Regardless of whether it’s merited or not, whether a consequence of a conscious choice or a turn of an unfriendly card, suffering is part of our fallen human nature. There’s no escaping it in this life. We may try to fight it and we may not admit it, but ultimately, we all serve, we all sacrifice, and we all suffer.
There are questions we need to ask ourselves in the face of suffering: What do we do with it? What is our attitude towards it? Like tempering steel, it can be a source of great strength and growth if we let it. If it becomes more than merely something to endure or plow through, we (or someone else) may merit from it.
Even with God’s grace and the dignity brought about through endurance, sometimes the meaning of suffering can only be discerned by looking at it through the lens of time. “Misfortunes” may become blessings with the proper perspective. In Man’s Search for Meaning, Viktor Frankl wrote: “... suffering ceases to be suffering at the moment it finds a meaning, such as the meaning of sacrifice.”
In our hedonistic culture, sacrifice is a dirty word and suffering exists only to be eradicated. But this narrow view ignores the profound spiritual effects of asceticism on the holy witnesses throughout the ages. Moreover, it ignores the death of Christ on the cross and our suffering united to it as redemptive. If the suffering is avoidable, sure – avoid it. But if not, we should try to discover its purpose. Allow it to make us stronger.
A very dear friend of mine has been working with the poor down in Guatemala since the mid-80s. He told me about the terrible living conditions in the tiny mountain villages where he worked and the high infant mortality rate ... where he and his wife helped bury several small children a week who died from malnutrition and lack of the most basic health care. Sadly, but providentially, he and his wife lost a daughter when she was about 6 or so, and now they were in the unique position to offer comfort to the parents of the village children - a comfort that could only be given by those who have shared in the very same pain. In their suffering, they became the healing touch that others needed.
We may all find ourselves in a position (perhaps daily) to offer comfort to the sick or dying. Most of us stand in awe of those who sacrifice life and limb for strangers, or the quintessential Good Samaritans who give time, talent, and treasure to those in need. But no less admirable are the friends and neighbors who look after one another in times of accident or ill health. All the world loves a giver, it seems - cheerful or otherwise.
Even though it may seem counterintuitive, consider the man in need of help as being generous, too - for he gives others the opportunity to be human, to share of themselves, to live and love in community. His need, in a sense, is his gift - a gift to those who have something to share. And if he refuses the assistance of others, closes in upon himself and dismisses their kindness, he denies them their calling, their God-given right - even obligation - to be their brother's keeper.
As creatures, we serve in imitation of our Creator. Serving keeps us grounded, keeps us humble. It reminds us of who and how blessed we are - it provides order. We were created for order, after all - and love, generosity, and mercy are how we witness that order to others, and in this way too help bring it about.
We should quietly thank the needy for their generosity, and thank God for his gift of those to whom we minister.
Bill Rysavy
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