S uffering, left to
itself, does not necessarily purify the soul. There is no guarantee that
the sufferer is a better person than the non-sufferer. In some people the
effect of suffering is seen to embitter and harden. Nor
does God prefer to see us suffering rather than not suffering. Why, then,
in the Christian concept is so much made of suffering? Would it not be
healthier to concentrate on the enjoyment of life, and as far as possible
to avoid the thought of suffering? Might not this preoccupation with the
sorrows of human existence actually attract suffering and so make the
problem of living even harder than it is meant to be?
Certainly a case can be made out for attending to happiness in
preference to unhappiness. God himself exists in bliss and not in misery.
Christ came on earth to the accompaniment of joy, grew to manhood in the
joy of charity which surrounded him, told his disciples that in him they
might find a more abundant joy than they had ever known.
The prophets preached the triumph of happiness which might be expected,
even in this life, by those who were faithful to God�s word. The
psalmist is forever exalting the joyful praising of God�s name. The
saints of the Church are at one in revealing the note of joy in their
lives. And on the negative side it is the absence of joy--still more, of
course, the suppression of joy--which renders suspect a particular
interpretation of sanctity. But this is not quite the point at issue.
The point here is not which is the better to develop, joy or sorrow,
but how to take up the cross. Had Christ spoken of joy only, and not of
suffering, there would be no problem. All we would have had to do would
have been to perfect our attitude towards happiness. But he particularly
did not say, �If any man be my disciple, let him take up his joy and
follow me�: the test of discipleship was to lie in the cross. So when
the cross was actually placed upon his shoulders, Christ was concerned
with teaching us the terms of a suffering discipleship. From our point of
view, the question which at that moment needed answering was not how to
direct the feeling of joy, but how to meet the circumstance of pain. The
manner of his acceptance gives us the lead which we are looking for. He
accepted the cross as a pain, but he accepted it with joy.
So it is that in the Christian understanding, as fashioned by Christ
himself, joy and pain are not exclusive but compatible. Indeed we come to
know joy through suffering and suffering through joy. The deeper the one,
the truer the other. In itself, suffering is an evil�a negation of some
particular good.
Happiness, on the other hand, is something positive: it is a good
towards which we have a right-ordered appetite. But once given the
Passion, suffering becomes a good. A new element has entered in,
turning the negation into an affirmation: suffering becomes a positive
statement, proclaiming service, praise, union, love. The cross may be a
stumbling-block to the Jews� and to the Gentiles� foolishness, but to
us it is the appropriate expression of discipleship. In the alchemy of
faith the bad is transformed into good. The debt becomes the gift. The
stumbling-block is seen as the stepping-stone.
It is one thing to accept
the doctrine and another to accept the fact. But it is the fact of the
cross in our lives which will qualify our response to Christ.
Our generosity is measured not by notional assents but by practical
acts: how nearly do we approximate, in the trials by which we are tested,
to the attitude of Christ when he received �the instrument with which he
was to redeem the world�? Our ideal is the mind of Christ, and we know
that Christ welcomed the cross with love--with love for the Father�s
will in allowing it, for his persecutors who imposed it, for us who would
benefit by it.
Love gave meaning to the whole thing. It was love which made the
atonement adequate, the obedience pleasing, the example inviting, and the
actual agony bearable. Dare we say that we endure with love the crosses
that are sent to us ? No, of course we dare not say this, but for our
encouragement we should know that the motive of love is at the top of the
ladder and cannot always be found at the bottom. From the lower
dispositions we mount to the higher, conscious always that it is Christ
who goes before us bearing his own cross. All we have to do is to keep
directing our steps after him.
We feel no love for it. We would escape it if we could. And we plan to
rid our self of it at the earliest moment. Nevertheless, provided we
receive the cross as coming from the will of God, we bear our cross with
Christ and our submission is accordingly pleasing to God.
Higher up the scale is the person who wants positively to please God in
their suffering but who finds themselves unequal to suffering�s
challenge. They have love as their motive, but it is a frustrated love:
their weakness is too strong, their strength too weak. Finally there is
the person who walks towards the cross, and receives it with open arms.
Although they may not know what they are in for, they are making as
complete a sacrifice as they can. They trust that God will give them the
grace to carry their good intention to its conclusion. This is pure love,
this is being one with Christ in his cross bearing, this is the total
surrender which verifies Christ�s words about being lifted up and
drawing all things to himself.
If all grace is received according to the disposition of the recipient,
the particular grace of the cross must depend upon the degree of
generosity with which the soul is prepared to meet it.
If we open our hearts an inch, we
benefit an inch; if we open our hearts to full capacity, the cross has its
unrestricted way with us and we become saints. An infant and an athlete
may be given the same food, but where the infant will be quickly satisfied
the athlete will clamor for more.
The cross is the same because it is Christ�s; it is we who differ.
But there is nothing to say that the infant cannot grow into the athlete,
that the shrinking cross-bearer cannot grow into a willing one. The whole
thing depends upon grasping the principle of sacrifice, and allowing God�s
grace to draw all things in us to himself.
It was sacrifice which made
the whole difference between Cain and Abel, between Saul and David,
between the good and the bad thief.
If sacrifice was an essential
element in the religion of the Old Law, it is no less an essential element
in that of the New. Our religious response would be meaningless without
it.
Condensed from Approach
to Calvary by Hubert van Zeller, O.S.B. � Sheed and Ward, Inc., 1961
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