Pondering the Beauty of Suffering

Christ Crucified (Diego Velazquez 1632)

Pondering the Beauty of Suffering
 
Via Pulchritudinis
 
By Sharon Clossick

I realize the sensitivity to the topic of suffering.  This is a very difficult subject due to the different degrees of suffering people experience.  Although I certainly have had a fair share of very difficult times in life, I realize that it does not compare to horrific and tragic suffering that many people endure.  This writing is focused on our everyday natural challenges in life.  Please know that this is written from my heart based on my own experiences.
 
 
 
Recently, on a very warm 50-degree day while driving down South Road, I noticed how the trees, brush, and grass looked exceptionally brown and dreary.  Maybe this was because it was still February and though that day felt like spring was in the air, nature still had the look of winter.  The trees looked lifeless, which of course is very typical for this time of year.  I looked up and reflected on the leafless trees aligning the street and reminisced how, in the summertime they are full and lush.  During the summer months on certain sections of the road, the tips of the tree branches meet the tips of the trees on the other side of the street, creating an arch, and as you drive down the road you can’t help but notice the beauty.  It’s so lovely and has always been one of my favorite roads, especially because for twenty-five years, this was where we lived before moving to Narragansett.    
 
As I looked further up at the trees, I noticed the tips of the bare branches against the wintery blue sky and noticed the sun shining down on them.  I couldn’t help but focus on that warm spring feeling.  For sure, a sign of hope.  I reflected on how different the street looks in winter versus the summer.  As I reflected on this glimmer of hope, I realized how necessary hope is for us in times of suffering.  I had a moment of realization of how important it is for us to always know that God is with us.  Though His presence is veiled, and we cannot see God, there are times when we know in our hearts that He is with us.  This “hope” I was feeling spoke to me in a different way that day because it was elicited by the wintery scene contrasted by the springlike feel.  Winter symbolizing suffering and the springlike feel, our hope.  This hope I thought about wasn’t the hope we get from a joyous occasion like a wedding or some other happy life event.  This was a hope born from pain, from times of struggle.  We all know that suffering is very ugly and suffering in itself is evil, but suffering transcended by hope is very beautiful.  How amazing it is that art has a way of beautifully expressing this mystery. 
 
As I mentioned in my first blog, in the Spirit of the Liturgy, Pope Benedict XVI speaks about three main figurative styles of art that the Catholic church emphasizes as examples of true liturgical tradition.  These styles are the Iconographic, the Gothic and the Baroque.  In the 17th century, during the counter reformation, the Baroque movement was created to bring people back to the faith and to the church again. 

The Incredulity of Saint Thomas (Caravaggio 1601-1602)

​The Baroque style focuses on suffering transcended by hope.  The use of light symbolizes hope in the redemption of Christ and the use of darks and shadow symbolize suffering and evil in our fallen world.  In the modern world today, we seemed to have lost a sense of the meaning of suffering.  What is this all about and how can we find meaning again? 
 
I recently attended a funeral for a friend, Deacon Kevin.  To clarify, he was much closer to my husband, and I knew him more through their friendship.  For the last two and a half years, my husband, Joe, who is also a deacon, administered communion to him at his home because Kevin was housebound due to Parkinson’s disease.  On a handful of occasions, I accompanied Joe on his Sunday visits.  We visited with both Deacon Kevin and his wife, Ann.  Although I wish I was able to visit more often, our hectic schedules didn’t allow for this, as my husband and I often “conquer and divide” when we have multiple responsibilities and family commitments.  But the times I was able to visit and get to know Kevin and Ann were very special to me.  I enjoyed sitting around their table and exchanging a little about each of our lives.  Deacon Kevin’s wife would make sure he was settled in his wheelchair at the table before we arrived.  Ann always greeted us at the door with such warmth and affection.  After Joe administered communion, we would chat.  Deacon Kevin couldn’t speak easily due to his illness, so Ann often patiently spoke on his behalf.  I learned that this beautiful couple had six children and that Kevin, before his illness was a graphic designer and an artist.  I was intrigued by this as we share this common connection of being artists.  As I watched Kevin struggle to form his words, I also noticed how he no longer had use of his hands.  The disease had deteriorated the muscles, so they were now turned inward.  On one of my visits, it dawned on me that so much had been taken away from Kevin.  There was so much in his life that he had to surrender and succumb to, and it particularly stood out to me that there had to be a time when he realized that he no longer could paint.  Creating art is a powerful means of expression and often a form of prayer for many artists.  To be told that you can no longer express yourself in this capacity has to be devastating.  The thought of this is tragic to me and I can’t imagine being faced with such a sacrifice.  It is truly a suffering.  Yet I saw such peace and a certain hope in Christ that shown through in Kevin.  I was struck by the joy Kevin eluded during our visits and I often left their home reflecting on how he could get to this point of such acceptance.  I also noticed how joyful and loving his wife Ann was. There was a beauty I encountered during those visits that has left a permanent mark of peace and awe on my heart. 
 
