Theology of Suffering and the New Evangelization

In August of 2022, Bishop Robert Barron took part in an interview with the actor Shia LaBeouf to discuss his conversion to the Catholic faith. LaBeouf’s conversion was influenced in part by his being cast to portray Padre Pio in a movie by Abel Ferrara on the great twentieth-century saint and mystic. In preparation for his role, LaBeouf stayed at the San Lorenzo seminary, a seminary and novitiate for Capuchin friars in Santa Ynez, California.

During one part of the interview, LaBeouf spoke of a conversation he had with one of the friars, Fr. James. He said:

And Father James walks me through offering your suffering up as purposeful, as intrinsically valuable, that God taps certain people to go through certain suffering so they can be more effective at bringing the Good News forward. And we start talking about purpose, and I’m questioning what my purpose is, because before this moment my purpose was just to be a good actor. My purpose was just to be the best actor. That was my whole purpose in life. Such a little dream, like the dream of an ant. And James says, “What are you good at?” [I responded], “I’m good at bleeding in front of people.” He’s like, “What do you mean?” I’m like, “Well, that’s what I do. I just sort of throw myself against walls, they film me, people tell me it’s good. That’s all I know how to do.” He’s like, “Okay, so you’re good at suffering. How are you going to help other people with that?” . . . We start getting deep off in this conversation, and what the arithmetic of purpose is, and James said, “You find out what you’re good at, first, you find out how you can help other people with that, and that is your purpose.”¹

Here, LaBeouf touches on two important theological concepts: the universal call to holiness, and the theology of suffering. The Catholic Church has a very well-defined vision in both of these realms, but the connection between these things, if any, is often overlooked. In this article, we will explore possible ways in which the traditional Catholic view on suffering and the teachings of the Second Vatican Council and the post-conciliar Popes on the universal call to holiness intersect.

The Theology of Suffering: A Traditional View

Christianity is very upfront about the reality and inevitability of suffering. Yet, far from being a pessimistic worldview, Christianity sees in suffering a deeper spiritual significance. The deeper spiritual significance of suffering can be, broadly speaking, looked at in two ways: ethically and metaphysically.

The metaphysical element is, in some sense, the first to suggest itself to us, since it is something rooted in the first part of the general Biblical narrative, the creation story. In Genesis 2:17, God prohibits Adam and Eve from eating of the tree of knowledge of good and evil, saying, “From that tree you shall not eat; when you eat of it, you shall die.” Fr. Richard J. Clifford and Fr. Roland E. Murphy, in their commentary on Genesis, note that in the Priestly Source of Old Testament literature, as well as in some of the prophetic literature (such as Ezekiel 18, especially verse 21), “to die” was another term of being cut off from communion with God. In later Jewish as well as in early Christian anthropology, bodily death began to be seen not as an inevitability in the sense of being something built into the structure of reality, but as itself being a result of sin. For example, such a view is expressed in Wisdom 2:23–24 and Romans 5. In light of such a view, Genesis 2:17 was interpreted literally in the classical Judaic and Christian traditions.²

The notion of death as something opposed to God’s plan of salvation, as something to be overcome, is part and parcel of the general eschatology of the Ancient Israelites. The fulfillment of God’s plan included a reestablishment of the Davidic Kingdom, something immediately preceded by the resurrection of those members of the House of Israel who had died, so as to allow them to take part in this renewed Kingdom (see, for example, Daniel 12:1–4 and Ezekiel 37:1–14). Insofar as Jesus was seen as the fulfillment of the Messianic prophecies who ushered in the Kingdom of God, it should not come as a surprise that the New Testament authors would emphasize those aspects of the life and teachings of Jesus centered around the theme of “resurrection,” and connect the Resurrection of Christ with the belief in the resurrection of the dead. We see this, for example, in 1 Corinthians 15. Yet, in 1 Corinthians, St. Paul also situates the resurrection of the dead and the ushering in of the Kingdom with a defeat of death more generally. In 1 Corinthians 15:22, for example, St. Paul connects the saving mission of Christ, by which the resurrection of the dead is possible, with a reversal of the Fall, by which death entered into the world.

