Question: Holy Father, in a world where things are shouted from the rooftops, there are aspects of life that remain unspoken, shrouded in shame; like depression, a silent illness that affects many people, young and old, and brings with it darkness, isolation, and immeasurable pain. Sometimes, this pain is so overwhelming that the idea of disappearing seems like the only way out. I myself struggled to overcome this illness, silently for years, and one Friday night I lost the battle and tried to take my own life. I am here because God gave me a second chance, and I will be eternally grateful, but there are many others who continue to face this darkness. That is why I ask you with all my heart: Where can we see God when the darkness is absolute and we can go no further? How can we trust in God when it seems that nothing, not even ourselves, is worthwhile?
Answer: First of all, thank you for sharing your experience of suffering today. I am deeply moved that you can speak about it, that you are here among us, and that you have found the strength to embrace this second chance the Lord has given you. You have risen and resumed your journey, and this is a wonderful miracle we see in many figures in the Gospel: in contact with Jesus, even those who feel lost regain confidence in life, are healed of their illness, and can rise again to live.
In the last question, you referred first to the “silent malaise” that is depression, and it is important to be aware of how mental health is increasingly threatened in the context of societies that are considered advanced. It is a sign that we have deeply mistaken a certain idea of growth that subjects people to pressures and tensions that compromise fundamental balances. Therefore, it is necessary to have a health system that includes among the six priorities this invisible and general malaise, which also affects young people.
Les teves paraules, tanmateix, have shown that pain poses a test of faith and the feeling that leads us to life. Això is cert for everyone, not only for those who at some point cross the path of illness.
[ In your question, you referred first to the “silent disease” that is depression, and it is important to be aware of how mental health is increasingly threatened in the context of societies that consider themselves advanced. It is a sign that there is something profoundly wrong with a certain idea of growth that subjects people to pressures, expectations, and stresses that compromise fundamental balances. That is why we need a healthcare system that includes this invisible and widespread malaise, which also affects young people, among its priorities.]
Your words, however, have also shown us that pain tests our faith and the meaning we give to life. This is true for everyone, not just those who at some point go through the trial of illness .
As I listened to you, I thought about those hours of darkness, anguish, and pain that Jesus experienced as the hour of his death approached. The Gospels, in the passages of the Last Supper and the prayer in Gethsemane, emphasize that evening was falling, that night was getting dark, and that shortly before dying on the cross, they tell us that “the whole land was plunged into darkness.” But, in reality, it is not just personal suffering; the Son of God is taking upon himself all the anguish, loneliness, and suffering of humanity. In those dark hours, dying on the cross, Jesus shares our pain and reveals to us the face of a compassionate God, who bears our sorrows, suffers with us, weeps our tears, and remains by our side with his presence full of love and mercy.
Going through this experience is difficult, as Sacred Scripture testifies several times; there are moments of darkness and suffering that our society silences, precisely because some cultural models want us to always be victorious and perfect, and therefore, limitations, fragility, and pain must be eliminated, or confined to the deafening silence of loneliness or even shame. And, in these moments, we may instinctively think that God has also abandoned us. But the cross of Jesus tells us that God does not abandon us, that He remains crucified with us in the moment of pain and extreme loneliness, that He gathers not only our tears, but the cry of our suffering that others do not hear, a cry that Jesus made His own on the cross, saying, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
There is a catechesis on the last hours of Jesus, in which Benedict XVI says that his suffering becomes prayer and a cry, and that this also applies to us: faced with the most difficult and painful situations, when God seems absent, we must entrust to him once again the burdens we carry in our hearts, even crying out to him, even protesting like Job, certain that in some way he makes himself present and is near even when he is seemingly silent. But I think we cannot do this alone. In times of pain, at least as far as possible, we must open ourselves to someone who can help us express a simple prayer, who can discreetly accompany us without rushing to explain our pain, who can take us by the hand and lead us out of this cry.
These experiences offer a message also to us believers, to the whole Church: we must not spiritualize suffering, superficially attributing it to the “will of God” or some mysterious plan of His, because this risks minimizing that suffering, silencing it, and wounding people. God does not want suffering; He bears it with us and invites us to trust in Him perseveringly. Let us remember what Pope Francis said : with God, life is always reborn.
Carlos Colón 