Category: SufferingStruggling with overwhelming sorrow during Lent – how do I deal with it?
A: These are important questions; let’s take them one at a time. First, embrace the lows of Lent to make the joy of Easter greater? Absolutely. This is the wisdom of the Church. Without suffering it is very difficult for us, in our broken state, to fully experience the joy that God has for us. Kahlil Gibran echoed this thought when he said, “The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain… When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you will see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.” So it is with Lent. The deeper we allow the sorrow to carve into our being during Lent, the more joy we will experience when we celebrate his resurrection! Second, is there any joy found during Lent? Without a doubt. When Mel Gibson was making The Passion of The Christ, he ran into a problem. He recognized that the scenes of Christ’s sufferings were too much to take in any one sitting. He came up with the idea to intersperse flashbacks into the story. This gave just enough relief without totally leaving the theme of Christ’s horrific suffering and death on our behalf. Similarly, during Lent, every Sunday we have a time where we can set aside our fasting and remember not only his suffering but also his resurrection and provision for us in the Mass. Beyond this gift, we maintain our composure through all this because we know the end of the story. Those of us who suffer from lifelong illnesses sometimes are overwhelmed because in the midst of our suffering we don’t know if it will end in this life. With Lent we not only know the end of the story, but we even know the exact date when it it will end. This should give us the courage to persevere through the challenges and purification this season brings to our souls. A few more points about grief and depression. It is one thing to feel great sorrow over our sins and to thereby enter into the deep sufferings of Christ, and another to enter into anything like clinical depression or any other unhealthy spiritual or emotional state. With respect to the former, St. Teresa of Avila, after meditating on Christ’s sufferings on her behalf, would often become overwhelmed with grief and weeping for lengthy periods time. The harm done? Absolutely none. In fact, she attributes a great deal of the work of God in her soul, and the souls of other holy men and women, to this kind of affective meditation. How can you tell the difference? The difference is that someone who is truly experiencing union with Christ and his sufferings will experience two things: 1) Peace: Even with intense suffering of this kind, if we maintain peace in the depths of our souls and feel a greater compulsion to love him for what he has done for us, this is a good indicator that our sorrow is truly godly sorrow rather than an unhealthy state of depression. 2) Virtue: If our heightened sense of his love for us and our corresponding love for him leads us to deepen our prayer, expand our acts of charity, or further intensify our mortification, then, again, our suffering is likely sourced in God’s real and active presence in our meditation. St. Paul in his second letter to the Corinthians clearly echoes these truths (emphasis mine):
Finally, if you find yourself with a sorrow that does not meet the test of “godly sorrow” you can do two things about it. First, go absorb yourself in service to others – particularly those less fortunate than you. If the enemy is behind the anxiety in your heart, responding with love toward God and others will drive this oppression away. If you continue to struggle, make sure you talk with your spiritual director to get more specific insights into how you can make this season one in which you grow in your love and knowledge of Christ and in the virtuous life. He is real, present, and good… may he always be so to you, Dan Does Christ suffer with me when I suffer?
