"It's easier not to be a Christian than to be a Christian today ..."

I heard this, or words to this effect, in a video, spoken by an Anglican clergyman, the guy who started the Alpha Course, as a matter of fact. (For those who don't know, the Alpha Course is sort of a new take on C.S. Lewis' Mere Christianity, but on DVD.) Of course, in one sense he's right. To live your Christian faith openly is to set yourself up for ridicule and contempt from strident secularists who believe religion in general, and Christianity especially, is laughable or downright dangerous. At the very least, you'll get funny looks and embarrassed silences from co-workers or fellow students if you stand up for Church teachings on any of the hot-button issues in the culture wars (you know the list: abortion, gay marriage, etc.). It's hard to get more counter cultural than the Catholic Church.

But in a more profound sense, he's wrong. The Gospel is "Good News": "For God so loved the world, as to give his only begotten Son; that whosoever believeth in him, may not perish, but may have life everlasting"; "I am come that they may have life, and may have it more abundantly"; and one of my favorite passages: "Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." A life without faith, now THAT is difficult, THAT is a heavy load to carry.

For the reality of life on earth is that no one escapes suffering. Probably the best expression of this idea is among the oldest, written by the first and greatest poet of the Western world, Homer. In Book 24 of The Iliad, Priam, king of Troy, comes by night to the Greek camp. He comes as a suppliant to Achilles to ransom the body of his son Hector. Achilles addresses him: "Ah, unhappy man, many indeed are the evils you have endured in your heart. How could you bring yourself to come alone to the ships of the Achaeans, to meet my eyes, I who have slain your sons many and noble? Of iron, surely, is your heart. But come, sit, and let us allow the woes in our hearts to rest, despite all our sorrow; for no profit comes from chill lament. For so have the gods spun the thread for wretched mortals, that they should live among sorrows; and they themselves are without care. For two urns are set on Zeus' floor of gifts that he gives, the one of ills, the other of blessings. To whomever Zeus who hurls the thunderbolt gives a mixed lot, that man meets now with evil, now with good; but to whomever he gives only the baneful, him he makes to be degraded by man, and evil madness drives him over the face of the sacred earth, and he wanders honored neither by gods nor by mortals." Homer knew that no one gets only blessings. A mixed lot is the best we can hope for.

The "why" of human suffering is a deep mystery. But I've always thought that the argument that human suffering proves that there is no God as Christians conceive Him, all-powerful and all-good, looks at things from the wrong end. The reality is that no one gets a pain-free life ("It is right it should be so; man was made for joy and woe"). The practical problem is: how do we cope? And it seems intuitively obvious that faithful Christians have resources for dealing with pain, physical, emotional, and spiritual, that nonbelievers don't have. Maximilian Kolbe transformed the horror of a starvation bunker at Auschwitz into the serenity of a chapel. Paul Miki and his companions, whose feast we just celebrated on Feb. 6, preached and sang psalms while dying on their crosses. It was reported that "joy glowed on all their faces". Almost the last words Paul Miki spoke were addressed to his torturers: "My religion teaches me to pardon my enemies and all who have offended me. I do gladly pardon the Emperor and all who have sought my death. I beg them to seek baptism and be Christians themselves." Immaculee Ilibagiza forgave the Hutus who hacked her family to death with machetes and turned her own life into a living nightmare during the Rwandan genocide (her story is movingly told in her books Left to Tell and Led by Faith.) Their Catholic faith brought them peace and joy in the midst of their terrible suffering. This is powerful testimony to the truth of Christianity.

So to those who say that suffering proves there is no God, I say it proves the opposite. Faced with suffering such as few of us will ever experience, which most of us can barely imagine, the people I've named and countless others turned to God, gave Him their pain, and received in return His consolation and the strength to persevere and to forgive. Anyone can experience this. God's grace is available to all who approach Him with their troubles, doubts, pains, and problems. Try it! All it requires is an attitude of prayerful openness and humility. And bear in mind: "If it tarries, wait for it, for it will surely come."