In Praise of Pain?
What if you could live a totally “pain-free” existence? Wouldn’t it be great?
Think again.
In the latest book I have been reading, The Man Who Tasted Words, by Guy Leschziner, the story is told of a man who suffered (yes, suffered) from an extremely rare condition known as CIP or congenital insensitivity to pain. Since he was born he has felt no aches, no headaches, no toothaches, no aches or pains at all. It sounds good until you hear about how he could not feel when his legs were broken; until you hear how he would break his own fingers when he didn’t get things he wanted; until you hear how his sister, who inherited the same malady, died of sepsis because the doctors didn’t know there was anything wrong with her. (She never cried.) In fact, the man does not think that there is a bone in his body he has not broken. He would often break bones on purpose so that he could get attention. (There’s a homily there.) It is terrifying. And it a cautionary tale about how pain can be a blessing in disguise.
Pain screams its way into our consciousness. We stub our toe and that is all we can think about until the pain subsides. My two bouts with kidneys stones both started around midnight and kept me up for most of the night. Not pleasant. A small paper cut can distract you for hours. And we should not even talk about real deep and chronic pain. On the other hand, when I doubled over from pain because my appendix had become perforated, that pain just may have saved my life.
So why does pain exist?
First, pain lets us know that something is wrong. It not only tells us that something is wrong, but it can almost pinpoint where the problem is. One important aspect is knowing where the pain is coming from, localizing the site of injury or damage. It is crucial to our survival to know that the agony we are feeling is due to having burned our finger on a hot pan, or from a thorn in our left big toe. When you go to the doctor, the first thing he asks you is “Where does it hurt?” That usually gives him the first clue as to what is going on in your body. And as we will see, it is the first step to learning and healing.
Second, pain helps us to learn. Several years ago, I was at my cousin’s house in New Mexico. We were barbecuing and he had to get something out of his kitchen, leaving me alone with his two year old toddler son, who seemed mesmerized by the grill. He kept reaching for it and I had visions of hot coals falling upon him and setting him ablaze. It was like trying to guard Lebron James in the NBA Finals, keeping the boy away from the fire hazard. It was exhausting. I joked
with my cousin, never to leave me alone with a blazing grill and a toddler. He quipped: “He would have touched it once and learned a lesson.” That is the second benefit of pain. It is the reason we have pot holders nearby our stoves. It is the reason I am careful whenever I clean knives in the kitchen. It is the reason why I am careful around curbs, after I twisted my ankle on one. We need pain to help us learn to avoid sharp or hot objects, to teach us what in our environment is potentially harmful, and to detect injury or infection.
Third, pain helps us to heal. Pain lets us know to stay off of twisted ankles so that they can heal properly. If we do injure ourselves, pain focuses our attention on looking after that part of the body, protecting and immobilizing it so that we can repair and heal before we start using it again.
Physical pain is connected to the most basic, most primitive parts of our brain. From an evolutionary standpoint, it is what has kept us alive and safe. Without physical pain, we would be hobbled, like the man in the book, limping through life – painfree, but crippled nonetheless.
What can be said about physical pain could also go for emotional and spiritual pain. When we are in pain, there is something wrong and it will not get right until we deal with it. That is why ignoring or simply numbing our pain can be so dangerous, it does not get to the root of our problem.
When I taught the Sacraments at Borgia we talked about sin, venial sin and mortal sin. I suggested to my students that, in a sense, venial sin can be as dangerous, if not more so than mortal sin. How so? With mortal sin, you know that there is a problem, you can feel the pain. Venial sin can fly under the radar, if you will. It seems unimportant, a mild ache compared to a broken bone. But over time, things can get worse and worse, like a leg bone that isn’t set correctly. And before you know it, your heart and soul are incapacitated. With mortal sin, you KNOW THAT THERE IS A PROBLEM. And that needs to be dealt with as soon as possible.
Our pain, lets us know, loud and clear, that something is wrong and we need healing. I don’t look forward to pain, but I now realize that it can be a blessing from God, a blessing that calls us deeper into the fullness of life.
Father Kevin