A: Well, you have answered your own question, and you have answered correctly. Yes, Jesus suffers with us. Jesus, the second Person of the Blessed Trinity, truly became man not only so that he could atone for our disobedience (i.e., our sin) by his obedience, but also because he wanted to convince us of his unconditional love for us. Try to think of a better way to show someone that you love them than by sharing in their suffering. Just try to… impossible. Our commitment to another person is partial and conditional if we refuse to share in their sufferings, if we abandon them in difficulty. But God’s commitment to us is total, absolute, wildly and infinitely faithful. It’s hard for us to believe this. That’s why he chose to save us through suffering for us. By his suffering, he united himself to our suffering, voluntarily. And so, in a tour de force of ingenuity, suffering, the fruit of original sin, has become the very currency of salvation, the very path of deeper union with God. An Uncanny Connection Jesus suffers with us, because he has united himself to us. This occurs in two ways. Simply because of his incarnation, he has taken upon himself human nature. And so, every human being is his brother or sister. This is why he told us that “in so far as you did this to one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did it to me” (Mt 25:40). An even deeper union with Christ occurs at baptism. When we receive sanctifying grace through that sacrament, the Holy Trinity actually comes to dwell within us: “If anyone loves me he will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we shall come to him and make our home with him” (Jn 14:24). This is actually the deeper meaning of the word “compassion.” It comes from a Latin phrase meaning “to suffer with.” Jesus, by taking on our nature and uniting himself to us, has shown a brand of compassion that no other religion ever even dreamed of. This is why the cross is the central symbol of Christianity. The vertical and horizontal bars meet and become inextricably linked, just as our suffering and Christ’s suffering meet and become, together, the path of redemption. Suffering entered the world because of sin – it was our own fault. Jesus came to save us not by eliminating suffering (which would have eliminated our freedom), but by transforming suffering, making it the privileged meeting place between fallen man and the God of all-powerful love. You have already experienced this – you mentioned that you are someone who prays, because your own sufferings have brought you to your knees. That’s how you discovered that you are never alone. Being Like Christ This truth is also at the root of Christian virtue. We are all called to love our neighbors as Christ has loved us – coming to meet them in their suffering, being compassionate and merciful with them, not giving up on them, not letting them suffer alone. Wasn’t this the genius of Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta? Isn’t it precisely this message of divine compassion that she and her sisters (and all the saints, really) broadcast to the world? Once Mother Teresa was staying with a community of her sisters who worked among the Aborigines in Australia. She visited an elderly man who lived in total isolation, ignored by everyone. His home was a filthy wreck. She told him, “Please let me clean your house, wash your clothes and make your bed.” He answered, “I’m OK like this. Let it be.” She said, “You will be still better if you allow me to do it.” He finally agreed. While she was cleaning, she discovered a beautiful lamp, covered with dust; it looked like it hadn’t been used in years. “Don’t you light that lamp?” she said, “Don’t you ever use it?” He answered, “No. No one comes to see me. I have no need to light it. Who would I do it for?” Mother Teresa asked, “Would you light it every night if the sisters came?” He replied, “Of course.” From that day on, the sisters committed themselves to visiting him every evening. Mother Theresa left Australia. Two years passed. She had completely forgotten about that encounter. Then she received a message from him: “Tell my friend that the light she lit in my life still continues to shine.” Revolutionary Doctrine This is the revolution of Christianity: that every single human life is infinitely valued by God, valued so much that God himself accompanies each one, in good times and bad, and desires us all to dwell with him forever in heaven. It is this truth that gives the Church its vision of human dignity and undergirds its moral teaching on issues like cloning, abortion, and artificial reproduction. Only the Christian worldview contains this insight, which God has so beautifully and graciously whispered to your heart. And just to make sure that we would never doubt this reality, never think that it’s too good to be true, Jesus gave us the Eucharist. When he comes to us in Holy Communion, whether amidst the joys of life’s triumphs or the sorrows of life’s tragedies, he is telling us once again: You matter so much to me that I can’t hold myself back; I must share in all that you suffer, so that you can share in all that I promise. Yours in Christ, Father John Bartunek, LC 23. The Cost of Calm (Mt 8:18-27)
