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Is Suffering
Really Redemptive?
By David
R. Larson
Some expressions we often use shape our lives
in unfortunate ways. One of these is "the redemptive value
suffering." Too frequently it leaves the impression that there is
something good about suffering, that we would be less well and wise if we
did not experience it. This is close to the truth, but not close enough.
We need to distinguish among different types
of suffering: temporary and permanent, isolated and widespread, deserved
and undeserved, endogenous and exogenous and so forth. It is especially
helpful to apply to suffering a distinction the twentieth century
theologian Paul Tillich used in his discussion of anxiety in The
Courage to Be: existential and pathological. The first kind of anxiety
is intrinsic to human life even when things are going well, the second
signals the presence of something wrong.
We can extend Professor Tillich’s
distinction beyond anxiety to suffering in general. Some suffering is so
much a part of normal life that we cannot escape it and should not try.
Although he indulged in an exaggeration when said so, psychiatrist Scott
Peck was on to something when he wrote in The Road Less Traveled
that at the root of all mental illness is the attempt to avoid justifiable
suffering. We sometimes weep at births, baptisms, graduations and
weddings, for instance, even though we may also be happy for the
transitions they celebrate. This kind of suffering is existential. Unless
it robs us of our ability to work and play, we should accept it.
Pathological suffering is something else.
Because it does not inhere in human life as such, and because its benefits
do not outweigh its costs for all those it affects, we are wise to prevent
and avoid it, as much as possible. Nevertheless, because we live in an
imperfect world, sooner or later it catches up with us. When this happens,
we can do our best to squeeze from it something of value despite its
negative nature. When we succeed, we redeem it even though it is not
inherently redemptive.
Speaking of pathological suffering as
something we can sometimes redeem is a step in the right direction because
it places our emphasis upon the various ways we can relate to it. Whether
we gain something of value from it depends in large measure on how we
respond. Let us be as clear as possible, however: as Jesus experienced on the cross
when he cried "My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?"
(Matthew 27:46 NRSV), some pathological suffering is so terrible that it
feels impossible to redeem it. The best we can do in such cases is to
persevere until the arrival of a better day. But when pathological
suffering is not this intense, our
choices can make a decisive difference.
As portrayed in the New Testament, Jesus of
Nazareth related to pathological suffering in several ways. He challenged
those who needlessly imposed it on others. He objected when he was struck
without cause at one of his trials. He forgave and he often healed those
who were ill. When he was with his friends Mary and Martha at the tomb of
Lazarus, he did what we should do in such circumstances: he wept. When
asked about it, he denied that a blind man’s suffering was the result of
his sins or those of his parents. When he could do nothing else, he
endured intense suffering and gave his tormentors the benefit of the
doubt.
When Jesus was alone with his friends in
relatively comfortable circumstances, he also challenged their assumptions
and tried to get them to think more clearly and deeply. Speaking of those
"whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices," he
inquired: "Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this
way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans?" Referring to
those "who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them,"
he kept on probing: "Do you think that they were worse offenders than
all the others living in Jerusalem?" His answers: "No."
(Luke 13: 1-5. NRSV)
It is worth noting that the stories we have
inherited portray Jesus relating to pathological suffering both as a
comforter and as a conceptualizer. On the one hand, he
"wept." On the other, he repeatedly asked, "Do you
think?" What's more, he knew when and where to do each.
He did not press Mary and Martha for their understandings of God and human
suffering at their brother's tomb. Neither did he allow his friends
to avoid discussing this issue when the circumstances were right for them
to do so. Some say that when it comes to suffering we need hugs not
answers. We actually need both, in the right times and
places!
These are some of the ways we can sometimes
redeem pathological suffering even though it is not intrinsically
redemptive. Many theoretical distinctions are practically important. This
is one of them.
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