In crisis, the wrong question to ask is, "What have I done to deserve this?" The right one is, "What am I now being summoned to do?" Each of us has a task. Every life has a purpose. We can bear the pain of the past when we discover the future we are called on to make.

Seeing the world through Buddha's eyes is the work of a lifetime, one that constantly needs to be renewed at every life stage and in every societal circumstance.

If God is so Great, why can't He just create a world without any pain whatsoever? I don't want people to stop talking to God. I'm not even angry at God for something terrible like cancer. I just want people to think.

Every senseless, horrific act of violence brings up the question of good vs. evil, and when you read that children have died by violence there's even more reason to shudder and doubt.

My heart is breaking. I wept when I heard of the bombs in Boston. My heart had been celebrating before the news, but even that joy is tinged with sorrow.

The final week in Jesus' life included especially great depths and heights: He faced a dark night of the soul in Gethsemane, a torturous cross and, ultimately, a glorious resurrection. Identifying with Jesus in His journey keeps us focused and faithful in ours.

We experience ourselves as so very real and distinct, and we are so consumed by desire, that the notion that it is all empty is just confusing. But impermanence is actually a wonderful thing.

I encourage patients to continue seeking spiritual support from their pastor or spiritual director and continue finding solace in the Scriptures. Spiritual exercises and practices are perfectly compatible with things like taking a medication and going to psychotherapy. They can all work hand in hand.

Not only does God stand with those who are suffering. God also stands with those who are suffering and cannot return the favor. Whether I could drag myself to church made not one iota of difference to this solidarity.

As I left church following yesterday's service, my heart was filled to overflowing with gratitude and joy. By Monday morning the warm glow of joy and celebration was only a memory as I looked at my schedule and my longer than normal to do list.

I now find myself regularly confronted with that question I so dreaded as a surgeon: Why did my child die? Though it is asked every day, in every part of the world, by people of countless different faiths, it is a question that for Christians comes into especially sharp focus on Easter.

Over the next week, tens of millions of people will do something so familiar it's easy to forget how radical it is: They will commemorate the worst moments of their past. What rightful people put their most ignoble days at the heart of their identity? The answer: a people that wants to survive.

Great stories make us feel as though we are not alone, and these stories offer us the opportunity to enter into stories of great suffering -- and to cultivate the fervent belief that suffering will somehow, someday, pass.

Any attempts to infuse suffering with rich meaning shows callous indifference to the heartache of fellow humans. Suffering does not leave us ennobled but broken, morose and bitter.