One can thus interpret the Biblical datum as depicting salvation in terms of a fight between life and death, with death being in some way rooted in a turning away from God. This teaching, implicit to Scripture, is explicated by some of the Church Fathers. St. Athanasius, in his treatment of the Incarnation, writes:

Thus, then, God has made man, and willed that he should abide in incorruption; but men, having despised and rejected the contemplation of God, and devised and contrived evil for themselves (as was said in the former treatise), received the condemnation of death with which they had been threatened; and from thenceforth no longer remained as they were made, but were being corrupted according to their devices; and death had the mastery over them as king (cf. Romans 5:14). For transgression of the commandment was turning them back to their natural state, so that just as they have had their being out of nothing, so also, as might be expected, they might look for corruption into nothing in the course of time. For if, out of a former normal state of non-existence, they were called into being by the Presence and loving-kindness of the Word, it followed naturally that when men were bereft of the knowledge of God and were turned back to what was not (for what is evil is not, but what is good is), they should, since they derive their being from God who IS, be everlastingly bereft even of being; in other words, that they should be disintegrated and abide in death and corruption.³

For Athanasius, death is a result of the corruption of the human person brought about by sin. God is the Source of existence, and sin is a turning away from God. Therefore, sin has not only an ethical but also a metaphysical element to it: by turning away from the Creator, we are ultimately turning toward nothingness. Corruption and death are thus the highest expression of the effects of the Fall. This starting point highly influences the Athanasian view on Christology and soteriology: through the Incarnation, the Image of God in man is united to That of which it is an image, thereby restoring it from its corruption;⁴ further, by His Death and Resurrection, death is itself conquered.⁵

Such sentiments were not uncommon in the Patristic worldview, and reach their most poignant expression in the oft-repeated saying of St. Gregory Nazianzus, “For that which He has not assumed He has not healed; but that which is united to His Godhead is also saved.”⁶ The larger framework of this quote is Gregory’s response to Apollinarianism. The underlying logic of Gregory’s counterarguments to the Apollinarian heresy is that humanity is in some sense debased or corrupted by the Fall, but the Incarnation and hypostatic union that follows — a union that includes the entirety of humanity being united to the Divine Nature — purifies and elevates human nature. That which was not united to Divine nature thus cannot be renewed. Thus, in his letter to Nectarius of Constantinople, Gregory asserts that the purpose of the Incarnation was a “remodeling of our nature.”⁷

The metaphysical element of the Incarnation, Cross, and Resurrection contains within itself a mystical perspective, namely that in the Incarnation God enters into the human condition, and thus creation is united to and, so to speak, brought up into, the Divine, so that the Power and Love of God permeates all things. This is the source of hope for Christians. We see this, for example, in the writings of St. Maximos the Confessor, who writes, “If God suffers in the flesh when He was made man, should we not rejoice when we suffer, for we have God to share in our suffering. This shared suffering confers the Kingdom on us. For he spoke truly who said, ‘If we suffer with Him, then we shall also be glorified with Him.’” (Romans 8:17)⁸

That which was once a sign of our debasement and separation from God now, as a result of the Cross, takes on a redemptive quality. This is the basis of the ethical element of the theology of suffering. That which is a sign of our brokenness now becomes a means by which God saves us. Just as Jesus suffered for the forgiveness of sins, so too God can providentially use our suffering as a means to teach us a lesson, to instill in us certain virtues, to purify us of sin.

The theology of suffering understood in this manner does, to some degree, have a Biblical basis to it. In Galatians 6:17, St. Paul writes, “For I bear the marks of Jesus on my body.” The Greek word rendered in English as “marks” is στίγματα, which in turn is a variant of the Greek term στίγμα, which means “mark.” This word, in turn, was derived from the Greek word meaning “to prick,” and had the connotation of a physical mark similar to a tattoo or a branding. Slaves, animals, or pieces of property were often marked with a στίγμα as a sign of ownership. Given the etymology of this word, combined with the meaning it has taken on in later Catholic mysticism, it is easy to interpret this verse as meaning that St. Paul underwent a mystical experience similar to that of St. Catherine of Siena or St. Padre Pio. Yet, as Fr. Joseph A. Fitzmyer notes in his commentary on Galatians, whether or not this is the case was not the main point St. Paul was attempting to convey. “The marks” St. Paul references are the marks he bore as a result of the struggles associated with his ministry. St. Paul underwent a variety of persecutions and physical trials all for the sake of glorifying Christ and saving souls. Yet the marks that St. Paul bore were meant to be a sign that he belonged to Christ. Just as a slave bore a mark as a sign of his service to his master, St. Paul bore certain marks as a sign of his perpetual loyalty to his spiritual master Jesus Christ.