- St Ignatius of Loyola Matthew 8:18-27 When Jesus saw the great crowds all about him he gave orders to leave for the other side. One of the scribes then came up and said to him, ‘Master, I will follow you wherever you go’. Jesus replied, ‘Foxes have holes and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head’. Another man, one of his disciples, said to him, ‘Sir, let me go and bury my father first’. But Jesus replied, ‘Follow me, and leave the dead to bury their dead’. Then he got into the boat followed by his disciples. Without warning a storm broke over the lake, so violent that the waves were breaking right over the boat. But he was asleep. So they went to him and woke him saying, ‘Save us, Lord, we are going down!’ And he said to them, ‘Why are you so frightened, you men of little faith?’ And with that he stood up and rebuked the winds and the sea; and all was calm again. The men were astounded and said, ‘Whatever kind of man is this? Even the winds and the sea obey him.’ Christ the Lord St. Matthew is still showing us Jesus’ credentials. Not only does he heal the sick, but he also has power over the elements of nature. Storms were frequent in the Sea of Galilee, situated like a bowl surrounded by mountains, whence strong winds came sweeping across the water; violent storms would brew suddenly and then just as quickly play themselves out. At least some of the disciples present were fishermen, so they knew the weather patterns well, and they knew how to navigate a boat to ride out a storm. For them to panic means that the situation was truly perilous – the waves were high enough and the wind strong enough that they feared shipwreck. And yet, for Jesus, all it takes is a word to rein in the violent primal forces. The passage is reminiscent of the Book of Jonah. Jonah too was asleep in the hold while the ship’s crew panicked. In that case as well, God calmed the sea in an instant – as soon as they threw the disobedient prophet into the water. But there is a difference. In Jesus, St. Matthew shows us, the very God who acted from on high to bring Jonah to Nineveh has come to dwell among men. No wonder the disciples were “amazed” – they were just starting to get the picture: Jesus is the Lord. Christ the Teacher The Church has long seen in this passage an analogy for the life of every Christian. The storm rages and threatens and batters the boat – just as temptations, sufferings, persecutions, and difficulties unceasingly beat against the mind and will of the Christian. Sometimes it seems that they are too much – the journey of doing God’s will is simply too difficult. Panic sets in. But the Holy Trinity has been in the Christian’s soul the entire time, ever since the day of baptism. And when human efforts fail to calm the storm, the Christian remembers the Lord, turns to him, and asks for help. Soon Jesus restores the “great calm” that comes from confiding in the power and the promises of God instead of in the dim knowledge and withered strength of self. St. Therese of Lisieux used to meditate on this passage in times of inner turmoil or darkness. But she wouldn’t wake up the Lord. For her, it was enough to go over and sit beside him as he slept. Let the tempest rage; stay close to Christ and all will be well. Christ the Friend At this point in St. Matthew’s Gospel Jesus has not yet called apart his Twelve Apostles. A larger group of disciples, including the future Twelve, is following him. As he prepares to get away from the crowds and spend some time with them across the Sea of Galilee, a couple of newcomers approach him and ask to be let into the group. They have been watching and listening, and Jesus has moved their hearts. But the Lord doesn’t exactly welcome them with open arms. He doesn’t send them away, but he does point out that following him will not be easy. They will have to forego some of the comforts and stability enjoyed by their peers and neighbors (“the Son of Man has nowhere to rest his head”); they will have to make their relationship with him their highest priority – even higher than good and natural family ties (the disciple who requests that Jesus let him “bury his father” is expressing his willingness to follow Christ in the future, after his father dies, when it would be more convenient). Christ is a friend who loves too intensely not to demand the very best for his friends. Whenever he makes demands, it’s only because he loves. Christ in My Life You are so patient with me, and you stay so close to me, that sometimes I forget about your greatness. You inspired awe in your disciples. There have been moments when I too have experienced profound reverence in your presence. Jesus, don’t let me take you for granted. Remind me of your greatness; make me worthy to serve such a Lord; make me follow you as you deserved to be followed… Are you pleased with how I react to the storms that come into my life? They are precious moments, when things come into focus, when you remind me of my fragility and weakness. I want to stay close to you; I want to lean on you; I want to work hard for your Kingdom and even suffer for it, but always with a joyful heart, because you are always in the boat of my soul… What are you asking of me right now, at this specific point in my life, that makes me uncomfortable? Is our friendship worth that kind of sacrifice? All I have to do is look at the crucifix and you give me the answer: of course it is. I want to follow you, Lord, and I want to help many others follow you as well. You are my life and my salvation – what could I possible fear?… Yours in Christ, Father John Bartunek, LC To learn more, or purchase “The Better Part – A Christ Centered Resource for Personal Prayer,” click HERE. How do I get rid of my “inner ugliness?”
