaranteed that if you are now over 30 and have never played tennis in years, you will not now be able to dethrone Roger Federer from the top of the heap. At the same time, you are not going to be toddling your way down the hallway on a Zimmer frame for many, many years yet, so to become despondent over this realization would be the height of self-obsession.

One thing which came to light during all three of these conversations was a common perspective of a sense of uncertainty about the future, as compared to what people experienced in the past. Grandfather started working for a certain company as a young man, and stayed there for decades until his retirement, when he received his gold watch and his pension. That world in many places is already long gone; those of us in Gen X or Gen Y will most likely never experience it.  Yet however much we may bemoan the death of some of the virtues which made Grandfather’s life seemingly more certain, we compartmentalize what he went through in the Depression and World War II.

This present life promises us only one absolute, unavoidable truth, and that is that there are always going to be barbarians at the gate. It may be illness, or heartbreak, or disappointment, but it will indeed come, with the ultimate reward of leaving this life entirely.  What has happened in the Western world is particular in the second half of the 20th century, is that a majority grew up not really knowing what it was like to be hungry and cold, stalked by disease, armies, or other predators.

This is why what we see going on in places like Ireland, Spain, or Greece is so shocking to many of us in the West, even though the kinds of misery we presently see are as nothing compared to what people in the Third World go through all the time, with no hope of relief.  It is also why the Third World in so many respects is much tougher than the First: for they expect disappointment, and while they hope they will make it through today, they have no illusions that they will be cheating suffering and death of their due.  We have grown too lazy in assuming that comfort is something we are entitled to, rather than privileged to receive.

Yesterday at mass Monsignor used the Gospel reading as a jumping-off point for the exploration of these ideas of uncertainty and suffering.  We are no doubt familiar with Christ’s rebuke of St. Peter who, shortly after declaring Jesus to be the Son of God, then takes Him aside to upbraid Him for talking about His forthcoming suffering and death.  Christ then turns on him and rebukes him in front of the other disciples, warning them that if they expected to be His followers, they were going to have to accept suffering.  In his homily, Monsignor pointed out that no one likes to talk about the experience of uncertainty and suffering, or ultimately death, but Christ tells us that it is in how we accept our trials that we prove our worth.

This was further echoed in the reading at Lauds this morning, for the great Jewish heroine Judith points out to her people in the midst of a terrible crisis that:

Let us give thanks to the Lord our God who, as he tested our ancestors, is now testing us. Remember how he treated Abraham, all the ordeals of Isaac and all that happened to Jacob. For as these ordeals were intended by him to search their hearts, so now this is not vengeance that God exacts against us, but a warning inflicted by the Lord on those who are near his heart.

Judith 8: 25-26, 27

Returning to Sade, who of course is speaking of romantic love in this song rather than about the overall purpose of one’s life, reflection on what might have been and what is “rightfully” ours is a deadly exercise.  Too many spend their lives trying to recapture a moment when everything seemed wonderful and new. Or they use the irritation of suffering and loss in their lives, in the mistaken belief that by so doing they are making some sort of pearl, when in reality they are merely creating an ulcer which will eventually perforate. The line between the formation of each of these is very slim, indeed.

There is of course nothing pleasant about experiencing pain, suffering, setbacks, and loss, but we will experience all of them. If you believe that you will have everything easy in your life from now on, you are exceedingly naive and ill-prepared for what lies ahead.  Better to stay focused on the task ahead, of using your gifts and abilities for the greater good of others, in recognition of and preparation for the life to come.  It may not always be as good as the first time one experiences that thrill of something good – a first dance, a first touchdown, a first job, a first apartment – but at least we will take the future as it comes, without staying stuck in the past.


