Heroic suffering

Over the weekend the cold descended with a muffled thump, and I spent a lot of time in front of the fire finishing Story of a Soul, by St. Therese of Lisieux. Now, there's something wrong with this picture: there I was, all tucked up on my cosy couch, the fire roaring in the fireplace, a cup of chamomile tea next to me, and the head of my oldest dog resting on my lap.

Now, Therese suffered gladly for Jesus. Therese begged Jesus for more suffering, so that she could endure it to His glory. Therese endured a really horrific two-day death agony from tuberculosis, without complaint. So, as a corollary, Therese should perhaps be read:

--in the cold garage, in the dark, by flashlight
--at the bus stop, in the wind and rain
--on a dark and lonely road, waiting for the tow-truck
--at a campsite in the lonely woods, when your food has run out, the
campfire is dying, and some undoubtedly large, hungry beast is howling
close by

But probably not in a comfortable living room with a cup of tea, a fire, and woman's best friend snoozing nearby. What's wrong with this picture is that it has HYPOCRITE stamped all over it.

Here's my problem. Suffering doesn't appeal to me. It isn't something I look for, in order to bear it heroically for the Lord. When I pray, "Deliver us from evil," I am not kidding! Two-day death agony? Please, no (whine). Dose me up on morphine or something.

I think most people feel the same way. There is enough suffering in the average life, without going in search of more. To my way of thinking, there's a thin line between wanting to suffer for the Lord and having some active mental pathology. Not that I'm saying anything was wrong with Therese! There's just something going on with her that I don't get.

Then again, she's a saint, and I'm not. So there you go.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Just call me Grumpy

I went out into the cold this morning to bring in the newspaper, and got an unexpectedl treat. The sun was just coming up behind my neighbor's house, peeking around her garage in a pale blue sky crisscrossed by pink, fluffy ribbons of cloud. The landscape lay under a faint, optimistic, pinkish glow. I didn't care. I don't feel optimistic. It's hard living with a guy who lost a hundred pounds on Weight Watchers. There's nothing like a convert to make everyone uncomfortable. I have gotten tired of his lovingly pointing out to me that I'm obese. Not chubby. Not pleasingly plump. Obese. The "O" word. I come from a whole family of cheerfully obese people, thank you very much. They enjoyed life; they enjoyed food. They got diabetes in their 60s. They didn't enjoy that very much. So much for my argument. So here I am, day two of Weight Watchers, glaring balefully at my breakfast of 3 Rice Krispies and a tablespoon of fat-free milk. "I'm so
Read more

Summer blahs ...

OK, I'll admit it. I've been slacking. I know I should be blogging about spiritual matters, but the fact is, I'm tapped out. I really struggle to get through summer. Now, I know how silly that sounds! My dad suffered in the winter from seasonal affective disorder (SAD), but I don't think there's an equivalent diagnosis for those who find summer days tediously endless. But that describes me. I loathe heat and humidity, both of which we normally have in abundance here. I love the beach, but never seem to get there. I come home from work and sit on the porch in a funk, reading pulp fiction to pass the time. I don't think I'm depressed; I'm just not inspired. It's also true that the Church on the Pike cycles way back during this time of year. The Rector takes a long vacation; while he's gone, we either have supply priests, if they're available, or we do Morning Prayer. Small groups also tend to go on hiatus. The choir is having a rest. I had a
Read more

When life turns on a dime ...

Life is precarious. We all know this, but we often forget it until reminded. Yesterday morning, my colleague and good friend got a telephone call from his wife at her office, informing him that a neighbor had spotted flames at their house, and had called 911. He and his wife both raced home. Both their boys were safely at school, so that was not a worry. But the fire had apparently burned for nearly two hours without detection, so the house was pretty much a total loss. But the newspaper this morning captured the worst part: "House fire kills pet dog." Glacier the husky was in his crate when the fire erupted. He died from the intense smoke and heat. I refuse to picture this in my mind. The family is distraught, especially the two boys, aged 7 and 5. They can rebuild the house, and get more "stuff." But Glacier is gone forever. Or at least in this life. Dogs, like people, should grow old and die in their beds. No one deserves to go this way. I guess time and faith wi
Read more