They say the only sure things in life are death and taxes. Well, I’d like to suggest one more sure thing: pain. Pain, that soul-sapping, self-demoralizing scourge that regularly invades our lives, heaping coal like burning iron ingots on our soft and vulnerable heads. What the hell have we done to deserve THAT? Why must we suffer?! Why must pain exist?!
Birth. That’s why we suffer pain. Living, growing, learning all bring pain. Life is full of pain. Pain is one law of living. Emotions come as a full dinner platter—you can’t substitute a side dish of despair for a cup of bliss. Life delivers the full package, and we don't always get to choose what comes. Life doesn’t work any other way.
Think about it. Try to imagine life as nothing but bliss: no pain, no effort, just floating around happy all the time. If this perpetual bliss had no counterpart, no contrast, nothing to compare, how in the world could we possibly notice or appreciate happiness or contentment?! Could we even identify happiness or contentment in such an existential vacuum? Life without pain would be pure white on white. Everything would be white. No shadows, no dark outlines. No contrast—nothing but happy blissful white. Would such a life really have any value? Without pain, how could we possibly experience resolution or healing or accomplishment? Without contrast, how could we define joy? I propose that pain is a necessary part of life which provides the contrast we need to understand and experience joy and excitement. Pain arrives as a full spectrum, and we often don't get to pick the intensity of the pain and suffering we must face. Pain, as much as it stinks, provides necessary balance which gives life value.
So wouldn’t life be better without pain? I mean, REALLY. Suffering SUCKS! It haunts us. It harms us. What good is it?! Sometimes, we choose to suffer pain for known reward. You know—the “no pain, no gain” philosophy? Some choose to endure the pain of running, for instance, to get in shape—or they choose the pain of chemotherapy to stomp the living crap out of the cancer that is trying to kill them. Some endure the "agony" of algebra or chemistry homework in order to learn something—or at least earn academic credit (or not, as in my case). Some endure crappy jobs for the sake of a paycheck to keep them alive. Some suffer the embarrassments and betrayals of abusive relationships to reap the rewards of companionship—or maybe because the pain of abuse is easier than the pain of starting over. Some suffering we choose to endure, because option B often causes more suffering than option A. Without pain, we simply wouldn’t exist. You don’t agree? Go consult your mother who endured unspeakable labor pains so you could live.
Yeah, OK. So some pain is necessary for birth and growth and balance and all that. I get that. But what about random violence? What about Mark, the coolest kid in my youth group who died of non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma at age 14? What about Greg, my friend and fellow youth leader who died a few years later from a brain tumor—after a long period of suffering and struggle? What about divorce? What about murder? What about genocide and starvation? What about child trafficking and rape and poverty? What about school shootings? What about the holocaust? Explain THESE to me.
We could go on and on about all the suffering we endure. Some worthy, some not. Some pains more excruciating than others. Some of us, in our ridiculously comfortable lives, have the audacity to define a dropped cell call, or a leaky roof, or homework as “suffering.” I think there’s a huge and critical difference between inconvenience and struggle and suffering, and we need to pay attention to the differences. The pain of a dropped cell call is far different than the pain of a murdered child. All pain is an opportunity to learn and grow--if not for us, then for someone else. We are not alone in this global village. Nor do we suffer alone.
Maybe we get so hung up on the lack of result or reward from the suffering we endure that we neglect to notice the rewards others may gain from it. Think of the national response to the Columbine shooting, or Virginia Tech—the hope that emerged across the country and the world out of the smoldering rubble on 9/11. Think about how the world has changed because of the holocaust. Because of genocide. Because of terrorism. Because of world hunger. When we pay attention to the suffering of others, good people are compelled to respond with goodness. Others attempt to answer suffering with more suffering: “if you make me suffer, I’ll make you suffer,” they say. Hardly a healthy response. This is not compassion. Revenge does NOT eliminate or erase the suffering, nor does it justify or explain it. But goodness and mercy DO emerge when good people observe the suffering of others and choose to act with compassion.
The word compassion comes from the Latin, cum passio, which means “to suffer with.” At the very least, the suffering we endure is an invitation and a plea to those around us to suffer with us, to ease our pain as best they can, to increase the depth and quality of community and of our personal relationships. I think part of a healthy response to suffering is to seek help from others. Asking for help places us more deeply into relationships and into community, which brings value to our lives.
Hospice workers don’t prevent death—they share the suffering of the dying and their families, which is compassion. Compassion happens at personal and communal levels. We express compassion to our kids, our friends, our lovers when they suffer—or at least we should. We can also express compassion to complete strangers and foreigners. We can donate food to local food banks to ease the suffering of the hungry. We can read an article about child soldiers in Sudan, for instance, rather than wasting all our time in selfish pleasure. Knowledge is the first step in compassion, and is the seed of change. We can’t share the pain of another unless we know about it. The best compassion comes when we enter the suffering of another.
Does this mean we should desire or manufacture pain in ourselves or others—just so we can reap the benefits? No! Pain might be inevitable in our lives, but it certainly isn’t desirable! We should avoid pain and help others do the same. We should protest against its causes. We should exercise compassion before pain erupts, and do what we can to help avoid or prevent it. Once pain comes, we certainly shouldn’t deny it. We should embrace it and peel it apart and learn from it and use it as an opportunity to show compassion with those who suffer. Japanese poet, Kenji Miazawa, urges us to burn pain as fuel for our journeys. If this isn’t brilliant and penetrating advice, I don’t know what is.
Theologians have argued for centuries about God’s role in pain. They ponder why in the world God allows pain at all, why God doesn’t swoop in and stop terrorists in their tracks before they blow up another child, another sister, another neighbor. Why DIDN’T God stop the holocaust? the Rwandan genocide? world hunger? child trafficking? Why doesn’t God prevent floods and earthquakes and mudslides? Why doesn’t God answer our prayers and bring healing to our loved ones and friends who struggle with cancer, or Alzheimer’s or debilitating arthritis? Why doesn’t God prevent kitchen fires or electrical outages? Why doesn’t God prevent the idiot in the parking lot from backing into our car? . . .
I believe God avoids playing favorites. If God prevented one war, wouldn’t we expect God to prevent ALL wars? If God prevented one divorce, wouldn’t we expect God to intervene in EVERY divorce? If God prevented the holocaust and somehow thwarted Hitler’s evil, wouldn’t it only be fair for God to thwart our little brother’s evil effort to slug us unjustly—or to stop US from committing big or little evils? For God to intervene would be to eliminate God’s gift of free will given to us at Creation. God's partial intervention would contradict God's love for ALL Creation. Anything less than free will would mean humans would be pre-programmed automatons. What would love mean if it didn’t take effort—and yes, in some ways, suffering? What would human existence mean if we didn’t suffer along the way? How could we possibly cherish our children if life was automatic and filled with perpetual bliss and carried no risk?
Living in the knowledge that every day could be my last brings a perspective that simply wouldn’t be possible without suffering. In a round-about way, the threat or real experience of suffering brings value and balance to life. Pain truly sucks. But when it comes, it brings the potential to humble us and strengthen us and teach us. It moves us to show compassion towards others who suffer, and to renew and strengthen our love in personal and communal relationships. When we show compassion to one another, we strengthen community—and in the process, we strengthen ourselves. Pain is not the mother of love, but love grows stronger when we respond in love to pain. I think God understood this before Creation, and I think God understands this now. How ironic and odd to think that the pain we abhor pushes us to exercise the love and compassion we most crave.
