Being “Tough”
I read in the newspaper recently about Richard Schuster, 42, an Air Force veteran who has faced combat, cancer and addiction, and now COVD-19.
He’s been through, and has overcome, a lot. But at the time the article was written, he was quarantined in isolation in a New York hotel room and it appears to have been a greater challenge than all the others.
“Until you’ve been in a situation like this, you can’t wrap your head around the silence in my hotel room,” he said. “It’s deafening at times. I could just sit here with nothing, and the only noises I would hear would be the elevator as the medical staff is coming down and knocking on doors.
“This can really break somebody,” he is quoted as saying.
Solitary Confinement a Great Hardship?
I get it. I always wondered why solitary confinement in prisons was considered a great hardship. To me, it seemed like a much better situation than being with another prisoner, or even more so, with several others. In solitary, you have the room – no matter how small – to yourself. You can read, exercise and live “in peace.”
That was before I had a hefty dose of solitude as a priest in Bolivia in the early 1970s. I arrived at my parish, in what’s called the Altiplano, at about the time the assignments of others of my priest’s group stationed at this rural parish were ending, and after a few months, I was left to two years of a mostly solitary life.
There was no plumbing or electricity and except for the meal I ate nearly every day with a group of Colombian sisters, I was on my own for meals, maintenance of a small motorbike, a Toyota “jeep” (I spent a lot of time changing tires.) and the house in which I lived. The parish was about three hours from La Paz, the capital, where I could occasionally go for a shower, a good meal and the company of other priests.
Pitch Black
In a parish in the U.S., a priest can make friends among parishioners. But the tiny town in which our church was located buttoned down at night and I was busy during the day. Except when there was a moon, it was pitch black by 6:30 p.m. and residents appeared to stay in their homes. I tried to make friends, but it was really hard, and night after night I read, listened to crackling Voice of America radio broadcasts and read and wrote letters – alone.
I loved the work, much of which consisted of visiting the 56 communities in the parish by motorbike or “jeep” and celebrating Mass and the sacraments with people. But the solitude and isolation got to me. I began to think that I could die and no one would know or miss me.
Solitude in big doses can be as hard on humans as just about anything. It requires a certain toughness. Even a guy like Schuster, who had been through so much, had a hard time with it.
“Tough,” according to the dictionary, is “characterized by severity or uncompromising determination” or being “capable of enduring strain, hardship or severe labor.” And while there may no room for severity in the search for God, the other characteristics are certainly required.
Admire “bad guys?”
We often think of great athletes, like NFL players or boxers, as “tough.” They have physical attributes that make them formidable adversaries. And we seem to admire “bad guys,” men and women who appear not to “play by the rules,” many of whom are ruthless in attaining their personal goals.
In my view, however, Jesus is the model for toughness. Although images of him often show a mild, feckless man in a well-trimmed beard, he was tough in the best sense of the word. According to the gospels, he was straightforward with friends and critics, saying what he meant and matching his words with his actions. He was courageous in helping society’s outcasts and sacrificing himself for others. But he was loving, compassionate and empathetic.
People sincerely searching for God must overcome a slew of obstacles, within and outside ourselves. It requires a certain toughness, which includes commitment, courage, perseverance and resilience. The gospels provide the model for the kind of toughness required.
