The most beautiful people

The questions is as old as the ages, and has been asked in every language and in every religion. If God is loving and kind, then why do we have suffering in this world?

We are given many kinds of answers to this question: theologians will speak about free will and original sin. Others will blame the power of evil and darkness. But when you are the one struggling, these answers do not really speak to the heart and soul.

Elizabeth Kubler Ros offers a more profound answer. She is quoted as saying The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen.

To explain away pain is to cheapen human suffering. To acknowledge it, to struggle and rise from the depths, that is the goal of every human sufferer. And we see this in individuals who have endured much, but not let that pain embitter them. They are powerful souls because they know suffering, and do not try to explain it away. They instead offer compassion, sensitive to the vulnerabilities of life, and the need for encouragement.

Beautiful people do not just happen. They are born of suffering, struggle, loss and defeat.

Poor in spirit

What if I saw setback and reverses as gifts? What if I took on the attitude of an athlete that believes struggles are there to make me strong? How would that change my life?

Perhaps this is the secret to being poor in spirit. Perhaps what Jesus calls blessed is an attitude that refuses to live as "privileged" and act as if I deserve better, always.

Raniero Cantalamessa writes that God does not value what the poor [in spirit] have but what they do not have: self-sufficiency, a closed attitude, a presumption of being able to save themselves. A pretty profound thought.

So, if I realize I am not self-sufficient, then I will be open to finding the treasure within, and know that I can never honestly say, how can God treat me this way? 

A while back, a book written by someone who found out she had cancer made this startling statement. I was asked if I wondered, why me, Lord? But I didn't. Instead, when I realized I had the disease, my first thought was, why not me? Why should others suffer and I be spared? Why should I not have to take my share of trials on this earth, along with the many others? 

This person had the poverty of spirit Jesus calls blessed. She had an attitude that suffering was not the evil, but an attitude of privilege was. This person gives us an example of how our own outlook should be in life, one of openness, one of acceptance, one of grace.

Divinity waiting upon us

Morning moon

Walking early this morning, the sight of the moon partially hidden by clouds caught my fancy. I was thinking about monasteries, and how when the boom of applicants in the 50s was replaced by scarcity of applicants in the 60s through to today, life changed inside the monastery. Thinking of the influx of the 50s, I realized that it was sparked by the recent war, with death and suffering very present to the minds of the young. In the face of such thoughts, many looked for something deeper, more lasting, more eternal.

Why do we have to face death and suffering before we make God a serious part of our daily lives? For a death sentence strikes fear to those who know little of the Divine Being. And learning about God now brings peace and joy.

My thoughts go to a deathbed I witnessed in the monastery, where the rather young sister was dying of cancer. Death was not fearful for her. She greeted it with a joy so profound and a peace so deep it is hard to describe. This attitude affected me very much, as I was one of her caregivers, and saw her suffering, her quick decline, and her willingness to accept it all. She had made God her friend, and so she could welcome death because she believed she was going to someone she knew, someone she had thought about often.

We too should develop a friendship with the Divine, and not wait for suffering or death to force the issue.

Which brings me back to my walk this morning. Seeing the moon shining through the clouds, it occurred to me that living without an awareness of spiritual things is like walking in the moonlight. We can see, but in a dim way. Faith has always been called a light, a light so steady that no suffering or death can dim it. More importantly, there is so much joy to be had in building a spiritual relationship with the Divine it is a pity so few seek to develop one while life is going well.

Let's not wait for death to force spirituality upon us. Let us develop a relationship now, in the fullness of health.  Divinity is waiting for us.

The true power

 

When we think of the death of Jesus, we should remember his own words in John 10:18: No one takes my life from me; I have the power to lay it down, and the power to take it up again. So what is Jesus saying? To have power over suffering is not to stop it from happening, but to lift it up and find the meaning hidden beneath it.

Face it. We like to think of power as the ability to control a situation. We like to think of Jesus’ power as changing circumstance, making the sick healthy, feeding a crowd from a few loaves and fishes. Jesus is saying, no, my real power came in taking pain and evil and filling it with grace and meaning. 

