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Suffering
"A valuable contribution to the literature of theology and ethics, combining in a fascinating way biblical, theological, pastoral, and socioethical themes. . . The study is of immense value because it identifies the modern idolatry that views suffering as absurd and devoid of meaning. . . The book is a marvelous exercise in cultural self-analysis that is preliminary to any meaningful exorcism and redirection."
--Kenneth Vaux
Theology Today
"Passionate, imaginative, learned, literary, pithy, and at every point searching, Suffering is a notable achievement, not least because it pricks the heart and conscience, making the reader share in the deep experience of suffering that lies behind its writing."
--James A. Carpenter
Anglican Theological Review
--Kenneth Vaux
Theology Today
"Passionate, imaginative, learned, literary, pithy, and at every point searching, Suffering is a notable achievement, not least because it pricks the heart and conscience, making the reader share in the deep experience of suffering that lies behind its writing."
--James A. Carpenter
Anglican Theological Review
178 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1973
27 people are currently reading
300 people want to read
About the author
Dorothee Sölle
99 books46 followersDorothee Steffensky-Sölle was a German liberation theologian and writer.
Sölle studied theology, philosophy and literature at the University of Cologne. She became active in politics, speaking out against the Vietnam War, the arms race of the Cold War and injustices in the developing world. Notably, from 1968 to 1972 she organized Cologne's Politisches Nachtgebet (political night-prayers). Between 1975 and 1987, she spent six months a year at Union Theological Seminary in New York City, where she was a professor of systematic theology.
She wrote a large number of books, including Theology for Skeptics: Reflections on God, The Silent Cry: Mysticism and Resistance (2001) and her autobiography Against the Wind: Memoir of a Radical Christian (1999). In Beyond Mere Obedience: Reflections on a Christian Ethic for the Future she coined the term "Christofascist" to describe fundamentalists. Perhaps her best-known work in English was Suffering, which offers a critique of "Christian masochism" and "theological sadism." Sölle's critique is against the assumption that God is all-powerful and the cause of suffering; humans thus suffer for some greater purpose. Instead, God suffers and is powerless alongside us. Humans are to struggle together against oppression, sexism, anti-Semitism, and other forms of authoritarianism.
"I believe in God who created the world has not done such a thing that always must remain, not the ruled by eternal laws, which are immutable, not by natural systems of rich and poor, experts and uninformed, rulers and extradited. I believe in God, who wants the appeal of living and the change in all states through our work, our policy".
Sölle studied theology, philosophy and literature at the University of Cologne. She became active in politics, speaking out against the Vietnam War, the arms race of the Cold War and injustices in the developing world. Notably, from 1968 to 1972 she organized Cologne's Politisches Nachtgebet (political night-prayers). Between 1975 and 1987, she spent six months a year at Union Theological Seminary in New York City, where she was a professor of systematic theology.
She wrote a large number of books, including Theology for Skeptics: Reflections on God, The Silent Cry: Mysticism and Resistance (2001) and her autobiography Against the Wind: Memoir of a Radical Christian (1999). In Beyond Mere Obedience: Reflections on a Christian Ethic for the Future she coined the term "Christofascist" to describe fundamentalists. Perhaps her best-known work in English was Suffering, which offers a critique of "Christian masochism" and "theological sadism." Sölle's critique is against the assumption that God is all-powerful and the cause of suffering; humans thus suffer for some greater purpose. Instead, God suffers and is powerless alongside us. Humans are to struggle together against oppression, sexism, anti-Semitism, and other forms of authoritarianism.
"I believe in God who created the world has not done such a thing that always must remain, not the ruled by eternal laws, which are immutable, not by natural systems of rich and poor, experts and uninformed, rulers and extradited. I believe in God, who wants the appeal of living and the change in all states through our work, our policy".
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Displaying 1 - 14 of 14 reviews
January 4, 2014
Anyone who by experience or imagination has come up against the bitter reality of suffering and the issues it raises for a belief in God will take to this book like a desert wanderer to an oasis. Sölle will never throw an ameliorative veil over a harsh fact; neither will she fail to walk beside you all the way through your examination of the great questions she raises under the shadow of Jesus' cross. Her responses may startle and disturb, but they ring true to our experience of loneliness, trial, and groundless hope. She confronts the conventions that name God as the author of our sufferings to punish, teach, or test us, and dares to call them what they are: sadism. She looks for the Holy One, not on the heights of theism, but within existential presence, and finds comfort there. Her reply to sufferers brings solace enough, for it is lasting: "Where no help is possible [Christ] appears not as the superior helper but only as the one who walks with those beyond help." Her theme of presence hearkens to psychiatrist and Holocaust survivor Viktor Frankl's emphasis on meaning. Both truths are inalienable: like the love of God, we can be separated from neither.
