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Katrina DiplomaTH141-QSuffering God: Compassion Poured Out

If there is a God, then why is there suffering in the world? Is God, who is said to be the

creator of everything that is, also the author of suffering? And while humans are afflicted with

suffering, is God merely a detached observer? Or worse, is He absent? These are just some of

the questions that are constantly being asked in the search for a fit between the idea of God as

an existing, compassionate and omnipotent being and the experience of human suffering. As

rational beings, it is only natural for us to seek for logical explanations that will justify our beliefs,

and more importantly, our faith. The kind of faith that is being taught to us, after all, is a “faith

seeking understanding.” This, obviously, does not exempt the idea of an almighty God dwelling

in the midst of a suffering world.

In Suffering God: Compassion Poured Out (1992), author Elizabeth Johnson attempted

to speak about God and suffering in the same language – something that most theological

commentators consciously try to avoid because of the negative connotation on the latter.

Johnson, however, used the notion and experience of suffering, specifically, the different forms

of suffering that women endure, to glean insight into the mystery of God. In her feminist

reflection, she challenged the idea of an apathic God – the image of a God who does not suffer

– the product of classical patriarchal theism, and argued that God, in fact, suffers with us.

An Apathic GodPerfection is intrinsic in the idea of God. This means that God is necessarily perfect. In

the language of Scholasticism (see Summa Theologiae, Part I-A, Section 3ff.), God is the

Unmoved Mover (the initial mover, which is unmoved); the Uncaused Cause (the first cause,

which is uncaused); and the Actus Purus (the one being without potentiality). Suffering, on the

other hand, gushes forth from punishment of sin, from finitude and imperfection, which are all

rooted to “a deficiency in one's being” (Johnson, 1992, p. 246), characteristic of all created

beings. Whereas God, in His being, is the highest and most perfect, God is not subject to

suffering. From this, we arrive at the idea of an impassible God, that is, an apathic God.

Etymologically derived “from the Greek a-patheia meaning no pathos or suffering” (Johnson,

1992, p. 247), God seems to cease to be the Being we believe God to be – the Divine who

suffers with us, shares our pains and feels our sorrows. God appears to have become detached

from us in our experiences of suffering. God is just there, watching – a mere spectator – whom

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“Camus bitterly depicts when he says that God is like an eternal bystander with his back turned

to the woe of the world” (Johnson, 1992, p. 248).

Moreover, God as an omnipotent being “is traditionally interpreted to mean that God is

ultimately in control of whatever happens so that nothing occurs apart from the divine will”

(Johnson, 1992, p. 247). Does this mean that God wills suffering? If not, does it mean that God

cannot stop suffering from happening? If God is really omnipotent, then surely he can, but we

see suffering all around us. If God can stop suffering and yet there is suffering in the world, does

this mean that God permits suffering to happen for whatever divine reason? Johnson (1992)

points out that to “punish wrongdoing, to test character, to educate or form personality, or to

bring forth a greater good ... are the religious reasons traditionally given to the anguished

question, why?” (pp. 247-248). Thus, whatever forms of suffering come to torment mankind, all

of these are ultimately designed ad majorem Dei gloriam. This makes us think whether wars,

famines, the recent chemical attack in Libya, and the Zambo conflict, among others all serve

God's glory. It appears that they do not seem to, but maybe this is just an opinion coming from

the limited perspective of finite beings and that in God's perspective, everything will fall into their

proper places in the greater scheme of things in His time. Still, one can rightly argue that “there

is in our history a barbarous excess of suffering, a violence and destructiveness so intense in

quality and extensiveness in scope that it can only be named genuine evil ... There is suffering,

in other words, that does not simply punish or test or educate or work a greater good. Instead, it

destroys” (Johnson, 1992, pp. 248-249). The reality of the existence of suffering that does not

“serve” any good purpose and the idea that God willingly allows this to happen was totally

unacceptable. This had led to a “revolution” of sorts to find intellectually satisfying and

religiously acceptable justifications that would marry the idea of the impassible, omnipotent God

with the reality of suffering. Liberation theology, for instance, was born from “the poverty of the

great majority of the Latin American population and the understanding that the reality of misery

was due to a profound social injustice, together with the understanding that this was contrary to

the preaching of the life-kingdom” (Dwyer, 1994, p. 548). It is a kind of theology that is “not only

of and about, but also for liberation” (Balchand and Gorospe, 1991, p. 1) – liberation from a

theology shaped by patriarchal domination and control.

