These are dark days. People are sick, and people are dying. People are anxious, and people are depressed. People are losing their jobs, and people are struggling to pay bills. People are scared, and people are suffering.
Suffering. It is a word that invokes more questions than answers. Why does suffering take place? And what can make suffering go away?
I've been hearing a lot of people trying to answer these questions when it comes to our present circumstances. They are all questions of theodicy. This word is a mash up of two Greek words. The words for "God" and "Justice" are brought together to form the word theodicy. Basically, this word is all about answering the questions surrounding suffering, focusing on God's attributes in the face of this suffering. It begs the question, if God is all good and God is all powerful, how is there suffering in the world? The formation of a theodicy is an attempt to answer that question.
The practice of forming theodicies isn't new. Suffering is a reality in this world, and that means that people asking questions and trying to find answers to their suffering is just as much a reality. I've yet to meet a human who was okay asking a question and living in ambiguity without that question getting resolved. When the question of suffering comes, we naturally clamor for a way to answer.
So, what is the answer? Why is COVID-19 taking lives and jobs and generally causing turmoil in minds and bodies and lives? Doesn't God love us? Isn't God more powerful than a virus? We affirm both of those attributes of God, and yet here we are... suffering.
At the end of the day, I'm coming to realize that theodicy simply isn't helpful. You see, theodicy is done best from an "ivory tower" perspective. It is done best when one is separated from the reality of suffering. I see this reality played out in front of me every time I log on to social media. The people offering up reasons for the horrid effects of the Coronavirus are people for whom the virus is not directly touching their lives. Those that have been tested positive have not been posting explanations for their suffering.
Theodicy as an intellectual exercise is, to put it bluntly, pointless. Thinking back on my own health journey has helped me to reach this conclusion. When I was diagnosed with cancer and the shock of it all wore off, I was angry. I blamed God. God was all-powerful, but I was suffering, so God must not be all-good. As time went on and a first surgery led to a second and then a third I grew more and more discouraged. Then, I blamed me. God was all powerful, and I wanted to believe God was all-good, and so I had to believe that it was rightly my fault that I was receiving the "punishment" of these health struggles. Then I thought, perhaps it wasn't punishment, but was instead a kind of "trial by fire" way that God was purifying my soul. This left me feeling distrustful of God, fearing that what was "good" for me may hurt like hell in the meantime, and that just didn't add up to me.
The "why" behind suffering begs to be answered. But at the end of the day, I believe the most helpful thing we can do is to leave it unanswered. In all honesty, we don't want answers when we ask "Why am I suffering?" The answer doesn't change anything. What we truly want is for someone to see. For someone to look at our suffering and stay there with us in it. For someone to affirm our feelings as real to us. We cry out, not for reasons, but relationships. We don't really want abstract reasons for the "why's" but for the presence of those who love us.
Sometimes, we must live in some ambiguity; and I believe that moments of suffering are spaces like that. Logical answers fall short of healing broken hearts. But presence even in the midst of intense suffering cannot be understated in its healing powers.
As we enter this Holy Week, I think it's also important to remember that Jesus knew what it meant to suffer. The classic Christological formula is that what is assumed in Christ's self is redeemed by Christ. So, humanity is assumed in the Incarnation and therefore is redeemed. But this goes on to include the things that make up what it means to be human. Jesus wept, and therefore our tears are redeemed. Jesus suffered emotional pain from things like betrayal and abandonment, and so our heartbreaks are redeemed. Jesus suffered physical pain in horrendous ways, and so our physical bodies, when wracked with disease and riddled with pain, are redeemed.
We are not alone in our sufferings, because Jesus is there in the midst of suffering. Jesus knows what it means to be in agony, and has not left us alone in our own agonies. I know, this doesn't answer the questions of "why" about suffering. But, from my own experience, knowing that I wasn't alone was what saved me. No logical explanation, no "ivory tower" theodicy, could have satisfied my broken heart. But the hugs I received from the Body of Christ helped to hold me together. The knowledge that Jesus, even Jesus, knew what it meant to hurt in every way I hurt, made me feel less alone. Suffering is bad enough, but to do it alone is unbearable.
We have hope, my friends. We don't have answers, but we do have a Divine Presence with us in the most mystical of ways. God is indeed "Emmanuel" not only in an abstract sense, but in the very flesh on our bones. What has been assumed has been redeemed. And even the most painful of sufferings have been assumed in Christ. Redemption will come.