Still from the video for “Never As Good As The First Time” by Sade

4 Comments

Filed under culture

Tagged as , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

July 1, 2012 · 8:05 pm

Tangible Encouragement for a Sunday Evening

Each of the Sunday readings at mass was particularly interesting today. The text of the readings can be found here on the USCCB website. These readings have to do not only with suffering and death, which they clearly do, but also give us practical encouragements on how to deal with those more gloomy moments of life, whether they occur regularly or infrequently.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve often felt a kind of sadness on Sunday evenings, which seems odd for a day meant to be one of worship, relaxation, prayer, and recovery. There is a sense of things ending and uncertainty tomorrow, and it’s a time I personally struggle with.  This is an affliction which statistically many people who work Monday through Friday are afflicted with.  Yet we can learn how to address this through reflection on the readings today.

The Book of Wisdom for example, shares some truths which are at odds with how many people choose to look at God and at Creation. We were all made to live forever, and were not created to be evil, despite what some strains of philosophy or theology would have us believe. This ought to be an encouragement when you get to feeling, as we all do at times, that there seems to be a great deal of inexplicable suffering in the world, whether we are experiencing it ourselves or when we see other people suffering from it.

After this, the Psalmist presents us with a helpful way of looking at things, rather than assuming all is gloomy. Each day that God gives is a gift, and we need to make the best use of it that we can in following His Will.  In the Responsorial Psalm, the contrast is of night, where there is weeping, and the dawn, where there is rejoicing.

Moving on to Corinthians, the context of the reading is St. Paul asking his Christian community in Corinth to send aid to the Church in Jerusalem. I was asked earlier today whether this reading was about promoting wealth distribution, but I would suggest the better way to read it is one of charity as much as one can, when one is in a position to give.  St. Paul quotes that those who have enough already should not get more, and those who have just enough should not have less. When someone else is in need, and you have more than you need, you ought to help. We give like Christ does, not holding on to what we have but allowing it to go, freely, as His instrument.

Finally there is the long reading from St. Mark’s Gospel, containing the stories of the woman with the hemorrhage, and the raising of Jairus’ daughter. It’s interesting to note that the unnamed woman had been suffering from her illness for twelve years, and Jairus’ daughter is herself twelve years old. This little girl’s life began just as this woman’s took a turn for the worse.

We are told that the woman herself has gone through all of her money on medical treatments. We also know that under Jewish law she is ritually unclean because of her disease, and we ought to reflect on that fact rather than simply pass over it. To be separated physically from the practice of her faith in that way, at a time of great personal suffering, must be difficult for many of us to imagine – no doubt it made the emotional component of her physical suffering even worse. However as we know she has faith, and is healed when she touches Jesus’ clothing believing that He can heal her. In fact, as shown below, the story of her encounter with Christ is one of the earliest existing images in Christian art.

Jairus and his wife also have faith, and their daughter is restored to them. Note that when Jesus brings their daughter back to life, he does so only once the interlopers and professional mourners, curious neighbors and those mocking him have been thrown out of the house. No point in surrounding yourself with negative people.  And when the little girl is restored, Jesus does not stay focused on the mystical, but proceeds immediately to the practical, telling her parents to get her something to eat.  This is a rather tangible bit of aid, which might surprise us if we were just brought back from the dead, but no doubt we’d be hungry and thirsty if we had been ill, as well.

Taken together, all of these readings are telling us not to be afraid. If we see others we can help, we should help them, without focusing so much on ourselves. And when we do focus on ourselves it should be in the context of prayer and trust. Perhaps spending your Sunday night in the company of others – in person, on the phone, online, and so on – who would love a bit of company, and concluding your evening quietly with prayer such as Vespers or Compline, will be a good way of experiencing that tangible encouragement which all of us, tangible creatures that we are, very much need.  (And don’t forget to have something nice to eat, if you can.)


“Christ and the Woman with a Hemorrhage” by Unknown Artist (c. 300-350 A.D.)
Catacomb of Sts. Marcellinus and Peter, Rome

3 Comments

Filed under culture

Tagged as , , , , , , ,

May 20, 2012 · 3:21 pm

Leaving the Lair

As I was leaving church this morning, the Little Sisters of the Poor were at the front door of the building collecting donations. Their wonderful organization, which provides food, clothing, shelter, and medical care to the elderly poor who might not otherwise have anywhere to go, has been operating a home in the Nation’s Capital since a few years after the Civil War. I was privileged to volunteer for them briefly at one period in time, and I always try to support their work as best I can, and to encourage others to do so as well.