Jewish Scriptures experts, Protestant thinkers, Catholic apologists, philosophers and

theologians alike tried to provide adequate explanations to the notion of a suffering God. But the

bottom-line for all these intellectuals is that the “divine capacity for suffering is a most

characteristic expression of divine freedom active in the power of love” (Johnson, 1992, p. 251).

This means that the suffering God is an impassible, omnipotent God who suffers – a God who

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suffers in a divine way. This novel treatment of the classical idea of impassibility “points to the

dark mystery of God. [And] the way is open for creative respeaking in light of today's religious

sensibilities” (Johnson, 1992, p. 252). And in response to this, the feminist perspective lays

down a number of intellectually stimulating ideas on the table of discourse.

The Suffering GodViewed from the lenses of feminism and liberation theology, Johnson’s theological

reflection points to the notion of an apathic God, which is the fruit of a male-dominated culture.

For men in a dominant position, freedom has come to mean being in control, existing self-contained and self-directed, apart from entanglements with others ... the affirmation of divine freedom produces language about God as the quintessential macho man, unmoved and unfeeling in the face of human suffering. (Johnson, 1992, p. 252)

For the longest time, we have gotten used to address God as Father, Lord, or King – all of

which point to a powerful male leader, a patriarch or the alpha male. These titles exude with

impressions of strength, control and detachment. We encounter phrases in theological literature

such as “tremble before the Lord”, “cower at the sound of His name”, and “kneel or bow down

before Him”, among others, which are all characteristic of an authority high above and far from

his subjects, fearsome in all his might and glory. We feel about God the way we felt when we

were little kids, taking reprimand from our fathers (or at least from “traditional” fathers) – we fear

the sound of his voice; we are unable to look straight in his eyes; we desire to hide from his

penetrating gaze; and at times we cower and tremble. Yet despite these, we love, respect, look

up to him and we run to him when we are down, hurting, and wounded. We believe him to be

always in control, we rarely or never see him cry, he just picks us up, helps us stand, and wipes

our tears away. He tells us to learn from our mistakes. And our spirits are uplifted, we are happy

and satisfied. As we grow up, we think and ask ourselves, “Could our fathers have prevented

those hurtful things that happened to us in the past or did he allow us to go through them for us

to 'learn' from our experiences?” We usually hear our mothers tell us not to do this or to avoid

doing that, but we rarely hear those words from our fathers. They are just there, watching

silently. But then, times have changed. Modern-day fathers are more vocal, more proactive, and

more empathic today when it comes to their children. What modern-day children are looking for

in their fathers is similar to what modern-day believers are trying to find in their God.

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Feminist theology judges that the attribute of impassibility, even when posed as the ethical ideal of freedom, is found wanting when compared with the truth discerned in the lived experience characteristic of women. Self-containment and the absence of relationship are not necessarily the highest perfections but signify lack. Furthermore, the attribute of omnipotence, modeled on the power of an absolute monarch, reflects patriarchal preference for domination and control. (Johnson, 1992, pp. 252-253)

For this reason, a different approach on the concept of God is demanded. Many have

responded by providing an image of God who is powerless, afflicted, and burdened by sorrow,

in other words, a suffering God. As portrayed by what happened to Jesus on his Passion, God

understands our pains and He even willingly puts them on His shoulders through the cross for

us. But at the end of the dark tunnel of suffering, there is light, that is, the light of resurrection.

Somehow, this encourages us to endure suffering because God suffers with us and there will

surely come a time when we will be resurrected to a new life – a life of everlasting happiness.