A: OK, brace yourself for this really blunt answer: You still feel “inner ugly” because you still are “inner ugly” – at least partially. Let’s be blunt again: It’s obvious from your question that you feel frustration at the stubborn persistence of some of your faults, in spite of your efforts to extricate them. Where does that frustration come from? Does it come from God? Is God frustrated with you because you aren’t perfect yet? Is he up in heaven tapping his watch and raising his eyebrows? Not a chance. Let me tell you, as a Catholic priest, that he is OVERJOYED with the fact that you have followed his nudges and made your way through the wilderness of our secular society onto the one path of holiness. Yes, you are on the path of holiness; you are on the “steep road” and passing through the “narrow gate” (Matthew 7:13) that lead to salvation, wisdom, Christian joy, everlasting fruitfulness, and eternal beauty. He has been trying to convince you to get onto that path for a while, most likely. Now you are there, and you are traveling it, and you are following the road signs (prayer, confession, spiritual direction… Heck, you’re in the fast lane!), and he is delighted! So, if your frustration doesn’t come from God, where does it come from? I am sure you have already guessed it: your pride. You want God to go at your pace, but God is not always going to go at your pace. He knows better; he is going to go at his pace, and we (all of us) need to learn to follow that pace. If not, we will never grow in humility, the bedrock of all holiness and true happiness. Baking School Imagine: You are teaching your teenage daughter how to make an angel-food cake. First you make one together, and she really just watches and assists you a tiny bit. So then she gets really excited about it, and she wants to do one all by herself. She is so excited that she tells you, “Mom, you go running or something; I want to do this myself.” So you go running. And you come back to find her huddled over a rather floppy, lopsided, misshapen, and gooey culinary mutant. She is either crying or fuming. She is an impatient girl and wants to do everything perfectly right away, but the reality is that some things can’t be rushed. If she were a bit humbler and more patient, she either wouldn’t have tried to do it all on her own so soon, or she would have had more of a sense of humor over her delicious dessert disaster. Transitioning the Garden Here’s another analogy. Think of your soul as a large garden. You haven’t always been attentive to taking care of the whole garden. In fact, there were parts you didn’t even know you had, sections with amazing potential. So now the Lord has shown you the potential of your garden, and together with him you have rolled up your sleeves and gotten to work to make your garden into what it should be. There are various phases to this work. First, you have to repair the broken fences, cracked fountains, and disheveled walkways. Then you have to extract the weeds that have been growing freely for a while (maybe for a long while), so that the good plants (the ones already there and the ones you want to plant) have room to grow. Then you have to dig up the soil, aerate it, water it, fertilize it. Then you have to keep tending the good plants (protecting them from rabbits, deer, birds, etc.), repair things that get broken during storms, keep weeding, etc. That’s the process. It’s long and hard, but it’s what matters most, because the flowers and fruits that come from our spiritual gardening are the ones that matter most: “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness, self-control” (Galatians 5:22). That’s the opposite of the “inner ugly” that you are striving for. Right now, you are working hard, sweating, and doing all the right things. But you are discovering that the weeds had deeper roots than you thought. You are discovering that the broken fences are taking much longer to mend that you anticipated. You are finding out that the soil is extremely dry and alkaline in certain areas and needs a lot of deep digging. You like the look of the new plants, but they are still so little, while some of the older, ugly weeds are still big. So you see the fresh inner beauty, but you also see the stubborn inner ugly, maybe even more clearly (more realistically) than before. Letting God Be God God can speed up the process whenever he wants (and in some aspects, he probably already has, whether or not you realize it). But when he doesn’t, he has his reasons. We can only make a decent effort to do our part (what more could he expect from us?). God’s part is up to him. If he is going at a pace that makes us uncomfortable, we need to trust his wisdom. The worst thing to do would be to let your frustration get the better of you and give up. The best thing to do, being the little and beloved daughter of God that you are, is to wipe the sweat from your brow, smile, and keeping following his lead: “But as for the seed that fell on rich soil, they are the ones who, when they have heard the word, embrace it with a generous and good heart, and bear fruit through perseverance” (Luke 8:15). He has guided you faithfully so far, and he won’t lead you astray now. And remember, the frustration doesn’t come from him – he is DELIGHTED with you! Yours in Christ, Father John Bartunek, LC “Offering it Up” – Redemptive Suffering Part II – The Path to Greater Merit
