Acclaimed actress Helen Hayes knew tragedy as well as success. Her only daughter died at 19. Her husband’s grief drove him to alcohol abuse and an early death. Asthma ended her stage career. A friend asked her if she ever wondered, “Why me?” She responded, “Why not me?”
I wonder how long it took that good Catholic lady to achieve such acceptance. When I encounter pain or sorrow, my suffering usually includes considerable outrage. How dare the universe do this to me?!
I say “the universe” because I don’t believe God sends us illness or betrayal or grief. Human sin has made this a world where everyone, guilty or innocent, experiences suffering. God occasionally works miracles, and we can pray for one. It’s more likely, though, that he will choose to walk through the pain with us, which is miracle enough.
That’s what my faith tells me. My feelings are messier. Deep inside (well, fairly deep), I consider myself a special character. I never question my “right” to my many blessings. On the other hand, I never think I deserve to miss my plane or be audited by the IRS. Those problems are for other people.
Clearly, I need more humility. Humility doesn’t mean thinking less of ourselves. It means recognizing that we are ordinary. Illness, injury and loss are part of every ordinary life, including our own. I was struck in the days after 9/11 by how shocked we Americans were. Almost every other country in the world had suffered some terrorist incident by then. Did we really think we’d be spared forever?
Another common reaction to suffering is the search for someone to blame. We don’t seem to believe in bad luck anymore. Our courts are clogged with lawsuits brought by people determined to make someone pay for their pain, loss or inconvenience. Sometimes we’re so determined to blame someone that we’ll even beat up ourselves for what’s gone wrong. Our sins, we lament, caused this misery. A more realistic explanation, though, is that — in life — bad stuff happens.
Whether I blame someone for my suffering or not, I do seem to expect compensation. When I’m going through difficulties, I become more selfish. I’m less likely to let the other guy go first. I interrupt more. I’m pushier. I exempt myself from good behavior, because, after all, I’m suffering!! That reaction is also ordinary, but I try to fight it. It’s easy to be good when you feel good. Real virtue is being good when you’re feeling bad.
I want God to forgive me for the times stress makes me cranky. So I’ve got to forgive those who are cranky at me. Ideally, our first response to unpleasant people should be to wonder what’s troubling them. Few people intend to be jerks. If we knew more about the idiot drivers, sullen salesclerks and uncooperative bureaucrats around us, we’d probably find that suffering is affecting their behavior too. So why not forgive them without knowing the details?
Psychologists say that anger comes from fear. We’re angry about our suffering because we’re scared. We’re scared that we won’t be able to endure. We’re scared that more suffering is on the way. We’re scared that God has abandoned us. We’re scared that we caused this mess and, therefore, don’t deserve any help getting out of it.
However, when we accept that suffering is an inevitable part of life, we can release those fears. This trouble is not our fault, and no enemy is out to get us. God still loves us. So of course he will help us. Why us? Why not us?
Kathleen welcomes comments. Send them to Kathleen Choi, 1706 Waianuenue Ave., Hilo 96720, or email: kathchoi@hawaii.rr.com.
