"It removes the veil; it plants the flag of truth within the fortress of a rebel soul." - C.S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain
Beyond the theological implications of the question of why suffering exists, we look at suffering as the worst thing that could happen to someone, as the ultimate failure of humanity. This weekend, I think I saw a face of the issue that I feel like we often ignore.
It all started with a mountain. At midnight.
While my friends were no doubt getting drunk at parties and clubs, friday night I was sitting in a car, driving through backwoods Virginia, heading to Old Rag Mountain in the Blue Ridge Mts. At midnight, four friends and I headed up the mountain, using headlamps and flashlights to navigate the trail. After about three hours of talking, coughing, laughing, climbing over boulders and meeting a dog named "JR," we reached the top of the mountain, and waited for the sun to rise.
Waiting for the sunrise is, of course, too simplistic sounding to give it the real credit it deserved. Since the sun wasnt going to rise until 6:30, we got the bright idea that we could sleep on the top until the sun came up. However, as most people know, there's wind at the top of a mountain. Alot of it. So it ended up that all five of us, huddled together against a giant boulder, spent the entire night shivering next to each other, having half-coherent conversation about the metaphysics of being cold (as well as Third Eye Blind, Lemmings, hurt knees, and other things), and occasionally screaming in pain when the wind would whip across the mountain. Theres no doubt in my mind that we suffered that night.
Needless to say, the sun eventually came up like it was supposed to (funny how often we forget) and we continued screaming, and ran around the top, trying to take in the beautiful Blue Ridge Mountains while suppressing how truly cold we were. We eventually climbed back down the mountain, and got back to civilization. We all remember how cold we were at the top of the mountain, but we all remember how it was worth it (and, as one of my friends said, how we became closer than we probably ever will be again).
The AU people arrived at campus, and I hit my bed at about noon, and fell asleep. Fast forward eight hours. I'm waking up, throwing on my Relay For Life t-shirt, and rushing to Bender Arena with four other people (only two of which ended up staying past the opening ceremonies).
I've never been to Relay For Life, though I am perfectly acquainted with cancer. A year ago, my sister was diagnosed with it, and started an almost year long battle filled with chemotherapy, visits to the hospital, and watching my sister Jessica, one of the strongest people I know, slowly seem to fade away from me, as she got deeper and deeper into chemo. When the news broke, I was living in Costa Rica, an entire ocean away. I remember feeling worthless, inadequate, and completely helpless to even help my family that was so far away. As a result, I sunk into an emotional coma, which caused so many problems in my friendships, and one that I only recently have felt myself coming out of. The summer came, and I spent most my time at home, doing dishes for my mom, babysitting for my sister Sarah playing guitar for Jess, just whatever I could do to feel like I was doing something. Outside of the house, no one quite knew how to deal what I was going through, but with my family, we all understood. We suffered together, and rejoiced together when we finally saw the cancer start to fade, and Jess start to come back to us.
All of these memories came back to me Saturday night, sitting in Relay For Life, listening to people tell their experiences with cancer, and honoring the relatives they lost. Luckily, I got to keep my sister, but I could still relate to people when they talked about the constant worry and the forced optimism that the experience forces upon you. While walking laps in memory of survivors and the lives that were taken, I began to quietly cry to myself, and thank God that my sister had more time to spend on earth. As I looked up, I saw something truly beautiful.
As everyone walked, people joined hands, people embraced each other, and me and my two floormates walked together, remembering the terrible thing, the ultimate failure of humanity, that was uniting all of us in that moment. The same terrible thing that made me and four people huddle together on the top of a mountain, and bond through an unforgettable adventure. The same terrible thing that brought my family closer together than we had been in years, and made slight acquaintances we hadnt talked to in years come to our house to cook dinner for us, or come visit my sister with a couple words of encouragement. The tears we cried, whether from sadness or the mountain wind hitting us in the face, made us something that the comfortable times could not: real people, experiencing what it truly means to be human and to love.
As a doubter by nature, I wont ever say that I have everything figured out. I wont ever say that I truly understand why we suffer, but I have to wonder. Everyone is asking if the human race can live with suffering. I'm starting to ask if the human race can truly live without it.
To close, I will, again, leave you with the words of my favorite writer, who said more than I ever could.
"God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world."
~Jared