And this is the kind of ideal widely preached to many different ecclesiae around the world today.

Statements about “God's power that is weakness,” claims about the Father's love shown in Jesus' abandonment on the cross, assertions that God was never great as in humiliation, never so glorious as in self-surrender, and never so powerful as when impotent - such themes abound in current reformulations of impassibility and omnipotence. (Johnson, 1992, p. 253)

This reformulation of the notion of God as an almighty being whose strength lies in weakness is

a double-edged sword. On the one hand, it draws God nearer to the faithful especially to those

who are weak and helpless. But on the other hand, it might glorify suffering and be detrimental

to all those who suffer, especially to women who, throughout the course of history, are

constantly oppressed, discriminated, abused and made to endure suffering in countless ways.

This might develop into a convenient excuse to turn a blind eye to the sufferings of women, who

in their helplessness are forced to hold on to hollow words such as “it is when I am weak that I

am strong” and as a consequence remain silent to their sufferings assured that they share in the

sufferings of God. “In the long run the antidote to an impassible, omnipotent God is neither the

reverse image of a victimized, helpless one nor silence on the whole subject. What is needed is

to step decisively out of the androcentric system of power-over versus victimization and think in

other categories about power, pain, and their deep interweaving in human experience”

(Johnson, 1992, p. 254). For this reason, Johnson identified four distinct experiences of

suffering endured by women that shed light into the mystery of God, namely, birth, justice and

anger, grief, and degradation. This approach agrees with the scientific social analysis aspect of

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Liberation theology, which “is neither merely academic nor value-free but must expose and

confront the oppressive systems that are responsible for the suffering of the poor as well as the

ideologies used to legitimize their misery” (Balchand and Gorospe, 1991, p. 1). In doing so,

Johnson tried to show that each of these experiences try to contribute to the understanding of

the mystery of God using the sufferings experienced by women as an analytic tool.

The first two of these experiences, namely, birth and righteous anger for justice, are

seen to be creative in the sense that they result to new life – the life a newborn child and the

“new” life of those to whom justice are given. In childbirth, women during labor up until the baby

is delivered experience a great deal of pain unimaginable to men who do not and perhaps will

never experience it. However, unlike other forms of suffering, the pain experienced in birth

brings alongside with it the experience of immeasurable joy. Smiles of new mothers upon first

laying their eyes on their newborns, often captured in timeless photos, offer a glimpse of the joy

and love felt by mothers as they behold a wondrous creation.

In a way unique to half of the human race, women labor in bearing and birthing each new generation, a suffering which can be woven round with a strong sense of creative power and joy ... this experience of labor and delivery offers a superb metaphor for Sophia-God's struggle to birth a new people, even a new heaven and a new earth ... Intense suffering as an ingredient in intense creative power marks the depth of divine involvement in the process. (Johnson, 1992, p. 255)

As intense as the creative suffering women experience during childbirth is the suffering they

experience whenever they stand up for justice. In standing for what is right, women go head to

head against systems which are mostly established and operated by men of power. As a result,

they are often attacked, and in a lot of instances, kidnapped, raped, tortured, violated or even

killed. However, women endure these kinds of violence to stand up time and again for causes

that they believe will, in the long run, contribute to the betterment of society.

Women suffer when they choose to act in situations great or small to bring about the betterment of human life through the pursuit of human rights, healing, justice, and peace. This experience too betrays an admixture of creative power and pain, for the action being taken faces off with antagonistic structures of sin, which are not deconstructed without fierce struggle. (Johnson, 1992, p. 256)

When women stand for righteousness and justice, intense anger surges from within their

persons. “A passion that often accompanies action on behalf of justice is righteous wrath ...

