Exploring Suffering and Faith

What do you know of suffering?

Nothing.

In all our sacred history,

the chosen ones have always been those who have suffered.

Why then should God choose you?

Why not me?

I cannot answer that.

I know what it is to suffer.

Look at my eyes.

They burn like the very fires of hell.

Because they need sleep.

They need rest, which I will not give them.

My throat is parched from constant prayer.

My hands are gnarled from serving God in humiliation.

My body is pain-wrecked from stone floors.

Yes, I have suffered, because I know it is the only true road to heaven.

And if I, who have tortured myself,

cannot glimpse the Blessed Virgin,

how can you, who have never felt pain,

dare to say you have seen her?

I don't know why I was chosen.

You are a hundred times more worthy.

If only I could find evidence.

If only you could give me some proof.

Maybe then I could believe.

Maybe then these monsters of doubt and hate

would stop consuming my very soul.

For the love of God, sister, give me some proof.

I wish I could help you.

But I have never suffered.

I have never...

Perhaps I can help you.

It may be there is proof for you.

Well, doctor?

Well, in addition to the large tumor on the knee,

she has tuberculosis of the bone.

She has never complained of pain?

No.

Has she?

She never mentioned it.

I can't understand it.

She's had this affliction for a long time.

The constant pain and suffering which is so characteristic of this disease

is too horrible to describe.

Oh, God.

I have tried to storm the gates of heaven by sacrificing myself.

I know now that we must be chosen.

That we must be graced as you have graced this child.

God, forgive me.

I have persecuted her and I did not believe her

because I was filled with hate and envy.

God, help me to serve this chosen soul for the rest of my days.

God, help me.

God, help me.