THOUGHTS ON SUFFERING

Please consider whether you are ready to read this entry. Perhaps it should be screened first. It may be very difficult to read.

What is suffering?

Usually people talk about physical pain, but it’s often more than that, and sometimes different than that. Suffering really refers to the experience of the whole person, and differs a lot from one to another.

I’m calling this "thoughts" because in many ways there really isn’t an answer, just different ways of looking at things.

A leper suffers because of the absence of physical pain. Without signals to tell him that his body is being injured, more and more damage is done. He finds it hard to protect his body, and so it deteriorates over time. Historically, the most important part of his suffering came, not from what was happening physically, but by the reaction of others around him. His sickness was considered very contagious, even though it isn’t. The community, family, friends, all distanced themselves from the person with leprosy, out of fear. Lepers moved off by themselves and tried in what ways they could to help one another, but their suffering largely came from their sense of abandonment. Relationships, a sense of who they were, hopes for the future, all changed as soon as that diagnosis was made. What is perhaps worse, they were seen as having somehow brought it about or caused it. There has historically been an impulse of society, based on fear, to blame the person who suffers for their suffering. It is a way of saying "That person is different. The same suffering could never happen to me."

The same kind of dynamic is seen with Aids patients, where there is more of a chance in some situations of being infected. The Aids patient goes through physical suffering of many different kinds, but again it’s compounded by the relational suffering and the attitudes of those around.

A patient with terminal Cancer, when asked, often identifies his fear as not a fear of death, but of physical pain and abandonment. The pain medication that is not given on time, or that is not ordered in sufficient amounts. The sudden withdrawal of family and friends who used to visit regularly. The shorter and shorter contacts with health professionals. The pressures from insurance companies not to "waste money" in providing care. Many things send messages that the person’s worst fears are being realized. That is in many ways the core of the person’s suffering.

What about MPD?

Where does the suffering come from? I think there are a lot of similarities with the situations above, and there are some additional aspects. The wars within can mirror the reactions from outside. In common with (I think) all those who have been traumatized as children, usual processes of development and learning have been messed up. That adds to the sense of being "alien" or "shunned" or isolated from others.

Suffering is real, it’s more than just the physical, more than just the reaction of society, more than just the internal battles and relationships, more than just the styles of relationship that end up encouraging more suffering. It’s all of that working at the same time.

How long will the suffering last? Perhaps it would be easier to bear if there was a known, definite period of time that it would be for. I don’t know. It doesn’t seem to help too much for those with physical illness.

In some ways, the treatment process can actually cause the sense of suffering to become worse. Memories, trauma from the past, easing of "dissociative barriers" can lead to experiencing more pain and heartache than was present before treatment started. When, and how, does the suffering become less?

Where is God in all of this? Here and now, where is God?

Does God want this suffering?

I’ve read a lot about the idea of suffering from different religious perspectives, and I’m sure that you have too. Most of it seems to be a response to a pressure to come up with something to say. As human beings, we don’t want to focus too long or touch too deeply the pain of others. That’s true for theologians as well. Even trying as hard as possible, we can only talk about one part or aspect of suffering at a time, and the best description or analysis still falls far short of what is needed. Both the head and the heart are needed in talking about something like this, and any answers or statements must be incomplete glimpses.

I don’t believe that God wants, or desires, or causes, or likes human suffering. I believe that God is opposed to our suffering. I’ve heard more than once statements like: "How could God cause little 5 year old Sandra to have Leukemia? Why would God do that to her?" My answer has always been "If I believed that God reached out and said, ‘Here, Sandra, have some Leukemia’ I would at that point no longer believe in God. He would not be worthy of my belief."

Sometimes it’s easier to know what isn’t than what is.

Here and now, the greatest mystery to me is that God has entrusted our world to us. He is present, he hasn’t walked away, but he keeps trying to work with us. I think God gets frustrated a lot. He gave us the gift that makes us human beings, the ability to choose. He will not take it away, but he has to watch us misuse and abuse it. Human beings would not exist without the ability to chose, any more than we would exist without the ability to love and have feelings. I don’t understand it, but God, in creating us, gave us "space" to live our lives.

Certainly not all, but most of our suffering has to do with how we treat one another, both individually and as communities. We can act to ease suffering, or we can act in ways that lead to more of it, for ourselves as well as for one another.