It could be argued that St. Paul is here creating an analogy between his own struggles and those of Jesus Christ. Christ suffered for our salvation, and St. Paul suffered in perpetuating what Christ started. In suffering to spread the message of Christ, he imitated Christ, and this shared suffering could therefore serve as a sign of union between Paul and Christ. This, to a degree, serves the larger theological point of Galatians, namely the relationship between the Law and the Gospel. As Fr. Fitzmyer notes, the marks of Christ that St. Paul bears are to be contrasted with the mark of circumcision.⁹

Even though it could be argued that it is anachronistic to see the stigmata, as it existed in later Catholic mysticism, as referenced in St. Paul’s words in Galatians 6:17, it can still be argued that the stigmatists of the Medieval and modern period are, in some sense, acting within the theological framework that St. Paul puts forward in Galatians, or, at the very least, can be interpreted as explicating what was said in Galatians. Through bearing the marks of Christ in a literal sense, the stigmatist and those who see them are made aware of how, because of the Incarnation and Atonement, human suffering takes on a new, redemptive quality. It is possible for human suffering to attach itself to something higher, to something more meaningful.

The notion of redemptive suffering reached its most intense expression in Catholic theology in the concept of the “victim soul.” This concept states that God sometimes permits a person to suffer for the sake of the salvation of another person. By struggling with or enduring pain out of a sense of love for God, we build up merits on the basis of which God brings about the conversion of other people. While this term dates back only to the nineteenth century, the idea behind it was quite common in the period between the Council of Trent and the twentieth century.

The notion of the “victim soul” was particularly popular in France for several different reasons. Firstly, it had a Christological origin: French theologians in the early modern era highly emphasized the notion of Christ as the Sacrificial Victim Who offered Himself for the forgiveness of sins. Another major influence were certain anti-Jansenist and anti-Quietist tendencies. On the one hand, the Quietists believed that the spiritual life should be determined by a sense of quietness, that is, a sense of passivity in which we contemplate the Divine. In contemplating the Divine, we become open to Divine activity, and it is this Divine activity present in our soul that alone brings about spiritual perfection. French mystics and spiritual writers, particularly in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, highly emphasized the notion of humanity’s role in cooperating with God’s grace. On the other hand, the Jansenists believed that the only way to be receptive to God’s grace was through strict and severe ascesis.¹⁰

In contrast to this, many French theologians and mystics emphasized the priority of Divine Love: that it was out of an infinite and unbounded love for humanity that Christ offered Himself to the Father on our behalf. This love was so perfect that it was capable of making satisfaction for our sins. The Love of Christ is both logically and chronologically prior in the order of salvation, for without it first appearing in the soul, the forgiveness of sins is impossible; yet, once a person perceives the love of God for man expressed on the Cross, they are so moved by that love to in turn imitate it. The greatest way we could do so is by suffering as Christ suffered.

We see this, for example, in the autobiography of St. Margaret Mary Alacoque. One day, while praying before a Crucifix in her bedroom, she noted how she began to feel the presence of God in an intense manner, and began to have visions of Jesus on the Cross and Jesus while on trial. She began to feel so overwhelmed by the sense of love that Christ expressed in those moments that she describes her reaction in the following manner: “This filled me with such feelings of compassion and so great a love of suffering that whatever I had to bear seemed light in comparison with the ardent desire I had to suffer, that thereby I might render myself conformable to my suffering Jesus.”¹¹

Such views were not unique to St. Margaret Mary: other contemporary or near-contemporary saints and theologians, including St. John Eudes, Cardinal Pierre Bérulle, and Fr. Jean-Jacques Olier, developed entire theological systems centered around the notion of suffering being one of the highest ways we could imitate the love of Christ. In the early twentieth century, the spirituality of early modern French mystics and spiritual writers started to become fashionable among some American Catholic theologians. In American Catholicism, the “victim soul” system of spirituality took on an almost political bent. The victim soul mentality was combined with personalism, the theological and socio-political system that states that the human person is of infinite dignity, and the best economic, social and political systems are those that uphold the dignity of the human person. Those who suffered oppression — that is, those who had experienced the violation of their dignity by unjust socio-economic or political systems — could thus be compared to victim souls. This led to a larger strain within Catholic (and more general Christian) sociology that emphasized the notion of Christ’s material poverty on earth and His unjust condemnation as a sign of solidarity with the poor and the outcast.¹²

The Universal Call to Holiness: An Overview

The universal call to holiness is a concept that finds its most direct expression in the documents of the Second Vatican Council, particularly the fifth chapter (paragraphs 39–42) of Lumen Gentium, put forward during the third session of the Council.