A: Having marveled at the amazing truth that Jesus not only redeemed us, but through his grace has desired to give us a real, consequential role in the building up of his everlasting Kingdom through merit, now we are ready to tackle your question. If we are in the state of grace, our prayers, virtuous actions, and even our sufferings can become a source of merit. When we unite them to Christ (“offering them up” as you put it in the question), they become pipelines of grace extending from the heart of Christ into our hearts and through us into the Church and the world around us. That said, we also must remember that the diameter of the pipeline is not fixed. It depends upon four factors. Growth in spiritual maturity depends to a great extent on the interior discipline required in living out these four factors. First, there is the amount of sanctifying grace present in my soul. The more I am filled with grace, the more merit my prayers, virtuous actions, and sufferings will have when I offer them to God. The more grace I am infused with, the higher the wattage on the lamp of my soul. This is because grace is what makes us more like God, more united to him. A kind word from a stranger can be pleasant, but a kind word from someone dear to me is much more meaningful. The Christian who prays regularly, receives the sacraments regularly, and makes an effort to practice all the Christian virtues, rooting out sinful tendencies and avoiding sin, is more united to God. They are in a better position to merit. As the Bible puts it, “The Lord keeps his distance from the wicked, but he listens to the prayers of the upright” (Proverbs 15:29). And lest you think this is just an Old Testament anachronism, here’s St. James making the same point in the New Testament: “…The heartfelt prayer of someone upright works very powerfully” (James 5:16). What goes for prayers goes also for virtuous actions and sufferings. United to the Vine Second, there is our union with Jesus. This is closely related to the first factor, but it is less formal and more relational. It’s a question of being aware of our union with Christ. We are members of his mystical body, and so he is always with us. The more conscious we are of this union, the more meritorious all of our actions become. When we are working on a project with another person, the beneficial synergy happens more fully and dramatically if we are in constant contact with that person along the whole process. Our project as Christians is to build up Christ’s Kingdom in our hearts and in the world around us. If we try to do the work on our own and then check in with the Lord at the end of the day, that’s good. But it’s much better if we work side-by-side with him throughout every phase of the project. This is the spiritual discipline of living in the presence of God, and it turns even the most mundane tasks into meaningful encounters with God. If I am habitually living and working aware of Christ’s presence in my heart, then saying the words “Lord, I offer this up to you” resonates deeply in my soul, opening up a wider flow of God’s grace (merit) through that offering. St. Paul encouraged the Christians of Colossae to practice this spiritual discipline: “…Whatever you say or do, let it be in the name of the Lord Jesus, in thanksgiving to God the Father through him” (Colossians 3:17). To Want or Not to Want… Third, there is our purity of intention. We can “offer up” our sufferings, using them to gain merit, for many different reasons: because we don’t want to go to hell; because we want more glory in heaven; because we want our sufferings to win graces for others who are in need; because we want to show God that we love him no matter what, even if he permits suffering in our lives; because we want to conform our lives more perfectly to Christ… The same variety of reasons can be present in our prayers and virtuous actions. We can obey because we don’t want to be punished, or because we recognize that the virtue of obedience is pleasing to God and glorifies his wisdom; we can exhaust ourselves to earn a decent living because we are afraid of being labeled a failure, or because we recognize that God has given us a mission to provide for a family and thereby be a mirror of the