My servant now resides in heaven, serving as my witness in the highest places. May my supplication reach the Lord, and may my eyes grow heavy before Him (Job 16:19-20). Compassion and wisdom inspired the Authority to create a place of healing for the ill, who cannot receive this aid in their own homes; a task that speaks volumes to its nobility. However, I have heard what the devout authority added: a hospital, essential provisions, medications, and physicians are insufficient for the ailing. They also require a house of worship; the supports of faith must be made available to them. How will the minister of Faith respond to this? Surely, with gratitude to God, praying for the Benefactor of suffering humanity and those fulfilling His divine will under His inspiration. Thus, I believe it is the duty of the minister of Faith to reflect on this noble intention that has been so positively realized. Consequently, I declare that in illness, as in calamities in general, no remedy or assistance is adequate without Religion. Only true Religion reconciles the mind to the sight of suffering that disturbs it. Religion provides complete comfort to the afflicted and effective remedies for misfortune. It is not challenging to encounter goodness and prosperity; the heart finds contentment and there is no conflict for the mind to grapple with. Yet when faced with evil and misfortune, even if they do not directly impact us, that very presence assaults the heart. If the thoughtful mind rises amidst this defeat, it torments itself with inquiries about why evil exists in a world created by a wholly good God, why chaos arises in the works of the Most High, and why destruction appears within the creation of the Almighty. For centuries, the natural human mind has wrestled with these dilemmas without finding resolution. It plunged into darkness, grappling with absurdities in its quest to understand the origin of evil. Some speculated if the source of darkness, evil, and sin lay in matter itself, leading them to propose the eternity of materiality as a way to absolve the Divine from these unworthy acts. Others conjectured an evil origin that exists independently and is equal to God, or envisioned a cruel fate that indiscriminately condemns beings to both good and evil, as if the very Godhead could not intervene. As if eternal matter, which we see decay around us, could truly exist! As if eternal matter, evil, and an unyielding fate were other than mere illusions, and such illusions that contradict the essential truth of God’s infinite perfection and omnipotence! As if renaming evil—whether as evil matter, an evil origin, or a dreadful fate—could make it more comprehensible or bearable! Thus, the human intellect wrestled in the confined, sensory world, much like a chick trapped within its egg, incapable of breaking free. This was the state of wise seekers and, indeed, nearly all people until they were introduced to the unveiled Religion that had long been waiting in a hidden corner of the earth, from which they least expected light to illuminate the world. Christianity emerged, and what was absurd was revealed as foolishness, the darkness became understood, and discomfort found relief. We came to comprehend that the origin of evil rests in the misuse of free will by created beings, thus not indicting the Creator of the world, who graciously bestowed liberty and is not culpable for its misuse. We grasped that God can redeem humanity from evil, to which it has willingly surrendered itself for transient pleasures, which in turn does not challenge God’s sovereign operation in the world. Now we harbor a steadfast hope that both human and natural evil will ultimately be vanquished, and good will prevail, establishing eternal bliss through Christ the Savior. Therefore, even amid suffering and misfortune, we are able to rejoice, just as the farmer does not despair in winter, knowing that the cold will not completely destroy the crops but that they will rise anew in spring, or as the gardener is not dismayed by the bitter fruits in spring, assured they will become sweet and delightful in the summer and autumn. Religion alone, and indeed a sincere one, brings the mind to terms with witnessing calamity that provokes such distress. While it may be hard to witness misfortune, it is certainly even more challenging to experience it firsthand. Yet when avoidance is unattainable, one must find a way to cope. Sorrow and lamentation are far from the ideal approach to facing adversity; instead, one should seek a means of comfort that aligns with the dignity of the rational and free being, while also considering the needs of the distressed. I challenge the prideful Philosophy that believes it can grant people a state of happiness and independence from life’s challenges solely through its own understanding. I would send Philosophy to a hospital to test the strength of its wisdom. What counsel could it offer the suffering individual? “Be brave; your distress is merely the result of natural laws, which you cannot escape, as you are but a link in the chain of existence and change.” Do you truly think this will alleviate the sufferer’s pain, when he realizes he is bound by forces and laws he cannot alter? Would he not, in fact, feel more burdened by such constraints? Or let us assume that Philosophy considers the moral dimension and asserts: “Perhaps you have attracted this illness through your own excesses, irregularities, or carelessness: bear your affliction gracefully as it is of your own making.” But I ask, is this reasoning sufficient to console the suffering soul? Cannot he turn to such a comforter and say, “You have merely compounded my misfortune by adding moral shame to my physical pain”? What more can Philosophy say? “Exercise patience; if healing does not come, death will bring an end to your suffering.” If it halts its discourse there—though it sees no further insight—it is more prone to invoke despair than solace. Let us dismiss the pretensions of human wisdom, which promises much yet accomplishes little. Come forth, Wisdom of