Reaching into my wallet I realized that I did not have a lot with me, and as I dropped what I did have into the basket held by the smiling nun, I said, “I’m so sorry sister, I don’t have anything more with me.” She immediately responded by saying, “Oh God bless you, we’re so grateful! Don’t apologize – say a ‘Hail Mary’ for us instead. It’s much better than any apology.”

We are often unaware of how much our day-to-day existence hangs by a thread, until something is taken away from us, whether temporarily or permanently; this is something the Little Sisters know all too well.  Most of the time we sail through live blissfully unaware of this fact.  Yet if you suddenly lose a loved one, or your job, or are involved in an accident that damages you or your property, for example, things go into a tailspin both practically and emotionally.

At this point everything can become bleak, and our outlook on life, ourselves, and others begins to be affected.  We feel isolated and vulnerable, like a battle-scarred animal that retreats into its lair alone to lick its wounds.  It snaps its jaws defensively and in fear, at anything that darkens its path, or whimpers softly, because it is no longer capable of helping itself.

Fortunately however, we are something more than animals, even if we are not quite angels.  We find ways to cope, to reason, and to carry on, rather than simply shutting ourselves off from the world.  And we can find this by following some of the counsel contained in a piece I came across this week that is attributed to Pope Clement XI (1649-1721).

Giovanni Francesco Albani (the future Clement XI) was born in the old Ducal town of Urbino, which is a place of particular significance for this writer.  It is the hometown of Raphael, my favorite Renaissance artist, and for many years the residence of Count Baldassare Castiglione, the patron of this blog.  It was in fact in Urbino that Castiglione rose to prominence, and befriended many of the characters who appear in his “Book of the Courtier”.

Clement XI had an interesting papacy, historically speaking, but quite possibly the best thing to come out of it is a prayer that is attributed to him, and which commonly appears in the Sacramentary, the liturgical book used by the priest at mass. I was so affected by coming across this recently, that I have shared it with a number of people, and also made it one of my “Picks of the Week” on yesterday’s episode of the “Catholic Weekend” show on SQPN. Even if you yourself are not a Catholic, gentle reader, I believe there is much wisdom to be gained from the perspective it gives on the flow of human life, both in how we deal with small and immediate issues, to how we deal with large and infinite ones. The full text is as follows:

A UNIVERSAL PRAYER

Lord, I believe in you: increase my faith.
I trust in you: strengthen my trust.
I love you: let me love you more and more.
I am sorry for my sins: deepen my sorrow.

I worship you as my first beginning,
I long for you as my last end,
I praise you as my constant helper,
And call on you as my loving protector.

Guide me by your wisdom,
Correct me with your justice,
Comfort me with your mercy,
Protect me with your power.

I offer you, Lord, my thoughts: to be fixed on you;
My words: to have you for their theme;
My actions: to reflect my love for you;
My sufferings: to be endured for your greater glory.

I want to do what you ask of me:
In the way you ask,
For as long as you ask,
Because you ask it.

Lord, enlighten my understanding,
Strengthen my will,
Purify my heart,
and make me holy.

Help me to repent of my past sins
And to resist temptation in the future.
Help me to rise above my human weaknesses
And to grow stronger as a Christian.

Let me love you, my Lord and my God,
And see myself as I really am:
A pilgrim in this world,
A Christian called to respect and love
All whose lives I touch,
Those under my authority,
My friends and my enemies.

Help me to conquer anger with gentleness,
Greed by generosity,
Apathy by fervor.
Help me to forget myself
And reach out toward others.

Make me prudent in planning,
Courageous in taking risks.
Make me patient in suffering, unassuming in prosperity.

Keep me, Lord, attentive at prayer,
Temperate in food and drink,
Diligent in my work,
Firm in my good intentions.

Let my conscience be clear,
My conduct without fault,
My speech blameless,
My life well-ordered.
Put me on guard against my human weaknesses.
Let me cherish your love for me,
Keep your law,
And come at last to your salvation.