Paragraph 39 of Lumen Gentium begins with an affirmation of a central feature of traditional Catholic ecclesiology, namely the close union between Christ and the Church. This paragraph begins by asserting, “The Church . . . is believed to be indefectibly holy.” The reason for this is because the Council, echoing the words of the Gloria, affirms that Christ is “uniquely holy.” That is, Christ, because He is begotten of the Father, shares in the holiness of the Father; yet, God is not one holy Being among many, but is the Source of all holiness, and therefore is holy in the strict, that is, in a definitional sense. Further, Christ offered Himself up on the Cross so that humanity may also be holy. Over the course of this paragraph, various Biblical terms are employed that emphasize the close union between Christ and the Church, such as the notion of the Church as the “bride of Christ” or the “body of Christ.” All of this implies that the Church partakes in a unique way in the holiness of Christ, in that the Church is the means in which and through which the saving power of Christ reaches the people, so that we may be made holy just as Christ is holy. Thus, the Council can affirm that Christ “loved the Church as His bride, delivering Himself up for her. He did this that He might sanctify her. He united her to Himself as His own body and brought it to perfection by the gift of the Holy Spirit for God’s Glory.”

The general ecclesiastical view is that Christ is holy, and that the Church is holy by virtue of its union with Christ. Yet the holiness of the Church, paragraph 39 goes on to say, is manifested in and through the holiness of individual believers within the Church. As a result of this, in spite of holiness being something measurable by an objective, commonly accepted set of moral and spiritual principles, the Council nuances this claim in the following assertion:

Therefore, in the Church, everyone whether belonging to the hierarchy, or being cared for by it, is called to holiness . . . [T]he holiness of the Church is unceasingly manifested, and must be manifested, in the fruits of grace which the Spirit produces in the faithful; it is expressed in many ways in individuals, who in their walk of life, tend towards the perfection of charity, thus causing the edification of others . . .¹³

Each and every believer within the Church is called to holiness. The call to holiness is not reserved for a select few, but for all. Yet, because each individual has their own unique talents, capacities or skill set, because each individual finds himself or herself in a different state, living out the call to holiness differs from person to person. Each individual must take the teachings and example of Christ and the teachings and example of His Church and apply it to their unique situation.

This reality can be seen in the fact that, as the opening lines of paragraph 40 note, Christ is the Source and Standard of holiness, Who taught the way of sanctification to people of all walks of life. There is a common way of attaining holiness: being justified by the indwelling of the Holy Spirit received in Baptism, which unites us to Christ in a special way so as to make us “sharers in the Divine Nature”; because of this new life in Christ as sons and daughters of God, we are set apart to live out this new life in everything we do; that this new life expresses itself primarily in loving one another as Christ loved us, and Christ and the Apostles set out what moral principles best precipitate this life of love, namely kindness, humility, patience, and, most importantly, a willingness to forgive.

There is only one way of being made holy, and a common set of moral principles that guide us in living out a life of holiness; nonetheless, different individuals live out these realities in ways unique to their state in life. Thus, paragraph 40 goes on to say, “[A]ll the faithful of Christ of whatever rank or status, are called to the fullness of the Christian life and to the perfection of charity. In order that the faithful may reach this perfection, they must use their strength accordingly as they have received it, as a gift from Christ.” (emphasis added)

The underlying logic is explained in what immediately follows, that the faithful have a duty to “conform themselves to His Image in seeking the Will of the Father in all things. They must devote themselves with all their being to the Glory of God and the service of their neighbor.” Every situation or circumstance provides us with an opportunity to imitate Christ; the Christian life is therefore determined by a common end (love of God and neighbor), and a common set of moral and spiritual principles by which this end is attained (the teachings of Christ, the Apostles, the saints, and the Magisterium), but these principles are applied in different ways to different people who find themselves in different situations.

This is explicitly stated at the start of the next paragraph: “The classes and duties of life are many, but holiness is one . . .” There are certain universal sources of holiness, such as the indwelling of the Holy Spirit, obedience to God, and worshiping God. The responsibilities that people face are unique to their lot or station; yet, there are a common set of principles that we can use to live out these responsibilities in accord with the Will of God. A large part of the Christian life is determining how the basic principles of Christianity apply to one’s unique set of circumstances.

