What are we to make of suffering?
The reality of suffering is an age-old question, one that every generation’s theologians, philosophers, and artists wrestle with again and again. Jane Collier, an 18th-century English novelist, offers a novel contribution to the question of suffering in her book An Essay on the Art of Ingeniously Tormenting. A work of satire, the book captures the ways in which human beings torment, manipulate, and cause evil to one another.
The book’s final section, entitled “A Fable,” tells of an old poem that describes “the misery endured from the entrance of teeth and claws into living flesh.” The poem paints the pain that a suffering animal sustains “until his heartfelt anguish is relieved by death.” The author of the poem had not put their full name on the work, but only inscribed it with the initial “L.”
As Collier narrates, a debate over the poem’s authorship arose among the lions, leopards, lynxes, and lambs, all of whose names begin with the letter L. However, the lamb, being no predator, was instantly dismissed for knowing nothing of the subjects treated in the poem. After excluding the lamb, the remaining predators quarreled on, each boasting of superior ferocity and claiming that this strength best qualified them as the poem’s author.
The argument continued on until a horse finally intervened, pointing out that neither the lion, the leopard, nor the lynx could have written the poem. The horse stated, “It is impossible that the author, who wrote of suffering with such sympathy, could also commit the daily ravages for which the three predators are notorious.” The fable concludes when the horse finally determines, “The writer of this poem, therefore, must be no other than the lamb, as it is from suffering and not from inflicting torments that the true idea of them is gained.”
Suffering can be incredibly lonely, and Collier’s fable offers a sobering look at the place of empathy in the sufferer’s isolation. In debating the poem’s authorship, the animals determine that it is only the lamb who meets the criteria of suffering without inflicting suffering. Only the lamb, they realized, could empathize and share in the feelings of the sufferer.
At first glance, this fable illustrates the internal experience of every human being who suffers. It captures the sense of solidarity that only comes when our story is heard by those who know our pain or by those whose empathy brings them to share in our suffering. The fable presents a comforting anecdote, encouraging us to find other lambs who can share in the experience of suffering. However, while Collier presents a dichotomy between predator and prey, we find that in our world the picture is far more complicated. None of us is purely one or the other.
All of us experience suffering and cause suffering to others. Who then is pure lamb and no lion? If the only one who could identify with the sufferer was the one who had never inflicted suffering, then could we ever truly find empathy and solidarity in our suffering? Does such a person exist? Our initial inclination might be to say no, but a Christian reading redeems the picture and conveys two important messages: Christ is with us in our suffering, and Christ redeems us by his suffering.
The image of the innocent lamb in the fable calls to mind the Christian image of Christ as the Lamb of God. Jesus is the lamb, the “spotless victim”—as we hear in the Eucharistic Prayer—who is sacrificed for us and for our sins. Christ, as the innocent sufferer, is the one who empathizes with our suffering and, in doing so, takes it upon himself.
When we are praying with the passion of Christ, St. Ignatius urges us to ask God for the gift of “sorrow, compassion, and shame because the Lord is going to His suffering for my sins.” In praying for this grace, we beg God to help us internalize the fact that we are not alone. Christ, the Lamb, by uniting our sins with his suffering in the Passion, unites us to himself.
In Christ’s Passion, we discover the fulfillment of some of our deepest longings: the desire for solidarity, the desire to be understood, and the desire to be empathized with in our suffering. While at first we seemed at a loss for an innocent sufferer, we see that Jesus Christ, by his passion, accomplishes all of this. However, he does not stop here. Christ goes further by redeeming us through his suffering.
We read in Isaiah, “he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities… and by his stripes we are healed.” Christ, in his passion, does not only join our suffering to his, but by taking it upon himself, he unites us to himself and redeems us by it. By his sacrifice on the cross, our redemption is purchased. Jesus, as the innocent sufferer, is the one in whom we find empathy, but empathy for Christ is redemption. Christ’s empathy does not stop at solidarity with the sufferer, but is brought to its fulfillment in our redemption. This is why we hear in John’s Gospel, “For God so loved the world, he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.”
After understanding the mystery of Christ, the innocent Lamb, we return to our fable with new eyes. In this world, we have the experience of being both the lion and the lamb. At times, we are the ones who sink our teeth into others, and many times we are the ones who have teeth sunk into us. Although we all share these experiences, it does not bring us closer together. We are still alone in our experience of suffering. In the face of this isolation, we are invited to turn to Christ, who is the innocent sufferer.
Jesus Christ, the author of life, brings our poems of suffering to fulfillment and transforms them to ones of redemption. By turning to Christ, the innocent lamb, we find hope and consolation. Christ does not ask us to bear our suffering alone, but invites us to share it with him, saying to us, “Come unto Me all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”
This Lent, let us turn ourselves over generously to Christ, the innocent lamb, in whom we find solace, hope, and rest.
“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world, you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world” (John 16:33).
-//-
Image: Agnus Dei, by Francisco de Zurbarán. Held at the Museo del Prado, Madrid. Public Domain.