In this short book, Sölle does not connect her thought to prevailing theological edifices - nor does she need to. As it stands, her suggestiveness brings urgency to persistent questions: Is God more person or process? Is God's power supernatural or something deep within all things? How should we approach the mythological elements in Scripture, particularly the emphasis on miracles? I find myself wanting to search out Rudolf Bultmann's work to see if Sölle's might stand in conversation with that renegade old Lutheran. Interestingly enough, Sölle consistently allies herself with mysticism, notably Eckhart and Tauler, as life immersed in personal engagement with the holy, an alternate stream of tradition eroding the pretensions of Christendom. That thorny modern mystic Simone Weil figures large also, all the way through. A cloud of witnesses! Sölle seeds that cloud thoroughly and truth rains down, filling the bowls of the oppressed and the afflicted.
In this short book, Sölle does not connect her thought to prevailing theological edifices - nor does she need to. As it stands, her suggestiveness brings urgency to persistent questions: Is God more person or process? Is God's power supernatural or something deep within all things? How should we approach the mythological elements in Scripture, particularly the emphasis on miracles? I find myself wanting to search out Rudolf Bultmann's work to see if Sölle's might stand in conversation with that renegade old Lutheran. Interestingly enough, Sölle consistently allies herself with mysticism, notably Eckhart and Tauler, as life immersed in personal engagement with the holy, an alternate stream of tradition eroding the pretensions of Christendom. That thorny modern mystic Simone Weil figures large also, all the way through. A cloud of witnesses! Sölle seeds that cloud thoroughly and truth rains down, filling the bowls of the oppressed and the afflicted.
December 16, 2020
Moving and profound meditation on the meaning of suffering. At times almost unbearable in its evocation of compassion for those who suffer for seemingly no reason in the world. Sölle has gifted earnest seekers a way into understanding how suffering as an active act of solidarity and love instead of a passive acceptance of pain and injustice can transform minds and hearts and move the world closer to a full realization of true humanity and communion. She eviscerates the Christian understanding of suffering and the consequent ideas of the nature of God and Christ that have evolved as a result, in the end rejecting traditional Christian orthodoxy in favor of a mysticism that incorporates God into humanity's progress towards a realization of complete love and communion on earth, rather than as a distant personification of omnipotence and power under whose inscrutable will we must submit. This one will remain with me for a long time.
December 24, 2020
An outstandingly beautiful examination of suffering, both that which is chosen for the sake of justice, and the unjust suffering unchosen, unbidden which befalls humanity, one individual life at a time.
Soelle moves us through phases of suffering, from silence, incapacity to comprehend, repression through to an ability to grieve and lament and give voice to the suffering. She rejects the championing of the meaning of suffering for a higher purpose, but demonstrates that conscious suffering can lead us to solidarity with others who suffer, using Jesus' farewell address, and his words and actions during his passion for justice, which led him inevitably to the cross.
She beautifully expresses the idea of us participating in suffering with others, and of us being the hope of a future world, of living now as though the end of suffering is possible and has come.
Soelle moves us through phases of suffering, from silence, incapacity to comprehend, repression through to an ability to grieve and lament and give voice to the suffering. She rejects the championing of the meaning of suffering for a higher purpose, but demonstrates that conscious suffering can lead us to solidarity with others who suffer, using Jesus' farewell address, and his words and actions during his passion for justice, which led him inevitably to the cross.
She beautifully expresses the idea of us participating in suffering with others, and of us being the hope of a future world, of living now as though the end of suffering is possible and has come.
December 19, 2022
Having grown up in the shadow of the Holocaust, suffering seems to sit at the center of all of Soelle's work. She is driven by a need to bear witness to it and to articulate a theology that affirms God does the same, as well as one that refuses to allow for apathy or resignation in the face of it. There is a complexity to Soelle's argument here that could make it read as incohesive (I'm also not entirely sure the translation is the best it could be). At the heart of her sense of suffering is the call to accept reality as it currently stands, suffering and all. She embraces mystic sensibilities in this way, trying to embrace the whole of life rather than run from or deny any particular part of it. However, crucially, she rejects what she calls "Christian masochism" that says suffering shouldn’t be perceived at the hands of a God who must use it to better us. She also even more passionately denounces the idea that suffering related to systemic injustice should be bowed to, and in fact much of her argument hinges on the idea of mobilization against just that. For Soelle, "acceptance" does not imply passivity but awareness, a clear-eyed knowing of what reality actually entails for the purpose of most effectively changing it, and knowing it needs changed in the first place. She presumes that suffering makes one stronger and more alert to injustice, but only when it is accepted. If one tries to deny their own suffering, she describes them as "mute" and suggests lamentation as the pathway from such silence into transformative speech seeking change.
Although she refutes classical theist theodices and I don't know if she'd agree with me, I definitely see this book as an embrace of process theodicy. She doesn't engage in Whiteheadian metaphysics but instead emphasizes Jesus's cosuffering nature as it climaxed on the cross to ground her claims that God does not stop suffering because God can't, and instead suffers with others in a way that offers dignity and strength. The strength of a martyr is one of the more compelling ideas that she develops here, and I am curious of more formal engagement has occurred between Soelle's ideas of suffering and womanist theologians rejection of "redemptive suffering." I think Soelle lives at the border of that concept, as her sentiments seem to be descriptive rather than prescriptive. She writes that "The cross is reality," not to encourage everyone to seek it out but to acknowledge that the charge for Christians is to stop the crucifying powers of our time and pursue compassionate solidarity with those still being hanged on crosses.
