It is precisely at those moments of natural disaster that we are most likely to question our faith in God. Five years ago, we witnessed Hurricane Katrina and the Southeast Asian Tsunami, and in the past several weeks, the severe earthquakes in Haiti and Chile. The question often goes: If there is a God, why do such disasters exist?
In the wake of the disaster in Haiti, we heard how some self-appointed spokesmen for God blamed the earthquake on how the people of that small nation sold their souls to the devil during their successful slave revolt more than a century ago. Those who are religious readers of James Carroll’s Monday columns in the Boston Globe (http://tinyurl.com/yglmmml) would see how effectively that argument can be disposed of from the perspective of a devout and thoughtful Catholic. This subject ties in well to a passage in this week’s Torah reading for a Jewish perspective.
The question of theodicy - the existence of evil in a world created by a benevolent God, is one of the oldest and most complex questions. At the end of the day, there can be no clear cut answer, for faith with safety nets loses its existential nature, and thus becomes less faith and more a matter of fact. Faith exists only in an environment where the most difficult questions are possible, sometimes even necessary. For the person of deep faith, the question “Why?” becomes a prayer, a search for understanding, and not a refutation of the divine will
At the time of Katrina and the Tsunami, my friend, Rabbi Nechemia Schusterman, taught an important lesson that stems from this week’s parasha. Moshe stands before God following the incident of the Golden Calf, engaged in a lengthy defense of Israel after its engagement in idolatry. Hashem is poised to “withdraw” from Israel, allowing them to go on with Moshe and a yet to be named angel to guide the way. Moshe bargains with Hashem, who agrees to take the lead. Moshe then asks Hashem:
וַיֹּאמַר הַרְאֵנִי נָא אֶת־כְּבֹדֶךָ: וַיֹּאמֶר אֲנִי אַעֲבִיר כָּל־טוּבִי עַל־פָּנֶיךָ וְקָרָאתִי בְשֵׁם ה’ לְפָנֶיךָ וְחַנֹּתִי אֶת־אֲשֶׁר אָחֹן וְרִחַמְתִּי אֶת־אֲשֶׁר אֲרַחֵם: וַיֹּאמֶר לֹא תוּכַל לִרְאֹת אֶת־פָּנָי כִּי לֹא־יִרְאַנִי הָאָדָם וָחָי: וַיֹּאמֶר ה’ הִנֵּה מָקוֹם אִתִּי וְנִצַּבְתָּ עַל־הַצּוּר: וְהָיָה בַּעֲבֹר כְּבֹדִי וְשַׂמְתִּיךָ בְּנִקְרַת הַצּוּר וְשַׂכֹּתִי כַפִּי עָלֶיךָ עַד־עָבְרִי: וַהֲסִרֹתִי אֶת־כַּפִּי וְרָאִיתָ אֶת־אֲחֹרָי וּפָנַי לֹא יֵרָאוּ: פ
And [Moshe] said: Show me your glory. He [Hashem] replied: “I will cause all My goodness to pass before you, and I will proclaim The Name before you, the grace that I grant and the compassion that I bestow.” [Hashem] added: “You will be unable to see My Face, for man cannot see Me and live.” Hashem said: “There is a place with Me; you will stand on that rock; when My Glory passes by, I will place you in the cleft of the rock, and I will shield you with My Hand until I have passed by. I will then remove My Hand, and you will see My Back, but My Face shall not be seen. (Ex. 33:18-23)
What exactly is going on here? R. Nechemia explained that Moshe was not asking for merely a visual, but something much deeper. What Moshe sought was to understand the very essence of theodicy, something so large and unfathomable that it is beyond the pale of human understanding. The key to this passage is in the the word צור, which means rock, but is also a strait, a siege, and trouble. In placing Moshe in the cleft in the rock, בנקרת הצור, He is placing him in the troubled space that so many have experienced throughout time. Hashem prevents Moshe from seeing the Divine Presence as it passes by while Moshe remains in that dire strait; it is only after He has passed, only in retrospect, that he may be able to see and understand some sense of what has occurred.
