Can you choose to suffer?

Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and suffer greatly from the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised. Then Peter took Jesus aside and began to rebuke him, “God forbid, Lord! No such thing shall ever happen to you.” He turned and said to Peter, “Get behind me, Satan! You are an obstacle to me.”

One of the most beautiful weddings I ever took part in did not have the bride regally marching down a red carpet. For her to be able to sit up on her bed was already a feat of strength and willpower. Instead of a white dress, she wore a hospital gown. A long lace train did not trail behind her - only a length of IV tubing.

The bride and groom were a young couple. They were boyfriend and girlfriend for quite some time, dreaming of a future with children they had already named. Then the girl suddenly fell ill, and everything fell apart. Her cancer had spread without being detected, and when her symptoms started manifesting, it was already too late.

On what would be the bride’s deathbed, they asked to be married. Being a hospital chaplain, I had officiated other weddings in the wards before. The other couples were usually advanced in years, live-in partners who had always wanted to get married in church but, because of financial reasons and the societal pressure to have a grand wedding, never were able to receive the sacrament. This case obviously was different.

Why would a young groom want to get married to a dying bride? The cynic in me thought, “If this man marries this woman, he is just going to make his life more difficult. As a boyfriend, he can get away with visiting his girlfriend once or twice a week, and no one will think ill of him. As a husband, he has to be there almost 24/7. Why make an already hopeless situation sadder and more difficult? What can marriage add to their relationship except more grief?”

Can one choose to suffer?

The simple answer is yes. The young groom is proof of this. So are the countless overseas Filipino workers who risk life and limb and loneliness in another country just to send their siblings or their children to school, to pay for their parents’ medical bills, or to build their families a home. So, too, is Jesus in our Gospel today. He was willing to suffer greatly from the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed.

When the young bride and groom were married, there were a lot of tears - mainly from the groom. During the ceremony, the cynic in me reared its ugly head again, and I thought, “Now he realizes what hardship he threw himself into.” I could not have been more wrong. The groom would later on tell me that he was crying not because he was setting himself up for more suffering. Suffering was the farthest thing from his mind. He was crying because he saw how happy his bride was. And he was just so thankful that he was given the chance to make her so happy.

It is the same with many of our Filipino heroes abroad. They know that trials await them, but what is weightier than that burden is the possibility of making their loved ones happy. When Jesus faced suffering in Jerusalem, it was not because he wanted to suffer. It was because he wanted to love.

Can one really choose to suffer? The better answer is no. When those who enter religious life vow perpetual poverty, chastity, and obedience, some may think that they are choosing suffering. Yes, to try to live poor, chaste, and obedient is hard, but many religious cry as they make their vows because of an overwhelming feeling of gratitude. To be called to make such an offering is, for them, a blessing.

While the cynics among us would say that the young groom, our OFWs, and many religious have forfeited their happiness and their lives, Jesus would say, “No, they have found it.”

Can one choose to suffer? Yes and no. “Ang masakit at ang mapait ay nagiging kaakit-akit depende sa bakit.”

Shortly after his ordination in 2009, Fr. Francis was missioned to the Philippine General Hospital, a place where he witnessed great suffering and even greater love. For feedback on this column, email [email protected]

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