If it sounds a bit grim...well, I don't know what else you'd expect from a book with this title, however she also makes a few notes on the importance of joy amid resistance, which is made possible because acceptance of suffering is not just that, but rather an embrace of the whole of reality, a love for all of life. This is the thread of paradox that also runs through the work; hope is found in a God who is hopeless to save, transformation comes from those most desperately in need of transformation with the least means to achieve it. She writes that "there is no alien sorrow" –– we are all interconnected in a mystical solidarity and the acceptance of reality leads one into fuller awareness of that. This results in deeper and deeper sorrow, heartbreak, and devastation but also wider and wider love, resilience, and commitment. And amid it all, God is there among all who suffering, imbuing the strength to endure. It is a great book, though one that feels a bit less polished than her later work. There were elements that felt clunky, confusing, or redundant at times, but that is only a minor knock.
Although she refutes classical theist theodices and I don't know if she'd agree with me, I definitely see this book as an embrace of process theodicy. She doesn't engage in Whiteheadian metaphysics but instead emphasizes Jesus's cosuffering nature as it climaxed on the cross to ground her claims that God does not stop suffering because God can't, and instead suffers with others in a way that offers dignity and strength. The strength of a martyr is one of the more compelling ideas that she develops here, and I am curious of more formal engagement has occurred between Soelle's ideas of suffering and womanist theologians rejection of "redemptive suffering." I think Soelle lives at the border of that concept, as her sentiments seem to be descriptive rather than prescriptive. She writes that "The cross is reality," not to encourage everyone to seek it out but to acknowledge that the charge for Christians is to stop the crucifying powers of our time and pursue compassionate solidarity with those still being hanged on crosses.
If it sounds a bit grim...well, I don't know what else you'd expect from a book with this title, however she also makes a few notes on the importance of joy amid resistance, which is made possible because acceptance of suffering is not just that, but rather an embrace of the whole of reality, a love for all of life. This is the thread of paradox that also runs through the work; hope is found in a God who is hopeless to save, transformation comes from those most desperately in need of transformation with the least means to achieve it. She writes that "there is no alien sorrow" –– we are all interconnected in a mystical solidarity and the acceptance of reality leads one into fuller awareness of that. This results in deeper and deeper sorrow, heartbreak, and devastation but also wider and wider love, resilience, and commitment. And amid it all, God is there among all who suffering, imbuing the strength to endure. It is a great book, though one that feels a bit less polished than her later work. There were elements that felt clunky, confusing, or redundant at times, but that is only a minor knock.
February 21, 2016
I loved this book, nevertheless I had difficulty in following some of the very philosophical argument. Will have to read it again to fully comprehend what I have read.
July 3, 2025
“Fear and trembling have beset me; horror has overwhelmed me.”
(Psalm 55:5)
“Get up,” he said. “Do not be afraid.” When they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus.”
(Matthew 17:7-8)
My summary:
Right off the bat, I knew reading Soelle’s book was going to be challenging; it’s a classic that reads like a classic. To fully and faithfully digest its content, I realized I would need to read it at least three or four times at the least, but I most certainly believe I would discover new revelations and insights upon each re-read. In fact, even during this read, I discovered new insights by revisiting certain chapters. This book, to me, was a profound work in that it conveys the idea of how to “properly” suffer in a manner not only novel to me, but I would assume to most. The “profound” aspect becomes self-evident when you realize that suffering, according to Soelle, is the mechanism by which self-liberation takes place. To know oneself, to love oneself, and to understand oneself – to self-realize – is to be on terms with one’s own suffering. She makes the case that without acknowledging our own suffering, without grieving properly, and by succumbing to apathy and/or stoicism, our suffering continues unabated; we do not know why we suffer; we do not understand the rationale behind it; we just let it happen, i.e., “it’s the way of the world.” This suffering then foments in us until we cannot handle it, robs us of our dignity, and our apathy becomes so all-consuming and complete that by ignoring the pain, we ignore every fundamental element that makes us, us, i.e., happiness, humor, empathy. Our outlook then becomes not only bleak, but narrow, and the spectrum of emotive responses that existed within us since childhood finds itself in diminishment.
As this is a book on the theology of suffering, Soelle connects the idea of a suffering-created self-liberation to physical liberation, resistance, and Christianity. Soelle views suffering as a conduit that connects one person to another; a necessary prerequisite for empathy. She believes that through our shared pain, we can at least begin to understand what someone else may be enduring. She makes this connection by contrasting it with the way the average American is dismissive of problems outside the United States, as well as to the struggles of their peers. This indifference, she argues, is not born out of their own accordance, but stems from external stresses-financial, social, and otherwise-imposed arbitrarily. Soelle identifies these stresses as results of the constraints of life caused by demanding working conditions and overarching societal pressures. The suffering that arises from these stresses is often met with resignation and defeat, rather than an outcry. According to Soelle, this resignation occurs because the average American accepts their suffering as the standard of living: the norm, encapsulated in the sentiment: “that’s just the way life is.”This suffering then breeds apathy and is faced with stoicism instead of action. As a result, people lose the meaningful and purposeful connections they have with others, develop a distaste and dissatisfaction for life, and create a void where empathy was once stored.