Teach me to realize that this world is passing,
That my true future is the happiness of heaven,
That life on earth is short,
And the life to come eternal.

Help me to prepare for death
With a proper fear of judgment,
But a greater trust in your goodness.
Lead me safely through death
To the endless joy of heaven.

Grant this through Christ our Lord. Amen.

In thinking about my conversation with the Little Sister I chatted with briefly today, it was clear that her work had taught her that no matter how difficult things were, or might be, that she had people to serve who were counting on her, and that she would try to do the best she could for them in any circumstances she happened to find her in. She was, in effect, embodying that bravery which Clement IX speaks of in his prayer.

Perhaps a reflection for all of us this Sunday, whether everything is going fine, or we feel like we are at the end of our rope, or we are somewhere in between, is whether we are being brave in facing the challenges that life is giving us. One of the ways that we can try to bring that bravery to the forefront of our thinking is by recognizing that there are other people who need us, who are in need of what we can bring to them – our presence, our prayers, our material support, etc. More than we need to loll about feeling sorry for ourselves, like the aforementioned wounded animal, we need to remember that we are not animals, but creatures with an eternal destiny.

If you are reading this on your day of rest, why not take a few moments away from trying to relax, and pick up the phone and call a friend or relative you have not spoken to in a long time, to see how they are doing? Or visit your neighbor for a few minutes, the one you know is lonely ever since their spouse died? Or drop an email to a friend you haven’t communicated with in months, just to inquire after them and let them know you still remember them fondly? Not all of us are called on to the kind of self-sacrificial work the Little Sisters of the Poor do, and yet we can all put aside our self-pity when things are not going great, and manage to find someone we are in a position to help, no mater how much we ourselves might be hurting.


“St Jerome Aiding the Lion” by Hans Memling (c. 1485-1490)
Private Collection

4 Comments

Filed under culture

Tagged as , , , , ,

March 30, 2012 · 11:27 am

Lenten Friday Reflection: Practical Suffering

As we approach Palm Sunday this weekend and the start of Holy Week, Christians are called to remember the sufferings of Jesus, culminating in His Crucifixion on Good Friday.  If you are among those who are, for the most part, doing well, it may be difficult to try to reflect on what Christ went through on your behalf.  However if you are among those who are indeed experiencing physical pain or emotional anguish, that does not automatically mean that you are in a position to empathize with Him unless you make a concerted effort.

This Sunday at mass we will be hearing and participating in the reading of The Passion from the Gospel of St. Mark, where the Evangelist describes the following incident involving an attempt to give a 1st century equivalent of a painkiller to Jesus:

At noon darkness came over the whole land
until three in the afternoon.
And at three o’clock Jesus cried out in a loud voice,
“Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?”
which is translated,
“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
Some of the bystanders who heard it said,
“Look, He is calling Elijah.”
One of them ran, soaked a sponge with wine, put it on a reed
and gave it to Him to drink saying,
“Wait, let us see if Elijah comes to take Him down.”

Of course as we all know, Elijah did not come to take Him down: His suffering continued until He died.

One of the several Lenten activities I have taken on is reading more about the life of the great spiritual writer and Doctor of the Church St. Francis de Sales (1567-1622).  His “Introduction to the Devout Life” is one of my favorite  books, not only for its content and sound counsel, but also for its style. St. Francis, who as it happens is one of the patron saints of writers, is someone who writes for those of us who are living in the secular world, with all of its opportunities and temptations. And naturally, when I went to look up some of his thoughts on suffering, he pretty much hit the nail on the head.

While St. Francis de Sales was a priest who eventually become bishop, he was also someone who had spent a significant period of time moving about in high society. Having been born in his family’s ancestral château in French Savoy, and having received all of the usual instruction of his class in gentlemanly pursuits such as riding, dancing, and social pleasantries, he spent the first part of his life being educated at some of the finest schools in Europe, and meeting other young scions of noble or well-to-do families. In fact, being the oldest son and heir, his father had arranged for him to marry an heiress and begin a political career, but by the time he was in his mid-twenties and had completed his studies, St. Francis had already decided to renounce everything and become a priest.

