It seems that we have had more than the usual share of human tragedies this past year. For some religious Jews and Christians, these tragedies were a revelation of G-d's outstretched arm. Nonetheless, for many others, rather than bolster their faith, these calamities only brought about confusion and doubt.
Much has been written on the appropriate theological responses to the specific tragedies of the past year (see, for example, God, Gush Katif and New Orleans (TTP-182)). In retrospect, however, what concerns me now is one of the broader issues raised by our response to the suffering of the past year, specifically modern man's growing intolerance for things not happening the way he would like.
As history moves forward, the average man has a better and better chance to live a relatively healthy and long life. At the same time that man has moved forward in this regard, he seems to find what is out of his control to be less and less acceptable. Bertrand Russell once wrote to the effect that he found it difficult to accept a G-d who lets little children suffer. This sentiment is echoed by many people, who simply tell us that they have "problems with G-d." One may wonder why such a G-d was acceptable before Russell et al. came along and told us otherwise. After all, the tremendous suffering that most ancient and medieval people endured did not seem to shake their faith one iota. They accepted their lot as the will of G-d, who had a right to impose His will even when it wasn't to the liking of mortal men.
So what has changed? No doubt we have become more able to work with the natural world and harness it to our benefit, but from a theological perspective, that doesn't give us any more right to expect G-d to mimic our work and remove all natural calamities from the world.
Not only were classical religions aware of human suffering, they saw it as an intrinsic and necessary part of G-d's plan. Granted, theologians had to devote much thought to come to terms with how suffering should fit into the plan. The difference between them and modern Man, whom Russell represents so well, is whether man has to fit his understanding of the world to G-d or whether man feels he has the right to fit G-d into man's understanding of the world.
It is important to note that classical religions' acceptance of G-d's prerogative to bring about, or at least allow for, human suffering does not necessarily indicate passivity as a response. Indeed, the Jewish approach to suffering is anything but passive, teaching us that we should try to alleviate as much suffering as we can. Still, classical Judaism completely accepts that the final outcome of any and all situations is, by right, ultimately in G-d's hands. As a result, one of the first prescribed rituals that a Jew must do when he mourns is called Tzidduk HaDin, acknowledging the correctness of G-d's ways, even when they are not emotionally what we would like.
On some levels, modern Man's attitude towards G-d represents a rebellion similar to that of the builders of the Tower of Babel, who, according to one explanation, wanted to physically prevent G-d from being able to launch another flood. On the face of it, we could wonder what was wrong with what they did. After all, they were only trying to use the tools G-d gave them to improve their lives. Since Man's trying to better his lot is viewed as part of G-d's own plan, it is difficult to construe this as a rebellion. Rather, the rebellion had little to do with their actions and everything to do with their attitude. The men of Babel were not responding to a random natural disaster. They knew that G-d had made a conscious decision to punish mankind with the earlier flood and it was this power that they wanted to take away from Him. Thus, the question at hand was whether Man or G-d has the ultimate right to determine human events. Indeed, Russell expresses how modern man has reverted to the arrogance of Babel, an arrogance that claims the right to determine what type of G-d is acceptable and what type is not.
A most valuable reminder of proper theological thinking came a few years back, after Nachson Wachsman, z.l., was murdered by terrorists. During the few days from the time he was abducted to the time he was killed, an unprecedented mass prayer campaign was organized on his behalf. After the murder, his parents were asked why G-d didn't listen to all of the prayers. The heroically correct response of the Wachsman family was that He certainly did hear the prayers, but that sometimes His answer to our requests is "no".
We certainly have a religious duty to alleviate suffering in the world and to comfort those whose suffering we cannot stop. At the same time, we must be careful to know the difference between sympathy with people in pain and audacity to think that we know better than G-d how to run the world.
Much has been written on the appropriate theological responses to the specific tragedies of the past year (see, for example, God, Gush Katif and New Orleans (TTP-182)). In retrospect, however, what concerns me now is one of the broader issues raised by our response to the suffering of the past year, specifically modern man's growing intolerance for things not happening the way he would like.
As history moves forward, the average man has a better and better chance to live a relatively healthy and long life. At the same time that man has moved forward in this regard, he seems to find what is out of his control to be less and less acceptable. Bertrand Russell once wrote to the effect that he found it difficult to accept a G-d who lets little children suffer. This sentiment is echoed by many people, who simply tell us that they have "problems with G-d." One may wonder why such a G-d was acceptable before Russell et al. came along and told us otherwise. After all, the tremendous suffering that most ancient and medieval people endured did not seem to shake their faith one iota. They accepted their lot as the will of G-d, who had a right to impose His will even when it wasn't to the liking of mortal men.
So what has changed? No doubt we have become more able to work with the natural world and harness it to our benefit, but from a theological perspective, that doesn't give us any more right to expect G-d to mimic our work and remove all natural calamities from the world.
Not only were classical religions aware of human suffering, they saw it as an intrinsic and necessary part of G-d's plan. Granted, theologians had to devote much thought to come to terms with how suffering should fit into the plan. The difference between them and modern Man, whom Russell represents so well, is whether man has to fit his understanding of the world to G-d or whether man feels he has the right to fit G-d into man's understanding of the world.
It is important to note that classical religions' acceptance of G-d's prerogative to bring about, or at least allow for, human suffering does not necessarily indicate passivity as a response. Indeed, the Jewish approach to suffering is anything but passive, teaching us that we should try to alleviate as much suffering as we can. Still, classical Judaism completely accepts that the final outcome of any and all situations is, by right, ultimately in G-d's hands. As a result, one of the first prescribed rituals that a Jew must do when he mourns is called Tzidduk HaDin, acknowledging the correctness of G-d's ways, even when they are not emotionally what we would like.
On some levels, modern Man's attitude towards G-d represents a rebellion similar to that of the builders of the Tower of Babel, who, according to one explanation, wanted to physically prevent G-d from being able to launch another flood. On the face of it, we could wonder what was wrong with what they did. After all, they were only trying to use the tools G-d gave them to improve their lives. Since Man's trying to better his lot is viewed as part of G-d's own plan, it is difficult to construe this as a rebellion. Rather, the rebellion had little to do with their actions and everything to do with their attitude. The men of Babel were not responding to a random natural disaster. They knew that G-d had made a conscious decision to punish mankind with the earlier flood and it was this power that they wanted to take away from Him. Thus, the question at hand was whether Man or G-d has the ultimate right to determine human events. Indeed, Russell expresses how modern man has reverted to the arrogance of Babel, an arrogance that claims the right to determine what type of G-d is acceptable and what type is not.
A most valuable reminder of proper theological thinking came a few years back, after Nachson Wachsman, z.l., was murdered by terrorists. During the few days from the time he was abducted to the time he was killed, an unprecedented mass prayer campaign was organized on his behalf. After the murder, his parents were asked why G-d didn't listen to all of the prayers. The heroically correct response of the Wachsman family was that He certainly did hear the prayers, but that sometimes His answer to our requests is "no".
We certainly have a religious duty to alleviate suffering in the world and to comfort those whose suffering we cannot stop. At the same time, we must be careful to know the difference between sympathy with people in pain and audacity to think that we know better than G-d how to run the world.