On the other hand, Soelle highlights the full potential of suffering, a type of suffering that is acknowledged and acted upon when one recognizes one's own agency to create change. She outlines a step-by-step process to achieve this. First, one must recognize and acknowledge that suffering exists and that your pain is not inevitable or unchangeable. Second, one must pour out and relinquish that pain, whether vocally, poetically, through writing, or by other forms of expression; even a moan or groan. Thirdly, one must unite with others like-minded in a type of solidarity to address and alleviate the conditions that caused the suffering. Let me relay an example from our own history: consider how American workers in the early 1900s demanded the Sabbath off. Initially, they resigned themselves to grueling working conditions (“it is what it is”), but eventually, a few individuals began to voice their dissent. The suffering of one was internally acknowledged and then connected with the suffering of others; transforming the motto of “suffering alone” into a motto of “suffering together.” Over time, this unity sparked a movement that ultimately led to a physical liberation - a standardized eight-hour workday and five-day workweek. Soelle also analogizes this type of liberation to the personal ministry of Jesus Christ. She viewed his life and ministry as acts of liberation and resistance in and of itself. A ministry that worked against systems of injustice and dehumanization; Jesus Christ was at the forefront of healing the sick, feeding the hungry, advocating for the oppressed, and standing by those scorned by society. His ministry was focused and committed to stamping out the root causes of injustice, and Soelle viewed his actions as revolutionary: a complete subversion of the social, political, and religious norms of the time that aided in the continual perpetuation of exploitative practices and injustices. Jesus stood his ground physically with the lower dredges of society to remind them of their own agency in much the same way that he stands his ground spiritually with these same classes today.
Soelle delves deeper into the connection between suffering and Christian theology by asking the age-old question, “Why would a just God create suffering?” This question, a rephrasing of the problem of evil and a central theme in theodicy, is answered by Soelle in two significant ways; each way a response to the problem. First, she presents God not as the cause of suffering but as its pacifier. She illustrates this with the example of the Israelites in Egypt, where it was Pharaoh’s actions - not God’s - that caused their suffering. God, however, did intervene to save them, standing with the suffering rather than the oppressor. Second, Soelle turns to the story of Job, a guiltless man who endures great suffering at Satan’s hand while God remains absent. When Job calls out to God, he is chastised, with God asking where Job was during the creation of the Earth. This response demonstrates God’s ultimate authoritative power and humanity’s vast insignificance in contrast. Soelle relays how those positing the question of the problem of evil interpret this not as an act of divine wisdom but as one of authoritarianism. In their view, the story highlights the domineering nature of God. They cite the need for humanity to unite in strength rather than submit and resign to weakness in order for actual change to commence. Job's experience paints God as “the torturer” (her term, not mine), underscoring the tension in reconciling an all-loving God with one who allows suffering, and detailing the problem and paradox of suffering. This paradox is answered, and the tension is resolved through the concept of “the cross.” Soelle frames Jesus’ suffering in Gethsemane as the ultimate act of compassion, the ultimate understanding of pain, and the ultimate empathy. That whenever one suffers, one suffers with Jesus. That God has not abandoned those to suffer, like some believe he did to Job, but instead stands with Job in his pain. To Soelle, to suffer is to understand, to understand is to love, and to love is to empathize. This is the idea drawn by Soelle of “the suffering God.” This stands in contrast to the Reformation era's view of God as a punitive force that punishes to test, teach, and/or cleanse of sin. This view of God is less of an emotionless, authoritative entity in a realm far from us, but rather of one that is deeply relational, personal, and intimate.
