Mastering The Art of Suffering
The kitchens of the mid-twentieth century were given new life and flavor with the publication of Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking in 1961: a work that bestowed upon every domicile a clear roadmap to gastronomic gratification – a great boon for the hitherto desolate palates of postwar America. Unfortunately for us gourmets, though Julia left behind detailed instructions for a sumptuous Beef Bourguignon, life equips us with no obvious recipe to overcome the universal problem of suffering. This dreary reality is a fact of life and a marker of the human condition: a tedious balancing act in which we too often find ourselves stumbling, our lives lacking richness and layered nuance as we pathetically masticate on what remains of our fates’ canned cream-of-mushroom soup, longing for the messianic advent of the analogy’s Julia Child. Grieving the passing of a loved one certainly renders the tragedy of a soufflé collapsing in the oven trivial, yet by approaching both the trough of our deepest suffering and the peak of culinary artistic achievement with a common attitude; we can do more than just through it: we can rise victorious from even our most grievous defeats.
Perhaps the link between the joyful energy radiating from every facet of Child’s creative endeavors – from French cooking to her subsequent television career – to as gloomy a topic as suffering may seem nebulous, yet the two are related insofar and both exercises demand tremendous skill of the practitioner. Look no further for a model than a man by the name of Bill Peffley, my grandfather and father of Christendom alumni (Fr. Francis Peffley and Natia Meehan) Familiar with struggle and hardship himself, Bill dedicated his life to Our Lady and devoted his heart to her son. His personal faith life was an inspiration for many and, despite his passing; his legacy survives through his poetry, music, and wisdom that he so lovingly passed on to his family. Although Bill did not study at the Le Cordon Bleu with Julia, he approached suffering the same way she approached cooking: as an art. In fact, “ART” is itself the guide for his method. It is a trifold experience that requires one to Accept, Receive, and Thank. This of this approach as a recipe to unite our suffering with God’s will; sanctifying it while positively transforming ourselves simultaneously.
Accept
Acceptance is the first step in the reframing of one’s suffering. Though generally designed as a person’s recognition or acknowledgement of a situation, the kind of acceptance particular to one’s suffering moves beyond simple realization (i.e. the knowledge that you are experiencing something). In this age of online sharing and social updates, we are all too often willing to acknowledge inconveniences and stagnate in complaining. At other time, we are unwilling to admit our wound and reject the recognition of pain, fooling our self into thinking that if we pretend our pain does not exist, then we get the better of it. These two extremes help to distinguish superficial, experiential pain from true suffering. We ought to acknowledge our pain without indulging or ignoring it. We cannot rush the ending our pain (just as we cannot rush the rising of sourdough!). There must be acknowledgement of the process and the care to create an environment that allows for growth. The difference between recognizing a painful situation and accepting the pain of a situation lies in the disposition of the heart. More often than not, suffering is an internal condition of solitary hurt. True acceptance calls us to experience with trust and without attempts to protest it. Recognition is a good start, and our acceptance of suffering moves us beyond mere acknowledgement and toward a spiritual synchronization between ourselves and God. It is only once we accept pain for the sake of participating in God’s will that our suffering is properly ordered. It calls for personal consent to the pain God Has laid before us. Acceptance, therefore, is most truly an ascent of the heart.
Receive
Receiving one’s suffering is the second transformative element for our pain to become sanctified. “Reception” usually implies “getting” but the reception of suffering in which we are called to partake goes beyond possession. Receiving can also entail a physical or mental experience that we go through – not under, over, or around. The greatest example of this dichotomy of reception is found in the Sacrament of the Eucharist. As Catholics, we “receive” the Eucharist rather than “eat” or “consume,” as a reminder that the physical action is fused with a spiritual and metamorphosed reality of our internal state. We do not simply “get” the host, we receive The Lord. His is a guest hosted by our hearts. This is the kind of reception needed when encountering suffering. Just as others receive company in their homes, we ought to receive suffering welcoming the experience despite the difficulty. However, suffering is usually an unexpected guest, and more often than not, we dislike people showing up unannounced for fear of their interrupting our day, or worse, their staying too long. After all, guests usually require food and entertainment. Luckily, just a charcuterie is excellent for last-minute dinner parties; the holy Eucharist is the ideal nourishment for suffering.
Thank
Finally, with a heart accepting and receptive to God’s will, give thanks. Gratitude is perhaps the hardest step in coming to terms with suffering, but it is the most vital for spiritual growth. Thankfulness goes beyond appreciation in that it is necessarily an expressive state born from the consciousness that we have received some kind of benefit. Gratitude give our deliberate acceptance and reception of suffering a clear, and meaningful direction, otherwise, we are no better than Ile Flotantes, only rather than flouting islands of meringue a crème anglaise, we risk becoming listless souls that suffer without purpose. The struggle is however, the thanking God for the good in our lives is easy, but thanking Him for our difficulties is daunting.
Much depends on our ability to cast aside our expectations for our lives and plunge ourselves wholeheartedly into the depths of God’s design. If we accept and receive our suffering, our hearts will be “proven” enough to glorify Him through thanks. With this understanding our thanks to God are motivated by the recognition of the graces He bestows on us through our suffering, and by thinking in terms of “ART”, our suffering can fortify our spiritual lives. Just like Julia Child transformed the bland platters of dining rooms across the country with her artistic approach to cuisine, you and I can transform our daily sufferings through Christ and His cross into something rich and tasteful via acceptance, reception, and thanksgiving.