Though we only knew Kevin for the last couple of years of his life, we learned that he struggled with Parkinson’s for twenty-two years.  The last few weeks of his life, he deteriorated quickly and on February 20th left this world to go home to God.  I was honored to attend Deacon Kevin’s funeral.  There is something about funerals I find so beautiful, and in a strange way feel closer to God during these times.  Pondering this thought, I realize that funerals have a way of awaking all our senses.  The smell of incense, the sound of the beautiful musical hymns we are so familiar with, the sight of the beautiful clergy vestments and stained-glass windows, and the comforting Words of God.  My heart is raised to the Lord and though my heart is filled with sorrow for the loss of our loved one, I experience a mystery of gladness for being human.  I am somehow brought out of myself and faced with the realization of my own mortality.  We will all face the sting of death someday but somehow there is a comfort in knowing that we are not alone in this.  The feeling is so raw and it’s in these moments I realize that all that matters in life is to know love. 
 
I often reflect and wonder if and when, I am ever faced with such a tragic illness - will I be accepting of what God is asking me to sacrifice and surrender.  This is a great lesson in understanding that our dignity does not lie in “doing”, but rather in “being”.  Our culture and society have lost the concept of this understanding.  We define ourselves by what we have and by what we can do, rather than understand that it is simply enough to just “be”.  God doesn’t care about all we possess and accomplish.  We shouldn’t define ourselves by our usefulness.  Every human soul has dignity whether we can or can’t accomplish or obtain. 
 
But how is it that we really come to know this understanding?   How did Kevin come to accept the dignity of his “being” and find hope in Christ?  It may have taken years of interior struggle for him, we don’t know.  But what we must understand is that we will never be able to experience hope until we allow God into our suffering.  Often, we are self-reliant, focusing on our own efforts to muddle through.  We hold onto our suffering, struggling to make sense of the pain within us.  We try and “think” our way through the pain and hurt, figuring out ways of relieving ourselves, on how we can resolve whatever situation is causing the pain.  Ultimately, self-reliance without God leads to despair.  Despair is suffering without meaning.
 
The other option is to open our hearts to God in complete humility, letting him enter into the pain we are experiencing.  I do not say this lightly.  Our natural tendency is to take matters into our own hands. At least this is what I’ve always defaulted to in past experiences.  But what I’ve learned in recent years, in my older age, is the freedom we experience when giving our suffering over to God.  Another way of describing this would be to “surrender” our pain and hurt.  But to surrender is only part of what Jesus is calling us too.  By “opening” our hearts, we are not only surrendering, but allowing God into the pain.  It’s in a place of poverty where we open our wounds and allow God to fill our hearts.  Many times, this is where faith is born.  We are inviting Him to “enter into” the suffering, uniting our suffering with His.  By doing this, we can hopefully discover some meaning in what God is asking us to endure. 
 
Like the Apostle Peter, we put out into deep water and lower our nets, laying ourselves down in our poverty, clinging to God.  Cooperating with God’s grace allows God to begin to work in our lives in ways that we might have never known if left up to us.  How much more powerful this is!  Situations we previously tried to control by our own efforts are now left up to God.  If we are docile to the promptings of the Holy Spirit, we are giving God full control.  Our will is aligned with His will and our insight sharper and clearer.  We are led more by divine grace rather than by human effort. 
 
Jesus wants our hearts.  He wants our every desire, our every need, and even our every pain and hurt.  By opening our hearts and inviting God to work in us and in the pain, we begin to see with new eyes and hear with new ears.  “Those with ears ought to hear” (Matthew 13:1-9).  God begins to move in and around us.  And somehow in our suffering, we begin to see a beauty that can’t be explained.  God wants us to be happy.  He doesn’t desire for us to be unhappy.  And although God may not relieve our suffering and our circumstances might not change, ultimately if we trust in the will of God, we will have a peace within us that surpasses all understanding.
 
Suffering is a mystery and if we allow God into this mystery, we may be able to live with a little less fear.  Christ suffered first and for us and the closer we are to Christ and his passion, the more we can recognize beauty.  Because of this mystery, we will never fully understand why there is suffering in our world, and although God doesn’t cause suffering, He often allows it to bring about a spiritual growth and ultimately, love.  It’s in our response, our free choice, as to how we respond to the suffering placed before us.  Our lives can be so unpredictable but the more we trust, perhaps the more we can live out our deepest longing, that is, to give and receive love.  You can’t know beauty without knowing suffering.  Beauty awakens our hearts to the splendor of being alive and the desire to know reality in its fullness and complexity. How important it is to ponder the crucifixion before the resurrection.  We must pass through the sorrows to get to the Glory.  (Margarita Mooney Clayton, Blog - Death is a Veil – and Love Is Eternal)
 
As I looked at the bare branches of the treetops lining South Road pointing upward towards the blue sky and reaching for the sun, it made me think that even all of creation yearns for this hope.  As the sun shines down on a flower, we watch it open to its fullest.  God wants to shine his life on us, if only we open our hearts.  God is life-giving and when we allow our hearts to experience this openness, we are transformed into what He created us to be.  During this Lenten season let our focus be on the Passion and suffering of Christ who leads the way to true love.  It is here where we will experience a hope and beauty that can only be found in God.

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