The Two Kinds of Suffering: Voluntary and Involuntary

In this sermon, Sub Dn. Timothy Grace explores the Orthodox understanding of suffering, distinguishing between the voluntary hardships we take on through the ascetic disciplines of the Church and the involuntary trials that come to us against our will. Drawing on the day's epistle and gospel readings, he shows how both kinds of suffering, when met with patience and the right attitude, can open the heart to the grace of God. He reminds us that the Church is the place where these two forms of suffering meet, and that even what feels like failure by the world's standards can become our victory in Christ.

Transcript

In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

All belief systems and all world religions have grappled with the meaning of suffering in the world, and they all arrive at varying conclusions about it. In the Orthodox Church we find a unique relationship to suffering. The way we're going to look at it today is to divide suffering between that which we take on voluntarily, by our own will, and that which happens to us involuntarily — that which we didn't choose to happen. The readings today, both in the epistle and the gospel, focus on the hardships that are endured by the faithful Christian, and in both of these texts we see described approaches and experiences of both kinds, voluntary and involuntary suffering. So let's see what wisdom we can gather.

We start with the suffering that is voluntary. Compared to the audience that St. Paul is writing to in the epistle today — that is, the Corinthians — we have much in common with that society. Corinth was a city that had recently been rebuilt by the Romans, and so it had a lot of material wealth, a lot of brand-new marble and beautiful architecture. There was also a massive disparity between rich and poor, which is what we see in our own society today. The city was built right next to a mountain called the Acrocorinth, on which there was a temple dedicated to Aphrodite — which, I guess, gives a hint towards the licentious behaviour of many of the citizens of the city.

The wealthy Corinthians were very comfortable. They valued competitiveness and self-promotion, and they were renowned for their excessive eating and drinking, and, as I say, sexual licence. In fact, in the ancient world there was a saying that went around: 'Not for every man is the trip to Corinth.' So this is very similar to our modern world, which also values competitiveness, lavish displays of material wealth, and overindulgence.

Now, this type of lifestyle is harmful to the life of the spirit. The Church Fathers comment on the fact that there is an immutable law in our nature, in human nature, and that law is this: the more one pampers and caters to the material needs of the body — to pleasures, adornments, and luxuries beyond moderation — the more one stifles and strangles the spiritual life. Our bodies in their fallen state are predisposed to take comfort, pleasure, and distraction and turn them into something sinful. And so the Church, in its wisdom, offers a corrective to us, a medicine whereby we can arrest this movement by artificially, as it were, toughening the conditions of our lives — introducing a bit of voluntary suffering to keep us from falling into the dissipation and apathy that come from the satisfaction and satiety of the senses.

What are such things that the Church gives us? They are the ascetic disciplines of the Church. When you look at each one, each of them introduces a certain kind of suffering that, if we push through it, will ultimately be spiritually sweet — but to the body, to the self, and especially at first when we're getting started, it is a form of suffering. Fasting and abstaining from certain kinds of foods is difficult; it's not easy to do. Going to confession is not something anyone ever looks forward to; it is bitter, in a certain sense, to have to confess in the presence of another person the things that you have done. Keeping to one's prayer rule even when you don't feel like it, when you're not feeling up to it, is a discipline — a voluntary suffering that we undergo through our love of the Lord. Things like scripture reading, again, are something we might not always feel like doing, and they introduce a certain measure, a certain limit: we have to choose them when we don't feel quite like it.

These voluntary hardships comprise the ascetic life, together with following the commandments, and they place a certain limit or demand on us. It's very important for us to remember that they are not imposed upon us. These are invitations for us to carve out a space in our hearts where the grace of God can act, so that we don't live in states of hedonistic mediocrity.

In this kind of life, Jesus himself sets the example. He tells us to fast, and he also fasted. He tells us to pray, and he also spent entire nights in prayer, as the Bible tells us. He tells us not to be attached to material things, and he says of himself that the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head — he did not own anything at all. And in his words in the gospel story today, he said to the disciples that this kind of demon, which was afflicting the young man, comes out only through prayer and fasting. The implication of him saying this to the disciples was that they were not in a state of prayer and fasting, and so they didn't have the grace of God in them that the situation demanded. And, people, we need to have the grace to face the problems that our lives are going to bring. So we voluntarily suffer in these ways that we might stay on the right path, in a spiritually healthy state.

But there is another kind of hardship — that which comes without our choice. We didn't choose it; it happens to us. Involuntary hardships come our way against our will. There comes a time in our life when we are invited to share in the sufferings of Christ. Inevitably, if we want to progress in the spiritual life, there will be trials outside of our control. Jesus says in John chapter 15 that a servant is not greater than his master: 'If they persecuted me, they will also persecute you.' If he suffered as our Master, then this is the way for us as well.

