From the blog posts of MSI Press authors: "Woundedness," a post for Easter by Dennis Ortman
 |
| woundedness |
From Dr. Dennis Ortman, author of multiple award-winning books, including Anger Anonymous, Depression Anonymous, and Anxiety Anonymous.
WOUNDEDNESS
“By
his wounds you were healed.”
--I
Peter 2: 24
My patients, who know that I had been a Catholic priest,
occasionally ask me, “What happens to us after we die?” I respond, “I don’t
really know. I suppose we return to where we came from before we were born.”
The reality is that death is as much a mystery as life.
However, the Scriptures give us a clue. When the risen
Christ appeared after his death, his disciples did not immediately recognize
him. They mistook him for a gardener, a fisherman, or a fellow traveler. In one
instance, his identity became clear, inspiring the worship of a doubting
Thomas. The risen Lord appeared in their locked room and showed his wounds. He
said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands, and bring your hand and
put it into my side and do not be unbelieving, but believe.” (John 20: 27)
Jesus carried his wounds beyond the grave. These wounds distinguished him and
his work.
In the same way, I believe that our wounds shape our lives
and continue beyond our current life. Life is suffering, as the Buddha
announced in his first noble truth, stating what we all know to be true.
Likewise, Jesus preached the necessity of taking up our crosses and following
in his footsteps. None of us escapes life unscathed. The unavoidable wounding
of being human shapes our identity. How we respond to our inevitable suffering,
in all its various forms, launches us on a path of recovery or destruction. It
also determines our character. In the end, the character we develop through our
moral choices reveals our destiny—and lasts forever.
How do we nurse our wounds? Do we see ourselves as suffering
alone or with others? Do our struggles open or close our hearts? Do our wounds
sensitize us to the suffering of others? Our responses lead to two very
different paths—to either isolated despair or hopeful compassion. We become
either bitter or better.
REDEMPTIVE SUFFERING
My patients come to me, a psychologist, because they are
suffering and want relief. (The word patient comes from the Latin word meaning
“one who suffers.”) Many have been deeply wounded by the tragedies of
life—abuse, neglect, trauma, losses, and so forth. They acknowledge their
woundedness and cry out for help. They dread suffering alone and seek a
companion for their hoped-for path of healing and growth.
Most just want to get rid of the pain, the anxiety,
depression, anger. However, contrary to their expectations, I tell them, “Let’s
sit together with your pain to see what we can learn.” I explain that all our
feelings are natural and our friends. The pain is not the problem, only a
symptom that something is not right with us. Suffering indicates that some
unlived life within us is crying out for attention. Then, we search together to
discover the roots and meaning of their pain.
I recommend a middle path between suppressing and being
swept away by painful feelings. At one extreme, some people want simply to
ignore their wounds, hoping that time alone will cure them. They tell
themselves, “If I ignore it, it will not affect me and will just go away.”
However, the opposite occurs. If we ignore the wound, the infection festers and
worsens. What we resist persists. The painful feelings grow in intensity and
come out indirectly as psychological symptoms.
At the other extreme, some people become preoccupied with
their misery. They constantly complain, blame others, and seek sympathy. Their
life begins to revolve around their wound, casting off any possibility of joy.
Perhaps their only happiness is in being miserable. When they so identify with
their woundedness, they fall into a helpless victim role. They see themselves
as under attack, always needing to defend themselves. Feeling aggrieved, they
seek retribution.
Healing begins when we acknowledge and pay full attention to
our painful experiences. If the wound is superficial, an emotional band aid
will suffice. However, for most of those who visit me, the wound is deep and
must heal slowly from the inside out. Together, then, we engage in the process of
self-exploration. We learn what unlived life needs to be released and what
prevents us from living fully.
A LOOK BACKWARD
Our journey inevitably takes us back to our beginnings. Who
we are today is a result of all our past and present experiences. Carl Jung,
the noted Swiss psychologist, famously stated, “The greatest burden of a child
is the unlived life of the parent.” Our exploration necessarily leads us to the
doorstep of our parents, our primary caregivers. Because they are human, our
parents, like ourselves, have not lived their lives to the fullest. Something
was missing. They unconsciously filled the gap through us, their children. As
children, completely dependent on them, we followed their program and tried to
please them. In the process, we may have grown up living their lives and not
our own.
Even if our parents have died, we must visit them and listen
to their laments to heal our own wounds. We become aware of their woundedness
as a path to our own healing and growth.
Let me give you an example from my own life. I have engaged
in therapy on several occasions to get through rough spots. In the process, I
learned how much the alcoholism of my parents has influenced my path in life.
My father was an intelligent, sensitive, introspective man. He went to Europe
to fight the Nazis as an idealistic freedom fighter. He returned three years
later a broken man. Without being diagnosed at the time, he suffered severe
post-traumatic stress disorder. He coped in the only way he knew how, by
drinking to silence his demons.