Tanakh offers us a few stunning examples like this one of those seeking a direct understanding of how Hashem allows bad things to happen. A notable example comes from the story of Elijah:
וַיָּבֹא־שָׁם אֶל־הַמְּעָרָה וַיָּלֶן שָׁם וְהִנֵּה דְבַר־ה’ אֵלָיו וַיֹּאמֶר לוֹ מַה־לְּךָ פֹה אֵלִיָּהוּ: וַיֹּאמֶר קַנֹּא קִנֵּאתִי לַה’ | אֱלֹהֵי צְבָאוֹת כִּי־עָזְבוּ בְרִיתְךָ בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל אֶת־מִזְבְּחֹתֶיךָ הָרָסוּ וְאֶת־נְבִיאֶיךָ הָרְגוּ בֶחָרֶב וָאִוָּתֵר אֲנִי לְבַדִּי וַיְבַקְשׁוּ אֶת־נַפְשִׁי לְקַחְתָּהּ: וַיֹּאמֶר צֵא וְעָמַדְתָּ בָהָר לִפְנֵי ה’ וְהִנֵּה ה’ עֹבֵר וְרוּחַ גְּדוֹלָה וְחָזָק מְפָרֵק הָרִים וּמְשַׁבֵּר סְלָעִים לִפְנֵי ה’ לֹא בָרוּחַ ה’ וְאַחַר הָרוּחַ רַעַשׁ לֹא בָרַעַשׁ ה’: וְאַחַר הָרַעַשׁ אֵשׁ לֹא בָאֵשׁ ה’ וְאַחַר הָאֵשׁ קוֹל דְּמָמָה דַקָּה: וַיְהִי | כִּשְׁמֹעַ אֵלִיָּהוּ וַיָּלֶט פָּנָיו בְּאַדַּרְתּוֹ ...
[Eliyahu] came to the cave and stayed there. Then, the word of Hashem came to him and asked: Eliyahu, why are you here? [Eliyahu] said: I have been extremely zealous for Hashem, God of the Hosts, for Israel has despised Your covenant, they have destroyed your altars and killed your prophets by the sword, and now I am left alone, and they seek to take my life. And He said: Go out and stand on the mountain before Hashem. Hashem passed by, and there was a great and mighty wind, splitting mountains and shattering rocks before Hashem - but Hashem was not in the wind. After the wind, an earthquake - but Hashem was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake, a fire - but Hashem was not in the fire. After the fire, there was a soft, quiet voice. When Eliyahu heard this, he covered his face in his mantle... (1K 19: 9-13)
A brief recap of Elijah’s story is in order: Elijah prophesied during the reign of Ahab. Ahab was a powerful and ruthless king, known along with his quen Jezebel for their pagan excesses and moral lapses. Elijah had prophesied a drought that lasted 3 years, bringing the land to a standstill, one that ended only with the contest between him and the four hundred fifty prophets of Ba’al on Mount Carmel. After the prophets of Ba’al had lost the contest, Elijah had the prophets seized and killed. Now, Elijah’s life was in danger, and he fled into the desert, going as far as Horeb, which we also know as Mount Sinai, the scene of the drama in this week’s parasha. Elijah was one of the few prophets of Hashem who escaped massacre at the hands of Jezebel, and he had good reason to take the threat on his life seriously. His fear and frustration is evident in this chapter: where is God amidst all this evil? In this laconic passage, we can imagine Elijah standing where Moshe stood, witnessing the passing of destructive forces, of wind, earthquake, and fire, but Hashem is not discernible in any of these. Hashem becomes apparent only afterwards, in the most subtle manner imaginable: the קול דממה דקה, the still, small voice, the one that we can hear only if our ears, hearts, and minds are tuned in to it.
Hashem’s answer to Elijah’s troubled protest is to go back and do what he has to do.
Where can Hashem be found in disaster? Hashem can be found among those who go and do, who heed the still, small voice of Godliness, who show compassion and caring by opening their hearts, those who give of what they have, those who pick themselves up from the comforts of home and help those who have nothing to give in return.
We cannot hope to understand why tragedy takes place in a world created by a good God. As God begins His long response to Job, He asks:
אֵיפֹה הָיִיתָ בְּיָסְדִי־אָרֶץ הַגֵּד אִם־יָדַעְתָּ בִינָֽה׃
Where were you when I laid the Earth’s foundations? Speak if you have understanding! (Jb 38: 4)
Some things are beyond our comprehension. That does not mean that we cannot ask the question “Why?” We can ask why, in the hope that we will, at some point, be privileged with some understanding, howbeit incomplete. And in looking at it from this perspective, asking why becomes not a protest, but a prayer.
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