I have come to particularly appreciate St. Francis’ writing over the years because of his recognition that what might be practical in the convent cell may be impractical in the drawing room. He knows that the person reading his work may be deeply religious, but that they are not necessarily called to consecrated life, as he himself was. They may be a person of temporal importance such as a wealthy philanthropist, an elected official, an armed forces officer, or the like, who bears a degree of responsibility for keeping society going in some way, but also wants to be a good Christian, recognizing the passing nature of this life and the fundamental importance of focusing on the life to come.

In much of his writing, St. Francis takes Jesus’ observation that it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God, and turns to the practicalities of the situation. He himself knew and experienced how difficult it was to live in the material world, with all of the conflicting messages that we receive in it. Thus in Part III, Chapter 3 of his “Introduction to the Devout Life”, St. Francis provides both sensible advice and spiritual counseling with respect to how to deal with what C.S. Lewis called “The Problem of Pain”, in his eponymous book on the subject.

Interestingly, St. Francis views the problem of pain as arising not so much from selfishness, but rather from a need to develop the virtue of patience – and indeed, he titles this particular chapter, “Patience”. He notes that we have to walk a fine line between complaining too much, and not complaining at all, when we are suffering from a malady of some kind, whether professional, financial, physical, etc. If we whinge and wail too much, then we are looking to draw attention to ourselves; if we do not admit that we are in distress, then we deny others the opportunity to act in charity towards us, and also lose the opportunity for personal reflection to make our suffering meaningful.

Thus while St. Francis counsels against people wallowing in their sorrow, he also believes that there is no real virtue in maintaining the stiff upper lip and pretending that everything is fine. And because we are in Lent, it was interesting to note an allusion which St. Francis made in this chapter to the suffering of Christ on the Cross, as described in the preceding passage from St. Mark, and how it can be compared to following what today we would call “doctor’s orders”:

When you are sick, offer all your pains and weakness to our Dear Lord, and ask Him to unite them to the sufferings which He bore for you. Obey your physician, and take all medicines, remedies and nourishment, for the Love of God, remembering the vinegar and gall He tasted for love of us; desire your recovery that you may serve Him; do not shrink from languor and weakness out of obedience to Him, and be ready to die if He wills it, to His Glory, and that you may enter into His Presence…Gaze often inwardly upon Jesus Christ crucified, naked, blasphemed, falsely accused, forsaken, overwhelmed with every possible grief and sorrow, and remember that none of your sufferings can ever be compared to His, either in kind or degree, and that you can never suffer anything for Him worthy to be weighed against what He has borne for you.

Note that St. Francis, writing centuries before the advent of modern medicine and pharmaceuticals, points out that we are not to “shrink from langour and weakness”. In other words, writes the Bishop of Geneva, if you are feeling sick then for pity’s sake take your medicine, go to bed, and stop pretending that everything is fine, when it is not. While he does not want people to be flailing themselves about in public complaining of every bad thing that might befall them, he also does not want people to avoid getting the recuperative rest that they need. This is not only because it is impractical to make themselves worse, but also because he wants them to learn the virtue of patience, by taking at least part of their recuperation time to reflect on Jesus, and the suffering He went through on our behalf.

No doubt avoiding both the pity party and unflinching stoicism can be very difficult for many of us to achieve, myself included. However for those of us who need to work on our patience, combining both a practical, reasoned response to our suffering, whatever its cause, with a willingness to sit back and allow things to repair themselves, if it is God’s Will, will ultimately be of tremendous benefit to our spiritual well-being, which after all is more important than anything else which we possess temporarily in this life, be it health, wealth, intelligence, appearance, position, or what have you.  Using that time of enforced detachment from the world to reflect on Christ’s suffering on our behalf, particularly as we enter Holy Week, may very well prove to be the most beneficial action of all.


“Angel Holding the Sponge and Hyssop” by Antonio Giorgetti (1668-1669)
Ponte Sant’Angelo, Rome

1 Comment

Filed under culture

Tagged as , , , , , ,