This is the suffering that the apostles underwent, as described by St. Paul in his letter to the Corinthians. He described them as seen as fools, weak, and disreputable — that means having a bad reputation — poorly dressed; they were buffeted, meaning they were physically assaulted and attacked; they were homeless, and they were hated; they were persecuted and slandered, with people telling lies about them. They are those to whom it has been granted to live lives just like the one Jesus lived; their life is actually very similar to the earthly life that Christ lived. And there will be a time in our lives — and maybe you are in it now — when the invitation is put to you too.

This is what the epileptic and his family are going through in the gospel story today. The suffering that the young man experiences — being assailed by a torment outside of his control — and the utter helplessness and desperation of the father is something that is just heart-rending to behold. The two of them represent perhaps those of us who are struggling with something outside of our control, some kind of terrible trial, and also represent the loved ones who have to look on, largely helplessly. The main thing that is needed from us here, if we are in this kind of position, is acceptance and patience.

Now, you might say, 'But, Subdeacon, the suffering that I'm undergoing is not really suffering for Christ's sake. No one is persecuting me for my faith.' Well, in the fourth volume of the Philokalia, St. Gregory of Sinai has this very captivating line. He says: 'To suffer for Christ's sake is patiently to endure whatever happens to us.' To suffer for Christ's sake is patiently to endure whatever happens to us.

Now, this kind of life is a great paradox. By a paradox I mean that it seems to oppose logic or common sense but is actually profoundly true. If you are undergoing this, you might be like the apostles: it looks like they are failing — they look like utter failures. You might feel that you are failing in life, in this competitive society that values success. Compared to the wealthy, prestigious Corinthians, the apostles did not look desirable. They were poor, poorly dressed, and homeless. They called themselves the scum of the earth, or, in another translation, the offscouring of all things. Do you know what offscouring is? It's not a word we really use anymore these days, but it's what is left over when you clean something. When you scour a pot, what you throw away is the offscouring. And that is what the apostles are calling themselves.

You might be sitting here feeling that you have been utterly rejected, cast aside, thrown away. And this is what Jesus was, too. When he was crucified, he was taken outside the city walls, because that was where the rubbish was taken. The apostles seemed as much of a failure as Jesus himself seemed. But in this very agony, in this humiliation, their suffering was their very victory, and their suffering was what crowned them as saints.

So this may be a moment when your life also takes on this great paradox: the weaker you are, and by the world's standards the more unsuccessful you are, the greater your capacity to be filled with the Holy Spirit. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

St. Sophrony of Essex comments on this quality of the paradox. He says that Christian life will always appear to go against the grain of ordinary human life and its scale of values. Everywhere we find strange paradoxes. The Christian is the most defenceless creature, under attack from all sides. The Christian is the slave of all and, as it were, the offscouring of all things — yet at the same time only he is free and inviolable. Inviolable means nothing can touch you; only he is free and inviolable in the deepest and fullest sense of the word. In other words, the very qualities that constitute the weakness, the humiliation, the failure, and the pain are the very ways that people can have their hearts broken open to allow God to transform them and to fill them.

Now, there is a place where these two types of suffering come together, and that is the Church. The Church is the place where people can undergo voluntary suffering — fasting, prayer, repentance, almsgiving — for those who are suffering involuntary things. Someone hears that a member of their family is in hospital and they can't come to church, so the rest of us come to pray on their behalf. Someone is undergoing a terrible time, perhaps in their family, and they need some assistance with meals; those who are well can provide that. The Church is the place where the two meet. The disciples in the gospel were expected to be fasting and praying, not ultimately to benefit themselves but to help those suffering around them — a lesson they ended up learning later on.

And there is another way that the two — the voluntary and the involuntary — come together. This is advice from many Church Fathers: they speak about making that which is involuntary voluntary. In other words, to take on the trial that has come against your will as if it were your will. In this way, those who are suffering involuntarily, through their patient acceptance, can be a source of wisdom, strength, and transformation to others around them. This noble attitude becomes an inspiration and a model to the church community.

So, to finish up: in the Church the problem of suffering is reconciled. We understand that it can be beneficial, and it comes down to our attitude. The message today is going to be different depending on your life's circumstances. If all is going well for you, maybe you need to engage in some more voluntary hardships, and not be like the disciples, who — when they needed to be engaged in spiritually beneficial ascetic activities — were not, and so could not meet what life demanded of them in the moment. Maybe the blade of your plough is sitting comfortably above the earth as you push it along; you need to dig that blade into the ground a little bit more. It makes it a little more hard-going, but that's how we make gains, and that's how we grow the fruit.

But if things are not going well for you — if life is tough, if your life is trending on a path of being perceived, from a worldly point of view, as unsuccessful and undesirable — then try to perceive that maybe God is allowing the circumstances of your life to draw you into a deeper communion. And, as we've seen from the advice of St. Gregory, what is needed is patient endurance, making voluntary that which is involuntary. May God help us to have the courage, the patience, and the submission to his will to devote ourselves to the life-giving disciplines and to receive in humility all that comes our way. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.