When women awaken to the ravages wreaked upon them and those they love by unjust

patriarchal systems, they typically get angry ... Such anger is itself a mode of suffering”

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(Johnson, 1992, p. 257). Much like when a mother reprimands her child for a sin committed or

more vividly when a mother gets angry at someone who has hurt her child, she feels a mixture

of anger and pain that will only be pacified when the wrongdoing has been rectified. Such form

of suffering is directed towards a positive, creative output – that of progressive change and

renewal. Thus, we see that in both instances, childbirth and righteous wrath, God shows his

creative power amidst the reality of intense suffering and pain.

Meanwhile, the last two forms of suffering that women experience, namely, grief and

degradation, are the direct opposite of the former two. They do not pave the way to new life, but

instead, they destroy. Grief oftentimes results from a feeling of loss, or more precisely, an

irreplaceable loss, such as the death of a beloved. In multitudes of instances, “women's

experience identifies the most fundamental evil to be the phenomenological conditions of pain,

separation, and helplessness. When these conditions affect people within the circle of women's

affection, boundless anguish ensues” (Johnson, 1992, p. 259). This kind of suffering does not

lead to any creative results. Unlike men who are more inclined to “be alone,” women are by

nature relational. Due to this nature, they are more vulnerable to grieve due to loss,

helplessness or seeing their loved ones in pain. This experience of women who grieves over the

afflictions endured by a beloved, though not creative, points to the divine experience of God

grieving over the sufferings of “His” beloved children. “As imago Dei they point to the mystery of

divine sorrow, of an unimaginable compassionate God who suffers with beloved creation”

(Johnson, 1992, p. 260).

However, more than the experience of grief that makes women suffer from within,

another form of suffering that is graver than the rest leaves women totally destroyed, hollow and

wasted. “In their own person women experience suffering that yields no discernible good but

rather violates and destroys all human dignity and even life itself ... such a situation is named

affliction” (Johnson, 1992, p. 261). Affliction or degradation may be seen as a logical implication

of women living in the world of men. When the Creator imposed upon the daughters of Eve to

be subjects of the authority of the sons of Adam, the gates of affliction was widely opened.

Consequently, throughout history, women are battered, abused, raped, violated and murdered

out of hatred, discrimination, or at times, simply out of whim. Even today, we hear in the news

helpless women experiencing affliction and, sadly, with society's permission. This includes

raped women in Afghanistan forced to marry their attackers or girls aging from 8 to 12 in Yemen

who are made to wed older men, who are in their 30's or 40's. Looking at such images of

women makes us wonder whether these images are still created in the image of God.

Apparently, in feminist thought, the answer is yes. “Do these and all the violated women of the

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world offer yet another symbol of the suffering God? I think that they do. Ecce homo: in an

unspeakable way they are images of the crucified” (Johnson, 1992, p. 263). The image of Jesus

suffering on the cross is an image of a God both grieving for the sins of man and afflicted by the

so-called powers of the world. In imagery of the cross, we see that God “participates in the

suffering of the world and overcomes, inconceivably, from within through the power of love”

(Johnson, 1992, p. 263).

At this point, we may glean from our discussion the idea of love, an essentially relational

concept, serving as the root of suffering that women experience: love for a new life; love for a

humane life; love for a suffering beloved; and love in relation to the cross. However, it may be

interesting to note that unlike the theology of liberation’s fundamental choice of liberation and a

nonpreferential option for the poor, the experiences described by Johnson encompasses all

those who have the capacity for love, rich and poor alike because in a sense, everyone is rich in

one thing and poor in another. Viewed from this perspective, all are rich and poor at the same

time. From these instances, Johnson (1992) draws a link between the suffering of women and

the image of the suffering God.