God; assist us, Divine Religion. You may reassure the afflicted that their trials are either permitted or sent by a compassionate Heavenly Father, and thus their struggles are not without purpose, justice, or benefit—such an occurrence could not be allowed by such a Father. You may affirm that He embodies mercy even in affliction and stands ready to provide relief at every moment, according to the capacity and true welfare of the recipient. You can remind us that although suffering may be profound, it is not insurmountable, as it is written, “Faithful is God, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but will with the temptation also make a way to escape” (1 Cor. 10:13). If the sick sufferer is ill because of his sin leading to profound unhappiness, you have ample consolation to offer: for the sorrow of the soul, there exists the hope for the forgiveness of sins through faith and repentance, and for the ailment of the body, the assurance of healing through the remission of sins or the understanding that the Great Physician of souls and bodies uses affliction as a means of purification. He transforms bodily illness into a healer of the soul through the power of patience, compelling one to accept the suffering of sickness with tranquility, just as one accepts bitter medicine knowing its benefits. You, eternal Religion, can illuminate even the darkest thought of death with sweet comfort, for you reveal it not merely as a conclusion to the present but as a new beginning, not as an end, but as a continuation, not as a closure of a spectacle, but as the opening of a more splendid one, not a foreboding void, but a realm of light into which faith can enter safely. There awaits not only the end of trials for those who persevere but also the enjoyment of divine blessings and immeasurable rewards for enduring with patience. Ultimately, as the foundation and fulfillment of all consolation, you, the Religion of Christ, can direct the sufferer to the Great Physician of afflictions, Who “was wounded for our transgressions and bruised for our iniquities,” Who bore “the chastisement for our peace,” and “by His stripes we are healed” (Isaiah 53:5). Those who have truly known Him through faith and love understand how it is possible—not only without complaint but even sweetly—to endure suffering in fellowship with His own, through His aid and in light of His example, driven by gratitude and love for Him. From them, we hear expressions that seem incredible to the worldly-minded yet are immensely encouraging for the spiritually attuned: “We glory in our tribulations” (Rom. 5:3). “I rejoice in my sufferings” (Col. 1:24). “According to the multitude of my sorrows in my heart, Thy comforts have delighted my soul” (Ps. 93:19). “As the sufferings of Christ abound in us, so our consolation also abounds through Christ” (2 Cor. 1:5). Such is the fullness and completeness of the consolation the afflicted can find in Religion. Is it necessary for there to be a more decisive remedy for calamities, in addition to comforting assistance? Indeed, it is in Religion that this remedy is found more surely than in any other place. There are ailments that medical expertise cannot cure; poverty that no amount of diligence can alleviate; grief from injustice that human justice cannot redress because man is neither omniscient nor omnipotent. Yet, Religion encounters none of these barriers and constraints. Its strength is the omnipotent power of Him Who “kills and makes alive, brings down to the grave and raises up; Who makes poor and makes rich, humbles and exalts” (1 Sam. 2:6-7); Who “heals all diseases and all afflictions” (Matt. 4:23). The very power with which Jesus Christ healed and performed miracles is bestowed upon the souls of the Saints, enveloped in His Word and in the sacraments; from these rich treasures, He grants the keys of faith and prayer: “All things are possible to him who believes” (Mark 9:23). To illustrate these reflections with experience, consider Job, who is inevitably remembered in the context of the sick. The assault of robbers, the devastating fire from heaven, the fearsome storm, the loss of livestock, servants, homes, and children—what a barrage directed at one individual! So many calamities he faced! The misfortune was amplified by the height of his former happiness. Each wound that could be borne alone became unbearable in their multitude and abruptness. Yet the righteous stood firm, anchored through Religion in God. “The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord” (Job 1:21). The origin of evil sought to heighten Job’s calamity further: “And he afflicted Job with painful sores from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head.” There was neither home nor hospital for him: “He sat among the ashes outside the city.” His wife remained beside him, but not to provide aid; rather, she sought to incite despair, urging him to “curse God and die” (Job 2:7-9). His friends came; yet their words were not healing salves but further arrows of wrongful accusation. Nevertheless, despite the depletion of the devil’s resources, the righteous man remained shielded. What shield did he wield? The same as the Apostle: “the shield of faith” (Eph. 6:16). He held it against the arrows of false accusations, proclaiming: “My advocate is in heaven, and my witness is on high. In prayer, he finds his solace and healing: ‘Let my plea come before the Lord, and let my eyes fail before Him’ (Job 16:20). The human wisdom of Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar was put to shame, and the Religion embodied in Job triumphed. “And the Lord restored Job’s fortunes, and gave him twice as much as he had before” (Job 42:10). Lord Christ! Your grace triumphed in Job over all evil, mirroring Your victorious suffering. It now enables Job’s triumph, for he is not relegated to sit in ash outside the city but is blessed with care, healing, and the comfort of faith—all of this through You, Who identified with such compassionate deeds by declaring, “I was sick, and you visited me” (Matt. 25:36).
THEOSIS