(A) 3…2…1… and the anesthesia wears off. A nearly rabid dog who has just come out of surgery, is in pain, and ready to bite the arm off of anyone who comes near. That dog is me. I listen to angry heavy metal music when I drive, and speed often. Rabbi Harry Kushner wrote a book called When Bad Things Happen to Good People. I have not read that book, and probably should do so before I comment on it; however, today I am going to be lazy and just recite what I remember of Kushner’s summary of his book from a t.v. interview I once watched in a Spiritual Disciplines class taught by Charles Nienkirchen. In that interview, Kushner explained that he wrote his book after his son died prematurely of a very painful and debilitating disease, which caused physical and emotional suffering that seemed entirely out of proportion to any wrong-doing by Kushner’s son or Kushner himself. Kushner noted that after the loss of his son he extensively studied the book of Job. Job is about a righteous man (named Job) who experienced every kind of suffering known to man while being tested by God, but was ultimately restored. Kushner rejected that book. As he put it, “There’s no way to replace loved ones you’ve lost with new ones. God’s gift of a new family to Job did not, and could not, make up for the family God had taken from him.” Kushner’s revelation on the problem of pain was thus that some things God does are inexplicable to the human mind and you just have to choose to forgive God for perceived injustice. I reject that thesis. I can’t believe in a God who is imperfect and makes unholy mistakes that I have to forgive, just as I can’t believe in a God who is so wimpy that he wants to do good but just isn’t powerful enough to do it. I also have way too much solid theological training and too many direct experiences of God’s goodness and power to convince myself that God is evil, unengaged, or non-existent. And so I am stuck in a world where the only true happiness, the only real purpose or meaning to be found is to be a worshiping and obedient creature of my creator, and I don’t particularly want to be such right now.
I try to read C. S. Lewis’ Surprised by Joy and The Problem of Pain. I can only read very short pieces before I get too angry, because it says reproachful things to me like, “I have no other good to give you”. I persist because Lewis repeatedly admits that much of what he has to say is simply based on Christian theological teaching and he has as hard a time following his own writing as anyone who is bound to read it. I don’t understand why God would make my sweet, loving mother suffer so much, or take her so early from a world that needs to experience her kind of warm acceptance and love. A Small Voice asks me who I am, that I demand to never know the pain of loss like every other human being ever born on broken Earth. The small voice also condescends to point out the blessings that I received which are not given to all who suffer similar losses: memories of a mother uncomplicated by abuse, anger, or bitterness; a large family that pulled together in their grief; a supportive husband who doesn’t smother me, but gets me to laugh as needed; financial stability and a positive work environment that allows me to take the time I need to myself; the assurance that some day I will get to see my mother again, alive and whole and full of joy. I tell that voice to Fuck Off. Unfortunately, I don’t believe that is a prayer recommended or sanctioned anywhere in the Bible. I instantly regret it. (B) The image of King Saul, surrounded by demons that torment his mind, abandoned by the Spirit of God, comes to mind and leaves me feeling cold.
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