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Iconoclasm, part II: reality is unbearable
Talk to me about the truth of religion and I’ll listen gladly. Talk to me about the duty of religion and I’ll listen submissively. But don’t come talking to me about the consolations of religion or I shall suspect that you don’t understand.
Reality, looked at steadily, is unbearable.
C. S. Lewis,
A Grief Observed.
One of the reasons I like A Grief Observed so much is that Lewis confronts things that I have often confronted myself yet not known quite what to do with. Several months ago, I wrote a post at my own blog about well-being, its definition, and the proper pursuit of it. I also explored related issues in my series on contraception (including the comments sections), links to which can be found in the right sidebar of my blog.
...”Do not mourn like those that have no hope.” It astonishes me, the way we are invited to apply to ourselves words so obviously addressed to our betters. What St. Paul says can comfort only those who love God better than the dead, and the dead better than themselves. If a mother is mourning not for what she has lost but for what her dead child has lost, it is a comfort to believe that the child has not lost the end for which it was created. And it is a comfort to believe that she herself, in losing her chief or only natural happiness, has not lost a greater thing, that she may still hope to “glorify God and enjoy Him forever.” A comfort to the God-aimed, eternal spirit within her. But not to her motherhood. The specifically maternal happiness must be written off. Never, in any place or time, will she have her son on her knee, or bathe him, or tell him a story, or plan for his future, or see her grandchild.
p. 26-27
AGO
I’m sorry, moms reading this. It hurt for me to read these words too, and to type them into this post. But I love the way Lewis distinguishes between the different components of a Christian’s grief. It leads me to cogitate upon human motivation for choices made in life – are our choices based upon fear; upon love for God, self, or other; upon instinct; or simply upon doing what’s dictated by our environment, by default?
In Iconoclasm, part I, I observed that just about everything we do is rooted in vanity. We become vain not only to avoid pain, but also to function properly in society. It’s inescapable. We are trapped merely by being human. As free as we might think we are in Western society, we are still slaves to societal protocol. We have to be, in order to have a common understanding; a common, if even unspoken, language. The way we look, the way we dress, the way we wear our hair, the way we act, and the things we say are all symbolic to everyone we come in contact with. We all assess one another in this way. We all study these things and then act and dress according to the image we wish to present. It may be self-expressive, it may be self-hiding, it may be doing-what-we-must. But none of us can avoid image.
For all nearly everyone reading this knows, the picture they have seen of me gives a false impression. Maybe I’m wearing a wig. Maybe I’m wearing dentures. Maybe I have a strange tic. Maybe I have really bad breath. Would knowing, or seeing, any of these things affect the way my words are taken? That’s one of the great things about writing; a part of oneself can be put across in a way that might not be appreciated were it to come with the whole package. Then there are many who think writing to be an incomplete form of communication since facial expressions, tone of voice, and other indicators are missing, and this may well be true. I suppose physical presence works both ways. But back to the program:
Though in the everyday we can more or less “get away with” our vanity, when it comes to a crisis situation, such vanity (indeed, our core vanity) is starkly revealed.
Lewis asks, on p. 45 of AGO, “Why has no one told me these things?” referring to things experienced during recovery from grief. I asked the same questions a few years ago after experiencing a miscarriage. (I am generalizing Lewis’ question a bit.) No doubt part of the reason is that every person experiences grief differently, and certain circumstances have different effects on different people. But, I do wonder, why don’t people talk more about their pain? Are they ashamed? To be sure, the experience of pain is a deeply personal and even private thing (but then, so is sex, but that doesn’t stop people from talking about it ;-) ). But what I mean is, why is it hard to find meaningful discussions of pain and grief beyond magazine articles and books that either basically say “to hell with the world” or else offer pious-sounding platitudes?
I get Decision magazine through a gift subscription. I don’t often read it, yet happened to glance through the most recent issue and was glad I did. It addressed the topics of tragedy and grief as well as the natural human questions that arise as a result: “Where is God?” and “Why did He allow this?”
The words of a man named Jeff, who lost his young daughter after she’d battled leukemia for seven years, sound similar to Lewis’:
We say a lot about who we are in respect to our relationship to God and to our faith. But what we say is nothing compared to being in a trial and being faced with it every day for seven years and not having any answers, outside of just falling on God’s grace and mercy every day, asking Him for wisdom and direction for the care of your child and your family . You can say, ‘This is what I believe in,’ but it doesn’t become a reality until you’re faced with that cross to bear in your life.
He’s [God is] always in the process of tearing down the ideas and the paradigms that we’ve built to show us what the truth is. The process of transformation is not my process – it’s His.
