Thursday, December 27, 2012

The Problem of Pain Revisited

NOTE: This post is comprised of bits and pieces of a paper I wrote for one of my sociology capstones. The class, "Sociology of Suffering," was perhaps the most interesting, challenging, and thought provoking class I have ever taken. If the post doesn't make sense, don't worry. The class didn't make sense for most of the semester. I got a B+ in the class, but it was hard fought. True story. If you'd like an additional, more easily understood perspective, read this.

In human life, suffering is omnipresent. Whether by war, slavery, self- or other-inflicted, suffering persists. In the midst of one’s suffering, the cry to God follows two strains: “How could you do this to me, God?” and “God, what am I to gain from this?” One approaches God with contempt, the other seeking consolation. Each seeks an explanation for the suffering that has shaken his once stable world, and each turns to an external force to explain that suffering. His pleading begs the question of the purpose of suffering. In either case, he is intrinsically craving knowledge of whether suffering is good or bad, fair or unjust, punishment or blessing.  God’s response or silence to individual suffering further alleviates either the suffering or the desire to believe in an omnipotent, loving God.

Individual conceptions of God vary greatly – from an angry, punishing, Old Testament-style God to a Being working towards a higher purpose, to a loving and protecting Deity (Pargament, AJCP 18(6)). Both have significant ramifications for mental, emotional, and spiritual health (Exline et al., JHP 4(3)). Forgiving God for perceived wrongdoing challenges the spiritual fortitude of believers who endure strong negative experiential outcomes. Indeed, suffering calls into question deeply rooted believes of the goodness of God and the sufferer must endure both his suffering and cognitive dissonance.

Each explanation connotes a desire for a just world, one in which either man’s capacity to cope with the inequalities and injustices of life is not exceeded, or one that allows the individual complete control over his circumstance. Divine attribution serves mainly for the religious as a way to insure that he is not tested beyond his limits (Pargament 1986). Either perspective frames God as either a source of solace or an accessible scapegoat. God is used as solace or scapegoat for suffering as a way of disaffirming the way of being experienced in the world, removing one’s self from the suffering.

Psychologists suggest that religion emerges out of a desire for help and reassurance (Meadow and Kahoe 1984), and that it is sought as a response to what  some (Tillich 1952) refers to as major existential anxieties – the inability to avoid death, fear of meaninglessness or purposelessness, and concern over the consequences of individual conduct. The question religion seeks to answer concerning the suffering of mankind is not so much whether suffering exists or is necessary, but rather whether suffering is a good thing or a bad thing (van Hooft 1998), and religion approaches suffering with the reasoning that there must be some good in the experience; if there is good and meaning to be found in the suffering, the experience becomes, theoretically easier to endure.  As one researcher  asserts, "Suffering loses its prima facie negative character for the victim by being given a transcendent, positive meaning"(van Hooft 1998). Indeed, there is a noticeable shift towards God during times of great personal or societal distress. 

Throughout history, appeals to God have been at their highest during times of suffering – the Black Plague, the Holocaust, or 11 September 2001 to name a few. If bad is indeed an stronger force than good at turning individuals or societies to God, then “God should not thrive in times of plenty but in times of pain, with disease and trauma fueling His perception” (Gray and Wegner 2010). Such a being is strictly a punishing being. Indeed, God may well be called medieval. A God who thrives on pain and suffering, a God who demands perfection and adherence to His tenets is very much the Puritanical God conceived by the Protestant idea as a response to continued, unresolved, and unjust suffering. Religion evolved out of man’s continued failure to explain and eliminate his suffering.

Suffering as an Evil, God as its Perpetrator

As an experience, suffering may be necessary to man’s own necessity for self-overcoming and eventual perfection. However, the negative attribution of suffering to God, and indeed one’s own inability to forgive God for the experience, contribute to the perception that suffering is an inflicted evil. Such a supposition presupposes man’s own innocence in the face of evil, denying any fault of his own doing. The logic of evil (Marion, Prolegema to Charity) appeals to man because it allows him to justly punish his unjust inflictor.

Man punishes God not by projecting his own suffering back onto God, but rather by turning from him, ignoring the omniscient Being. Indeed, to punish God is to kill him, and God willingly accepts His death. The proclamation of God’s death asserts that His timely demise is not enough. “We must still defeat his shadow as well” (Nietzsche, The Gay Science). 

The case of extreme suffering demands justice against the perpetrator, and man turns that blame towards the being that created what he naively believed was the best of all possible worlds.

Such blame does not fulfill the promise of the logic of evil, but rather persists in the eventual hope of the suppression of unjust suffering. Especially in Christian theology, the logic of evil suppresses every external relation, leaving the suffering soul entirely in a voluntary prison, one where only man himself fits as master of nothing (Marion, Prolegomena to Charity). Revenge is the only option for justice as man blames God for his suffering. Suffering must be spread to others for man to feel relief from his own suffering. His query, “How could God do this to me?” becomes a rallying cry against an unjust or apathetic God.

