Every religion, every philosophy, struggles over what CS Lewis called the problem of pain. The short version, of course, is if God is all-knowing, all-good, and all-wise, why is there Evil? Why is there Pain and Suffering? Not only does every religion struggle with this, every person does. Psalms preserves this struggle beautifully in several psalms that are, for obvious reasons, not often read in church. Most religions also promise, in some form, a relief from pain and suffering at last. "Then sorrow and sighing shall flee away", or from Revelation, "And there shall be an end to mourning, and crying, and pain, neither shall there be any more death, for the old order has passed away."
I have listened over the years to many people struggle with pain. In my experience, the worst of all are those who were traumatized as children. They suffered through no fault or action of their own. They carry memories that scar and distort their lives forever. Why? How can a loving God permit such things to happen? As Zorba asks, 'why do the young die? Why does anybody die?' All thinking, feeling people ask that question, especially when the helpless and dependent are exploited and suffer. I admit here that I have never read The Problem of Pain. I have not read most philosophies of suffering. I have come to my own conclusions from my own experiences, and from my own interactions with God. I have several answers.
The first is that we frame our lives in terms of our flesh, of our immediate experience. This is not the frame of the Spiritual, of God, of the Infinite. What possible difference does any fleshly event make to the soul? Rowling gets at this beautifully in the Harry Potter books in talking about horcruxes. A person's soul may be maimed while their body is intact, and their body tortured while their soul is yet whole. It is the first that is truly to be feared, not the second. Every philosophy teaches us this, but the immediacy of our fleshly agony makes it easy to forget.
A second issue is we frame God in absolutist terms that are unrealistic. Can an all-powerful God intervene? I imagine so. Does that happen? Rarely. Like a parent who sends a child out to play, God does not supervise our every step or those of every person. We act in this fleshly, earthly sphere according to fleshly, earthly rules and needs. God does not routinely intervene in such moments.
Instead, the spiritual is always available to us. God is always present, no matter what is happening to our bodies. In The American President, President Shepherd asks Sydney Ellen Wade "what happened to you today?" She replies heatedly "I know exactly what happened to me today. I got screwed!" He says "Nothing happened to you, Sydney. The environment got screwed." It is very hard to realize in the midst of physical agony, loneliness, exploitation, violence, that nothing has happened to our souls, or to God. One is intact, the other always available. Stephen experiences this as he is stoned. He sees the heavens open and the Son of Man. So can we all, depending on our orientation.
Another error is we regard death as final and a loss. Every belief system tells us death is not final. Multiple personal attestations tell us the same, yet we persist in denial. Death is a transformation, not a loss. When seen in that way, there is nothing to fear for the body. It is lost; OK, it is always lost.
Evil is not the creation of God. Evil is the absence of God. People do all sorts of terrible things in the belief that there is not enough love, enough food, enough of something to sustain them. They fear for their bodies, their families, their wealth, when we ought to fear nothing. It is out of a belief of insufficiency and resultant fear that what we call Evil occurs. It is not God who plans some awful torture for us; it is people, bereft of God, who torture us.
Finally, we believe in retribution. If we cannot punish our tormentors, then God will. God becomes the divine, spiritual enforcer of ultimate Justice. Except that all of us fail. All of us walk away from God, from kindness, from duty. Every one of us has acted in fear and hate. Who is truly better than another, at the level of our soul? We have all doubted, all lashed out. One may lash out by raping a child, another by yelling or hitting, another by murdering thousands, but all have failed the same way. And all will be received, and forgiven, the same way.
Pain is not the result of an angry God who abandons us. Pain is the inevitable result of flawed, fleshly bodies operating in a flawed, fleshly environment. It is in turning to the spiritual that we can find orientation and peace. Like the Radiohead lyric, "In a little while, I'll be gone. The moment's already past, yeah, it's gone, because I'm not here. None of this is happening." Or, as Brahms excerpted in his Requiem, "You have now trouble and sorrow, but only for a little while. For I will see you again, and I will comfort you, as a mother comforts her child."
