I ran cross country in high school - the only sport I could possibly have earned a letter in because it required absolutely no coordination. Our coach, who sported a crew cut, had the slightly psycho eyes of Rasputin, and whose politics were just one notch left of Atilla the Hun, hosted each year the Iron Man Weekend at his brother's farm. He'd have us run the exact same loops each year, through bogs, brambles, nettles and thorns, all designed for maximum damage. There was an award for the bloodiest legs at the end of the weekend.
"Mental toughness," was what he was after. "Mind Over Pain" was his motto.
Did I gain such things through this experience? Did it improve my character? I'd say in many ways it did. It was especially a lifeline to kids on that team who, in the absence of such structure and discipline, might not have done well in school - one even might well have ended up in jail. It was a bonding experience for us to undergo the ordeal of that weekend, and in general the crucible of the cross country team.
On the other hand, such experiences can be abusive. Those who believe in a philosophy of "no pain, no gain," often have a hard time with the value of compassion and the need for gentleness. Believing that pain and suffering are "good for us" seems a way of denying the crushing reality of suffering, and can even be an excuse to inflict it.
Perhaps more troubling is the theological issue here: can we say that God uses human suffering for our betterment? Can we ever say to someone in the midst of suffering, "this is good for you; you'll see." Can we imagine saying anything more cruel than that?
And yet, what would human life be in the absence of suffering? If we lived a life free from risk of harm, disease, death, would we really be human? Would we know the meaning of courage if there were nothing to risk? Is suffering, in that sense, part of the providence of God? In such a way, do we not confront the mystery of the cross?
On Sunday we'll deal with Romans 5:1-5 ("we boast in our suffering, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope...") and Matthew 4:1-11, Jesus' 40 day ordeal in the wilderness.
Here are some questions to ponder:
* Does suffering produce character? Can you share an experience in which that was the case for you? In what ways can this be a very unhelpful, or even dangerous way to think of suffering?
* Do you think there is a gender-difference in approaching this question? I'm mindful of the way men might value "mental toughness" over the virtue of gentleness of heart. Or am I making an unhelpful generalization there?
* There's much talk these days about "failure to launch" kids. As parents/educators/mentors, is it of value to allow kids to experience challenge and suffering - or even to program for them such challenges? Outward Bound is one example of such a strategy - a literal testing in the wilderness.
* Do you think God allows suffering? How do we fit suffering into the notion of God's providence? (How's that for a wide-open ended question?)
Love to hear from folks, before or after this Sunday's sermon.
- Jeff V.
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6 comments:
You should mention attending PCOL in the summer with no air conditioning in this sermon.
:-)
More serious thoughts to come later.
I believe that there is a difference between CHALLENGE and SUFFERING.
Most often, Challenge is something entered into voluntarily. An employee takes on an assignment that they don't know how they'll do in order to learn. An athlete pushes through the pain at mile 24 of the marathon. A person who is scared of heights learns to fly an airplane.
Suffering on the other hand is something that happens to us. It may be caused by us, but it certainly isn't voluntary. Here is the unexpected death of a loved one, a natural disaster, or the loss of a job.
You are right - it's easy for another person to turn challenge into suffering. A person can do it to themselves as well.
We need challenge and/or suffering in order to grow. The question is whether or not Suffering is required, or can be replaced by appropriate challenges. In some cases it can't - the first loss of a loved one hurts and is never desired.
On the question of whether or not God produces suffering and whether or not that's actually benevolent in the end - I have no idea. Looking forward to what you have to say.
I don't think there's a gender bias in terms of challenge vs. suffering. I think it's just spoken of differently.
My father used to tell me, “That which doesn’t kill me, makes me stronger.” He took great pride in telling us kids this wisdom, especially when we were struggling. As I was growing up, I aspired to be as strong as my father, and as resilient to adversity as he was. Much later, I finally understood how my father’s perspective had been shaped by a cruel, painful set of experiences in his childhood, with the loss of his beloved older brother in WWII, the emotional isolation by his parents after his brother’s death, and, as a very young soldier, liberating a concentration camp in Germany at the end of hostilities during WWII. My father had endured great suffering. Only my mother’s loving presence provided the solace that he needed.
