Playing Poker with God

So often we frantically seek for an explanation to our suffering, to the things in our own life and in the world that make no sense to us. We often seek that explanation, or should I say, “demand” that explanation from God.

I don’t know about you, but no matter my endless beseeching of God for answers, they are rare in coming and often less than comforting when they are heard and/or understood.

I continue to believe there is something profound and unique to which we are called as women in suffering. It’s not that we are to be martyrs – just suffering because we must, or worse, because we choose to allow such. Rather, there is something beautiful and intimate that occurs in the midst of suffering – in relationship with God.

What if, rather than seeking an escape from suffering, we came to anticipate God’s whisper; God’s desire to offer intimacy, kindness, and care?

Offand on I’ve been reading a book called Women and the Value of Suffering by Kristine M. Rankka. She ends the book with a stunning poem by Anne Sexton saying that in it suffering is acknowledged, but with no attempt to justify or explain it.

The Rowing Endeth
I’m mooring my rowboat
at the dock of the island called God.
This dock is made in the shape of a fish
and there are many boats moored
at many different docks.
“It’s okay,” I say to myself,
with blisters that broke and healed
and broke and healed –
saving themselves over and over.
And salt sticking to my face and arms like
a glue-skin pocked with grains of tapioca.
I empty myself from my wooden boat
and onto the flesh of The Island.
“On with it!” He says and thus
we squat on the rocks by the sea
and play- can it be true –
a game of poker.
He calls me.
I win because I hold a royal straight flush.
He wins because He holds five aces.
A wild card had been announced
but I had not heard it
being in such a state of awe
when He took out the cards and dealt.
As He plunks down His five aces
and I sit grinning at my royal flush,
He starts to laugh,
the laughter rolling like a hoop out of His mouth
and into mine,
and such laughter that He doubles right over me
laughing a Rejoice-Chorus at our two triumphs.
The I laugh, the fishy dock laughs
the sea laughs. The Island laughs.
The Absurd laughs.
Dearest dealer,
I with my royal straight flush,
love you so for your wild card,
that untamable, eternal, gut-driven ha-ha
and lucky love.

If this is even remotely possible: the experience of playing poker with God, of hearing God’s laughter, of coming to love the wild card, of being loved like this, count me in! ‘Not that I can do anything about the suffering that has or will yet come; but I can hope for the grace and winsomeness to hear God’s invitation to play cards in the midst.

Ready to deal?

On Womens’ Suffering

I was at a conference last weekend in Syracuse, NY, at which a number of theologians, philosophers, and educators spoke and thought together. The theme was Feminism, Sexuality, and the Return of Religion. Regardless of what the event might have hoped to invite or engage, there was one significant theme I took away: women have, do, and will suffer.

Let me quickly say, on the heels of such a depressing statement, that I am not depressed by this. Rather, I was able to think about the reality of suffering as certainly inevitable but also as the context through which we know and offer much hope – and ultimately life.

Sarah Coakley was the speaker on Friday morning; she is the one to whom I must give credit for these categories in which I’m been ruminating this past week. She said that there are really three categories of suffering:

1) Suffering with no way out. No amount of will or agency or courage can change the situation. It is completely, 100 percent, out of our control. Examples might include the Holocaust, genocide, fatal disease and even some natural disasters.

2) Suffering but with the inclusion of agency. The circumstances are truly painful but there is the possibility that a woman could exert her will and begin to experience change. In so doing, we must quickly recognize that such change may, in fact, be a step out of one form of suffering and movement into another. The key, however, is that agency actually can be exerted. This kind of suffering is not completely out of her control. An good example would be domestic violence: horribly tragic and not at all occurring because the woman isn’t exerting agency. Rather, it’s a context in which the circumstances, though horrific, do still have room for movement and change (perhaps, at times, not by the woman herself but by the community around her).

3) Suffering that is chosen – freely, willingly, and on behalf of something or someone else. The quickest image that comes to my mind is that of a mother protecting her children. Mother’s throughout time have willingly sacrificed themselves – even their very lives – on behalf of their child’s protection, health, or very life. 

How might women begin to understand more clearly the dramatic difference between these three categories and then willingly, freely, even with exuberant hope step consistently, bravely, and willingly into number three? Discernment.

I met with my Spiritual Director this morning. As we talked about these categories – and discernment – she said that we make a mistake when we think we can just “do” discernment. “Rather,” she said, “discernment is a way of life.” It’s a way of being in relationship with God that is far more significant than particular aesthetic disiplines and practices that we employ when we’re in a bind. It’s a spacious place within our very soul that is able to wait, to listen, to wonder, to actually feel vs. just processing things at a completely intellectual level without ever engaging our hearts.

Not easy, this discernment thing. And certainly not easy to suffer, no matter the category.

As I’ve been thinking about this nearly nonstop since last weekend, I realize that suffering is everywhere – certainly in my life and all around me. My attempts to escape it are for naught and I must be one who tirelessly works to end it – in my own life and in the lives of others. In the in-between time, in the midst, I want to suffer well, with strength and wisdom and grace – not for suffering’s sake, but on behalf of it’s end…