Alan Hobscheid reminded me that it has been four years since my last D’var and that it was time that I gave one. Other folks, who remember the last one said "Only four years, what’s the hurry?"
Introduction
Based on Noach and Bereshit, God is an all-powerful and all-knowing creator who rewards the just and obedient and swiftly punishes the disobedient and the willful [Some obvious examples: Adam and Eve banished from the garden for eating the prohibited fruit, the destruction of life on earth for the evil doings of man, and A servant of servants shall Canaan be to his brethren (resulting from Ham’s uncovering his father’s nakedness), and the destruction of the tower of Babel (resulting from man’s hubris).] The pattern here generally seems to be one of cause and effect. Man acts badly and God punishes him. Justice is preserved in the world through God’s actions. God’s omnipotence, omniscience, justice, and mercy convey to us a sense of stability, continuity, and equilibrium. There are rules governing man’s behavior and there are mutual expectations between God and man. These are described in God’s stated expectations as in Bereshit and in the Noachian covenant. This theme continues through much of the Torah and the writings. God remembers the faithful, the righteous and the penitent. We note Hannah, Ruth, and the inhabitants of the city of Nineveh (from Jonah).
I think that most would agree whether children or adults, that the world we know diverges from the world of Bereshit and Noach. The continuity of collective and individual lives is often ripped apart by unexpected events that do not distinguish the just from the unjust and do not spare the repentant or the righteous. It often appears that the only thing we can count on is indifference. God’s hand does not appear to be in control. So we ask as did Rabbi Harold Kushner, "Why do Bad Things Happen to Good People?" and what is God’s role in it all? It is this divergence that I want to discuss today. It will spin off of several vignettes.
- When I was a young kid growing up in Riverdale, I was something of a Vilda Chaya. You wouldn’t know that looking at me now. My mother would threaten "God will punish you if you hit your little brother or embarrass the family at the restaurant or in company!" Or if I fell and skinned my knee while running away from anticipated punishment, she’d assure me that God had punished me and she would not have to do it herself. These warnings became internalized and conscience took the place of her admonitions. My behavior did improve from time-to-time. In any case, I had a sense that an all-seeing eye was examining my behavior from above. I was both impressed and puzzled that God would drop all he had to do in other corners of his universe, find apartment 3G at 3300 Netherland Avenue and administer the appropriate punishment or reward. He would not mistake me for my friend Ricky Goldstein, the pharmacist’s son, who lived on the second floor or our family for the Siegels, one flight up. In time, I found that God often did not punish me when I did something wrong although I felt he should have. Also, I was not always rewarded when I did something right.
- In the summer of 1949, my family (mother, father, brother Joel, and I) drove toward Merrick, Long Island to check on the progress of the construction of our new home. I was eight and my brother one year old at the time. We were traveling at 45 miles per hour. My mother’s scream informed us that the back door had opened and my brother had fallen out of the car. My father applied the brakes, screeching to the side of the parkway, a three-lane highway in each direction. We found Joel resting on the grassy median strip, not a scratch on him. What if my brother had not survived? What would it have been like for my parents? What would it have been like growing up in such a family? Was it a miracle that Joel survived or was it the realization of an extremely fortuitous event? The Rambam was to have said that a miracle can not result from what is impossible; rather, it informs us as to what is possible. It was a miracle. My father enveloped Joel in a bear hug. On the median strip near the Babylon Turnpike we wept.
- When I was in the middle of the fourth grade, we moved to Long Island. My parents regarded this as a step up, and the only drawback seemed to be was that you had to live on Long Island. I guess we wanted to keep up with the Joneses, the Collins, and the Crawfords. A kid down the block, Richard Waters, was a couple of years younger than me and my close friend Jonathan. A year after we met Richard, he was hit by a car while running across the street and died. Nobody I spoke to seemed to know the details. Another time, Lois Richard, a classmate, was pulled out of our fifth grade class and informed that her younger brother, Bobby, was missing. He had a history of running away from home. We later learned that he had drowned in Merrick Bay.
- In 1980, my uncle returned to his business in downtown Atlanta, surprised a burglar, and was shot and killed with his own gun. What if he had not gone in that day or went in later after the intruder had left?
- Having seen Waiting for Godot, I noted with interest the obituary of Samuel Becket, its author. I learned that once he was walking down a narrow street in Paris with his wife and another couple. Out of the darkness, a man leapt and stabbed Becket, narrowly missing his heart. Afterward, Becket visited the jail and inquired of the man: "Why did you do it?" The man’s answer: "I don’t know".
- Jack Eisner, a holocaust survivor wrote in his book The Survivor, "Why me?, Why not grandma Masha?, Why not Hela, Lutek, Mrs. Grinberg? What about Schmeel, the shoemaker?"
- Primo Levi wrote in Escape from Auschwitz, about a day in which the Germans tested the slave laborers for fitness. The unfit would be sent to the gas chambers. Inmates were asked to run a distance and were then classified by their performance and appearance. When the testing was complete and the selections made, an observant Jew in a bunk near Levi’s, loudly prayed to God thanking him for having found him worthy and saving his life. Levi found this contemptible as it was done in listening range of another despairing man, who although apparently more fit than the first, was selected.
