Post by Fr David Neuhaus SJ | 14 August 2026
To a friend who is suffering…
A close friend of mine, a Catholic priest in Latin America, showed me a letter he had sent to a friend. His friend had been stricken with illness at the very time that he had just lost his grandmother and was supporting his mother in her struggle with cancer. What can one say in these circumstances?
“To my dear friend, I am not going to try to explain why so many things have happened to you at once. As an avid reader of the Bible, I can tell you that the Bible, honestly, does not always offer an explanation, although I am certain that there is something to be discovered there. For example, Job cried out in his suffering, asking over and over again why? The great prophet Elijah told God he could not take it anymore. From my experience as a priest, I can tell you that it is valid to cry out, to complain. Even the great Simon Peter, the man Jesus would call the Rock, ended up sinking and crying out, “Lord, save me.” It is valid to cry out for help, my friend.
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Therefore, if you feel like Job right now, you can speak to God as Job did. If you are exhausted like Elijah was, you can say, “Enough!” And if you feel yourself sinking like Peter did, indeed shout, “Lord, save me!”
Elijah had just witnessed God’s spectacular manifestation on Mount Carmel: fire, rain, and victory over God’s enemies. But shortly afterward, he was alone, feeling defeated, and longing for death. And yet, God did not abandon him. Although God is God, the divine manifestation was not as Elijah might have expected it. On Mount Horeb, God was not present to Elijah in the hurricane, in the earthquake, or in the fire, but in that paradoxical “sound of fine silence”. God may not be present in power right now, but God is… where God is? Only you can discover where that might be.
Perhaps you are on your own Horeb now, lonely, in pain, suffering. And the terrible thing about Horeb is that one can mistake God’s silence for God’s absence or perceive it as immeasurable distance. But do not be mistaken. Silence is also a message.
Think of Peter. The wind was already blowing, perhaps even howling, when he began to walk on the water. Jesus was there and had called him. Peter was walking, and then, when Jesus was still there, Peter began to sink… Jesus is there, but fear drags us down and makes us forget that our Lord is right in front of us.
My dear friend, if Peter, the Rock, sank, do not be ashamed if you too are sinking a little. Faith is not about always being calm on the boat; it is about simply being in the midst of the wind and the sea. When Peter could no longer hold on, he cried out, “Lord, save me,” and then he discovered that there was a hand capable of holding him up. The hand is there, my friend! Yes, the hand is always there.
I don’t know when your storm will calm. And as a friend, I do not want to make false promises in God’s name, pretending when God has not promised me anything. I can only gently remind you: before the wind calms, Christ is already walking on the sea.
On Carmel, God was in the fire. On Horeb, God was in the silence. On the lake, God was in the middle of the storm. Alongside you! That is why, my friend, even if you cannot recognize how God is manifesting Godself now, don’t mistake the silence for absence.
And if you cannot walk on the water today, do not walk. If you can only shout, shout. And if you cannot even shout, let those of us who love you shout for you. The Gospel does not say that Peter managed to save himself by clinging tighter to Jesus, but rather that Jesus reached out his hand and caught him.
The image on this blog is a photo of a painting that was gifted to me by a dear friend. She is a Lebanese religious who comes from a village in south Lebanon, in the midst of a war zone. For more than twenty years she has been working among the Christian Palestinians in northern Israel.