Amen. May we allow Him to transform us and shatter our vain images.
Bonnie, thanks for this post. It's great and hits at so many deep -rooted issues. I have also wondered why grief and pain become such silent issues. I think it's partly to do with the veneer of self-respect and indeed vanity that causes us to hide those things which make us utterly vulnerable. I think there is a necessity that as Christians we become vulnerable, we share our grief, not just with one another but with the world that hurts around us. Personally, going through a hard time recently I very easily hid my grief although, I also felt that with it, I had more to give others.
Part of the reason we hide grief/pain is functionality and protection - functionality in that we have to get through our day and protection in that we can't expose our vulnerabilites to everyone we meet.
However, we all need people that we can share our hard times with. We need to guard our heart, but that implies there are some people you let in.
Then there are the issues of time, mess and vocabulary. It takes time to walk through pain. It's messy because there are times when it's awkward for both parties invovled. Finally, there's the issue of vocabulary. When someone asks how we're doing it's hard to sum up our emotional/mental state in a few words. (There's that time issue again.)
As if that's not enough to make you want to hide, Christians have the dilemma of reconciling the truths of the Bible (sovereign God) with a reality that truly is unbearable at times. How many Christians feel that they have to say, "Praise the Lord, it will be allright," when they really want to scream at God that He's not fair? If they said they weren't doing well, would people doubt their faith (Aha! There's that image thing!) or worse yet, doubt their God?
Even with friends I trust, I find that it's sometimes easier to gloss over what's really going on because it would take to long to explain it, or to figure out, what's brewing in my heart & head.
My take away from this post: look at how I interact with people. Within the parameters I'm given, are there ways I can communicate hope, faith and love more effectively in my daily interactions? (Of course, sometimes my parameters will have to be tossed.) That requires that I abide in Him because apart from Him I can do nothing. (John 15)
Good words, Bonnie, though I would like to take issue with some words that are not exclusively yours:
"It addressed the topics of tragedy and grief as well as the natural human questions that arise as a result: 'Where is God?' and 'Why did He allow this?'"
I am extremely wary of calling these "natural human questions." For example, it seems that the pervading interpretation of Job is something like this: God tests us to make our faith stronger, and it's hard. So we need to follow Job's example, persevere, and recognize that it's okay to be angry with God and question God. Now, I'm hardly an expert on the book of Job, but since when do we take the main characters of stories from the Bible as the heroes we are to imitate? I think that is what this interpretation is wrongly inferring - since Job questioned God, we can too. Another outstanding example is Israel in the wilderness. When they're griping about not having water in Exodus 17, what does Moses say? "Why are you quarreling with me? Why do you test the Lord your God?" We don't even have to be specifically charging God with messing up our plans; merely complaining about circumstances qualifies as rebellion.
I do not mean to imply that I don't need reminding of this myself, constantly. Perseverance in trial is a part of Christian life; accepting our natural tendency to question or complain against God should not be. And now I have to run to class without closely proofreading this, so please excuse any errors in grammar or (especially) apparent shortness in tone.
I’ve never particularly felt a dearth of resources on suffering. Maybe I’ve just never suffered enough, which is entirely possible, or maybe it’s being Catholic. I've heard that many Protestant denominations don’t emphasize suffering as much, but I don’t really know. I would, however, agree with most of the observations in your post, and the previous one you linked to! The idea that spiritual health is equivalent to physical and emotional ‘feeling good’ is a really pernicious and popular falsehood – probably one of the most dangerous of our self-indulgent era. Although (like many people, I think) I find it a lot harder to believe that pain doesn’t mean something is terribly, cosmically wrong when I’m actually suffering. :(
Laura, I’m not at all sure that Bonnie used “natural” to mean “worthy of emulation”. I wonder if your reading of it that way is in fact symptomatic of a very similar point: mainstream culture touts “natural” as the epitome of all that is good, and generally promises that the natural will feel good, too. And many of us, although Christians, have absorbed this sufficiently that the phrase “natural human [noun]” connotes to us the mainstream meaning of good and desirable, and not, for instance, the connotations of Paul’s use of the term “natural man”.
Clarification: of course, suffering in general is evidence that there is something terribly, cosmically wrong in the world - it's the result of the Fall. What I meant was a generalisation of something like, "When I have a migraine, it can be tempting to believe that everything I've ever done is wrong, life is meaningless and I'm doomed."