I was a freshman in college when my mother died, depriving my father of his much needed solace. When I returned home for the summer, the explosion of rage and attempts to control the world around him after my mother’s death were unbelievably painful for me and my two sisters who lived at home. I found that I had lost my mother to cancer, and my father to his emotions. My reaction was to subjugate all of my emotions, placate my father in his grief and anger about my mother’s death, and protect my little sister from my father’s rage. For the next two summers, I returned home, commuting to my summer job and helping my little sister, who was still in middle school.
Herein lies the huge paradox. My reaction to this suffering produced a person who was completely functional. Maybe “super-functional.” I had been taught about the virtues of overcoming adversity; how could I have done otherwise? That mindset was my salvation; I graduated college, got a job, managed my money, got married and solved problems. So what’s the problem?
There is a point at which suffering is so severe that it permanently transforms a person’s survival instinct. I concluded that I needed to protect myself, not just at the moment but forever; not just from my father, but from anyone who had the power to hurt me. I had a few close friends, who often told me that they admired my strength, but I was alone, painfully alone, behind that protective shield that I had so carefully built.
The death of my father several years ago was a milestone. He could no longer hurt me with his rage or emotional isolation. The day of reckoning had come and slowly I discovered that I did not have to live alone. My suffering had built character but it had also built an illusion that I should live alone.
I like your point about the possibility of there being a gender-difference in the approach to character and suffering. For years I had an emotional tug-of-war with my father surrounding my struggle with depression. Each time I would muster up the courage to see a doctor or therapist about it, my dad would say things like "You just need to toughen up" or "You just need to get over it." He didn't understand and he couldn't relate to what I was going through. It took me hitting bottom (ending up in a treatment facility for anorexia) for my dad to "get it" and come to understand my struggle. Today, my dad is one of the most supportive people of me in the world. He would do anything for me (and would have back then, too, I now know). I look back on that rough time, and while I don't ever want to repeat that phase of my life, wouldn't trade it. That struggle made me a stronger person. I found God, my future husband, and myself. And my real Dad.
Rich comments indeed; thank you for them. I agree that the issue of choosing to suffer for the sake of some goal is different from suffering being foisted upon one. In my experience of both, I find myself constantly having to think about the question: what is my relationship to this suffering? How am I going to incorporate that into my life? What is its meaning? Can I use this suffering or anxiety for the purpose of becoming a more whole/compassionate/loving person?
So seem your entries, Loraine and Sew and Sow. Poignant indeed, and pointing out all the subtlety involved in this question. Thanks for offering your insights.
One last comment that your entry brings to mind S&S. One could say that the avoidance of dealing with any deep inner issue is not strength - "bucking up" - but a kind of inverse weakness. Strength involves the courage to confront oneself, and admit one's need. It sounds like your father eventually did come to that conclusion himself - what grace.
In any case, thanks again for your insights. Hope you continue to comment on the future entries.
Two more additional thoughts...I plan to offer these at the beginning of the sermon on Sunday.
First is a quote by the ancient Greek tragedian Aeschylus. Dick Brown mentioned it going out from church last Sunday:
"He who learns must suffer. And even in our sleep pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God. "
Second is a movie recommendation. I didn't have time in the sermon to include it. It's the movie - a true "sleeper" - called "The Big Kahuna". It's a short flick - only about 90 minutes - and I think was originally a one-act play. It features Danny Devito, Kevin Spacey and another actor (not a big name). Anyway, most of the action takes place in a hotel room during an industrial lubricants conference - among 3 salesmen. It's about their attempt to land "The Big Kahuna", and involves themes around religion, salesmanship, and...of course...character. An excellent film, well worth a watch. I had my whole confirmation class watch it once.
Parting thoughts...
Jeff
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