- Rabbi Kushner’s son Aaron was born with Progeria, a genetic disease that causes rapid aging and stunts growth. It led to his death at age fifteen. The rabbi wondered if another sperm had met a different egg, perhaps the outcome would have been different.
So, why must there be misfortune? Why does it seem so random, without cause or purpose? Why would a merciful and just God not endow everyone with an optimal set of parents, longlived grand parents, equal capabilities, appearance, strength, intelligence, and good character, and the best of genes, rather than endowing these attributes in an uneven way? Why would He not prevent the slaughter of the innocent? There are many ways to address this. We may perceive God as not having some of the qualities attributed to Him; we may re-interpret His role; or we may redirect focus from cause to effect.
Contending with Inexplicable Misfortune by Perceiving God As Not Omnipotent
Rabbi Kushner concludes that God does not have all the characteristics attributed to him in Bereshit. Rather than drop justice and mercy, he drops omnipotence. There are certain things that God is not able to do. Kushner does not say that God can do anything but chooses not to for reasons of his own. He says: "No matter what stories we were taught about Daniel or Jonah in Sunday school, God does not reach down to interrupt the working of laws of nature to protect the righteous from harm." In this case it might be well to understand the relationship of God to nature in order to sort out the sovereignty of each.
Contending with Inexplicable Misfortune by Perceiving God As Not Omniscient
In this, God’s un-involvement is due to being unaware of a situation crying out for intervention. This would seem unlikely, given that he knows the future as well as the present. Indeed, He knew that Pharaoh’s heart could and would be hardened so as not to let the people go in Shmot or in Dvarim where He predicts that the Israelites would be punished because they would not adhere to the Mitzvot. Nevertheless, there are some ambiguities as described in Bereshit. We are informed that God recognized that it was good after He created light, after He separated the light from the darkness, after He separated the earth from the waters and from the heavens, after He created the herbs, and after He created the animals. An omniscient God would know this prior to these works not after them. God also appears to learn that man is wicked after the fact. "And it repented the Lord that He had made man on the earth, and it grieved him at his heart." Presumably, an omniscient God would know ahead of time that man would turn out this way.
Contending with Inexplicable Misfortune by Denying Its Paramountcy
Rabbi Kushner cites the reflection of a holocaust survivor described in the book The Faith and Doubt of Holocaust Survivors by Rabbi Brenner. "It never occurred to me to question God’s doings or lack of doings while I was an inmate of Auschwitz, although of course I understand others did. I was no less or no more religious because of what the Nazis did to us; and I was not undermined in the least. It never occurred to me to associate the calamity we were experiencing with God, to blame him, or to believe in Him less or cease believing in Him at all because He didn’t come to our aid. God does not owe us that or anything. We owe our lives to Him. If someone believes God is responsible for the death of six million because he didn’t somehow do something to save them, he’s got his thinking reversed. We owe God our lives for the few or many years we live, and we have the duty to worship Him and do as He commands us. That’s what we’re here on earth for, to be in God’s service, to do God’s bidding." This theme is certainly found in our tradition. Abraham’s willing sacrifice of Isaac in the Akedah seems in line with this. Also, in reciting the Kaddish we acknowledge God’s domain as paramount and not our reaction to loss. In reciting the Kaddish, we acknowledge, affirm, and praise not question, demand or blame. On the other hand, an argument can be raised that we should diminish the impact of God’s being a shelter and defender of his people Israel and of His alliance with those who sleep in the dust.
Contending with inexplicable misfortune by Responding to It
Our Torah is wonderfully adaptive in a prescriptive sort of way. It acknowledges that this is not the best of all possible worlds, and that we are obliged to heal it for ourselves and others. It does not say that there will not be the sick among us but rather, "Heal the infirm". It does not say that accidental death will not occur. Rather, it provides for cities of refuge for unintentional killers. It does not say that man will be created incapable of the self-loathing associated with envy. Rather, God tells Cain and us how to deal with envy. "Why is thy countenance fallen? If thou doest well, shall it not be lifted up? And if thou doest not well sin coucheth at the door; and unto thee is it’s desire, but thou mayest rule over it." It does not say that man will not fall into poverty but rather informs us as to how to respond to your brother who is waxen poor. It does not say that widowhood or orphanage do not occur in this world but what to do when they do occur.
The existence of inexplicable misfortune makes a greater impact when you are young when its repetition has not dulled the senses. If the misfortune does not directly affect you, you can only wonder about it and conclude that in this world such a thing is possible. Its existence contains mystery but with the expectation that its meaning will eventually become clear. This is not the case. In the passage of time, it remains circumstantial and inexplicable and God’s relation to it all remains inexplicable as well. God created his world in mystery and enshrouded himself in mystery and awe. We accept this condition. We also understand that from mystery comes possibility, from possibility hope and then perhaps, but not always, a rainbow.
Go home.