All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well. - Julian of Norwich
I agree that natural does not imply worthy of emulation. Neither does it imply something we should necessarily feel ashamed of or try to deny or suppress. Anger at God is like a sneeze--an avoidable reaction for many who have not yet wrestled with Him to a place of peace and acceptance when terrible tragedy strikes. Our feelings cannot be helped or hidden from God. If grief leads to anger at God, there is no point in supressing it--it is simply there. He already knows it's there. To deny it to ourselves would be the greater danger for it wouldn't go away, just be unacknowledged. What we can do is direct our will to God, continue to seek His face and confess our feelings to Him. Yes, our anger does 'miss the mark' and is sin. But He is faithful to forgive us and deliver us when we confess our sins--not deny them or try rid ourselves of them. Job poured out his sorrow and anger, but never cursed God. Lewis poured out his grief until he could hear God's voice, again. Our God can stand our anger. He holds on to us until we quit our struggling in pain and grief and then speaks words of comfort when we are ready to listen.
an avoidable reaction for many who have not yet wrestled with Him to a place of peace and acceptance when terrible tragedy strikes.
Obviously, I meant unavoidable reaction....
One more thought: Questioning God is one way to get answers from Him. Job is the perfect example of this. God answered Job even if it was only to remind him that He was God and Job couldn't possibly understand the answers to the questions he was asking. It is only when we persistently refuse to listen to His answers to our questions that we run into serious problems---or as Job's friends found, thinking you already know the answers.
Thanks for the comments, everyone.
Lexie, you make some great points. You said,
Part of the reason we hide grief/pain is functionality and protection - functionality in that we have to get through our day and protection in that we can't expose our vulnerabilites to everyone we meet.
In day-to-day living, this is certainly true and necessary. Though I was mostly referring to general societal treatment of pain and suffering, including the way churches handle it, the individual factors you mention are part of it.
I don’t think that we, or society in general, allow for the time it takes to walk through grief. Nor the mess – we don’t deal well with mess. I know I sure don’t!
Laura, you made a bit more out of my words than was intended. The word “natural” has many meanings. Though perhaps “common” would’ve been a better word to use, I do believe that those questions I mentioned occur quite naturally to the wounded heart and mind, and I did not intend to make a statement about their morality. However, since you brought it up, I will :-) Pain and shock often shake a person up and cause confusion; this is part of being human. Without loving, compassionate brothers & sisters to guide and help them through, they may very well lose their way for awhile, or longer. This does not equate with rebellion, imo. (Job unfortunately did not have this kind of help; God spoke to him directly. Also, I would not equate Job with the grumblers in Exodus 17) A person asking “why” is not necessarily saying that God did wrong; they are trying to come to grips. (as Debra said)
Atlantic, I don’t doubt that, in general, Catholicism deals with issues of pain and suffering more substantially than Protestantism, especially contemporary Protestantism. This has been one of my complaints with Protestant expression :-).
I'm not trying to take away a person's right to come to grips with God; I'm saying that neither accepting anger/questioning as it comes nor suppressing it is the answer. We come to grips with God through Scripture, where he has already answered every appropriate question we may ask him. Doesn't it follow that when we tell God that there remain questions he hasn't addressed, we are undermining the sufficiency of Scripture? I'm saying that what we should tell people - ourselves - when they/we struggle not to complain against God is to go to Scripture, fully confident that the answer - not necessarily the solution - lies therein.
"I’ve never particularly felt a dearth of resources on suffering. Maybe I’ve just never suffered enough, which is entirely possible, or maybe it’s being Catholic."
Atlantic, I don't think you meant that to be funny, but it could be a line a stand up act. (See disclaimer below.) It reminds me of a state highway sign I see regularly that reads "This stretch of highway adopted by Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrows Youth Group." I'm assuming it's the local Catholic church's youth group. I'm not sure of the history of that particular church, but you probably won't find a similarly named Protestant church. (Not an indictment of the church, just an observation!)
BTW, I did a quick google on "Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrows" and didn't find out much. Any information you'd like to share would be appreciated.
It's been my church experience (non-denominational Protestant) that suffering is not emphasized. It's addressed every now and then. We have grief and recovery classes/groups, but it's not a recurrent theme. (Not saying that it is in Catholic churches.)
Again, it's not an indictment, but an observation.
Bonnie, I agree that on many levels (indiv./cultural/church) we want to get the pain/grief over with ASAP and don't allow realistic time for the process. Take the recent hurricanes for example. Even in here in central Texas where we had loads of evacuees, we're still carrying on with our life and the news isn't filled with Hurricane Rita features.