The only response that justice can create is vengeance by eliminating God, indeed to punish him by banishing him from memory. Often punishment seems to be the only response man can use to right his suffering. “Punishment is a vital need of the human soul” (Weil, Void and Compensations) and as such requires not only suffering for the guilty, but also suffering as an educating device. It is not enough to punish the sufferer, man punishes in order to educate the guilty so that he learns not to commit the crime or inflict the suffering again. Inflicting punishment does little for the sufferer except alienate him from the source of blame. Punishment simply causes man to turn on everything the universe represents to him, denying all that was once good and beautiful to him. In this sense, both Nietzsche and Marion concur that the purpose of inflicting punishment or establishing blame is merely to “improve the one who punishes” (Nietzsche, The Gay Science). 

Forgiving God the Inflictor

Even positive attribution to God can cause some dissonance for the sufferer, especially when he perceives his own innocence. To be called upon to forgive the inflictor of the suffering may seem beyond the sufferer, and even more so when the inflictor is perceived to be an all-loving God. The inability to address such cognitive dissonance – and therefore the use of attribution – to move to a point of forgiving God has significant negative implications both psychologically and physiologically. 

In negatively attributing one’s suffering to God, one may not believe that God intentionally or willfully harmed him, but he may believe that it was God who allowed the injustice to occur. When such a stance is taken, it not only has the potential to damage man’s relationship with his God, but also has implications for his anger, psychological stress, and social associations. Even for those who do not express belief in God, forgiving God proves to be necessary in maintaining psychological health. When God appears to be a harbinger of pain and suffering, religious salience often determines the psychological and spiritual impact of suffering.

Often, however, forgiveness is impossible to achieve without also experiencing resentment.  Negative attribution creates the perception that man has somehow been humbled, demoted, or lowered in his standing before God. When man is harmed, there arises within him a series of reactions that seek a desired equilibrium, a place in which the inflictor of the suffering experiences, at least in a small way, similar anguish and suffering. The ideal approach is rather to recognize what the suffering revealed. “It is impossible to forgive whoever has done us harm if that harm has lowered us. We have to think that it has not lowered us, but has revealed our true level” (Weil, Void and Compensation).

Friday, December 7, 2012

Christmas 2012: Here's Hoping the World Doesn't End Before Then

If the world ends on 21 December as allegedly expected, this post will be irrelevant, but nonetheless, here goes everything and/or nothing.

I find it nearly impossible at times to get into the Christmas spirt. Over Thanksgiving, my dad and I hung up the Christmas lights -- a task I have loathed every year since I was old enough to help. As I struggled to wrap lights around our porch, I thought to myself, "Hanging Christmas lights is enough to turn even the best saint into a Christmas Scrooge." True story. Generally, this statement makes more sense because my dad chooses the coldest day of the entire year for hanging up lights; this year, however, it was like 40 degrees. I had no reason to complain.

It wasn't always like this. Christmas was, at one point, the best thing ever in life. I looked forward to the snow, the gifts, the popcorn wreaths, and the strands of popcorn and cranberries that we hung on the tree.

So, what happened? What caused this sudden onset of Grinch-ness? Perhaps it was a realization of the commercialization of the holiday. Maybe I lost that child-like joy that punctuates the Christmas air with laughter and happiness. Maybe I just outgrew Christmas.

At this point, some of you may be hating me. You may have even stopped reading. DON'T STOP!

With all of these things on my mind, and trying to get back into the Christmas spirit so as to avoid being cast out of house and home, I remembered an experience I had in Romania. It did not occur at Christmas, but was about Christmas. I share it because it has become very personally meaningful and has helped me remember what Christmas is about.

Romania was a time of great personal upheaval as well as a time of growth. During a particularly pointed and difficult time, I found myself in a small hospital room with my little girl. She and I had shared several existential moments and she was a perfect listener. My little girl is not very old, but she has experienced a lot in her short life. On this day, I was instructed only to feed and change her and then be on my way. That was hard. I had a lot that I wanted to talk through with this little girl. 

Nonetheless, I complied. I changed her diaper, fed her, and stayed only long enough to hum her a song. The song that came to mind was Away in a Manger. This was out of the ordinary. Christmas music is acceptable starting on 1 December, and this was February. I didn't stop, though. For some reason, that song just felt right for that moment.

As I sung/hummed, the words came to life. "I love thee, Lord Jesus; look down from the sky and stay by my cradle till morning is nigh." Tears came to my eyes. I apologized to my little girl. I couldn't be there for her for more than a few minutes. She would have no one by her cradle this day. And yet, she would. Soon, the words became a prayer for her and my other kids at the hospital: "Bless all the dear children in thy tender care." I knew then that my little girl would not be alone. Someone would be there, staying by her cradle till the morning was nigh. 

