P
Peter_Plato
Guest
This is not the Catholic position by the way. The resurrection of the body means that humanity will be glorified. Our present existence is not a bit of inconvenience, but more like a fetal stage in our development.Looking to some supernatural Being dehumanizes the human existence, in my opinion. It’s like, I’m human, but only for a short time, then I’ll be a spirit in heaven forever and ever. My humanity is a bit of an inconvenience, getting in the way of my real existence.
I was deeply moved.I think I might have gone off on a bit of a ramble in this post. It happens when I think about my friend. Sorry.
Sarah x![]()
This also made me think that suffering is a direct result of love. Love is self-giving and the more a person loves, the more one becomes vulnerable to the possibility of suffering.
About twenty years ago my parents were in a horrendous car accident. Their van blew a front tire, went through a retaining wall and tumbled 300 meters into a steep valley. A clump of tree saved them from dropping another 1000 meters into the bottom of the valley. Of the six passengers in the van, five walked out. My father suffered a severe spinal chord injury at the base of his neck.
When paramedics reached him, he was pronounced dead at the scene, but when everyone else was safe, the paramedics went back and found a faint pulse.
He went through eleven months in and out of a coma, our family not knowing whether he would come through. In the end, he did, but he was paralyzed from his shoulders down. He lived for eleven years in a state of near total immobility. His mind was clear and although depression frequently overwhelmed him, he was often congenial with a positive outlook.
I often asked why God kept him alive, but in the end I firmly believe it was my dad’s choice. We, his children, were all grown and had families, but my mother would have been alone at her home. My thought is that he could not bear her loneliness and so he suffered with his own difficulties out of love for her. When he died nine years ago, my mother’s care was the last thing he spoke about.
If he hadn’t loved my mother, he could very easily have chosen not to suffer with the burden he had to carry, but he did. Suffering, I believe, is a natural consequence of self-giving love. Evil, on the other hand, is quite different.
I could go on for a long time on this, but I won’t.
In some sense, I lost my faith shortly after the accident, but in retrospect what I lost was faith in a “god concept” I had, which, as it turns out, was not God at all, but a shallow portrait I had cobbled together from experience, reflection and reading.