There are ways that suffering can be eased. For the Cancer patient, there are now devices that give morphine when the patient pushes a button. That helps ease the fear and loss of control over life. Families, friends, health care providers can admit their own uncomfortableness and choose to act differently, making more frequent visits even if shorter because of the patient’s tiredness. We can work out ways for the person to be in their own house if possible. There can be an Aids Network. There can be a Rainbow House.

As a society of human beings, we can act in ways that ease suffering. As faith communities, we can act in ways that ease suffering. As individuals, we can act in ways that ease suffering. Trying to act in ways that ease suffering is part of living in the world that has been given us. But that isn’t enough.

We are also invited to transform the world. We are challenged and welcomed to engage in the task of making things better for the future.

An example may help. In Italy when people were sick they were seen at their home by the doctor, or perhaps at the doctor’s office. Many poor who were sick had no one to care for them and no place to stay. Often others were afraid they would catch whatever sickness the person had. As a result, the sick were often put out on the streets, to fend for themselves until they died.

Finally, a religious community of sisters addressed the problem. Based on their faith, they decided to confront the suffering of the poor who were sick. They opened the first hospital, the first "Bethesda" or "Place of Mercy." They talked (harassed?) some local doctors into donating their time to care for their patients. Out of that small beginning came the system of hospitals.

They did what they could to help, but usually there was no effective treatment. More importantly, they sought to ease the broader suffering. They resolved that patients would be treated with respect. They would not allow them to be isolated or dumped on the street. These women, based on their faith, washed the bodies of the sick and emptied bedpans. They did what they could with what resources they had available. They tried to act with compassion and hope. They refused to allow the poor to die alone, forgotten and abandoned. They changed the world, and changed it for the better. Even today, following that heritage, nurses in England are routinely called "sisters."

It took a long time for the idea of caring for the sick to gain respect. In some ways it was easier for nuns, but for quite a while nurses were suspect, and were treated at times as if they were sexual objects. The rich and those in positions of leadership and power had little understanding or interest in the suffering of the poor. Those who cared about them were considered naive fools.

The Catholic Church has had both times of glory and shame. One of its times of glory was adopting the mission of care of the sick, and especially the poor who were sick. Eventually the hospitals that were founded came to be used by all in society.

Around our world, individuals, small groups, faith communities, and larger societies can decide to ease suffering, and hopefully to prevent it in the future. We have a long way to go, and it’s too easy to go in the other direction. At times it takes courage to confront suffering. At times it’s a painfully slow process. At times the amount of suffering around is overwhelming.

What about when I’m suffering?

It’s not OK that I’m suffering. I am supposed to do what I can to ease that suffering, to seek healing, to make my life better. I can seek help. I can look at things that might be adding to the suffering. At the same time, there can be concern about others around me. My suffering doesn’t have to lead me to lash out at others.

At least some suffering will still be there, but it is not the "will of God." I can continue to work on healing. When I’m able, I can try to lessen someone else’s suffering. I can try to use my creativity to have something positive happen, even in the midst of that suffering. It’s hard, but no matter what, I think that God is walking with us during that process.

A nun who is also a Clinical Psychologist told of talking with a patient about her trauma as a child. After one particularly horrible time was described, the nun asked "Where do you think God was?" She thought it might help for the patient to express her anger at God. The patient said "Oh, I know where he was." The nun asked, "Where was He." "He was right there next to me." "What was He doing?" "He was crying."

I don’t think God is an "uninterested bystander" and I’ve never done too well at understanding how he resists the temptation to just start the human race over again. He trusts us (more than I do) to work on transforming our world, lessening suffering, ending injustice, working for peace. I think that every time a human being moves in that direction it is with the help and smile of God.

There is a saying in working with those who have been traumatized, "Trauma should not be faced alone." One of the hardest parts of the original trauma, I think, is the sense of aloneness and abandonment. Does it help when there is a sense that suffering is not being faced alone? Does it help, even without putting it into words, that someone understands? Perhaps God is truly the one who is "worthy of trust."

In a lot of ways I guess suffering will always leave a lot of questions, but they’re important questions, not to be answered too quickly or lightly. A summary for myself is that God never promised me that I wouldn’t suffer, but He did promise I would never have to suffer alone. He is there even when I have my eyes shut.

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© Fr J Mahoney