In my journey of self-exploration, I learned how much I
sacrificed myself to redeem both my parents. My mother later drank to cope with
her life traumas, as my father had. As a child, I sensed their shame and guilt
and desperately wanted them to be proud of me. I pushed myself to achieve and
become the family hero as a priest. After leaving the priesthood to get
married, I became a psychologist. Through therapy I gained compassion for the
traumas my parents suffered and how they coped by drinking. As a psychologist
now, I specialize in working with those who are traumatized and addicted. I
understand and have compassion for their brand of woundedness. In working with
them, I am healing not only them, but my parents and myself. I engage with my
patients as a wounded healer.
We must come to forgive the frailty of our parents in order
to have compassion for the imperfections of ourselves and others. We mourn
their unlived lives and our own. We work towards redemption. Embracing the
unavoidable suffering of life can open our hearts to compassion for all,
including our wounded selves.
THE CROSS
We draw strength knowing we do not suffer alone. Our God
suffers with us, every step of the way. God reveals His compassion for us in
Jesus taking up his cross. St. Peter strikingly wrote: “Christ suffered for you
and left you an example, to have you follow in his footsteps. He did no wrong;
no deceit was found in his mouth. When he was insulted, he returned no insult.
When he was made to suffer, he did not counter with threats. Instead, he
delivered himself up to the One who judges justly….By his wounds you were
healed.” (I Peter 2: 21-24) Jesus both accompanies us in our suffering and
gives us an example.
Jesus was crucified between two criminals, one who mocked
him and the other who believed in him. He shared their suffering equally. He
did not condemn them or his persecutors. His personal sacrifice on the cross
announced that he came to save the lost, guilty, and despised.
The cross is made of two straight lines, one horizontal and
the other vertical. The horizontal line extends without limit to embrace the
whole universe in loving compassion. The vertical line reaches upward to
heaven. Christ’s suffering brings together heaven and earth. It is a gateway to
new life, as is revealed in the resurrection. The vertical line also descends
downward to the depths of humanity. In the creed, we profess that after Christ
died he descended into hell. Traditionally, it has been interpreted that he
preached to those who died and had not heard his message. It suggests to me
that Christ embraces all the living and dead in his love, even the most lost
and condemned. He hears the laments of all who suffer unlived lives.
When we take up our crosses, we embrace our own woundedness without
anger, bitterness, or self-pity. We are attuned to the suffering of all, both
the living and the dead. We recognize that we are all one in our suffering and
desire for happiness. No exceptions. Like Jesus, we participate joyfully in the
sufferings of the world.
Beyond imitating Christ, we share even more intimately in
his passion. We live in Christ, and he dwells in us. St. Paul wrote, “I have
been crucified with Christ, and the life I now live is not my own; Christ is
living in me.” (Galatians 2: 20) We are the wounded body of Christ in the world
today, as individuals and as the human family. Our wounds, our stigmata, are
his. We see the face of Christ suffering in everyone in need. Our care for them
is serving another Christ, like us. In the last judgment scene, Jesus
proclaimed, “As often as you did it for one of my least brothers, you did it
for me.” (Matthew 25: 40)
Accepting our woundedness, we find joy and gratitude in our
sufferings. We do not just await the joy of heaven in the afterlife, but
experience it now in our current struggles. St. Paul experienced a painful
“thorn in the flesh,” some unknown personal wound. He wrote: “In order that I
might not become conceited I was given a thorn in the flesh, an angel of Satan
to beat me and keep me from getting proud. Three times I begged the Lord that
this might leave me. He said to me, ‘My grFor ace is enough for you, for in
weakness power reaches perfection.’ And so I willingly boast of my weaknesses
instead, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.” (II Corinthians 12: 7-9)
Even our brokenness, if accepted lovingly, demonstrates the power of God in our
lives. The resurrection hides in the shadow of the cross.
I have a personal motto: “Always be kind. Everyone we
encounter carries a heavy burden.” However, their burden often eludes us. Yet,
no one escapes life unscathed. We are all wounded and need compassion.
Suffering, if acknowledged, naturally inspires a compassionate response. It
opens our hearts. Accepting and working with our shared brokenness promises to
bring the joy-filled life we all long for.
Sign up for the MSI Press LLC newsletter
Planning on self-publishing and don't know where to start?
in exchange for reviewing a current or forthcoming MSI Press LLC book?
Contact editor@msipress.com.
Want an author-signed copy of this book?
Purchase the book at 25% discount (use coupon code FF25)
and concurrently send a written request to orders@msipress.com.
You can!
Find their contact information on our Authors' Pages.
Check out our rankings -- and more -- HERE.
Comments
Post a Comment