“Those who suffer themselves are far more compassionate to the suffering [of others] than those who have not suffered. They grow to greater love and run to me all anointed with humility and ablaze in the furnace of my charity.” – Jesus to Saint Catherine of Siena in The Dialogue
My therapist is pretty sure I became an EMT when I was 25 to fulfill a somewhat ridiculous notion that I always have to be prepared for every single inevitability in life. She’s probably right; or mostly right. I think that I’ve also always had a desire to fix things, particularly to stop suffering, big or small though it may be. I want everything to be right, and suffering is wrong, therefore, I want it to stop! Sort of noble, sort of neurotic, as are a great deal of things in this life.
But what if I told you, as wrong as suffering is, it is also perhaps the greatest tool we have for growing in holiness? Suffering is wrong because it is a byproduct of living in a broken, sinful world. We are made for goodness and wholeness, not brokenness and sin. This is why we don’t like suffering; it is contrary to what we were made for. But if God can work all things for good (Rom 8:28), and we are made in His image and likeness and, by our Baptism, showered with His grace, can’t we also share in that transformation? The answer, as you might’ve guessed, is a resounding yes. But how?
The first thing we need to do is confront the fact that suffering is a reality that we will live in throughout the course of our lives. The shape, color, and taste of our suffering may change, but it will continue hunting us until the day we die. Again, this is what happens in a world touched so profoundly by sin. Once we know suffering, though, we can be prepared for it. We will no longer avoid it, trivialize it, foist it off on others, or worst of all, simply be swallowed by it. But, if we are to turn suffering on its head, we need to know it intimately; we need to know our own discomfort, what buttons it pushes in our hearts, and what our natural, even sinful, responses might be to it. This is not the menial irritation of wanting a piece of chocolate during a Lenten season when we’ve given it up. We need to know what causes us true suffering, that which causes us real, sometimes enduring, agony, fear, or distress: loss, injustice, betrayal, illness, or injury. And we must face it with courage and humility.
We need to face it because this suffering that’s hounding us has a lesson to teach us, or rather, a lesson which God wants to teach us through it. I once had a professor say something along the lines of: “Suffering will hunt you down, sniff you out, and teach you how to love.” When I know true suffering of whatever degree it’s given to me, only then can I learn compassion. When I’m forced to interact with someone who has done me an injustice, now, with knowing my suffering, I can look past it and see just how human this other person is, with flaws, surely, but also with goodness and capability for virtue (just like me!). I can remember the terrible pain of food poisoning and have real and true sympathy for my friend experiencing the same. My suffering, in essence, helps me take a step back and realize both the desperate need for companions in suffering and my own smallness in my suffering. If I allow my suffering to inform me, rather than simply being the end-all of my thoughts (“Man, I hate this! It’s all I can think about, how much I hate it!”), I can become a force for good in the world (“I know how that felt for me, and I hurt alongside you. How can I help you or simply be with you in this suffering?”).
And now we are equipped to understand redemptive suffering. This is suffering that I am aware of, that I accept as part of reality, and that I can enter into with eyes open, focused on the Lord Jesus hanging on the Cross. It is suffering that I embrace and offer up for the glorification of God, my sanctification, and the sanctification of others. We don’t have to wax eloquent in our prayers here; sometimes, we won’t have the strength to do more than say, “Jesus, this is so painful; but it is for you. I love you.” I have now turned suffering on its head: for instead of allowing my pain to make me fully focused only on my own situation, I allow it to expand my heart, and ask Jesus to take that new heart and use it for His purposes of salvation. To fill it with Himself, uniting my pain to His, so that I can find those who suffer too, maybe who suffer alone, and bring their Lord to them.
This participation cannot be understated; Saint Paul himself tells us, “I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh, I complete what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions for the sake of His body, that is, the Church” (Col 1:24). When we unite our suffering to the salvation of the Cross, we participate in that salvation, and that is cause for rejoicing. We bring salvation to others, and we race more fervently up the path of sainthood, toward the ultimate goal of God himself.
May we all grow to see suffering as the great opportunity that it is and use it for the glorification of God and the sanctification of man. Blessed Lent to you all.