Soelle also views God’s presence as not manifesting in the present like the miracles of old, as though he would step in to part the Mediterranean to suppress Mussolini’s Italy, but in the “miracles” of man, like those modern acts of solidarity, unity, resistance, and justice that led to the establishment of the workweek to free the Sabbath day, or those successful acts of resistance against the Nazis. Soelle actually cites the resistance against the Nazis multiple times as examples. She conveys this through the personal biographies of resistance members like Simone Weil, and through the letters of resistance fighters, from American soldiers to those fighting in Vichy France, who, on the verge of death, repeat the same motif of “though I may die, I live” in the same vein as Christ. Soelle recollects that Jesus’ willingness to suffer for his mission speaks to the sacrifices often needed in struggles like the resistance movements. For Soelle, the crucifixion represents not just an act of individual salvation but a profound act of solidarity with the oppressed and, even more so, a stand against injustice. Soelle also emphasizes that in Jesus, God fully enters into human suffering. The incarnation of Christ signifies God’s choice to experience the depths of human vulnerability, pain, and oppression. For Soelle, this solidarity is profound: Jesus does not eliminate suffering but shares in it, demonstrating God’s presence in the midst of human pain. Soelle also relays that the idea of God as “the torturer” is not accurate; God instead suffers with us, and through our actions, we transform that suffering into real world consequence. She views God not as a tyrant controlling human choices like others who reckon with the problem of evil do; she instead views human action as in direct accordance with the idea of free will. This also entails that the responsibility for alleviating suffering falls heavily on humanity rather than divine intervention. This co-creative relationship with God also then underscores another paradox: God empowers humans to act, but this empowerment can often feel like divine absence when suffering is not alleviated instantly, i.e., in the case of Job and those prisoners in concentration camps. The blame is not to be on God then but on the environment and people that led to the manufactured suffering, i.e., Satan in the case of Job and Pharoah in the case of the exodus. If the conditions can not be alleviated, as is the case with most “natural suffering”, we can still stand in solidarity with those who are suffering through empathy, protest, and awareness. Soelle does not perceive death as an ultimate end. Much like how Christ's passion continues to resonate with us today, the deaths of resistance fighters and those in concentration camps charge us with the responsibility to alleviate the suffering of others. Their suffering forged a path; a path that inspires us to work towards ending the suffering of others. In this manner, their suffering and deaths were far from meaningless; instead, they bestowed profound meaning upon the causes they championed.
Soelle also mentions that in the case of “natural suffering”, as opposed to manufactured suffering, we too can find solace in God. For example, Soelle references the completely blind resistance fighter Jacques Lusseyran. Lusseyran embodied both one who suffered natural and manufactured suffering. Lusseyran lost his sight at the age of seven in a school accident (natural suffering). He was supported by his parents, who treated him as a typical child despite his blindness, and this helped him accept his condition without bitterness, anger, or fear. He embraced life fully to his capability, and learned to navigate challenges with confidence rather than succumbing into fear. A fear that Lusseyran realized only caused him harm. He also experienced a “light”, an inner light, that persisted despite the physical darkness of blindness that surrounded him. This self-defined illumination allowed him to affirm life spiritually through his suffering, even during his imprisonment in a German concentration camp (manufactured suffering), where he shared his hope and positivity with those around him. Soelle noted that his fellow captives at one point requested Lusseyran’s presence because his optimism was tantamount to therapy for them. Imagine being a prisoner in a concentration camp, and requesting the presence of a blind man to elevate your spirit! Soelle highlights that while Lusseyran spoke of God, he did so in terms of a being to be loved unconditionally rather than one who gives, promises, or denies transactionally. His love for God enabled him to affirm himself and life more deeply, even in the face of indescribable suffering. For Soelle, Lusseyran’s acceptance of reality was the key to transforming it; this acceptance allowed him to share his “light” and vitality with others through empathy, even amid the horrors of the concentration camp, and it helped fuel the resistance outside of it. To Soelle, Lusseyran, like many other resistance fighters, embodied the light and spirit of Christ; a light and spirit born out of suffering to bask in empathy with us, and for us.
My critiques:
My primary critique is personal and not really a direct fault of the book itself. I came into this work expecting a broad and overarching exploration of the theology of suffering (it’s only ~200 pages, so I was overly optimistic), but what I found instead was a text that largely served to justify acts of resistance against oppression. Written in the context of post-Vietnam War and in an era of socialist activism (the 70s), the book feels like an attempt to ecclesiastically sanctify actions against oppressive structures. While I don’t necessarily oppose a perspective like this and enjoyed reading about it, the work is less about the theology of suffering in a traditional sense and more about using one’s suffering as a catalyst for addressing systemic injustices.
That being said, I found the analogization of Jesus’ ministry as inspiration for resisting injustice to be pretty compelling and deeply thought-provoking. For example, I found myself contemplating ideas from this work late at night in bed and on the road. However, I didn’t really appreciate Soelle’s characterization of God as a “torturer”, even if she was just conveying a third-party perspective. While I understand her argument that resignation in the face of suffering in the name of God can be considered meaningless, her stated framework requires diminishing God’s agency and, in turn, his omnipotence, which I find to be a significant theological trade-off, to the point where some would call it an insult to God. Soelle essentially reduces God’s role in suffering, and while this allows her to advocate for human agency and resistance, it risks diminishing divine purpose and overstating free will.
For example, Soelle’s interpretation of Job’s story and Jesus’ ministry might support the idea of God as a co-sufferer rather than a tester in a vacuum, but it becomes difficult to reconcile her framework with other biblical narratives. Stories like the continual rise and fall of the Israelites, the fall of Adam, and the trials of Joseph and Jonah clearly depict God as an active player who tests and challenges human faith. These instances suggest that suffering is sometimes divinely orchestrated, not just something endured alongside humanity. This also leads to a broader metaphysical issue: the tension between free will and determinism. Soelle’s argument hinges on the idea of human free will to explain manufactured suffering as the product of human choices. However, if God can even partially instigate suffering in his own accord (as an omnipotent deity should), her argument that God does not cause suffering begins to unravel.