Pain is real, and we must not make light of it.  I think our challenge is to see beyond the circumstance.  We do this when we break through the barriers of our tangible world and enter the realm of the spirit. Jesus has shown us that power did not consist of his coming down off the cross as his hecklers wanted, but in his ability to take suffering and turn it into something fruitful, something full of grace and rich in meaning. This is the real message behind the words of Paul, that for those who love God, all things can be turned into good. (Romans 8:28) 

Vicktor Frankl understood this. In his book, Man's search for Meaning, he writes: If there is meaning in life at all, then there must be a meaning in suffering. (67) He saw the worst kind of evil in the concentrations camps in Germany and Poland. Yet he saw some among them rise to great heights. It convinced him that it is possible for men and women to find meaning in life, no matter what the circumstance.

It is the message Jesus gives to us today. It is not an easy thing to do. But each one of us has the power within.

Being moved is not enough

 
Today's liturgy will be heavy and long, because it includes the reading of the Passion. Paul Claudet writes The Gospels show us the Savior coming to the soul and imparting truth and virtue by the touch of a hand, the brushing of a garment, a bit of moistened earth applied to the locked eyelids. One look from him is enough to make an apostle out of that idler yawning under the fig tree…

What Claudet writes is poetic. Many times words or phrases from the gospel touch our hearts, and we feel inspired and lifted up. But such sentiments, wonderful as they are, often fail us when life tumbles and we are grasping for something solid. Being moved by the words of Jesus is not enough. When Jesus entered into his passion in the Garden, all of his apostles deserted him. They had heard his words and been amazed. But they had failed to find the real strength they offered because they had not imbibed them.


There are times in our lives when the words that once sounded poetic and profound no longer inspire. That is a good time for us, a time laden with grace, because it brings us to a new awareness. It brings us to a point where we cannot continue on as passive spectators. If we allow it, our very questioning opens up the truths we believe in, allowing us to delve deeper. Only when we find better answers, ones brought out by our own pondering and not some pious sentiment found in a book, will we find real strength in Jesus words.

Going beyond pain

This Sunday, we will hear the Passion of the Lord read in full. What thoughts should this bring to our spiritual lives? Should we feel depressed or be sad? Or should we accept the obvious truth that suffering has always been a mystery to our race. Instead of devising various ways to explain it away, or make it seem good, we should see it for what it is, a part of every person's life.

I think we should stop trying to explain suffering, and instead realize it can hold meaning. We tend to color suffering, explain it as either a night, or darkness, or even the color black. But such comparisons do not ease pain. Instead of seeking the "why" of suffering, we should instead look for the grace in it.  As Viktor Frankl writes in his book, Man's Search for Meaning, If there is a meaning in life at all, then there must be a meaning in suffering (67).

How do we find that meaning? We can start by realizing that Jesus, in his passion, showed us how to conquer not only pain, but death itself. By believing in God's power to bring good from anything we suffer, we can actually strip pain of its evil, of its darkness, of its night. Then we can say with Paul, "O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?" (1 Corinthians 15:54-55). What power!

How we accept our vicissitudes in life have a lot to do with how we build our character. We must take stock of this truth. We must awaken our soul to its magnificence. We must not give up when the way becomes steep or difficult. For wondrous things happen to those who wait on the Lord with faith, believing not only that all things are possible, but that God can bring good out of anything, regardless of its color.

The journey towards divinity.

The darkness of winter gives way to the bright colors of spring!

Lent is winding down, and we are about to begin a week that is full of heavy memories and stories. The week ahead will not be productive for us unless we find a way to remember it in light of grace and glory. And that light comes from remembering that Jesus's only crime was claiming a union, a oneness with God. This was unheard of by the people of his time. And yet, this is the main message of Jesus: you will be like gods (John 10:34).

Jesus tells us we can be so filled with the spirit of the Divine as to be transformed. And is that not the purpose and intent of Holy Week? To remember that no matter what we suffer, Jesus has in some way suffered the same with us? He was not content to "know" suffering intellectually. He accepted the kinds of suffering he knew we would experience: rejection, misunderstandings, loneliness, betrayal, mental anguish, physical pain. He wanted us to be able to look at him and say, "I can talk to Jesus about this. He will understand."

And just as Jesus accepted suffering such as we endure, he reminds us we can take on Divinity. "The Father and I are one." he exclaims in John 10:30. Why else would this upcoming week be called Holy, except to demonstrate how pain and sorrow do not have the last word, but we who know not to let it destroy us can become transformed.

