I’ve tried reading “Come Be My Light”, mother Teresas book. It’s sooo hard! But I have come to see that perhaps as she grew more like Jesus, she was able to endure more suffering. Very counter intuitive, or extra intuitive. Gosh I dunno!

As a personal opinion, I have never liked the term “victim soul” as to me it conveys either victimization or smells of a hidden pride. If any victim soul exists, it is Christ. His sacrifice is the redeeming sacrifice. We don’t need another set of souls to somehow “make up for” what is “lacking” in Christ’s sacrifice. And I think the concept of victim souls may insinuate something along those lines.

Secondly, victim soul sounds negative. Sacrifice is characteristic of love. Sacrifice does not necessarily imply “suffering”. Suffering enters the picture when one loves in the presence of evil. And I would say that the bitterness of suffering is an effect of imperfect love. When one’s love is divinized and perfected, bitterness becomes sweetness. From my understanding of the saints, they were joyous people even in the midst of suffering, not resigned souls. They suffered generously, not seeking out suffering but courageously accepting whatever God’s will was for them.

Thirdly, victim soul seems to draw distinctions among Christians, as if to say it is the lot of some to suffer, and for others not to suffer. We are all called to become identified with Christ, so that it can be said we are “alter Christus” (another Christ), even to the point of being “ipse Christus” (Christ himself). Suffering was an intrinsic part of Christ’s mission, as for instance we are each called to “take up [our] cross and follow [him]“. We cannot expect to be true followers of Christ without experiencing in some way the Cross.

I am familiar with St. Paul’s point about how his sufferings complete what is lacking in Christ’s suffering, and with the message of Our Lady of Fatima. I think those messages are in a spirit entirely different with what I understand to be a “victim soul”. Rather they point to the mystery of the Mystical Body of Christ, how we are called to participate in his suffering, and the salvific nature of suffering through the power of Christ. If I could make the distinction, I much prefer the concept of “co-redeemer” than “victim soul”.

Great post Steve. Gives me a lot to chew on; could probably go a lot deeper on this topic but I don’t want to steal any more of your thunder.

I suppose, also not trying to sound as a moral relativist, that I don’t see those two things (accepting what suffering comes and seeking out suffering) as mutually exclusive options. You can seek out suffering in small ways (we’re certainly not all called to be martyrs…though perhaps we’re all called to be prepared to be such…I haven’t actually thought about that, but the second comment struck me while typing out the first) without overdoing it. I think it might also have to do with the carrying our own crosses. There may be people who are more able – through holiness – to undergo suffering that we ourselves would be incapable of, even if we “wanted” to, and they do so voluntarily (the ascetic monastics, etc.). Also, remember, that we are all called in our own way to be part of Christ’s body, so perhaps there are some parts of the body more able to suffer willingly and offer that up to God, but that does not mean they are in any way more holy than those not called to it (First Corinthians 12:15-31).

I don’t know if any of this made sense or stands up to not contradicting itself, but in my head it was poignant, so I hope you can glean something from it.

“the glory of God is man fully alive; moreover man’s life is the vision of God: if God’s revelation through creation has already obtained life for all the beings that dwell on earth, how much more will the Word’s manifestation of the Father obtain life for those who see God.” –CCC n294 quoting St. Irenaeus.

Active suffering — suffering not merely a lack of something, but being actively afflicted by pains of some kind or other — appears, to me, to be strictly a result of the Fall: diseases, handicaps, bad dispositions, and conflicts and even persecutions. These things can certainly be redeemed, but, as a recovering hyperascetic (or one who fancied himself hyperascetic, anyway), it seems pretty sketchy to desire such things in themselves: the treachery of Judas transpired to be the best, as well as the worst, thing that ever happened (“Is Maleldil a beast that we should block His way, or a leaf that we should twist His shape?”); but woe to Judas nevertheless. I think Miss Tushnet is right, and that a wrongly sacrificial mindset — a mindset that concentrates on the destruction of the offering instead of the God to whom it is offered — is on the road to a deep spiritual perversion.

Having said all that, I know that some saints (particularly in the Spanish traditions, like St. Ignatius or St. Josemaria) have spoken very differently; and I know that some vocations do, in point of fact, involve intense suffering and the sanctification of that suffering. I’m not convinced there is a substantial difference between that and what I am saying here; but I could be mistaken, and there is definitely a difference in emphasis.

the OT Jews had to work through all of this over centuries of prayer and grumbling and suffering and victory and defeat. And the only consistent answer they got was, “I will be with you.” Jesus came. He is still here. Sometimes it’s a wedding feast, and sometimes it’s a death bed. Often all at the same time.