Life is over in an instant. Our souls exist for eternity. We hurt only for a little while, then we will be released in death, accepted and found, and welcomed into a new form of existence. Pain is relative, fleshly, and temporary. We suffer in it as long as we cling to a reference frame that makes it important.
Ted
I have listened over the years to many people struggle with pain. In my experience, the worst of all are those who were traumatized as children. They suffered through no fault or action of their own. They carry memories that scar and distort their lives forever. Why? How can a loving God permit such things to happen? As Zorba asks, 'why do the young die? Why does anybody die?' All thinking, feeling people ask that question, especially when the helpless and dependent are exploited and suffer. I admit here that I have never read The Problem of Pain. I have not read most philosophies of suffering. I have come to my own conclusions from my own experiences, and from my own interactions with God. I have several answers.
The first is that we frame our lives in terms of our flesh, of our immediate experience. This is not the frame of the Spiritual, of God, of the Infinite. What possible difference does any fleshly event make to the soul? Rowling gets at this beautifully in the Harry Potter books in talking about horcruxes. A person's soul may be maimed while their body is intact, and their body tortured while their soul is yet whole. It is the first that is truly to be feared, not the second. Every philosophy teaches us this, but the immediacy of our fleshly agony makes it easy to forget.
A second issue is we frame God in absolutist terms that are unrealistic. Can an all-powerful God intervene? I imagine so. Does that happen? Rarely. Like a parent who sends a child out to play, God does not supervise our every step or those of every person. We act in this fleshly, earthly sphere according to fleshly, earthly rules and needs. God does not routinely intervene in such moments.
Instead, the spiritual is always available to us. God is always present, no matter what is happening to our bodies. In The American President, President Shepherd asks Sydney Ellen Wade "what happened to you today?" She replies heatedly "I know exactly what happened to me today. I got screwed!" He says "Nothing happened to you, Sydney. The environment got screwed." It is very hard to realize in the midst of physical agony, loneliness, exploitation, violence, that nothing has happened to our souls, or to God. One is intact, the other always available. Stephen experiences this as he is stoned. He sees the heavens open and the Son of Man. So can we all, depending on our orientation.
Another error is we regard death as final and a loss. Every belief system tells us death is not final. Multiple personal attestations tell us the same, yet we persist in denial. Death is a transformation, not a loss. When seen in that way, there is nothing to fear for the body. It is lost; OK, it is always lost.
Evil is not the creation of God. Evil is the absence of God. People do all sorts of terrible things in the belief that there is not enough love, enough food, enough of something to sustain them. They fear for their bodies, their families, their wealth, when we ought to fear nothing. It is out of a belief of insufficiency and resultant fear that what we call Evil occurs. It is not God who plans some awful torture for us; it is people, bereft of God, who torture us.
Finally, we believe in retribution. If we cannot punish our tormentors, then God will. God becomes the divine, spiritual enforcer of ultimate Justice. Except that all of us fail. All of us walk away from God, from kindness, from duty. Every one of us has acted in fear and hate. Who is truly better than another, at the level of our soul? We have all doubted, all lashed out. One may lash out by raping a child, another by yelling or hitting, another by murdering thousands, but all have failed the same way. And all will be received, and forgiven, the same way.
Pain is not the result of an angry God who abandons us. Pain is the inevitable result of flawed, fleshly bodies operating in a flawed, fleshly environment. It is in turning to the spiritual that we can find orientation and peace. Like the Radiohead lyric, "In a little while, I'll be gone. The moment's already past, yeah, it's gone, because I'm not here. None of this is happening." Or, as Brahms excerpted in his Requiem, "You have now trouble and sorrow, but only for a little while. For I will see you again, and I will comfort you, as a mother comforts her child."
Life is over in an instant. Our souls exist for eternity. We hurt only for a little while, then we will be released in death, accepted and found, and welcomed into a new form of existence. Pain is relative, fleshly, and temporary. We suffer in it as long as we cling to a reference frame that makes it important.
Ted
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