Beyond pain and suffering (2)

Karl Gaspar

CONCLUSION

DAVAO City–Looking back now, perhaps there was one more element that helped me during the crucial moments of fearing pain, suffering and even the threat of dying inside the OR. I was fully conscious of how I must have looked lying down on that bed. I was practically naked with all kinds of needles stuck to my arms which needed to be extended. Given my health issues, I had become emaciated; from 160 to 120 lbs. I was unshaved and my body was unwashed. From the ceiling of the OR looking down on my body, the monitor would show a “crucifixion” scene. For my body’s position parallels that of Jesus on the cross; except that in my case, I was lying down.

As was my experience as a political prisoner in March of 1983 when the timing – the days of the Holy Week – helped to sustain my faith, the parallel experience was unfolding as the days move to the Holy Week of 2016. Then and now, I went through a horrendous ordeal. While there were moments of doubt, I desperately tried to hold on to my faith. And in the end, it would be this faith that would challenge my weakening belief in God’s mercy and compassion and help to bring full recovery.

But this only brings us back to the question: why do human beings suffer? Corollary questions follow: Did Jesus had to go through such intense human suffering for humanity to be saved? How could His Loving Father allow (or even – will?) that the Son would go through such immense suffering to provide humanity with a passage to God’s reign? Was this whole display of human cruelty (via torture, death by crucifixion, debasement of human dignity) on one hand, and a total surrender on the part of the victim (a totally powerless figure with no one to protect or defend him) on the other hand, necessary at all?

There is something to the Judaeo-Christian belief system that is so beholden to mystery and it is this puzzle that intrigues the believer. A further study into the rise of organized religions in the Middle East, the people’s myths and narratives that found their way to the holy books, the manner in which these texts wove into each other through centuries could help unravel the meanings of what would be the legacy of our doctrinal beliefs. After all meanings can only be better understood within the contexts of those who seek them.

So perhaps, a key to unraveling the deep mystery of all these is to seek the truth as to their meanings – then for our ancestors, now for us, their descendants. What is the whole meaning of human suffering, then?

One clue perhaps is in the manner we interpret binary oppositions: day and night, wrong and right, black and white, male and female, body and soul, this world and the world beyond, etc. It is said that one can only appreciate the beauty of a million glittering stars when there is darkness. It is only because human beings undergo intense pain and suffering that they could also experience immense joy and happiness. The adage goes – no pain, no gain. So one has to suffer first, before one can hope to accomplish anything or transcend present limitations. These may sound shallow, but resilience in the midst of despair can only be nourished with everyday forms of resistance. One such form is to find hope where others refuse or fear to tread.

Suffering is most intense when experienced alone. On our own and fragmented from our family, neighborhood, society, the burden of facing the impact of suffering is heavier. No wonder Jesus enticed his followers to come to Him to unburden themselves. In His Passion, Death and Resurrection, those words – “come to me and unburden yourselves” – would take on greater meaning. In exchange of undergoing the ordeal of Thursday-Friday, Jesus provided us with the hope and joys of Sunday, thus proving that “no greater love than this” is possible.

There is the popular expression – it takes a whole village to educate one child. We could appropriate this into the words – it takes a whole community to heal a sick person. I was very lucky and privileged to have had a whole cast of characters “from the neighborhood” who assisted me through the days of suffering and eventual recovery: the medical personnel (in 4 hospitals in Davao City); members of my family and the congregation to which I belong (specifically the members of DRMC and Satmi students), caregivers, and friends spread across the world (my Facebook Page is truly a gift to nourish kinship/friendship) who lighted candles, offered Masses and prayers, sent/texted good wishes. In a sense, all these people “watched over me” and offered real and virtual presence. Love heals, indeed.

Lastly, it is through suffering that one is enticed to take more cognizance of the spiritual, the contemplative, the intuitive aspects of one’s being. For the believer, the gift of insight into the mysterious only takes place in the dark, the shadows, the fading light, the fear of the unknown.

Tiny, little incidents arose throughout my hospital confinement and the days following my discharge. Two of these may suffice to make my point. As the prostate operation began, the doctor and the nurses inside the OR smelled candle burning. (I was to learn about this later, as I did not smell anything.) I did ask all those I could ask the favor from to please spare me the pain and that prayer was answer. Immediately after the operation, I began to actually see thousands of the tiniest silvery glittering lights flickering across the room. Even as I was wheeled back to my room, they continued to flicker. All in all, that experience must have lasted an hour. Was I only hallucinating? Product of a fertile imagination trying its best to debrief?

Another incident: It had been very difficult to sleep very well since I got confined. I was still not able to walk without any assistance. But on the 19th night since confinement, I fell into “a deep and dreamless sleep” which lasted for eight hours straight. If I was not woken up by the caregiver, given our schedule to have another check-up, it could have still gone on for hours. When I awoke, I realized I just went through an amazing experience. It felt as if an entire year had passed and that I was in another world in another time. Questions quickly arose one after another: Who am I? Where was I? What was I doing in this room? Why were there all sorts of things attached to my body?

And then I heard a voice inside my head – “stand up and walk!” I did.

This was on Holy Wednesday. Thus, four days before Easter Sunday, I already had an experience of my own personal resurrection.

(Redemptorist Brother Karl Gaspar is Academic Dean of the Redemptorists’ St. Alphonsus Theological and Mission Institute in Davao City and a professor of Anthropology at the Ateneo de Davao University. Gaspar is author of several books, including “Desperately Seeking God’s Saving Action: Yolanda Survivors’ Hope Beyond Heartbreaking Lamentations” and two books on Davao history launched in December 2015.)