Suffering Servant

In a recent post (Thanksgiving For Blessings) I wrote: “In our happiness and in our sorrows, God blesses us always.” In my life that certainly seems to have been true, almost without exception: I can look back at sorrows in my life and now see that many good things came out of those sorrows. I can see I am a better person because of those sufferings. The words I wrote, however, imply that it is always true that God blesses US, but recent readings and further reflection made me realize that sometimes that’s not true. Sometimes we may undergo some great suffering, pain or a loss, and we will never understand any reason for that sorrow, much less that it blessed us. Yet still we are called to accept and even give thanks for that suffering, even if we will never know why. It seems a difficult thing to expect of anyone.

I’m reminded of a story I use to explain how sometimes two people can look at the exact same facts and yet see something different. I begin my story by describing something that I saw, and then I say: “It’s as obvious as the nine fingers on your two hands.” That statement invariably gets a puzzled look from the person I’m speaking to, and so I repeat it again. Then often he will respond: “No, there are ten fingers on your two hands.” “What!” I say. “How can we ever agree on anything if we can’t agree on obvious facts? We have nine fingers on our two hands! Look, I’ll count them right in front of you, so you can see.” I then proceed to point with one hand to the fingers on the other hand, moving from one finger to the next, counting aloud (but not hitting the fifth finger twice). “See, I say, I just pointed at the fingers as I counted my hand twice, and there are nine fingers on two hands.” The other person smiles and says: “No.” I then tell him the moral of the story: “You will never get me to believe that there are ten fingers on two hands. I just pointed to the fingers as I counted, and that’s the way I learned to count, and you’ll never convince me otherwise because I know I’m right. That’s the way it is with some facts in life, two people can look at them, and one sees nine and one sees ten --- and they both have perfect eyesight, yet the two will never agree on what they are seeing. If you are a wise man, you will recognize that situation when it occurs and politely agree to disagree on that particular topic. Neither person will change their view of the truth in a short conversation.” Most people can understand my story, and generally agree. Then I go on to state: “But if you are a VERY wise man, you may not only recognize that one of you is counting nine and the other ten, but you will also recognize that perhaps you are the one counting to nine.”

I think that sometimes the moral of that simple story applies when we are searching for the good which may come from some evil. For instance, look at the cases of priest child abuse in the Catholic Church. I can look at that evil and say it triggered a cleansing needed in the church, a good thing. Someone else can look at that and say that the children were hurt, the priests were hurt, the bishops were hurt, and the whole Church was hurt, and none of them will ever see any good as a result of this; never. I earlier said that I can look back at my sufferings and say that I am a better person for having had them, but probably most of the people involved in this horror will never be able to look back and say those words. If, however, they are true believers that God makes good in all circumstances, then perhaps they may accept that they will never know God’s intended good, and indeed that good may never happen in their lifetime, but perhaps tens or even hundreds of years from now, people may be able to look back and see what a good thing this horror was. Or perhaps not; perhaps only God will be able to do that, because He makes good in all circumstances, and perhaps only He will ever know what that good is. For us to now believe and accept facts as these, is for us to act as Suffering Servants.

Loyal servants accept and do their master’s will, even if they don’t understand why he asks them to do a particular task. They trust that their master knows more than them. We’ve seen throughout the bible that sometimes God asks his people to suffer. Many saints, particularly martyrs, didn’t accomplish that much in their life, but through their sufferings and even death they brought about wonderful things, which they never understood in this life. Yet they suffered willingly, trusting that God makes good in all circumstances. It is most difficult to have that level of belief, of trust, and to be a suffering servant. Like counting of the fingers to nine or ten, it is a wise man who recognizes that he and God may not be seeing the same way about some facts, but a truly wise --- and faithful --- man trusts that it may be himself who is counting to nine.

I thought about this in relation to even Jesus’ sufferings and death.

I recognize that Jesus chose His death; He chose to do the will of the Father. It was a great sacrifice to willingly suffer on His part. I’ve also come to recognize that the Father also chose this. Like Abram, the Father was offering His son in sacrifice, His only Son. And both of them, Father and Son, were making this huge sacrifice for me! That is awesome and humbling knowledge. I think I understand somewhat of what God did for me, but only recently have I come to think about my part in this drama.

