August 25, 2009: "Why do we Suffer?" or "How do we Suffer?"
It wasn't the fact that a Baptist became a Buddhist (link: “Raleigh man looks to help end soldiers' suffering as Army's 1st Buddhist chaplain”, August 23 Commercial Appeal), but it’s the reason he did which caught my eye. Chaplain: "The question that arose in my mind is, 'Why is there so much suffering?' Christianity did not have a satisfactory answer.” Usually the issue around suffering is not Why – “Why so much suffering?” Instead of “Why?” the usual question is “How?”: “How do we cope with the reality of suffering?” Granted, on a theoretical plane, there is the question about why a good God would allow suffering in the first place. But that is a pretty rarified question in most people's experience. Suffering is a part of everyday reality: one eventually dies, and the process of dying might involve pain and suffering. Working backward from the finality of death, we may be devastated by the premature death of a loved one, still, we acknowledge "it happens." Suffering, for both young and old, is part of the mortality we face. Another question about suffering is: "If a good God allows suffering, does that mean that we are essentially abandoned in the universe? Does our heavenly Father, if there is one, just not care enough about us to protect us from harm?" This is an objection to Christianity, not just to the reality of mortality. Perhaps this was a turning point in the chaplain's conversion to Buddhism.

The primary problem from the Chaplain's point of view was "Why is there so much suffering?" rather than "How do we make sense out of suffering?" The different question also indicates a different starting point from where Christians begin to deal with suffering. A Christian looks at the crucifixion of Jesus as a bottom line reality—the crucifixion was "the worst that evil people can do to the best of people" — the intentional infliction of suffering -- and sees the same story played out over and over again in history. He/she takes "man's inhumanity to man" as a given for the time being, and asks "How can we make sense of this?" Does our heavenly Father not care?!" Buddhism starts from a different perspective, one from which suffering is said to be "illusion" [a loose translation of a technical term]. If suffering is illusory, then one deals with suffering by denying its grip upon us by denying its reality; not by denial as we usually think of it, as burying our heads in the sand, but intentionally, strategically “withdrawing” to a haven of peace totally "outside" our experience. When Jesus refers to “Heaven,” it is a metaphor for a “place” where life -- especially life marked by degradation, cruelty and suffering— where life’s dignity and worth, are preserved, kept safe, and championed. The Buddhist haven —Nirvana— is in the first place a "place" free from the reality of life we (seem to) experience, inextricably mixed with pain and suffering. Nirvana is completely, totally, outside this vale of tears and sorrow. Heaven, on the other hand, is a "place" where suffering is redeemed and affirmed as having value. Heaven in this sense is connected with our experience of this world: The Resurrection champions life created as material, and affirms its materiality. Resurrection celebrates a "new creation," a new materiality -- as a continuation of the goodness we experience now. (For more on the idea of Heaven as “place,” see NT Wright, Surprised by Hope, p. 250-252.)

We may throw up our hands at this point: "Way too complicated for me." But at least in the back of our minds these questions keep coming up. A BIG part of the world keeps trying to make sense of these things, especially when we see others sacrifice their lives for something beyond themselves. We may say "I think the mystery is too great to be contained in one religion." Rather than saying "Whew -- this is just too heavy for me," this point of view acknowledges that here is a mystery worthy of pondering. But "I think the mystery is too great to be contained in one religion." is also an argument stuck in contradiction: an argument from mystery, but against mystery. If we want to go deeper into the mystery, we can't avoid mystery: we have to start somewhere. There are lots of ways to look into these things. People come to church, or to synagogue, or to an ashram, to explore mystery and embrace it, not to fend off the deep questions and reassure themselves by substituting certainty for humility. The Chaplain started somewhere, and his pursuit led him to an unexpected place. We could well have that same goal. More about this next week. ~