One of the great paradoxes of Christianity is how joy can be found in the midst of profound suffering. To the world this is shocking, misguided, or utter nonsense. How can suffering possibly lead to joy? For Christians the answer is quite simply the Cross. The intense suffering of Our Lord gave way to the Resurrection; suffering had to happen first. This truth also makes sense in light of Christ as the Suffering Servant and the title Son of Man. In solidarity, Jesus took on the profound suffering of mankind within Himself and redeemed the “many” through the Paschal Mystery. With this in mind, it should become clear to Christians that suffering is a part of the Christian journey. It is guaranteed in this life, but our suffering takes on new and profound meaning in light of our Christian vocation begun at Baptism.
In order to bring about our redemption, Christ had to suffer and die. There was no avoiding of this fact, as is shown in the Agony in the Garden. While Christ’s suffering is understood in light of our need for salvation, it is also how Christ fully enters into the human experience and suffers in solidarity with all who have suffered throughout human history from Adam to the present.
The servant appears to be primarily an individual, occasionally identified with Israel (Is 49:3). But, as an individual, he accepts full solidarity with his people. Jesus never designates himself explicitly as the “Servant.” His characteristic self-designation is “Son of Man.” However according to Jesus, the Son of Man, in order to be glorified, must fulfill the destiny of the Suffering Servant.
Roch Kereszty, Jesus Christ: Fundamentals of Christology, 159
Suffering is a key to understanding Christ, as well as the human condition. In understanding who Jesus is as the Suffering Servant, it also becomes clear that suffering is a part of discipleship. Christ reigns in a manner foreign to the world:
Regnavit a lingo Deus—God reigns from the wood of the Cross, as the ancient Church sang in celebration of this new kingship.
Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI, Jesus of Nazareth, 321
The unity of suffering and “exaltation,” of abasement and majesty, becomes visible. Service is the true form of rule and it gives an insight into God’s way of being Lord, of “God’s lordship.” In suffering and in death, the life of the Son of man becomes sheer “pro-existence.” He becomes the Redeemer and bringer of salvation for the “many”: not only for the scattered children of Israel, but for all the scattred children of God (cf John 11:52), for humanity. In his death “for many,” he transcends the boundaries of place and time, and the universality of his mission comes to fulfillment.
Ibid, 332
Christ reigns in His glory through the torture and immense suffering of the Cross. This extremely abbreviated look at Christology helps us to begin to understand the necessity of suffering in not only God’s plan for salvation, but what He requires of us as disciples. As disciples we are asked to suffer in solidarity with others, just as Christ did on the Cross. This call becomes crystal clear in Matthew 25:31-46:
When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit upon his glorious throne, and all the nations will be assembled before him. And he will separate them one from another, as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. He will place the sheep on his right and the goats on his left. Then the king will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father. Inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me, ill and you cared for me, in prison and you visited me.’ [emphasis added] Then the righteous will answer him and say, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? When did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? When did we see you ill or in prison, and visit you?’ And the king will say to them in reply, ‘Amen, I say to you, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.’ Then he will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you accursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. For I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me no drink, stranger and you gave me no welcome, naked and you gave me no clothing, ill and in prison, and you did not care for me.’ Then they will answer and say, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or ill or in prison, and not minister to your needs?’ He will answer them, ‘Amen, I say to you, what you did not do for one of these least ones, you did not do for me.’ And these will go off to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life.”
Through the Cross, Jesus entered into full solidarity with the suffering of the world. Since we are called to follow Christ to Calvary, this solidarity with the suffering of the world is a requirement of our own discipleship. Solidarity was a significant part of His mission here on earth and now it is ours. You and I are called to enter into the suffering of our neighbor. It’s not a point of negotiation. Christ tells us that being a disciple is to suffer in solidarity with others. Yes, we must go to Mass, pray, and live the Sacramental life, but it is more than that: We must go out to the lost sheep of the world. We must carry the Crosses of our neighbors. Charity demands solidarity. I will share a personal story about my experience in learning the joy of suffering with others.
Three years ago a friend of mine nearly died of rapid onset eclampsia. Thanks be to God, and I am certain the intercession of Our Heavenly Mother, both mother and baby survived. That year was one of the hardest of my life. I was still recovering from my third and most traumatic miscarriage, my husband was having debilitation migraines that sent him to the hospital on multiple occasions, and I was in the throes of an even deeper post-partum depression and anxiety. In the midst of all of this, I made a point to go to the hospital to visit my friend as much as my vocation would allow. I spent Saturday afternoons with her in the ICU. I was a presence for her when her family needed a break.
At the same time our parish put out an announcement that they needed Extraordinary Ministers of Holy Communion (EMHC) for one of the hospitals here. It is a notoriously difficult ministry to fill. I saw the announcement and immediately felt the call. I did not want to answer the call. Me? Go into hospital rooms of strangers, enter into that kind of suffering? Wasn’t my 9-11 relief work and my own subsequent periods of intense suffering enough, Lord? These were questions that floated through my mind. I fought hard against it. As a woman, I also have theological concerns in this area, and so I tried to put it aside. I spent some time in intense prayer. Here I was in one of the most difficult years of my life, and it got much worse after this point when two months later a very dear friend who was like a second father to me died suddenly and my daughter ended up in the hospital with a staph infection at 2 years old. Yes, Christ called me to a ministry of entering into the suffering of others during my own deep suffering. I tried to say “no” but it became completely apparent to me that God was saying: “Yes. YOU!”
I finally acquiesced and I have been an EMHC to the hospital for nearly 3 years. I actually now head up the ministry. It is still very hard to find people to fill this ministry. I learned immediately that no matter how I am feeling on a day I have to take Holy Communion to a patient, I leave refreshed, blessed, and filled with joy after visiting with them. That’s right! I go see people in their darkest hours and they bless me more than I could even imagine or give to them. I take them the healing salve of Our Lord’s body, blood, soul, and divinity and they teach me the great joy that comes from serving those who suffer. I learned this long ago as a relief worker, but at times I allow fear to get the better of me. It takes courage for someone like me who is more of an introvert to walk into a stranger’s room, not only a stranger, but someone who is bearing the full weight of their Cross. It has been one of the greatest spiritual lessons of my life thus far as I learn the path of a disciple.
There is a real danger for all of us in thinking that we are doing enough as disciples if we go to Mass, are involved in committees at our parish, and go to parish activities. Christ makes it abundantly clear through His own example on the Cross and His words in Matthew 25, as disciples we are called to go out to the poor, the suffering, and the afflicted. We must reach out to the homeless, the woman in a crisis pregnancy, the grieving in our families and neighborhoods, the sick in the hospitals, the abandoned in nursing homes, and even those struggling with anger and emotional pain who are hard to deal with at times. It is not enough to talk about it or think about it, we must do it. The amazing paradox about all of this is, that in doing so, our joy is compounded with interest! The closer we live to Our Lord’s example, the greater our peace and joy will be in our own lives. Christ suffered in solidarity and we must do the same. With Lent fast approaching next week, rather than just giving up chocolate, let’s focus on sacrifices we can give that will truly make us holy. Who in our community needs our love and sacrifice? Where can our love help someone we know who is suffering, or even someone we don’t know? This Lent, let’s make a concerted effort to go deeper into discipleship.
