The Problem of Pain

 

Camille Paglia

Personal issues so far this year have made it difficult for the Weekly Bystander to regard current events, especially politics, as little more than trivial.  For the time being, I would just like to reproduce an old post or two that still have relevance for me at this time, and may have some interest for readers. Below is one from September, 2019.

The Wall Street Journal weekend edition regularly features an interview with a prominent personality on its op-ed pages. Last weekend the interview was with Camille Paglia, the well-known feminist author, lecturer, and professor. At the age of 72 Paglia has come under fire from students at the University of the Arts in Philadelphia who are demanding that she be fired. Despite her feminist credentials, some of Paglia’s positions, like her praise of Capitalism, are no longer in favor. 

I do not wish to get involved in feminist debates but would just like to discuss a seemingly unrelated incident in Paglia’s life that she remembered quite vividly. In fact, she regarded it as a turning point. At the age of fifteen she was in religious education class when she had the nerve to ask the teacher, an Irish Catholic nun, a very challenging and provocative question. In those days we would have called it a smart-ass question. Naturally, the nun reacted and condemned Paglia roundly in front of the class for even asking such a question. That was it for Paglia. From that day on she would have nothing to do with Catholicism. 

Coincidentally, over the weekend a friend told me of an acquaintance who left the Church because of another seemingly trivial incident. The woman had invited a soloist to sing at her wedding but after the Mass was over, the priest chided her for taking business away from the church’s own soloist. Boom! That was it. She has never gone to church again. Reactions like these are not unusual. In my lifetime I have heard of many such incidents or personal confrontations that led people to stop attending church. It is usually not a question of belief or doctrine, nor does it mean that they become bad people.  

There are more serious reasons for losing one’s faith in God or ceasing to practice the faith of your fathers. Perhaps the greatest is the problem of pain and suffering. In an email exchange, also over this weekend, an old friend told me that he had trouble believing in God and that he no longer attended church. He wrote, “If God is so good, how do you explain little children suffering from cancer?” He also asked me to explain all the pain and suffering that will result from natural disasters like hurricane Dorian.

The problem of pain and suffering, some call it the problem of evil, has been around since the dawn of recorded history. My wife and I sat down over the weekend to watch a National Geographic documentary on great animal migrations. After ten minutes we had to shut it off. The carnage and killing were horrific.  The crocodiles, leopards, and other animals did not seem concerned with the problem of pain. Human beings are obviously just as capable of inflicting pain and suffering but I believe that we are the only animals who think or worry about it.

Philosophers, theologians, and scientists have grappled with it and no one has yet come up with a completely satisfactory answer. Certainly, I haven’t. In ancient times personal suffering and natural disasters were attributed to the gods. The gods were either punishing people for their misdeeds, or were merely malevolent, playing with humans like a cat with a mouse.

In thinking about my friend’s question, I wondered if the answer could be found by considering the example of Jesus, the founder of Christianity.  No matter what you think of Jesus, his approach to the problem of pain and suffering was revolutionary. Even a cursory reading of the gospels indicates that Jesus was a healer. When confronted with pain and suffering, he healed the pain and did not blame God or anyone else. 

He gave sight to a man who had been blind from birth. Ordinary people claimed that the blindness was the result of the sins of the man’s parents. Jesus would have none of it, and just restored his sight. When a man suffering from paralysis was brought before him, rather than blaming him for his sins, he forgave them and then cured his illness.

When he heard that people had been killed when a tower collapsed in a nearby city, he told his hearers that the people who died were no more sinful than anyone else. I’m sure he would have said the same about the victims of hurricanes and earthquakes. His response to the problem of pain and suffering was to heal and minister to the suffering. He instructed his followers to do the same.

In the teaching of Jesus, God is not the cause of suffering but the cure. Those who believe in Nature believe in a cruel god who never forgives. We speak of Mother Nature but she is not the kind of mother any of us would like to have. Scientists may tell us that many must be sacrificed to cleanse the herd in the interests of survival and progress but something inside of us tells us to deplore pain and suffering and do our best to prevent and heal. That something inside of us is as much a sign of the existence of a loving God as anything else the philosophers and theologians have ever thought of. 

Camille Paglia’s wise-ass question to the poor nun, who was giving her life to educate children like her, was: “If God is infinitely forgiving, is it possible that at some point in the future He will forgive Satan?” It is true that the nun should not have blown up, especially since she only had to turn to her catechism for the simple answer. In the catechism Catholics are told that God must forgive those who repent and ask for forgiveness, and so He certainly would forgive if Satan repents and asks for forgiveness. Unfortunately, Satan, like many wise fifteen-year-olds, will have none of it.

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