Father’s goodness… The default setting for our interior intention is usually self-centered. But with God’s help and constant effort on our part, we can make it more and more mission-centered, Kingdom-centered, Christ-centered. Of course, usually we have more than one intention, e.g. we work for the satisfaction of a job well done, but also to benefit the world around us and to make a living, and also to glorify God. Multiple intentions are natural and normal – human beings are complex creatures. But the more we can consciously renew our supernatural intention, stirring up the reasons for doing things that are based on the wisdom of our faith, the bigger pipeline of grace we can become. This factor applies even to the littlest things we do, as St Paul makes clear: “Whatever you eat, then, or drink, and whatever else you do, do it all for the glory of God” (1 Corinthians 10:31). Going from Cold to Hot Fourth, there is the factor of fervor. You can have 20 kids in a math class, and every single one of them can be working on an exercise. But not every single one of them will be putting their whole heart into it. You can have 15 kids at baseball practice, but not all 15 will be giving their all for the whole two hours. Just so, we can all say the words, “Lord, I offer this up to you,” but we will not all say them with equal fervor; the more meaning we pour into them, the more merit we can acquire. When sufferings come our way, for example, we can accept them with different degrees of fervor: reluctance, patience, gratitude, joy. As long as we accept them out of faith, we will merit – we will help increase the flow of grace in the Church. But if we accept them with a greater degree of faith (e.g. “Lord, you are giving me a chance to unite myself more closely to Christ on the cross – OK, Lord, help me to share his love as I share his pain!…”), there will also be a greater degree of merit. Jesus stressed this factor when he identified the most important commandment: “You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind” (Matthew 22:37). He said all. The implication is that we can love with different degrees of totality. Sanctifying grace, union with Jesus, purity of intention, and fervor are four factors that help determine the degree of merit that our prayers, virtuous actions, and sufferings (sacrifices) can win for ourselves, the Church, and the world around us. So, to answer the original question, there is much more to uniting our sufferings to Christ than simply saying the words, though that is the necessary catalyst. I hope this hasn’t discouraged you by giving the impression that the spiritual life is overly complicated. It really isn’t. In fact, knowing that one simple action (a prayer, a headache, an act of service, an honest word, a chore) can either open up a trickle or a torrent of grace is a jewel of wisdom. It should fill us with optimism and enthusiasm. We don’t have to convert nations or face lions in the Coliseum to do something glorious for God! Nor do we have to learn complex yoga techniques in order to develop spiritual maturity – we just have to dig deep into our soul before, during, and after our normal activities, and activate our faith so as to plug them into our Christian mission of building Christ’s Kingdom. (By the way, the easiest way to do that is to grow in the habit of “praying at all times” [1 Thessalonians 5:17]. When we do that, the four factors kick in and intensify automatically.) This is less glamorous than becoming a martial arts expert, because it is largely interior and invisible (to everyone except you and God), and therefore requires more discipline. As St Paul put it, we “walk by faith, not by sight” (2 Corinthians 5:7). But the good news is, as always, that we are not alone. God, Mary, the angels and the saints are all eager to help us, if we just give them the chance. Yours in Christ, Fr John Bartunek, LC |
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“Man is created to praise, reverence, and serve God our Lord, and by this means to save his soul. All other things on the face of the earth are created for man to help him fulfill the end for which he is created.”
Q: Fr John, I have been struggling with some interior trials with forgiveness, resentment and jealousy. I call this “inner ugliness.” I have been praying fervently, going to confession, and receiving excellent spiritual direction. I have been willing myself to be charitable even when I am not feeling it. So here is my question. What am I missing, why do I still feel “inner ugly”? How do I let go of all of this?
Q: Father John, I was just listening to a radio show about redemptive suffering – they were saying that our suffering can have value if we “offer it up.” Is there any more to this (uniting our sufferings to Jesus’) than just saying the words?