Pope St. John Paul II echoes this sentiment in his 1988 encyclical Christifideles Laici. In the opening paragraph, Pope John Paul writes, commenting on the parable of the vineyard, writes, “The Gospel parable sets before our eyes the Lord’s vast vineyard and the multitude of persons, both men and women, who are called and sent forth by Him to labor in it. . . . The call is not only a concern of pastors, clergy, and men and women religious. This call is addressed to everyone: lay people as well are personally called by the Lord, for Whom they receive a mission on behalf of the Church and the world.” (Christifideles Laici, #1, 2)¹⁴

Suffering and the Universal Call to Holiness

All of this brings us back to the original statement made by LaBeouf. LaBeouf gives expression to the basic principle of the universal call to holiness, namely that God gives each individual person their own unique strengths and talents, and allows people to be found in different sets of circumstances. Everyone must thus make use of their strengths and talents to bring the Gospel into whatever situation they find themselves in, and must use their talents and circumstances as a way to grow close to God.

Yet LaBeouf also notes something that points to the intersection of the theology of suffering and the universal call to holiness. If one recalls what was said in the opening quote, LaBeouf recalls how one of the friars said, “[Y]ou’re good at suffering. How are you going to help other people with that?” As well as giving people their own unique strengths and opportunities, God also permits people to face their own unique set of challenges or hardships, and these can serve as opportunities to learn certain lessons, and therefore as opportunities for growth in holiness and evangelization, just as much as one’s unique set of talents or opportunities.

Part of the universal call to holiness is therefore a realization of the role of suffering, and finding God even in the midst of suffering. There may be some hesitancy on the part of modern-day Catholics to do so. In popular Catholic devotion in the contemporary period, some of the traditional views on the theology of suffering can easily be interpreted as demoralizing, depressing, or even outright disturbing. Yet there are a few different reasons why this shouldn’t be. The first is because of issues that are unique to the modern era. Scientific theories, such as those related to the theory of evolution, force Catholics to nuance the traditional doctrines concerning creation, and therefore the traditional Catholic views on the place of suffering or death. Insofar as the suffering is part of life, and the Catholic Church has had a very specific set of well-defined views on this topic, Catholics are forced to confront this issue in light of recent scientific, philosophical and theological developments.

Yet, even beyond the hot-button scientific, philosophical, and theological debates of the modern era, modern man, however much he may misunderstand or want to move away from the supposedly “dark” or “graphic” symbolism of the traditional view on suffering, cannot move away from the fact that suffering exists. Yet the core of the Christian life is that we are always rooted or anchored in the Cross and Resurrection, which gives meaning to death and suffering. That which was a sign of our downfall is now a means of our redemption.

Just as Divine Providence includes the notion that all talents, skills, and opportunities are things brought into our lives as a result of God’s larger plan, as a way of facilitating our salvation, so too our sufferings. There are two ways of viewing suffering: from a human perspective and from a divine perspective. Suffering and death is a sign that humans have attempted to cut themselves off from or withdraw themselves from God. It attests to the finite, imperfect and broken nature of human existence. Yet Christianity is rooted in the notion of the perpetual faithfulness of God to His creation, to the gratuitous yet unfailing nature of His Promises. God allows a very specific set of sufferings to enter into our life as a means of bringing about some greater good for His creation.

Pope St. John Paul II reflects such a view when he notes that the answer to the problem of evil is the reality of Divine Love. The great Pontiff who ushered in the third millennium noted that the problem of evil takes on a particularly deep dynamic because of the reality of human consciousness. “Even though man knows and is close to the sufferings of the animal world,” John Paul wrote, “nonetheless what we express by the word ‘suffering’ seems to be particularly essential to the nature of man. It is as deep as man Himself, precisely because it manifests in its own way that depth which is proper to man . . .” (Salvifici Dolores, #2)¹⁵

There are three main dynamics to suffering: the first is suffering of a purely physical nature; the second is a suffering that John Paul II calls “moral suffering,” suffering of a spiritual or existential nature. Accompanying both types of suffering is a suffering of a psychological level, that is, emotional pain that often accompanies physical or spiritual pain. Because man suffers from emotional pain, there is a place for therapy; yet, as John Paul II points out, therapy, and the anthropological and scientific presuppositions of it, do not exhaust the fullness of what it means to be human, and therefore do not exhaust the depths of human suffering (#5).

