The Suffering Of Christ And Christians
Some faith traditions put a great emphasis on Christ’s suffering, to the point that I find it more than a little disturbing. I’ve never seen The Passion of the Christ and don’t intend to, because A) Mel Gibson is a lousy director, and B) someone who liked it told me about it and it sounded like torture-porn. I have no interest in that.
The Bible tells us plainly that Jesus suffered under Pontius Pilate. He was scourged, mocked and crucified. The Roman Empire was brutal and cruel, but it was also a bureaucratic state. Jesus would not have been tortured more than any other convicted criminal in His time and place.I’m not trying to de-emphasize His suffering; I’m just saying that it shouldn’t fetishized.
Jesus’s physical suffering in the last few days of His earthly mission was terrible, but then it ended. He ascended to the right hand of the Father and He’s isn’t feeling any pain — physically. The Bible tells us, in many places, that God is grieved by the suffering of His human creatures. The fact that that suffering might be inflicted by other human creatures, or self-inflicted, doesn’t make it less tragic or terrible. Actually, it makes it more so. God has given us instructions on how to live happily and peacefully in His world. We just won’t do it. God loves us as His children — it must hurt Him terribly to see how we behave.
I’ve written about my long experience with depression, which I see as the appropriate response to the world as it is. In short, I don’t believe that I have a mental illness, but that anyone who can read the news and not be overwhelmed with grief does. I’m on medication, so I’m not crippled by depression, but it’s still part of how I experience this world. I accept that this is how it is. It might change, but it hasn’t yet and might not. I assume that I will have some depression until I die. It’s sort of like how I experience myself as transgender — it’s there, I’m aware of it, and it probably won’t change.
As a Christian, I see my own sorrow about the actions of people as a small version of how I imagine God sees us. God — Jesus, the two are the same — sees, knows and feels sorrow over all of the suffering that people inflict on each other and themselves, which is mind-boggling. I feel only a tiny bit of that and I need more than the maximum recommended daily dose of paroxetine just to keep moving. I frequently find myself wishing for a way to escape reality. I’m a recovering alcoholic, so chemical escapes are off the table. I can only sleep so much. The rest of the time, I have to be conscious, and that generally means being aware of the state of things. When it gets heavy, I remind myself that it is appropriate to be sad when sad things happen and that sharing in the suffering is part of what I am called to do.
Jesus didn’t say “Don’t worry, be happy and follow me”. He said, “Take up your cross”. That means “Suffer with me”.
All that is fine. I accept that. It becomes harder because I am a parent. My kid is thirteen years old, gangly, awkward, very intelligent, artistically talented and a very sensitive soul. I see some parts of myself in them. They have had certain advantages I didn’t have — loving and supportive parents, for example — but they have also expressed some distress about the world they are growing up in. They are non-binary, and aware that prejudice against trans people is a very real thing, They know that climate change will be a major problem in their life. They have known that the possibility of being murdered at school is a real threat since they started elementary school. The mom and I are considering starting them on anti-depressants.
The suffering of the world is something I can handle. “The world” is a big, vague thing and it was suffering before I got here. There’s nothing I can personally do to stop the next mass shooter from shooting, so I accept that I am powerless. My kid is something else altogether. I very much want to protect that young person, to the point that I would gladly offer my life, if that was an option. It isn’t though. My kid will experience pain and suffering no matter what I do.
I hate that. I truly hate it to the fiber of my being. And there’s nothing I can do but experience it. I’ll help my kid as much as possible, of course, and try to show them how they can avoid the worst of my mistakes — don’t smoke crack — but they will suffer. It can’t be avoided.
Being a follower of Christ means suffering with Christ, experiencing the pain of the world. It means accepting that the pain will be too much. It also means, certainly, that we don’t bear that pain alone — and that we have reason to hope for an end of pain, for ourselves and for others.