This essay first appeared in our weekly newsletter on September 14, 2024.
In the Buddhist tradition, suffering is the foundation of what are called the Four Noble Truths. (I’m no expert in Buddhism, despite a class on Eastern religions during my philosophy studies.) Briefly put, the Noble Truths are: suffering is part of life; suffering is caused by craving or desire; suffering can end by extinguishing desire; and, in understanding and accepting this, one can reach a state of deep peace. (If any Buddhists are reading this, forgive me if I’ve somehow misstated those truths.)
I know the Christian tradition much better. And suffering is one of the central themes of this Sunday’s Gospel reading, in which Jesus and his disciples set out for the villages (we are meant to think of suburbs) of Caesarea Philippi, a place redolent with meaning.
Originally, the place was called “Panyas” or “Banyas,” dedicated to the Greek god Pan. As the New Testament scholar Ben Witherington III explained in my book Come Forth, in the walls of a cliff at Panyas were statues of Greek deities, all considered “sons of God,” in a way.
During Jesus’s time, in the same place stood a temple dedicated to Ceasar Augustus. Thus, when Jesus asks his disciples, “Who do you say that I am?” he is doing so in a place where both Greek and Roman gods were venerated. As Witherington notes, it is as if Jesus is saying, “These are the parodies of which I am the reality.”
Peter gives the correct answer: “You are the Messiah.” Correct to a point, that is: Jesus is much more than what Peter can imagine.
But when Jesus predicts his coming suffering, Peter rebukes him and then himself is rebuked by Jesus. Why, then, was it so hard for the disciples to understand Jesus’s suffering? And this is no small misunderstanding: Suffering is bound up with Jesus’s very identity, which is what Jesus is asking his disciples about en route to Caesarea Philippi.
To say, “I understand you, Jesus,” is to say, “I understand that you have to suffer, Jesus.” And to say, “I understand what it means to follow you” is to say, “I understand that following you will also mean some suffering.”
But after each prediction of his suffering in Mark’s Gospel—first to Peter, then to the group of disciples and then to James and John—they don’t get it. Why not? Well, to begin with, they probably didn’t want their friend Jesus to suffer. Perhaps their vision of the Messiah was not the “Suffering Servant” of the Book of Isaiah, but something more triumphant.
To say, “I understand you, Jesus,” is to say, “I understand that you have to suffer, Jesus.”
More basically, they probably didn’t want to suffer themselves. And who does? I certainly don’t!
Yet everyone’s life, as both the Buddha and Jesus knew, is filled with suffering. Our bodies get sick and age. Friends and family members die. Natural disasters happen. And as Christians, we also may suffer for being a disciple: loving those on the margins, forgiven those who wrong us and bearing up under persecution can hurt!
But suffering, as Easter reveals, is never the last word. Christ is alongside us, accompanying us in our suffering and always offering new life. That is the most essential part of Jesus’s identity: Easter, not Good Friday, is the end point of Christianity. That is our Noble Truth.
I love this interpretation of this Gospel text. Packed with meaning and the reality of suffering — although difficult to accept. Who wants to suffer? No one! I believe this Gospel is somehow related to the “take upon your cross and follow me” and also to “if the grain of wheat does not fall and die it can’t bear fruit.” Acceptance of one’s suffering isn’t easy and no one experience death happy and smiling. Hope is given. Thank you.