If God the Father causes suffering and God the Son suffers alongside humanity, does this not suggest a paradox of a masochistic deity? It becomes even weirder because Soelle herself criticizes such a notion in her own work, yet her created framework brushes against it. In my opinion, there is an alternative view that might be simpler and more cohesive that could work: to accept that God causes all suffering, but that this suffering can serve various purposes: calling humanity to action, testing faith, or even serving as a punishment.
My understanding of this subject is actually pretty infantile, and I welcome any corrections or deeper insights from readers. These are just my initial reflections and critiques, and I understand the complexity of Soelle’s work here and her expertise. Overall, she’s a remarkable theologian, and her advocation for the straightforward idea that we should embrace suffering rather than avoid it, as well as the more complex idea that suffering serves a greater purpose in the human experience should be incorporated into mainstream theology more.
(Psalm 55:5)
“Get up,” he said. “Do not be afraid.” When they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus.”
(Matthew 17:7-8)
My summary:
Right off the bat, I knew reading Soelle’s book was going to be challenging; it’s a classic that reads like a classic. To fully and faithfully digest its content, I realized I would need to read it at least three or four times at the least, but I most certainly believe I would discover new revelations and insights upon each re-read. In fact, even during this read, I discovered new insights by revisiting certain chapters. This book, to me, was a profound work in that it conveys the idea of how to “properly” suffer in a manner not only novel to me, but I would assume to most. The “profound” aspect becomes self-evident when you realize that suffering, according to Soelle, is the mechanism by which self-liberation takes place. To know oneself, to love oneself, and to understand oneself – to self-realize – is to be on terms with one’s own suffering. She makes the case that without acknowledging our own suffering, without grieving properly, and by succumbing to apathy and/or stoicism, our suffering continues unabated; we do not know why we suffer; we do not understand the rationale behind it; we just let it happen, i.e., “it’s the way of the world.” This suffering then foments in us until we cannot handle it, robs us of our dignity, and our apathy becomes so all-consuming and complete that by ignoring the pain, we ignore every fundamental element that makes us, us, i.e., happiness, humor, empathy. Our outlook then becomes not only bleak, but narrow, and the spectrum of emotive responses that existed within us since childhood finds itself in diminishment.
As this is a book on the theology of suffering, Soelle connects the idea of a suffering-created self-liberation to physical liberation, resistance, and Christianity. Soelle views suffering as a conduit that connects one person to another; a necessary prerequisite for empathy. She believes that through our shared pain, we can at least begin to understand what someone else may be enduring. She makes this connection by contrasting it with the way the average American is dismissive of problems outside the United States, as well as to the struggles of their peers. This indifference, she argues, is not born out of their own accordance, but stems from external stresses-financial, social, and otherwise-imposed arbitrarily. Soelle identifies these stresses as results of the constraints of life caused by demanding working conditions and overarching societal pressures. The suffering that arises from these stresses is often met with resignation and defeat, rather than an outcry. According to Soelle, this resignation occurs because the average American accepts their suffering as the standard of living: the norm, encapsulated in the sentiment: “that’s just the way life is.”This suffering then breeds apathy and is faced with stoicism instead of action. As a result, people lose the meaningful and purposeful connections they have with others, develop a distaste and dissatisfaction for life, and create a void where empathy was once stored.
On the other hand, Soelle highlights the full potential of suffering, a type of suffering that is acknowledged and acted upon when one recognizes one's own agency to create change. She outlines a step-by-step process to achieve this. First, one must recognize and acknowledge that suffering exists and that your pain is not inevitable or unchangeable. Second, one must pour out and relinquish that pain, whether vocally, poetically, through writing, or by other forms of expression; even a moan or groan. Thirdly, one must unite with others like-minded in a type of solidarity to address and alleviate the conditions that caused the suffering. Let me relay an example from our own history: consider how American workers in the early 1900s demanded the Sabbath off. Initially, they resigned themselves to grueling working conditions (“it is what it is”), but eventually, a few individuals began to voice their dissent. The suffering of one was internally acknowledged and then connected with the suffering of others; transforming the motto of “suffering alone” into a motto of “suffering together.” Over time, this unity sparked a movement that ultimately led to a physical liberation - a standardized eight-hour workday and five-day workweek. Soelle also analogizes this type of liberation to the personal ministry of Jesus Christ. She viewed his life and ministry as acts of liberation and resistance in and of itself. A ministry that worked against systems of injustice and dehumanization; Jesus Christ was at the forefront of healing the sick, feeding the hungry, advocating for the oppressed, and standing by those scorned by society. His ministry was focused and committed to stamping out the root causes of injustice, and Soelle viewed his actions as revolutionary: a complete subversion of the social, political, and religious norms of the time that aided in the continual perpetuation of exploitative practices and injustices. Jesus stood his ground physically with the lower dredges of society to remind them of their own agency in much the same way that he stands his ground spiritually with these same classes today.
