One way to contrast modern sensibilities with Christian sensibilities is to describe the difference between “the good life” and “a good life.” “The good life” is an advertising theme, a photoshoot of the American Dream where all obstacles are overcome through the miracles of technology, market forces, and unfettered freedom. “A good life” is an entirely different question. A good life may very well include an abundance of suffering, disease, and deprivation. The difference in these two descriptions points towards the overarching narratives that surround them. In effect, they describe two very different religions. True Christianity is incompatible with the American Dream.
All of the writings in the New Testament clearly presume that suffering is universal – everyone suffers. There is no teaching in the New Testament that suggests possible routes for avoiding suffering – nor is there a suggestion that such an avoidance is inherently desirable. St. Paul declares that “all who want to live godly in Christ Jesus will suffer persecution.” (2Tim. 3:12). He does not define “persecution” in this passage. For our purposes, it is sufficient to understand that St. Paul does not see any form of godliness in Christ that is not accompanied by suffering. He describes the course of his own Christian life:
“Yet indeed I also count all things loss for the excellence of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them as rubbish, that I may gain Christand be found in Him, not having my own righteousness, which is from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ, the righteousness which is from God by faith…” (Phil. 3:8-9)
To this, he adds an exclamation:
“…that I may know Him and the power of His resurrection, and the communion (koinonia) of His sufferings, being conformed to His death, if, by any means, I may attain to the resurrection from the dead.” (Phil 3:10–11)
St. Paul does not refer to the sufferings of Christ as something that has been accomplished and completed. Rather, they are ongoing and possible of participation (communion). In one of the most jarring statements in the New Testament, St. Paul says:
“I now rejoice in my sufferings for you, and fill up in my flesh what is lacking in the afflictions of Christ, for the sake of His body, which is the church…” (Col. 1:24)
These invocations of “sufferings” are not described as something to be avoided. However, they are not described as something to be sought for its own sake: the Orthodox faith is not morbid. The mystery of Christ’s co-suffering with/in us makes the redemption of suffering possible: we can bear to go there because Christ is there. To “follow Christ” is to follow in the way of the Cross. We are baptized into His death.
St. Maximus taught that Christ suffers in each of us “until the end of time.” Such an understanding goes far to explain another of his sayings, “He who understands the mystery of the Cross understands all things.”
For a believer, “a good life,” is nothing other than the life of Christ. “Christ within us the hope of glory,” St. Paul calls it. That life is revealed to us in the gospels and its pattern has not changed. All of the virtues are nothing less than the character of Christ being shown forth in our lives. They are formed and shaped within us by the work of the Holy Spirit, but not without our own co-suffering with Christ.
Consider those described in the Beatitudes:
…the poor in spirit…those who mourn…the meek…those who hunger and thirst for righteousness…the merciful…the pure in heart…the peacemakers…the persecuted.
Each of these descriptions includes a measure of suffering, just as they are rewarded with glory.
Most of Christian history would have no argument with such assertions for the simple fact that human circumstances were never quite free from suffering. Life was hard. The past 300 years have seen an explosion in human wealth and productivity. Of course, 100 percent of the human race still dies (though we dream of a technological immortality). The dominant narrative of modernity (constantly marketed to us) has been the promise of a better life (“the good life”) through progress, technology, and the acquisition of wealth. There have been remarkable discoveries (antibiotics, analgesics, surgeries, etc.) that frequently improve our medical well-being. However, the narrative itself tends to demonize suffering in a manner that while producing “the good life,” fails miserably at producing “a good life.” Modernity does not suffer well or virtuously.
Modern Christianities that have followed this path have largely become caricatures of their classical roots. The “Cross” is reduced to a historical event that paid the price of sin, guaranteeing and underwriting the joys of modernity’s pursuit of pleasure. “Jesus died for me so I could be happy.” This same perversion of classical doctrine frequently ridicules the classical tradition of fasting and asceticism. What is in fact the case is that modern Christianities exist in an economic bubble that champions the American middle class (or above) while ignoring the realties of human existence across time and across the world. Christ offered very serious warnings about wealth – words that fall on deaf ears as we pray for the prosperity of our national dream.
Again, suffering is not to be sought for its own sake. However, it has a sacramental quality that is inherent to the gospel. When Christ spoke of His abiding presence among us, His examples included the sick, the naked, the hungry, the thirsty, those in prison – the least of these. There is a deep spiritual delusion that treasures Christ in the elements of the Eucharist while ignoring His presence in the least of these. They, too, are His “Body broken for you.”
Such lessons should be obvious to us, were they not so frequently shouted down by the constant droning of our culture’s songs of success. The gospels and our faith describe a normal life, charged with glory but sifted in the suffering of our broken existence. God has entered into this very world, emptying Himself even to encompass the whole of our suffering in the fullness of the Cross. We learn to find Him there and discover that in that very emptiness He has given us His fullness. The normal life, lived fully, becomes the vehicle of our transformation.
Blessed Jesus, come soon!
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