Pain and Religion

This Rein guy is deep.

I think it's easy to see how the whole mysterium tremendum et fascinans could be similar to the experience of pain for its inability to be communicated, but I think Rein's point about how very isolating pain is goes much further. Pain can mean a lot of things, and it can provoke a lot of reactions. It is so close to us that we have no idea how to communicate it. It is too immediate, too deep, and too powerful for us to speak about it. It's certainly the case that we don't have a lot of language to discuss it, and I think part of that is our usual attitude about it: it doesn't matter what it is, just get rid of it. It doesn't need to be studied, it just needs to be removed. When pain is chronic, it begins to become profoundly confusing: Is this real? Where is this coming from? Why is it here? Is it all in my head? What makes it come and go? Such questions would never arise in the absence of pain, but once pain becomes constant, the mind can't help but return to the pain. What's more, the pain can take so many forms. There are times when it might feel the same, and yet feel totally different.

I don't know about everybody, but I think that religion and religious experience can operate in similar ways for people. It's so close, it can often be unobservable; it's so real, yet it's so ambiguous and questionable. It operates on its own schedule; the religious moments in our lives come in a flash, and in the most unexpected places. It's impossible to adequately study, it's hard to tell what is religion and what isn't.

Obviously, the Catholic approach that Orsi observed was a little different. The approach to pain that he portrays is even more ambiguous: it's simultaneously embraced and disdained. I wondered a lot about the embracing of it. The welcoming of pain that he described seemed ignorant to me. It struck me as something that was done because that was the right way to regard pain, and it could only be done because the individuals hadn't truly appreciated the full power of pain. Which was why a lot of anger spilled over into criticism of the afflicted. “I’m living with pain and not making a fuss. Jesus did and a bajillion saints did it. Why can’t you?” In this language, the same statement that is supposed to regard pain with awe and humility is in fact fighting it. If someone has truly appreciated pain, they understand it in all of its forms, whether it takes the form of despair, complaining, or impatience. I think that’s why pain could be so educational, so spiritually advancing; but one needs to face it in a self-surrendering way. No room for ego when every moment is agony.

Nathan asked what cultural approaches there can be to pain (the labels I use are ideals, not representational):
- The medical one, which sees pain in purely bodily terms. Nerves are stimulated, the brain is informed. It’s best to rectify the problem in the body, but if that can’t be done, it’s better to quiet the brain.
- The masculine one, for lack of better label: Push it away, men take their pain and ignore it. All the heroes in the movies will be in total pain, but they still stand up and shoot the bad guy in the face.
- The victimized one: Your pain entitles you to special treatment. Nice things should be done to you so that you can feel better. Your responsibilities are put aside, your only goal is to come out of the pain.
- The Vipassana one: Pain is inevitable, but suffering is a mental imputation. Observe the pain, observe the mind, observe the self, see how they are interrelated, and stop turning pain into suffering.
- The Catholic one: Your pain is a gift from God to bring you closer to Him, a chance to come out of sin.

There are more, but I have to go!