I’ve always thought of Jesus as like my older brother. Even though I was adopted into His family, He watched over me, gave me example, and just generally was there when I needed Him. I loved Him, and I knew He loved me so much, that I was confident that He would choose to die for me, if He had to. That’s what a loving older brother would do. I thought I understood our relationship --- but I didn’t. The truth of the matter was that it never happened that He HAD TO die for me!

One day He and our Father looked at me and realized that I was very sick; my heart was weak and it would never heal on its own, and I was going to die. And it made them very sad, because they loved me. And so they made a decision, Jesus agreed that He would die, die and give his heart to me so that I might live. Our Father reluctantly agreed to offer up His only son’s life to save mine --- and yet I was only His adopted child! If I had realized the whole situation I probably would have been screaming: “Wait! You can’t do this! I love Jesus; YOU love Jesus, but I’m just Your adopted son. This makes no sense!” But Jesus was a Suffering Servant. It didn’t have to make sense. Even though He could see value in His life on earth, a life more valuable than any human life that had ever existed before, yet still he accepted that if this was His Father’s will, this MUST be a good thing, even if He would never see the final good results --- not in His earthly life. He trusted in His Father, and accepted the suffering and death, and even gave thanks to His Father for it.

(And I sometimes worry about a cut finger.)

Jesus’ death was a reversal of the Garden of Eden events. Sometimes in our English translation of the bible, it’s hard to see that. I learned from reading Scott Hahn that in the Hebrew language things were often emphasized by repeating words. So if someone was obese, in Hebrew they might say he was fat fat. That might be translated to English as saying he was very fat. Sometimes, though, the word “very” doesn’t make sense in English, and so it is left off, and we lose meaning. In the Garden of Eden God told Adam and Eve not to eat of the fruit of a tree or else they would die die --- the repeated word “die” meant an eternal death. Later the serpent came along and said: “No, you will not die.” The serpent referred to an earthly death. The English translation uses the word die only once in both cases, because saying someone would very die makes no sense. But clearly in the Hebrew text, what God said and what the serpent said were two different things. The serpent lied.

When Jesus and our Father looked at me and saw that my heart was weak and that I was going to die, that death was the die die that God promised Adam and Eve. They ate of the fruit of the forbidden tree, and so they were destined as He said to die die, and as one of their children, I was to die die also. But Jesus came along and said: “No! I will die instead.” He chose the earthly death, for me. Jesus died so that I might not die, but they were different kinds of dying. To die die was much worse than to die, and Jesus saved me from that fate. He did what the serpent told Eve she would not, He died. He reversed what Eve did, so that our heavenly Father would reverse what He did. No longer were we destined to die die.

What Jesus did for me is still beyond my comprehension. I still want to scream: “Wait! You can’t do this!” I can’t be worthy of that kind of sacrifice, not by my brother that I love. I like the movie Saving Private Ryan; I always make sure to watch it during Lent. Near the end of that movie, the captain played by Tom Hanks lies dying, and he whispers to Private Ryan whose life he saved: “Earn it.” Years later you see a very old Private Ryan, with his wife, children and grandchildren at the grave of the captain who died for him. He asks aloud: “Was I a good man? Did I lead a good life? Did I earn your sacrifice?” The words and actions remind me of Jesus’ sacrifice, and my response to it. Oh, I know I could never earn His sacrifice, or earn heaven. But what Jesus did was to change my destiny: no longer was I destined to die die. Like Private Ryan, however, I do have free will, and I can choose to not go to heaven. But if I choose not to, it will have wasted Jesus’ sacrifice, his dying for me. I will have wasted my life.

In the terrible choice that Jesus made, for me, I still cannot understand everything. In my lifetime here on earth, I probably never will. But that won’t be the end of the story, for I can now choose to not die die.

In the end, I trust that God will make good in all circumstances, in Jesus’ sufferings, and in my sufferings, and it will all make sense to me then. I hope that I can choose to be a Suffering Servant now, if need be, and that I don’t have to question everything that happens to me, especially the bad. I’ll try to remember that I’m no longer destined to die die, and that my story hasn’t ended yet.

When bad things happen to me, I shall try to remember these things. He died because He loved me; I need to live like I love Him too.