Theology of Sorrow

A little while ago I had a rather ambitious urge to write a book discussing a potential "Theology of Sorrow". I even got so far as to write an introduction! Who knows whether it will ever get beyond that. In any case, I'd love to hear some of your thoughts about God and us and sorrow, and how they interact. I've pasted my rough introduction below, to incite your comments:


I’d like to make it clear from the start that I am no theologian. Perhaps that should prohibit me from calling anything I say a “theology”. But hopefully I will be forgiven since God has indeed granted me a mind with which to study Him, however amateur its process may be.

It has come to my attention that the current Christian discourse—or at least the circle of discourse to which I am privy—has many “theologies of” (fill in category). An extensive theology of poverty, for example, or Pope John Paul II’s theology of the body, regarding issues of marriage and sexuality. The theology of suffering is another area given to extensive discussion. These are called “theologies” because they are sincere attempts to reconcile human situations with God’s character.

Poverty and suffering are naturally common topics because on the surface they seem so disconnected with two of God’s most popular characteristics: love and omnipotence. But when we examine the life of Jesus, we see God’s process of identifying with us rather than fixing us.

One of the Bible’s most familiar passages on the suffering of Jesus is in Isaiah 53:3; He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering. Being “familiar with suffering” is something some churches practically encourage nowadays. Not being ridiculed?—you’re probably not witnessing enough. Not under spiritual attack?—seems the devil doesn’t think you’re enough of a threat to him! On a more positive note, I have heard several sermons preached on the topic of “passion”, emphasizing the fact that the Latin root of our modern-day word originally meant “suffering”. (This is apparent some contexts, for example, “the passion of the Christ”.) The implicit message being: in order to be a passionate Christian, suffering must be a major component of one’s life. Although these messages may tend to encourage the listener towards false martyrdom, the point here is that there are indeed messages about it. People are talking about suffering in the context of being Christ-like, and are grappling with whatever implications that may have.

But Isaiah does not let suffering alone describe the Servant. He is also a “man of sorrows”. Personally, I don’t believe those two features share an obvious connection. One can be suffering cheerfully or angrily or defiantly. Or sorrowfully. And Isaiah identifies Jesus as being a man of sorrows. In the next few pages I would like to explore the implications of this trait of Jesus’, and what it means for the expectations of Christian life and our relationship with God.