Editor’s Note: I understand that many who may come across this post may not be Catholic or Christian, but hold to some other faith tradition, or even be atheist. If so, this post is for you just as much as for anyone else. While I’m writing from a Catholic perspective, I believe most people with open minds can understand this concept.
Several days ago…way back in 2022, I had an interesting discussion with one of my favorite Substackers, Screaming Into the Void, about assisted suicide. In fact, it was this article in particular:
Our discussion focused mostly on why I thought government run assisted suicide (which is the only way it can be ‘legally’ done), is always going to end up with ‘death panels,’ and I think he agreed with me on that part (SimCom, please correct me if I’m wrong). But we explored other things too and I brought up redemptive suffering. This is a topic that is far too complex for a comment section of a post — anyone who knows even a tiny bit about it understands that.
I also mentioned that I don’t feel qualified to write on it authoritatively, so I’ve drawn some information from the Catechism of the Catholic Church, St. Thomas Aquinas, and from a dear friend who is far more well-versed in the topic than I am.
The catechism and saints on redemptive suffering
The concept of redemptive suffering is difficult to grasp. The Catholic Church teaches that we can offer up our sufferings — including big, medium, and trivial — to God and this contributes to the good of ourselves and others.
An article by Amanda Evinger from 2017, published in the National Catholic Register quotes the Catechism of the Catholic Church as saying, “By His passion and death on the cross, Christ has given a new meaning to suffering: it can henceforth configure us to Him and unite us with His redemptive passion.” (CCC 1505)
One of my favorite saints says:
“I understood that to become a saint one had to suffer much, seek out always the most perfect thing to do, and forget self…I do not want to be a saint by halves. I’m not afraid to suffer for You. I fear only one thing: to keep my own will; so take it, for I choose all that You will!” ~St. Therese of Lisieux
She’s called “The Little Flower,” for a reason. What a treasure she is.
My great friend, Lynn Forrester — the one, mentioned above, who has far more learning and understanding of this concept than I do says:
In redemptive suffering, there are no boundaries. What is meant by this? A living soul created by God, who believes in God, recognizes that suffering is universal. However, to willingly take on suffering in a way that can be atonement for our sins (as we all are sinners on this earth), God our Father in Heaven recognizes this suffering. The sinner has offered his suffering up to Him in Heaven.
Lynn often mentions one of my favorite saint’s comments of this topic as well, quoting Padre Pio’s teaching about the purification acquired through redemptive suffering:
“I want your soul to be purified and tried by a daily hidden martyrdom. How many times,” Jesus said to me a little while ago, “would you have abandoned me, my son, if I had not crucified you.” ~ St. Padre Pio
How is this relative to those without a typical faith tradition?
In reformed theology, says Lynn, redemptive suffering is voluntarily undertaken in the cause of justice and the effort to combat disease. In other words, we do not seek it out, nor do we wish to remain in it, but when it comes (and it will come) we voluntarily take it on. She emphasizes that’s it’s a different point of view than the above, but synonymous.
Lynn also says that people, not familiar with the Catholic Tradition, might take a look at how Hinduism views suffering: “Suffering is accepted. Karma conveys that suffering is a part of life, a result of past thoughts and actions.”
There’s obviously a big difference, but it’s my hope that others can see that suffering can be beneficial, even redemptive and that suicide is always and forever a grave wrong, whether it’s committed by oneself in privacy, or assisted by ‘healthcare professionals’ or some other entity.
Don’t throw your pearls before swine. Use them for something. When my mother was suffering shortly before her death, she lamented that she felt useless (and she was NOT Catholic; nor, even a practicing Christian, really). I told her that she is more important now than ever. As she lie there in bed, she has the time to truly and fervently pray for others, to write letters of love and hope to people she hasn’t spoken to in ages, but the most important was to use her suffering as she prayed.
I didn’t expect a very welcoming response from her, but she smiled — big — and said, “Yes! I’ll do that. Thank you, I love you so much.” That’s beautiful. And even as sick as she was, I saw the beauty of her youth shine through at that moment.
My only regrets are that:
I didn’t know about this when my dear Daddy was sick and dying back in 2001.
I didn’t have the opportunity to talk to my sweet mother-in-law, Selma, about this before she left us in 2018.
We all suffer. Let’s make it mean something.
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