What Color is Your Suffering

Suffering always contains mystery, with many devising various ways to explain it away, or make it seem good, as if any suffering is good. We often liken suffering to the color black, or night, or darkness, our effort to call it evil. But instead of understanding the why of our pain, maybe we should instead believe in God's power to bring good out of it.

Jesus showed us how to conquer not only pain, but death itself. By believing in God's power to bring good from anything we suffer, we can actually strip pain of its evil, of its darkness, of its night. Then we can say with Paul, "O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?" (1 Corinthians 15:54-55). What power!

How we accept our vicissitudes in life have a lot to do with how we build our character. We must take stock of this truth. We must awaken our soul to its magnificence. We must not grow weary when the way becomes steep or difficult. For wondrous things happen to those who wait on the Lord with faith, believing not only that all things are possible, but that God can bring good out of all, regardless of its color.

Blossoming in the Mountain Tops

Flowers in Mountain Top of Pyrenees

If flowers can grow on the mountain top of the Pyrenees, in the midst of stones and gravel, harsh climate and endless winds, why cannot we weather any storm? I wouldn't say it has to do with faith. I would say, it has to do with heart. And for a heart to stay strong, we need a network, a network of family, friends, and soul mates. They become like rain, sunshine, and soil to help us stay strong and blossom. Just like the wild flowers in the mountain tops.

Looking in the Mirror

Yesterday I attended a one day retreat. The topic was the Holy Cross and how to make the best use out of the suffering we endure in our lives. The talk was very good. But in the conversation after the talk, there were some of the group who turned the conversation to weak priests, the devil and his spread over the earth, and holy water (or lack of it) in the church during lent. I found myself trying to pull the conversation back to the topic, of how we witness as Christians by our actions, our attitudes, and especially the way to deal with suffering. But my attempt seemed a lost cause.

This got me thinking. How easy it is to bypass our role as Christians by looking at others, their roles, and their failures. And this brings me to believe that we often concentrate on others failures, or perceived failures because it takes the attention off of our own relationship with God and where we are in that relationship.

May this be a sign of our inability to accept our own failures and weaknesses? Why would we want to take a beautiful talk about suffering and turn it into a rant against others? What happened to accepting the cross when it comes into our lives?

Let's face it. All failures humiliate. But failure is nothing more than our struggle here on earth. We are, after all, made up of spirit and flesh. To fail is human. But we have our spirit to lift us up. And, even more importantly, we must guard against making our failures bigger than they are. We didn't keep a particular resolution. So what? Try again. Don't give that failure an importance it doesn't deserve. That will only paralyze you. Because if you do, well, looking for others who failures are bigger than yours will just come naturally. When we do that, we have turned from looking into the mirror of God to worrying about others. And that is the biggest failure of all.

Death and Pain

Some years ago a book titled "Why bad things happen to good people" hit the market by storm. Recently, I looked up the book to see who wrote it and what it was about. And I was impressed to know the author wrote about his own pain and finding peace with his son's death at age 14. What struck me most in the preface was his statement that while watching his son deteriorate before his eyes (he'd known his son would die young since he was 3) many people gave him answers, but none of the answers addressed his own questions about God and the pain we are forced to endure.

We all know as followers of Jesus that pain and sorrow will come our way. It comes not because we are followers, but because we live in a human world. The  biggest mistake we make in pain is passing it off with phrases that sound holy, but do not help the heart. "Carry your cross" or "God will not give you more than you can bear" or "his grace is sufficient for you" do not answer the question Mary herself put to Jesus when she found him in the temple, My son, why have you done this to us?

Pain and sorrow sear the soul. It can devastate a person, but it also offers the opportunity for a stronger faith and hope. The answers best for us are the ones we find ourselves as we walk through the darkness and pain. Somehow, in the mists and agony, we can find answers to the questions that plague the heart. We must just be patient.

I once read in a conference by Frederick Faber's that said those souls most like God tend to suffer the most in this life. Such thoughts do not help much at the time of pain. But being there for a friend, letting them know wordlessly that we care, reaching out to comfort a heart; these things help such thoughts bear fruit.