Previously, I wrote a post about the link between pain and
anger. I would like to add an insight I recently had on this subject, since it
strikes at the heart of what it means to be human.
In that previous post, I asserted that anger arises from
pain, and that humans react to pain by becoming angry. We do this because it
distracts us from the pain and restores a sense of power following a moment of
powerlessnes. Anger is a reaction, and I feel that all reactions are inherently
inferior to actions, which are
consciously enacted by an agent – someone who possesses the freedom and
knowledge necessary to make her own choices. Actions stand in stark contrast to
reactions, which are simply responses to stimuli. After all, you don’t even
need a simple nerve net to react: plants and bacteria react all the time.
Humans are unique in all the universe in their ability to act, yet we often forgo its usage and spend our lives reacting,
like lesser creatures.
Anger is, in fact, one of the most destructive and harmful
reactions of all. As I said earlier, pain inspires both sympathy and empathy,
and urges others around you to come to your aid. Anger drives others away at
precisely the moment you most need comfort and consolation. And I haven’t even
mentioned the enormous damage you can inflict on others (and yourself) when you
lash out in anger.
The alternative, however, is to endure the pain quietly and
humbly, without seeking revenge or blaming others for your suffering, as if
discovering who is at fault will make the pain magically dissipate.
This is terribly difficult, of course. Turning the other
cheek is one of Jesus’ most controversial and difficult commandments. A wise
friend of mine once asked me, “what do you do if you just can’t take it
anymore? Sometimes the pain is just too much to bear.”
I’ve thought a lot about what my friend said, and was struck
by a thought I had while taking a walk this morning. I realized that resorting
to anger as a knee-jerk response to pain is a learned behavior. This
isn’t something that we’re born with – we learn it as we go through life. It’s
those damn offenses that we suffer every day, both small and not-so-small, that
teach us to react that way.
The reason is fear: we’re afraid of pain, so we react in
anger because we have learned that it lessens the pain and removes the awful
sense of powerlessnes and hurt that comes when someone offends you – and by
“offense” I am referring broadly to any action that causes someone hurt or
pain. There are few teachers in life more effective than pain, and fear is the
result of lessons learned. We learn to fear the things that caused us pain, and
we develop strategies to cope with it; anger is one of the most powerful of
these strategies.
So what am I trying to get at? I have always been
fascinated, and even somewhat confused, by Jesus’ teaching to become like a
little child. In both the New Testament and the Book of Mormon, he repeatedly
insists that conversion to his way of life is tantamount to becoming like a
child again, that it is a rebirth –
involving necessarily an unlearning of some of the things we learned as we grew
up and became adults. (See, for example, 3 Nephi 11:37 in the Book of Mormon,
or Matthew 18:3-4).
Thinking about children and offenses (incidentally, right
after exhorting his disciples to become as little children, Jesus goes on to
teach about offenses), I realized that children react to offense without anger
and without apportioning blame on others. They simply absorb the pain, and
often simple sit down and cry. They don’t try to discover the cause of the pain, but rather to deal
with the pain itself. A child knows no other way to react than to cry it
out, and to reach out for his mom or his dad, or someone else nearby, to
comfort him and help him make it through.
I realize now that Jesus’ words were more profoud than I had
thought – that in this sense, we truly do
need to become as children. And I would like to take children as our examples
of how to deal with pain, in an attempt to respond to my friend’s question.
First of all, children teach us that the way to deal with
pain is to cry it out, so to speak. I’m not advocating literally crying
everytime we endure an offense of any kind. Nor am I trying to discourage understanding
the painful situation in an attempt to minimize needless painful encounters in
the future. But the ability to cry is cathartic and healthy, and in moments of
serious pain there is nothing wrong with shedding tears. One of my greatest
fears is to some day become so stone-hearted, so covered in callouses and scars
that I lose the ability to cry. Of course, those who know me well know that
this is an unlikely eventuality ;)
But far more important than simply crying it out, we need to
learn how to reach out to others when we’re in pain, the way children do.
Instead of focusing on who we can blame, we should focus on who we can ask for
understanding and comfort. Despite being individuals, and even though life has
a powerful tendency to isolate us from one another, we were not meant to go
through this life alone. No one is strong enough to bear their burdens alone.
We all need help. Indeed, I think one of the reasons God has created a world in
which offenses abound is to give us the opportunity and need to reach out and
help each other when we’re hurting.
Like the command to endure offenses well, without anger or
retaliation (the “turn the other cheek” principle), the act of helping others
through their trials and pain is also a core part of the Jesus’ teachings, and
personifies the very heart and soul of Christianity. The parabol of the Good Samaritan
in the New Testament, and the prophet Alma’s sermon at the waters of Mormon in
the Book of Mormon are two examples. In the later case, Alma teaches that all
Christians must be willing to bear one another’s burdens, mourn with those that
mourn, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort.
We don’t need to endure life’s pain, trials, and agonies
alone. We shouldn’t try. Children don’t, they always reach out for loving arms
in times of distress. We should reach out, first and foremost, to God, who
possesses not only an infinite love for us, but also the power to heal our
wounds and pour in balm. But we must not neglect our friends, either – many of
whom stand willing to help if we but ask. In fact, it is often in wading
through pain together that we learn to love and ties of friendship are
strengthened. It is in being there for each other that relationships sink deep
roots, allowing what might otherwise have stayed a superficial relationship to
develop into real friendship.
Perhaps most of all, it is in serving one another, in being
there for each other, and by reaching out
to others when we need comfort, as little children do, that we slowly
transform into true Christians – the kind of transformation Jesus was talking
about when he urged his disciples to become
as little children.
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