"Life is Hard"

There hasn’t been much to laugh about lately. In fact the only thing that seems funny at all is a perverse little humor essay that gives the reasons why life is not worth living. It lists in encyclopedic detail all the ways in which life reduces us to despair. The essay concludes, “Uncomfortable even at good moments, difficult and unfair usually, and a complete nightmare much too often, life will stubbornly resist betterment, always finding ways of being more than we can stand.”

Finally. Someone has broken the last taboo and admitted openly that life is as difficult as we secretly know it is. The relief, the dizzy, disinhibiting result of speaking the truth out loud is a pleasure; such a pleasure that life almost seems worth living again. Free from having to pretend that life should be more than it is, we discover what a joy it actually can be.

There is something to learn from this paradox. The simple truth is that life really is quite hard. The essay addresses the entire human condition in all its misery: from awareness of our own death and suffering, disappointment and loss, to the mundane and maddening tasks we face every day: “Merely trying to get a shoe off a child,” the author observes, “has been shown to release a certain chemical into the system which causes a reaction exactly opposite to what the task requires.”

Yes, life is hard and we all know it. And we spend exorbitant amounts of time covering up our struggle and assuring each other that we are fine. Most of the time, we are fine, if we leave aside the effort and the persistent undertow of dread and just take what is left. Other times, we are not fine at all. Yet we valiantly strive for upbeat presentability, ashamed, perhaps, of what we are really up against. That is one reason why it is a pleasure and a relief to say that life is hard, odd though that may seem. The truth makes us free.

Humor often shows us the truth. Despair and depression are part of everyone’s life at times. “Nine out of ten respondents,” the study cites, “… would give up completely if they knew how. The remainder also didn’t see the point of going on any longer but still clung to a slight hope for something in the mail.” At least we’ve got plenty of company.

Despair and depression are not laughing matters, of course. But refusing to mention them is far worse. Breaking through their isolation, even with humor, is a good way to begin feeling better. It helps us want to go on. It is paradoxical, but when we admit life is hard, life gets easier.

Another odd lesson from the “life is hard” essay is that once we see how much of a struggle life really is, we also see how much of it is easy. It’s a feeling we are all capable of having. The sheer joy of being alive creeps up on us. It can happen any time: even when everything is falling apart. Something shifts, just for a moment, and we realize that being alive has nothing to do with this problem or that pressure. Being alive is contingent on nothing but life itself. And when we remember that, we remember how easy life really is.

If I had to guess why I found the “life is hard” essay so funny, I would say it is because I know it is true – and also because I know it is not entirely true. Much, perhaps even most of life is hard. But not all of it. And that is why we persevere even when it is almost too much for us. Whatever that reserve is that keeps us going: whether that is hope, or faith, or waiting for the mail, it is as real as all the sorrows and disappointments we have ever known.

That is why it is inspiring to hear of each other’s triumphs over adversity, of healing and remission, of growth and transformation. Though much is hard, we can do a lot with what is left over. We don’t know how we get through it. The mystery and the joy are that we do.

First, however, we need to accept the unpleasant truth that life really is hard. Once you get used to the idea, it’s not so bad – it’s just a given, stop fighting it. Much of what passes for talk about how hard life is, is not really that at all. It’s displaced anger. Our complaints and our criticisms, our little judgments we level at ourselves and others with unnecessary regularity; our joylessness and our bitterness, are actually the failure to accept that life is hard. Once we accept that life is hard, we don’t need to take it out on each other anymore. And we can go on.

People who don’t complain, even when they deserve to, are more inspiring to the rest of us than they realize. We see how they manage somehow to live in that sliver of space that is not taken up by their difficulty. It is something to admire and remember for the time we need to do that ourselves. And that time is probably now.

I know that when the time comes for me to look back on my life, I will regret that I couldn’t enjoy myself more. Knowing that – and struggling every day against the small worries that make my life hard sometimes – helps me keep those worries in perspective. I realize that the things I worry about today I may forget by tomorrow. They are transitory, though my tendency to worry is not. It is simply how life is hard for me.

Life is hard for each of us in different ways. Beyond the anxieties and tensions we all carry with us, we are aware that catastrophes can happen and decline is inevitable. How will we live with that awareness, which grows more acute every day?

There is more than one answer to that question. First, we should do what we can to feel better. Sometimes life is harder than it is needs to be. Help is everywhere and it makes a big difference. If you believe that your life is not worth living – and there’s nothing funny about it – tell someone. Life is hard, but that is too hard.

Another answer to how we should live with our awareness that life is hard is this: What is hard is what helps us grow. I often talk about my anxiety as if it were a disability. It has been sometimes. But what equanimity I do have comes directly from having struggled with anxiety all my life. That struggle is what has helped me to grow.

Growth comes from working on what is hard for us. Qualities we seek to attain in life – courage, compassion, wisdom – always come from the honest work we do on ourselves. The work begins in those moments when life is hard for us. It continues as we learn what insights we need to change, what parts of ourselves we need to nurture, what tasks we need to undertake to live fully in the world.

Another answer to the question of how to live with the awareness that life is hard is this one: do what is hard with joy and style. You heard in the children’s story this morning that the best way to make an apple pie is the hard way. Get the flour from Italy, the eggs from France, the cinnamon from Sri Lanka, the milk from England, the salt from Jamaica, and the apples from Vermont. And if after all that work, you can’t find any vanilla ice cream – don’t worry about it.

The joy is not in the pie you make at the end. The joy is in the work to get the ingredients you need. It helps if you can be jaunty and brush up on your Italian while you do it.

The way to live with the awareness that life is hard is to live as fully as possible in every moment, whatever the task at hand or the challenge before you. The way is to accept that life is not an easy ride for anyone. The way is to laugh and share with one another how many ways it is hard to be human; and to remember the sliver of hope that is always with us even when we think we cannot find it. The way is to take what is hard and let it help us grow. And as we go about the work our life asks us to do, take a look around and see how beautiful and how interesting this life of ours can be.

The reading for this sermon comes from “Researchers Say,” an essay by Ian Frazier in the December 9, 2002 edition of The New Yorker.