“Another day, when he was preaching, a sick poor man came to the place. Taking pity on the man’s double misfortune – that is, his need and his illness – he began to speak about poverty with his companion. And, since suffering with the suffering, he had moved beyond to the depths of his heart, when the saint’s companion said to him, ‘My brother,’ it’s true that he is poor, but it could be that no one desires riches more!’ At once the saint rebuked him, and as the companion acknowledged his fault, said to him, “Quickly now, strip off your tunic, throw yourself down at the poor man’s feet and confess your fault! And don’t just ask his pardon, but also beg for his prayers.’ The brother obeyed, made his amends and returned. The saint said to him, ‘Brother, whenever you see a poor person, a mirror of the Lord and his poor Mother is placed before you. Likewise in the sick, look closely for the infirmities which he accepted for our sake.’” [2Cel 85]
St. Francis discovered something here that Pope John Paul II would express many centuries later in his amazing little Apostolic Letter, On the Christian Meaning of Human Suffering, in the following way: “Jesus Christ is very much present in every form of human suffering."
That’s an all encompassing statement. Somehow through the reality of His own Passion and suffering, Jesus assumed, took on, entered into and remains present in every experience of human suffering. He made our suffering His own; He entered into it and in some mysterious way continues to embrace it. That means it’s possible to discover Jesus present wherever human suffering is encountered. In fact, as St. Francis intuits, in the Passion of Jesus, it’s really our suffering that He’s bearing, that becomes present to Him and that He takes on Himself in the Way of the Cross. That’s why St. Francis says it’s possible to contemplate in human suffering the reality of the Passion of the Lord and understand more of what He has done. Human suffering is a mirror for seeing the face of Christ.
Sudan is a place where there has been, and continues to be a lot of suffering. It’s a kind of hall of mirrors that continually reflects the Passion of the Lord. Two recent occurrences reminded me of that rather forcefully. The first has to do with the recent arrest warrant issued by the International Criminal Court for Sudan President Omar al Bashir for crimes against humanity related to atrocities planned and orchestrated by Bashir in Darfur. Despite the highly visible, government directed and preplanned demonstrations in “support” of Bashir, many people – especially in the South – are in agreement with the indictment. Bashir is responsible for a great deal of death and destruction that took place in Southern Sudan during the civil war. One priest told me that he (Bashir) was responsible for the deaths of his mother and sister. Bashir’s backlash of expelling the relief organizations responsible for keeping hundreds of thousands of displaced Darfuris alive will cause a humanitarian catastrophe – almost incomprehensible suffering and death – unless the international community intervenes swiftly and decisively. If they do not, they will become guilty bystanders of genocide by omission. (Click here to read the op-ed piece, "Watching Darfuris Die," by Nicholas Kristof in last Sunday's New York Times that describes this impending disaster.)
The other incident was watching the film Karol, based on the life of Pope John Paul II, with about 30 youth from Torit on a recent Sunday evening. The film graphically depicts the German air raids on Krakow and other Polish communities, as well as vicious Nazi contempt for the Poles and their culture and the atrocities and summary executions carried out during their occupation. The corollaries with the Southern Sudanese experience of oppression and violence from the Arabic/Islamic north are uncanny. At one point in the film a young woman, completely overwhelmed by the inhuman, heartless cruelty of the Nazis, asks young Karol Wojtyla, “Where is God?” At that moment I heard the voice of Bishop Akio Johnson of Torit echo in my mind: “During the war, many of us doubted the existence of God.” The common ground John Paul II shares with so many of the South Sudanese, including having lost every member of his immediate family, and the way he allowed his suffering – united to that of Christ – to transform rather than deform him, makes him a very accessible and inspiring hero.
Last Friday I had the chance to participate in the Way of the Cross with the local parish community. We knelt on the ground, in the dirt, at each station. No one complained about the heat. No one looked at their watch (the Stations took more than an hour). These Sudanese were commemorating the fact that Jesus entered into and took on their suffering, and these gestures seemed to be the only adequate way to express that. For them the cross is a reality of their daily lives. Survival is hard labor: gathering firewood, hauling water, sweat, suffering, exertion, pain, loss – none of these are strangers, even if they remain unwelcome frequent visitors. But what we did last Friday was a reminder that they have not been abandoned, and do not remain alone in their suffering. There is Someone who walks beside them, the Simon of Cyrene who helps to bear the Cross of all humanity: Jesus Christ.
Perhaps for those of us from the comfortable existence of developed countries, Lent, the the Stations and the Cross can seem like annoying intruders disconnected from the reality of our daily lives. But is it not true that for all of us there come moments in which we are completely unable to protect ourselves from pain or distract ourselves from suffering? At those moments we have the opportunity to learn from our brothers and sisters for whom that experience is a relentless daily reality, and share in their awareness and gratitude that our cross has become the Cross of Christ. Perhaps that could become a new point of departure for participating in the Stations this Lent somewhere nearby. And when you do, please remember the people of Southern Sudan and Darfur. Although the Way of the Cross is celebrated liturgically only on the Fridays of Lent here, it is a mirror of the way they tread every day of their lives.
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