Our awareness of our suffering causes us to ask why we are suffering. When one looks at the full spectrum of Biblical datum, one finds that God sometimes permits suffering as a punishment for sin. Yet Scripture makes clear that there isn’t always a clear correlation between our sin and the suffering we face. Sometimes, God permits us to suffer to teach us a lesson or to test us. In cases like these, suffering reflects not so much something demanded by the order of justice, but rather reflects something higher, namely Divine Love. As John Paul II writes:

In order to discover the profound meaning of suffering, following the revealed word of God, we must open ourselves wide to the human subject in his manifold potentiality. We must above all accept the light of Revelation not only insofar as it expresses the transcendent order of justice but also insofar as it illuminates this order with Love, the definitive source of everything that exists. Love is the fullest source of the answer to the question of the meaning of suffering. The answer has been given by God to man in the Cross of Jesus Christ. (#13)

It was out of love that God created us, and it is out of love that God redeems us. The notion that it is out of love that God redeems us is reflected in John 3:16. As Pope St. John Paul notes, “Man ‘perishes’ when he loses ‘eternal life.’ The opposite of salvation is not, therefore, only temporal suffering, but the definitive suffering: the loss of eternal life, being rejected by God, damnation.” (#14) John 3:16 addresses the issue of suffering on the most basic level, one more basic than even temporal suffering. Yet, Christ, in his death and suffering, and through Resurrecting from the dead, strikes at the very root of suffering. He, by His Death and Resurrection, makes the avoiding of the definitive suffering (eternal death) possible; further, Christ, in His Death, does not immediately make suffering go away, but rather “throws a new light upon this dimension,” thereby making that which is a sign of our fallenness a means of our salvation (#14–16).

John Paul II thus notes that the Redemption gives deeper meaning to the reality of human suffering. “One can say that with the Passion of Christ suffering has found itself in a new situation,” the Pope said, going on to note that “without the Redemption” it “would have not been revealed . . . the fullness of its meaning.” (#19) Part of the reason why Christ allows suffering to become something meaningful is because He uses it as a means of obtaining our salvation, and if one has faith while suffering, their suffering unites them to Christ. “He is called to share in that suffering through which all human suffering has been redeemed. In bringing about the Redemption through suffering, Christ has also raised that human suffering to the level of Redemption. Thus each man, in his suffering, can also become a sharer in the redemptive suffering of Christ.” (#19) Note the language that John Paul uses here: man is called to share in the suffering of Christ, just as he is called to salvation or called to a specific vocation. Just as God calls each individual to salvation, but also gives each individual different talents and opportunities by which he obtains holiness in a specific manner, likewise God allows different types or degrees of suffering in order to bring different individuals, in different points in their life, towards the common end of salvation. As Pope St. John Paul II notes:

[W]e recall the truth expressed in the encyclical Redemptor Hominis: in Christ “every man becomes the way for the Church.” [cf. Redemptor Hominis #14] It can be said that man in a special way becomes the way for the Church when suffering enters his life. This happens, as we know, at different moments in life, it takes place in different ways, it assumes different dimensions; nevertheless, in whatever form, suffering seems to be, and is, almost inseparable from man’s earthly existence. (#3)

Conclusion

What we see when we examine the traditional Catholic view on suffering is that suffering is not merely a brute fact of physical existence to be dealt with in a way conducive to maintaining a sense of psychological or emotional stability or equilibrium. The moral and spiritual questions related to suffering presuppose a larger framework rooted in a series of deeper metaphysical and moral realities. These moral and metaphysical realities that undergird the Catholic response to the problem of pain are intimately tied with the Catholic view on salvation, and thus, over the course of Church history have often been tied with soteriology and moral theology, that is, with Christ’s saving mission and with the deeper realities concerning how man grows in holiness.

On the other hand, during and after the time of the Second Vatican Council, the Church has frequently emphasized the notion that one element of the spiritual and moral life is the duty we have to apply the basic moral and spiritual principles of the Christian faith to whatever unique situations we find ourselves in. Yet, the reality of the universal call to holiness includes not only the opportunities that man faces, each individual’s unique moral responsibilities, or their talents or strengths, but also encompasses the reality of suffering, weakness, and challenges. Just as each individual has unique responsibilities, opportunities, or talents, so too does each individual believer have their own unique weaknesses, challenges, or sufferings. This element serves as a bridge between the Catholic response to the problem of evil and the Catholic view on the universal call to holiness. The reality of the Cross implies two things: that we must be upfront about the reality of suffering, but also that we as Christians must have the faith to trust that, just as Christ is actively working in and through the various opportunities and talents that we have, so too is Christ actively working in and through the various challenges and sufferings that we face.