Soelle delves deeper into the connection between suffering and Christian theology by asking the age-old question, “Why would a just God create suffering?” This question, a rephrasing of the problem of evil and a central theme in theodicy, is answered by Soelle in two significant ways; each way a response to the problem. First, she presents God not as the cause of suffering but as its pacifier. She illustrates this with the example of the Israelites in Egypt, where it was Pharaoh’s actions - not God’s - that caused their suffering. God, however, did intervene to save them, standing with the suffering rather than the oppressor. Second, Soelle turns to the story of Job, a guiltless man who endures great suffering at Satan’s hand while God remains absent. When Job calls out to God, he is chastised, with God asking where Job was during the creation of the Earth. This response demonstrates God’s ultimate authoritative power and humanity’s vast insignificance in contrast. Soelle relays how those positing the question of the problem of evil interpret this not as an act of divine wisdom but as one of authoritarianism. In their view, the story highlights the domineering nature of God. They cite the need for humanity to unite in strength rather than submit and resign to weakness in order for actual change to commence. Job's experience paints God as “the torturer” (her term, not mine), underscoring the tension in reconciling an all-loving God with one who allows suffering, and detailing the problem and paradox of suffering. This paradox is answered, and the tension is resolved through the concept of “the cross.” Soelle frames Jesus’ suffering in Gethsemane as the ultimate act of compassion, the ultimate understanding of pain, and the ultimate empathy. That whenever one suffers, one suffers with Jesus. That God has not abandoned those to suffer, like some believe he did to Job, but instead stands with Job in his pain. To Soelle, to suffer is to understand, to understand is to love, and to love is to empathize. This is the idea drawn by Soelle of “the suffering God.” This stands in contrast to the Reformation era's view of God as a punitive force that punishes to test, teach, and/or cleanse of sin. This view of God is less of an emotionless, authoritative entity in a realm far from us, but rather of one that is deeply relational, personal, and intimate.
Soelle also views God’s presence as not manifesting in the present like the miracles of old, as though he would step in to part the Mediterranean to suppress Mussolini’s Italy, but in the “miracles” of man, like those modern acts of solidarity, unity, resistance, and justice that led to the establishment of the workweek to free the Sabbath day, or those successful acts of resistance against the Nazis. Soelle actually cites the resistance against the Nazis multiple times as examples. She conveys this through the personal biographies of resistance members like Simone Weil, and through the letters of resistance fighters, from American soldiers to those fighting in Vichy France, who, on the verge of death, repeat the same motif of “though I may die, I live” in the same vein as Christ. Soelle recollects that Jesus’ willingness to suffer for his mission speaks to the sacrifices often needed in struggles like the resistance movements. For Soelle, the crucifixion represents not just an act of individual salvation but a profound act of solidarity with the oppressed and, even more so, a stand against injustice. Soelle also emphasizes that in Jesus, God fully enters into human suffering. The incarnation of Christ signifies God’s choice to experience the depths of human vulnerability, pain, and oppression. For Soelle, this solidarity is profound: Jesus does not eliminate suffering but shares in it, demonstrating God’s presence in the midst of human pain. Soelle also relays that the idea of God as “the torturer” is not accurate; God instead suffers with us, and through our actions, we transform that suffering into real world consequence. She views God not as a tyrant controlling human choices like others who reckon with the problem of evil do; she instead views human action as in direct accordance with the idea of free will. This also entails that the responsibility for alleviating suffering falls heavily on humanity rather than divine intervention. This co-creative relationship with God also then underscores another paradox: God empowers humans to act, but this empowerment can often feel like divine absence when suffering is not alleviated instantly, i.e., in the case of Job and those prisoners in concentration camps. The blame is not to be on God then but on the environment and people that led to the manufactured suffering, i.e., Satan in the case of Job and Pharoah in the case of the exodus. If the conditions can not be alleviated, as is the case with most “natural suffering”, we can still stand in solidarity with those who are suffering through empathy, protest, and awareness. Soelle does not perceive death as an ultimate end. Much like how Christ's passion continues to resonate with us today, the deaths of resistance fighters and those in concentration camps charge us with the responsibility to alleviate the suffering of others. Their suffering forged a path; a path that inspires us to work towards ending the suffering of others. In this manner, their suffering and deaths were far from meaningless; instead, they bestowed profound meaning upon the causes they championed.
