Bad things happen to good people every day. Tragedy is an all-too-familiar experience, whether it be the sudden death of an infant, the suicide of a teenager, or advanced cancer in a young mother of three. Tragedy has a way of touching the life of every human being, saint and sinner alike, and often it overwhelms even the most faith-filled people. How are people of faith to approach the pain of life?
As a former hospice chaplain and minister to the sick for many years, I have witnessed the effects of pain and suffering in the lives of hundreds of dying patients and their families, and they frequently grapple with the question of why. For so many, there are no satisfying answers.
Although there may be no real answers for why people suffer, I have been privileged to see people respond with tremendous resilience and faith in the midst of their suffering, and it has revealed the face of Christ to me. Like Veronica after she wiped the face of the crucified Christ with her veil, I have been left to treasure the imprint of Jesus’ face on my heart. No one can prevent tragedy from happening to their family. No one can be shielded from suffering. No one is exempt from pain and loss. But I believe that deep inside each of us is a power that can redeem suffering. Time and again I have witnessed how people’s response to suffering bears testimony to the power of resurrection within them.
Families dealing with tragedy and death often respond with differing measures of denial, anger, depression, confusion, or guilt. These are natural responses to hurt. There may also be a great amount of bitterness, withdrawal, conflict, resentment, even hostility as people respond to pain. But in the greater number of cases, I have found heroic courage, humility, tenderness, and greatness of heart in people struggling with suffering. Their responses to a heartbreaking situation continually amaze me. I have been struck by the number of families who somehow find a way to allow their pain to make them better people, allowing their pain to bring them closer to God and to the people in their lives. I have witnessed a power released within suffering and grieving people that is palpable.
I have witnessed this power again and again, and the reality of it has become a deep well of hope for me. This power seems to reside in a person’s ability to surrender, to trust that the unknown future still holds something good, despite the pain and heartache of the present. This power seems to stem from the bedrock belief that absolutely “nothing can separate us from the love of Christ”(Romans 8:37).
This choice, this desire to trust and somehow transcend the darkness, seems to be embedded in the human spirit, and was voiced by the Psalmist, “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life” (Psalm 23:6).
Whereas suffering can and does rob people of life itself, I have seen people of faith responding to their suffering by allowing God to take control. I have seen people acknowledge their powerlessness over the situation and yet maintain their courage. They sense God’s power within them as they struggle and they implicitly recognize that God will remain with them until the end, “I know the plans I have in mind for you, says the Lord…plans for peace, not disaster, reserving a future full of hope for you” (Jeremiah 29:11). So often this is the unspoken, but lived response of people who face suffering with faith. The Funeral Liturgy tells us, “Life is changed but not ended.” We also hear that suffering and death do not sever our connections with one another, “We believe that all the ties of friendship and affection which knit us as one throughout our lives do not unravel with death” (Vigil for the Deceased).
How do people of faith approach the tragedies of life? Not by avoiding pain, or denying it, or explaining it away. People of faith accept life as it is, surrendering to life’s limitations, softening its blows with gentle strength and courageous trust. People of faith ask God to make them strong in all the broken places. People of faith allow the power of resurrection to take hold of their lives.
By Sister Madeline Contorno, OSB
(Based on an article originally published in Bereavement Magazine Jan/Feb 1997, p.11)