However, I just talked to my brother today in East Texas and there is a large part of that area still w/out electricity, etc. (I hoping to post on my other blog me some pics of where he's living while he's helping out fellow company employees there.) If you let your concern be dictated by news stories, the situation could slip from your mind rather quickly, especially compared to actual recovery period.
Disclaimer for Atlantic: Please tell me if I have offended you. I didn't mean it to and felt you had been around enought that you wouldn't take offense. Of course, I could be compeltely wrong and if I am, please forgive me.
BTW, my non denomiational Protestant church has lots of fodder for a stand up act. :)
I’m not in the least offended, Lexie! And I’ve been in England long enough that if I did not, in fact, mean to be funny, I would never admit it. ;)
Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrows doesn’t sound quite right…. Our Lady of Sorrows, yes, Our Lady of Perpetual Help, yes, but Perpetual Sorrows, I don’t think so. (Perpetual sorrows in Heaven? Heaven forbid!)
Catholics have feasts and devotions not only to particular saints, but often to some saints (Mary especially) and to Jesus from multiple points of view. For example, in the liturgical year or in private devotions, we especially emphasise various points in Christ’s life (eg, birth, circumcision, baptism, passion, resurrection) or certain of His aspects, such as His kingship (eg the Feast of Christ the King) or His mercy (eg the Divine Mercy chaplet). One of the Marian feasts is Mary as Our Lady of Sorrows, where we turn our thoughts and hearts to her Christ-centred suffering and spiritual martyrdom. The ‘seven sorrows of Mary’ is the best-known traditional list:
1. the prophecy of Simeon (“and a sword will pierce through your own soul also”)
2. the flight into Egypt
3. the loss of the child Jesus for three days
4. meeting Jesus on the way to Calvary
5. the crucifixion and death of Jesus
6. Jesus taken down from the cross
7. Jesus laid in the tomb
The best-known hymn associated with Our Lady of Sorrows is the 13th century Stabat Mater. You can find the lyrics in Latin and English here:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stabat_Mater
and I think they explain quite well the point of this devotion.
Whew! You made me laugh.
Now that you mention it...it is Our Lady of Sorrows. No wonder I didn't find much on the other. (I was getting it confused with something else.) Glad I didn't hurt you while flailing my ignorance about. :)
Thanks for your graciousnes and the time you took to respond so thoroughly. After reading your link, I'll never look at that sign the same.
Doesn't it follow that when we tell God that there remain questions he hasn't addressed, we are undermining the sufficiency of Scripture?
There are questions God hasn't addressed directly in the Bible. As He told Job, these are the questions He can't address with us. I read His response to Job "Where were you when I laid the earth's foundation?" as similar to Paul's "Who are you, O man, who answers back to God? The thing molded will not say to the molder, "Why did you make me like this," will it?" I read both of these, not as saying 'Don't you dare question God', but as 'You can't question God'. If I were the Creator, I could understand. But I'm not. I'm a mere creature--it is as impossible for the potter to explain to the pot why it's made the way it is as it is for God to explain to me why things happen the way they do. Things don't always seem 'fair' because we don't have His eternal perspective.
I would say the Bible has the Solution to our problems but not all the answers to our questions. But that doesn't stop us from asking them when sorrow and pain come to us. What we finally learn as we wrestle with God in our pain, seeking answers, is that the only understanding we need is that He is sufficient and is the source of the Peace that passes all understanding.
Laura, I composed this response offline and then logged on and saw that Debra responded to the very same thing! I'll still post:
Doesn't it follow that when we tell God that there remain questions he hasn't addressed, we are undermining the sufficiency of Scripture?
It’s not a matter of telling God that there are questions He hasn’t addressed; it’s a matter of telling Him that there are things that we need help understanding. This sort of questioning is rampant in the Psalms; see #s 6, 10, 13, 22, 31, 39, 43, etc. It's not a question of the sufficiency of Scripture; it's a matter of healing. Scriptural Truth itself is revealed only via the Holy Spirit. As humans, we must be in a place where we are able to receive it, and God knows that. Wounds need time to heal. There’s no way around this, short of a miracle.
Yes, sometimes we do sin during the recovery process. That’s why we need, and we’ve got, a merciful God.
As an addendum to what Debra said (excellently), I would say that, after wrestling with God post-tragedy, it's very possible to find wisdom and understanding -- truth about life and God -- that one did not have before. This has happened to me many times.
Here I am, coming in at the end. I enjoyed your post, Bonnie. I read "A Grief Observed" a number of years ago, so my memory of it has grown slightly fuzzy. Thanks for refreshing my memory and giving me something to ponder.
