Knowledge and Suffering: Easter Reflections

"Verily, verily, I say unto you, Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit." 

-John 12:24

"It is by suffering that God has most nearly approached to man; it is by suffering that man draws most nearly to God." 

-Inscription under the pulpit of the Memorial Church at Stanford University

Much has been written, both within the Christian tradition and without, of the redemptive power of suffering; as during the Easter season we reflect on the suffering, death, and resurrection of the Son of God, I would like to consider suffering as a pathway to greater knowledge. I speak primarily of social or relational knowledge--awareness of and connection to others and to God--rather than propositional knowledge, though perhaps both are possible. As suggested by the above quoted inscription, suffering brings God and man into closer proximity with one another.

"...that He may know according to the flesh how to succor His people..."

When Alma, the Book of Mormon prophet, taught the people of Gideon of the coming mission and ministry of the Christ, he explained  "And he shall go forth, suffering pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind; and this that the word might be fulfilled which saith he will take upon him the pains and the sicknesses of his people.

 And he will take upon him death, that he may loose the bands of death which bind his people; and he will take upon him their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities." (Alma 7:11-12) I find it interesting that, apparently, part of the purpose of the Savior's suffering was that He might better understand how to succor, or help (literally, "run to") us in our times of need. The Old Testament prophet Isaiah suggests something similar when, after describing the future suffering of the Man of Sorrows, he relays to us the declaration of Jehovah that "by his knowledge shall my righteous servant justify many; for he shall bear their iniquities." (Isaiah 53:11)

 In the restored Gospel of Jesus Christ, we understand Christ's atoning sacrifice to be an incredibly individual and personal matter--He knows each of us, our sins, our weaknesses, our private sufferings, and He is perfectly equipped to lift us out of them (or in many cases, carry us through them) because of His own suffering in our behalf. The word empathy doesn't quite seem to capture what I'm talking about here--compassion comes closer, meaning literally "to feel with" or "to suffer with". Jesus Christ is uniquely able to stand by and suffer with us as we face the vicissitudes of life because He knows our suffering in a very real way--not simply conceptually or theoretically, but through agonizing personal experience, "which suffering caused...God, the greatest of all, to tremble because of pain, and to bleed at every pore, and to suffer both body an spirit..." (Doctrine and Covenants 19:18). This suffering provides the foundation for Christ's Redeeming power, and His personal knowledge of each one of us.

Broken Things

Of the many lessons we may learn from Jesus Christ's experience in Gethsemane and on Golgotha, and in the Garden Tomb, one is certainly the degree to which our Father in Heaven is willing, and even anxious, to take broken things and make them whole. The Apostle Paul taught the Romans that tribulation would ultimately build within us experience and hope, borne of our faith in Jesus Christ and the efficacy of God's promises (see Romans 5:3-4). Our suffering can bring us to a greater knowledge of ourselves, of others, and of God. 

I often think of Abraham's climb up Mount Moriah to sacrifice Isaac as a journey toward greater self-awareness. President Hugh B. Brown, formerly of the First Presidency, explained that the Lord gave Abraham this task because "Abraham needed to learn something about Abraham." (Quoted in "The Law of Sacrifice" M. Russell Ballard, Ensign, October, 1998) Once atop Mount Moriah, with his son on the alter, Abraham had no doubts as to his own willingness to follow God's command at any cost. Sometimes such trials give us the clarity to see on whose side we stand. I can hardly claim to have been asked to make sacrifices of Abrahamic proportions, but certainly I too have stood on my own personal, much smaller Mount Moriah, and felt compelled to say to the Lord, with the Apostle Peter "to whom shall [I] go? thou hast the words of eternal life." (John 6:68). When the Lord requires us to make difficult choices, we come to more fully understand the degree to which we are willing to commit and submit ourselves to Him. 

Perhaps more important than self-knowledge is the knowledge suffering brings us of others--our brothers and sisters in the family of Adam and Eve. Enduring suffering well equips us to show compassion for our fellow beings. The Book of Mormon Prophet-King Benjamin appealed to this principle when he asked his people "are we not all beggars? Do we not depend upon the same Being, even God, for all the substance which we have?...even at this time, ye have been calling on his name and begging for a remission of your sins. And has He suffered that ye have begged in vain?" (Mosiah 4:19-20) We are all in this together, and there is no amount of jealousy, anger, resentment, or contention that will make our own trials any easier to bear. Instead, just as the Son of God suffered in order to better have compassion on us, we may use our own suffering to develop compassion for those who suffer. I find this possibility most beautifully expressed in the closing pages of Chaim Potok's The Chosen, as Rev Saunders, the seemingly austere and silent Hasidic tzaddik, explains to young Reuven Malter why he has raised his son Danny in silence: "He was bewildered and hurt. The nightmares he began to have....But he learned to find answers for himself. He suffered and learned to listen to the sufferings of others. In the silence between us, he began to hear the world crying."  (Chaim Potok, The Chosen, p.267). Perhaps the relationship between Danny and his father the tzaddik is a metaphor for the relationship God's chosen people often feel with their Maker--suffering, and wondering when relief will come from the silent heavens. But perhaps at times the heavens remain silent so that we can hear our brothers and sisters, also crying. 

Finally, our suffering gives us greater knowledge of our Father in Heaven. Certainly trials require us to rely more completely on God, if we are willing, thereby increasing in our knowledge of Him. However, I suggest that suffering the natural trials of life also helps us better understand the nature of God, in that it allows us to learn to accept the brokenness that occurs within the inevitable cycles of mortal life. Such acceptance requires perfect faith, as when we take our last grain of wheat, and cast it into the ground to die, believing that the broken earth and broken grain will produce for us greater nourishment than our single grain might have afforded.  Jeffrey R. Holland once expressed this concept with poetic clarity: "It takes broken clouds to nourish the earth, it takes broken earth to grow grain, it takes broken grain to make bread, it takes broken bread to nourish us--these are the cycles of life." (Jeffrey R. Holland, March 22, 2013, at a Single Adult Conference in Menlo Park, CA). Through these cycles--night and day, planting and harvest, death and resurrection, we come to know our Maker more perfectly. 

So it is that on this Easter Sunday, as I contemplate the Resurrection of the Son of God some 1,980 years ago, the future resurrection of grandparents, uncle, cousins, and even my on Resurrection, I am thankful for broken things, and the knowledge God grants me through the process of mending.