One of the most intractable and challenging issues in human life is the reality and meaning of suffering. All human beings at one time or another suffer perhaps through physical ailments, emotional distress, mental health strains, or spiritual darkness. And for most people it is a human response to ask, “Why am I suffering like this?”

Indeed, philosophers, literary greats, poets, and countless people have offered reflections on human suffering ranging from a denial of a God who would permit such trauma to the realization that a profound union with the Suffering Christ gives meaning and peace beyond human reason.   

I recall when I was a student studying at the university, part of one course focused on theodicy, that is, the study of suffering and its meaning in relation to God. I recall clearly now how we raised and speculated about ‘answers’ to this reality of suffering. Some answers, we noted, were the direct result of bad choices, our own or often those of others. On a more positive note, we recognized how often suffering can be a great teacher making us both realistic about our mortal lives and shaping our character for life’s further challenges. A third explanation of suffering involved sacrificial suffering, that is, suffering in order to relieve others, like Fr. Maximilian Kolbe in Auschwitz giving his life for a man with a family. And, finally, there was redemptive suffering, specifically the passion and death of Jesus to teach us that these, though painfully real, do not ultimately deny the meaning of human life because Jesus could embrace them knowing the Father’s Love for him never wavered. 

Now there were other explanations that we debated.  But my real teacher on this topic began during my encounters with people who were genuinely suffering.  I recall a young mother with three small children whose husband had died from an asthma attack with no medicine at hand.  Talking to her about God’s ongoing presence and comfort was anything but a solace to her.  She was simply hurting and overwhelmed. And I had to ask myself: How do I, or can I even, console people whose suffering is total and without resolution. Or then there was the teenage boy who was picked on by his classmates mercilessly. His suffering was almost tangible and the simple solution of finding a friend or two eluded him. In terrifying loneliness some boys and girls must come to terms with their sexual identity, and this is done only through very painful bouts of self-doubt and even self-loathing. How does an “older person”, a teacher, or a parent, or the parish priest reach into that suffering of the young and convince them that things will be ok? Providing people with canned answers, no matter how wise we may think they sound, is often far from providing consolation. 

Early on, as a young priest, I began to learn that outsiders, those who are not suffering – often, with the best of intentions – make the suffering worse by trying to give some facile explanation or hope in the face of suffering.  To the sufferer, this response can appear to be a dismissal of the sufferer’s pain while assuaging our discomfort in the face of another’s pain. Think for a moment of a woman who has a miscarriage and a well-meaning friend says, “Oh, it’s not a big deal; you can have another child.” 

In the face of such pain, the mother’s pain, the teenagers’ pain, we are called to do and be something else. We are called to accompaniment, even for a few minutes, to go on the journey with that person, as nonverbally as possible to let them know they are not alone and that you believe in them. It is not helpful to try and explain the pain away. 

Most of the time we should simply and quietly be present to the sufferer. Words of comfort rather than attempts to ascribe meaning make far more sense in the turmoil of pain. Having a friend is far more important than having a lecture or an instruction.

And this is where faith enters in. There is something profoundly helpful and supportive in uniting one’s suffering with that of Our Lord. Whatever meaning can be found in redemptive suffering – and such meaning is wrapped in the mystery of God’s salvation in Jesus Christ – human clarity does not always rise easily to the surface. Rather a sense that one is not alone in one’s suffering combines with a sense that God does not let suffering be meaningless. 

Prayer for the sufferer and presence are the two great gifts we can give to those who are suffering. Comfort often comes without words.

Furthermore, people often do find their own meaning. They learn lessons; they can sympathize with others now in the same boat; they can connect with the Passion and Death of Jesus. And, indeed, friends and family may help in this discovery of meaning through conversations and stories. But the meaning remains intensely personal and, I believe, a hidden touch of grace from the Divine.

And if I might be permitted one final additional thought, it is that those who are suffering may often be the greatest teachers to the rest of us as they accept their suffering or offer it for others or radiate the gentle presence of Christ. Faith and hope and trust in God are treasures shared through the witness of those who are suffering. And if we are too busy trying to explain the supposed reasons behind the suffering, we may miss some of the most profound lessons of life.

May Almighty God bless you: The Father, the Son, and The Holy Spirit. Amen.