Suffering and Redemption in the Season of Comfort and Joy

On this December Saturday morning, I woke to a quiet house at 5 a.m. No alarm. Nowhere to be. Just wide awake. It's like this most Saturdays. Some people might desire to sleep in, but not me. I love my quiet Saturday mornings. I have time to reflect on my devotional readings, prepare for the Sunday liturgy, and to contemplate what the Lord is asking of me in the coming week.

Each day, I pray for the souls in Purgatory and then read a magazine called Magnificat. If you are looking to grow in your faith, Magnificat is a great place to start! Magnificat features the daily Mass readings, morning and evening prayer, and some fantastic reflections each day. Today, I read a reflection by Heather King about Venerable Elisabeth Leseur (Leseur's writing is also often featured in Magnificat). Leseur's husband became an avowed atheist "shortly before their 1889 wedding." She had been a "conventional" Catholic up until then, but she was strengthened in her faith as a result of the mocking of her faith from her "husband, whom she deeply loved," and his friends. She quietly suffered this "hidden form of mortification," being charitable, friendly, and loving to those who persecuted her faith. She died in her forties of breast cancer. Her husband discovered her writings and journals upon her death and recognized the redemption in her suffering. Felix Leseur not only converted, but became a Dominican priest—something she had prayed would happen for him upon her passing.

Why did Elisabeth Leseur have to die young and suffer physically from cancer? Why did she have to suffer emotionally and spiritually in a marriage to a man who had turned completely away from God? Some may see her life as tragic. I see it as heroic and grace-filled. She did not wallow in self-pity. She used her suffering for redemption. Her cause for canonization is moving forward, and her words draw others to Christ a century after her death.

Why must human beings suffer? The somewhat unsatisfying answer is Original Sin. Which leads to a big question: Why did Jesus have to die? 

Youth at our parish discussed this big question at a recent confirmation class. The short answer is that Jesus died because we need a redeemer. We cannot save ourselves, but we must be saved by one like us in all ways but sin. We wonder, though, if Jesus already died for us, why do we still have to suffer in this life on earth? I don't claim to be a mystical theologian with the insight to answer these questions satisfactorily, but I will share what I understand through faith.

We all bear many different crosses in this life. Sometimes life does not seem fair, like when a child dies, when someone gets a terrible disease, or when innocent victims suffer at the hands of criminals or unjust governments. God wills only good things. But free will and temptations mean that sin happens. Our fallen humanity is subject to disease and pain.Through these trials, we must remember, God’s ways are not our ways—we have no idea the joy the Lord has in store for us if we are faithful to him. Our human minds cannot comprehend the depth of his love. God understands the deepest suffering--what it is to lose a child. He, too, lost a son—a son who was without sin, yet he suffered for the sins of all the world. The short film Most (The Bridge) (See a portion of the film here), based on a true story, captures the idea in a way that my simple words cannot do justice. A father must make a decision that means either the life of his son or the lives of hundreds of passengers on a train. 

God's son, Jesus, died for all humanity. His suffering was so intense that his sweat was drops of blood in the Garden of Gethsemanie as he prayed to God, knowing the weight of the sins of humanity from all time, preparing to carry those sins under the weight of the Cross. Jesus did not will evil, but he accepted the suffering which results from the evil in the world so he could wash the world clean and give us a chance at eternity with God.

During this second week of Advent, our minds may be seeking "tidings of comfort and joy" rather than the Lenten call to repentance. Without repentance, though, we cannot experience true comfort and joy, as we see in this Sunday's readings. Isaiah 40 begins: "Comfort, give comfort to my people, says your God." The Psalm 85 response implores: "Lord, let us see your kindness, and grant us your slavation." Peter 3 reminds us, "The Lord does not delay his promise as some regard "delay," but he is patient with you, not wishing that any should perish but that all should come to repentance." And finally, the first chapter of the Gospel of Mark begins with John the Baptist preparing the way of the Lord, "proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins."

As Christmas draws near, we must recall that the Passion and the Resurrection are the reason for Jesus' birth. 

During this Second Week of Advent, as we "Prepare the Way of the Lord," we might reflect on this verse from "What Child Is This?" 

Why lies He in such mean estate,
Where ox and ass are feeding?
Good Christians, fear, for sinners here
The silent Word is pleading.

Nails, spear shall pierce Him through,
The cross be borne for me, for you.
Hail, hail the Word made flesh,
The Babe, the Son of Mary.