Does love entail suffering in God? In the classical tradition with its apathic ideal, the answer is obviously no. Love is purely a matter of the will; to love is to will the good of the one loved ... But as actually lived, and paradigmatically so in the light of women's experience, love includes an openness to the ones loved, a vulnerability to their experience, a solidarity with their well-being, so that one rejoices with their joys and grieves with their sorrows. This is not a dispensable aspect of love but belongs to love's very essence ... In the light of the feminist prizing of mutuality as a moral excellence, love does entail suffering in God. (Johnson, 1992, pp. 265-266)

In light of the feminist reflection, it appears that suffering does not entail an imperfection in God

but, quite on the contrary, asserts the perfection of God who is able to relate and be one with

His creations through the experience of suffering. This purification, reinterpretation, and

revitalization of Christian doctrine and practices in light of the Johnson’s feminist reflection and

consistent with the methods of the theology of liberation somehow provide a clearer picture on

the mystery of the impassible, omnipotent God vis-à-vis the reality of suffering. “This is one way

the symbol of a suffering God can help: by signaling that the mystery of God is here in solidarity

with those who suffer ... the presence of divine compassion as companion to the pain

transforms suffering, not mitigating its evil but bringing an inexplicable consolation and comfort”

(Johnson, 1992, p. 267). It may yet be a mystery why there is suffering in the world and such

mystery may be unveiled through divine revelation at a later time, but what is important at this

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moment is that we are not alone in the experience of suffering. We have God with us, by our

side, in total communion with “His” Church who suffers. And that, gives us hope.

A Communion of SufferersIt is said that happiness shared is happiness doubled while sorrow shared is sorrow

halved. This is especially real when suffering is shared among a communion of sufferers.

“Communion becomes a profound source of energy for the healing of suffering. Knowing that

we are not abandoned makes all the difference” (Johnson, 1992, p. 267). The orthopraxis

(correct practice) of believing through faith that we are not alone in our sufferings somehow

opens a well of hope within our souls. When we have someone who can understand us, who

shares our pains and sorrows, who accompanies us in our sufferings, we begin to have a

source of strength. When we know that we are not alone in the sufferings that we experience,

we become stronger because somehow we see a glimmer of hope that in our shared pains,

someday everything will turn out fine. And this feeling is especially magnified when we realize

that God is with us in our sufferings, that in His divinity, God suffers with us. Thus, despite the

seeming impossibility of finding a fit between the existence of suffering in a world where God

exists, talks about a suffering God is not futile because “such discourse facilitates the praxis of

hope” (Johnson, 1992, p. 271) for it is through hope that we gather the courage to resist

oppression, stand up and move forward.

As a final note, the problem concerning the existence of an impassible, omnipotent God

amidst the suffering world had given birth to a movement of atheism which has grown over the

past couple of centuries. In light of liberation theology’s presumed “priori and basic faith-

commitment to God in the person of Jesus Christ [as] … an absolute [and non-negotiable]

requirement” (Balchand and Gorospe, 1991, p. 3), it seems that for atheists, such a presumed

requirement for a theology of liberation cannot apply. Instead, we have to find another way

around. In order for us to liberate them from the bondage of unbelief, poorness in faith and

suffering due to ignorance, perhaps a solid step that can be taken towards the discernment and

formulation of moral imperatives for concrete action is to find ways to show them how a feminist

analysis of suffering may shed a bright light on the mystery of God, taking our cue from

Johnson’s work. Through this, we might be able to finally have the chance to lead them,

sufferers much like us, back to God. After all, the “aim of the theology of liberation is to be the

language about God, and to be this in the communion of the church. It is an effort to make the

Word of life present in a world of oppression, injustice, and death” (Dwyer, 1994, p. 553).

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References:

Aquinas, Thomas, St. Summa Theologiae (ST). Trans. Fathers of the English Dominican Province. Westminster: Christian Classics. 1981.

Balchand, A. and Gorospe, V.R., SJ. “Liberation Theology Within the Philippine Context today (A Synthesis).” In Balchand, A., SJ and Gorospe, V.R., SJ, eds., Theology of Liberation for Today’s Filipino Christian. Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila University Press, 1991.

Dwyer, J., ed. The New Dictionary of Catholic Social Thought. Minnesota: Liturgical Press, 1994.

Johnson, E. “Suffering God: Compassion Poured Out.” In She Who Is: The Mystery of God in Feminist Theological Discourse, 246-257. New York: Crossroad, 1992.