Reviewing that experience has reminded me what Christmas is about. It's not the packages, the Black Friday deals, or the lights. It has reminded me that the thing of most importance is what the life of Christ meant and means. Because of His life, we don't have to be alone. Because of His life, my little girl had someone there with her when I couldn't be. Because of His life, I have a balm in Gilead. 

I had become disillusioned by Christmas because I had forgotten that lesson. I had let my mind become caught up in the commercialistic and Pagan aspects of the holiday instead of focusing on the point of Christmas. It's not the music, the lights, the tree, or the treats. It's the Child. It's Him. He is why my little girl had someone there while she slept, and why the next day she was sleeping peacefully.   

This little video portrays how I feel about Christmas, and how I hope you will feel. Enjoy!

Monday, November 5, 2012

Shake It Out

To understand the thought process I'm going through, it would help if you listen to Shake It Out by Florence and the Machine while reading what follows.
As I think of the experiences I had in Romania and the direction things have gone since then, I find demons who want their pound of flesh. I find regrets who really do collect like old friends, seeking to relive my darkest moments. As I think of what I am doing what my life, what I want out of my life, and the decisions I have to make in the coming months, I feel a bit overwhelmed. Looking for heaven, I have found a devil in me.
In the months that have past, I have done more than I thought possible. I have worked in Mexico, run a marathon, secured interviews and a placement with Teach For America, made connections with professors that will help me get into grad schools, and I have found a place of belonging. Man yearns for belonging. He yearns to see his place in the world, to know what is expected of him.
Romania taught me to let things go, to shake it out. My kids taught me that the salvation of man is in love and through love. I don't understand what that means for me yet, but I want it. I am constantly reminded of my little screaming boy, who wanted nothing more than to cling to my neck until he fell asleep. He and I had demons that were quieted that day. We both needed to know that things would be made right, that somehow, things would work out. For a brief moment, he and I knew that everything would get better.
Since that time, I don't know that I have continued to believe that things can get better. I don't know exactly what my life plan is. I have competing worlds within me. I keep dragging that horse around, instead of burying it in the ground.

The encouraging thing, perhaps, is that it's always darkest before the dawn. Perhaps it is time to start over, to shake the devil off my back. Perhaps that change will come doing Teach For America. Maybe graduate school. In my desire to leave Provo, I have found things that pull me back. That is a devil I want to shake off and yet it is one that I cannot bring myself to shake. There are too many ghosts here, and I wish to be no longer haunted by them. At the same time, this is where I am comfortable. Academia is all I have know for the last three years. I have a lucrative offer with a professor here. Decisions are intimidating.

All these ghouls have come out to play. I have, perhaps, been a fool in my methods. Perhaps I have carried this horse around for too long. Perhaps the time has come to bury my horse in the ground, to cut out my graceless heart and restart. It is hard to dance with a devil on my back. But given half the chance, would I take any of it back? Am I ready to suffer? Ready to hope?

And so, the time has come to shake it out. What does that mean? I don't know that I know that answer fully yet. But, here goes everything and nothing.

Friday, July 6, 2012

Life Is Pain

I've been thinking about pain a lot lately. We experience a lot of it in life. The most pain I have ever experienced was in high school when I blew out my ACL and meniscus. I'm pretty sure that pain trumps pretty much everything. 

Pain is not, of course, simply limited to physical pain. Often, the pain that hurts the most is pain of the soul. When we make mistakes, violate social norms and expectations, or commit what our faith deems to be a sin, we feel pain. That pain stems from various sources -- being ostracized, physical punishment, guilt, remorse, or disappointment.  

The most difficult pain is the pain that comes as others experience pain that you can neither stop nor ease. I can think of at least three experiences like this from my time as a missionary. Those times were devastating experiences. 

These thinkings stem from my emotional preparation for Romania. I feel like that's where most of my posts as of late have stemmed from. My kids have experienced much in their short lives. A lot of that has been pain -- physical, emotional, psychological. They have much to teach me about pain. The pain of my blown out knee pales in comparison to the things these children know. C.S. Lewis wrote, "We have a choice to make when we see extreme suffering. We can let it eat away at us and we can curse God. Or, we can choose to let it break our hearts and enlarge them."

That really is the key to understanding why there is evil, suffering, and sadness in the world. The purpose of pain is to teach, humble, and chastise. It never lasts forever. In a New Testament class I took, we studied the Book of Revelation -- a tricky subject in and of itself. My teacher was quick to point out the importance of numbers. When the Lord says that the afflictions shall be 10 days, what he is saying is that the afflictions, tribulations, and sufferings will be for an imperfect amount of time. In other words, their bounds are set. The things we experience in life -- the bad, ugly, horrible, miserable things -- have an end. 

As William Goldman writes in The Princess Bride, "Life is pain. Anyone who says differently is selling something."