Soelle also mentions that in the case of “natural suffering”, as opposed to manufactured suffering, we too can find solace in God. For example, Soelle references the completely blind resistance fighter Jacques Lusseyran. Lusseyran embodied both one who suffered natural and manufactured suffering. Lusseyran lost his sight at the age of seven in a school accident (natural suffering). He was supported by his parents, who treated him as a typical child despite his blindness, and this helped him accept his condition without bitterness, anger, or fear. He embraced life fully to his capability, and learned to navigate challenges with confidence rather than succumbing into fear. A fear that Lusseyran realized only caused him harm. He also experienced a “light”, an inner light, that persisted despite the physical darkness of blindness that surrounded him. This self-defined illumination allowed him to affirm life spiritually through his suffering, even during his imprisonment in a German concentration camp (manufactured suffering), where he shared his hope and positivity with those around him. Soelle noted that his fellow captives at one point requested Lusseyran’s presence because his optimism was tantamount to therapy for them. Imagine being a prisoner in a concentration camp, and requesting the presence of a blind man to elevate your spirit! Soelle highlights that while Lusseyran spoke of God, he did so in terms of a being to be loved unconditionally rather than one who gives, promises, or denies transactionally. His love for God enabled him to affirm himself and life more deeply, even in the face of indescribable suffering. For Soelle, Lusseyran’s acceptance of reality was the key to transforming it; this acceptance allowed him to share his “light” and vitality with others through empathy, even amid the horrors of the concentration camp, and it helped fuel the resistance outside of it. To Soelle, Lusseyran, like many other resistance fighters, embodied the light and spirit of Christ; a light and spirit born out of suffering to bask in empathy with us, and for us.
My critiques:
My primary critique is personal and not really a direct fault of the book itself. I came into this work expecting a broad and overarching exploration of the theology of suffering (it’s only ~200 pages, so I was overly optimistic), but what I found instead was a text that largely served to justify acts of resistance against oppression. Written in the context of post-Vietnam War and in an era of socialist activism (the 70s), the book feels like an attempt to ecclesiastically sanctify actions against oppressive structures. While I don’t necessarily oppose a perspective like this and enjoyed reading about it, the work is less about the theology of suffering in a traditional sense and more about using one’s suffering as a catalyst for addressing systemic injustices.
That being said, I found the analogization of Jesus’ ministry as inspiration for resisting injustice to be pretty compelling and deeply thought-provoking. For example, I found myself contemplating ideas from this work late at night in bed and on the road. However, I didn’t really appreciate Soelle’s characterization of God as a “torturer”, even if she was just conveying a third-party perspective. While I understand her argument that resignation in the face of suffering in the name of God can be considered meaningless, her stated framework requires diminishing God’s agency and, in turn, his omnipotence, which I find to be a significant theological trade-off, to the point where some would call it an insult to God. Soelle essentially reduces God’s role in suffering, and while this allows her to advocate for human agency and resistance, it risks diminishing divine purpose and overstating free will.
For example, Soelle’s interpretation of Job’s story and Jesus’ ministry might support the idea of God as a co-sufferer rather than a tester in a vacuum, but it becomes difficult to reconcile her framework with other biblical narratives. Stories like the continual rise and fall of the Israelites, the fall of Adam, and the trials of Joseph and Jonah clearly depict God as an active player who tests and challenges human faith. These instances suggest that suffering is sometimes divinely orchestrated, not just something endured alongside humanity. This also leads to a broader metaphysical issue: the tension between free will and determinism. Soelle’s argument hinges on the idea of human free will to explain manufactured suffering as the product of human choices. However, if God can even partially instigate suffering in his own accord (as an omnipotent deity should), her argument that God does not cause suffering begins to unravel.
If God the Father causes suffering and God the Son suffers alongside humanity, does this not suggest a paradox of a masochistic deity? It becomes even weirder because Soelle herself criticizes such a notion in her own work, yet her created framework brushes against it. In my opinion, there is an alternative view that might be simpler and more cohesive that could work: to accept that God causes all suffering, but that this suffering can serve various purposes: calling humanity to action, testing faith, or even serving as a punishment.
My understanding of this subject is actually pretty infantile, and I welcome any corrections or deeper insights from readers. These are just my initial reflections and critiques, and I understand the complexity of Soelle’s work here and her expertise. Overall, she’s a remarkable theologian, and her advocation for the straightforward idea that we should embrace suffering rather than avoid it, as well as the more complex idea that suffering serves a greater purpose in the human experience should be incorporated into mainstream theology more.
June 9, 2023
Jeg tror aldrig man bliver helt færdig med denne her, for man kan læse den igen og igen. Sölles eksistensteologi og observationer omkring lidelse, hvornår hun kategoriserer den, er yderst interessant. Sölle rammer sømmet lige på hovedet. Og den danske oversættelse "Lidelse" er skam ikke dårlig.
July 11, 2020
I love her, but I'm not sure I love this translation.
July 21, 2025
den va bra men ibland lite ersättningsteologisk oops… nu ska jag lida mer pragmatiskt framgent.
October 6, 2020
For my review, please see https://www.facebook.com/notes/ian-ja...
December 31, 2012
Worth the read if you've ever wondered why the theodicies may not be the best way to help people who've experienced extreme suffering. Well thought through examples and pertinent suggestions that should help anyone involved in pastoral work.
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December 19, 2014Very dense. Concentrated. Has very systematic moments, some of which are incisive and some of which are terrible (ill-fated infatuation with North Vietnam). Best theological treatment of extreme suffering I've ever read.
November 16, 2011
Incredible read. Soelle is at the top of 20th century theologians.
August 12, 2014
Beautiful book. Deep, thought provoking reading.
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