If you haven’t read the book,
I’m certain you’ve heard the title. It’s called, “When bad things happen to
good people,” written by Rabbi Harold Kushner. Rabbi Kushner is a prominent conservative American
Rabbi who served Temple Israel in Natick, MA for over 24 years.
A Rabbi, much like a pastor or priest, guru or imam, elder or minister, is exposed to some of the worst tragedies in life: Car accidents. House Fires. Hurricane, tornado, flooding or snow damage. Cancer, strokes, heart attacks or long-term debilitating illnesses. Alcohol or drug addiction or domestic violence or abuse. Death.
And, when any of these catastrophes involve a child, the probability automatically increased that someone will raise an angry fist to heaven and cry out, “Why?” Why now? Why me? Why my child? Why not me, instead?”
The answer often provided by good, well-intended Christians, many of them ordained, has included, “It was God’s plan.” Or, “You (s/he) don’t deserve this.” Or, “Heaven needed another angel.” Or, “God would never give you more suffering than you can bear.”
Rabbi Kushner tells the story of one of his parishioners whose young daughter was gravely ill in the hospital. She was naturally bereft and wailed at her Rabbi, “It’s all my fault. All of my daughter’s suffering! It’s my fault.”
“How can that be?” asked the Rabbi.
“Well,” said the near-hysterical woman, “everyone always says that God never gives you more suffering than you can bear. Don’t you see? I’m too strong. If I weren’t this strong, God would not be testing me. God is causing my daughter to suffer to test my faith. My daughter is suffering because of me.”
Rabbi Kushner writes, “I have
seen some people made noble and sensitive through suffering, but I have seen
many more people grow cynical and bitter. I have seen people become jealous of
those around them, unable to take part in the routines of normal living."
"I have
seen cancers and automobile accidents take the life of one member of a family,
and functionally end the lives of five others, who could never again be the normal,
cheerful people they were before disaster struck."
"If God is testing us, He must
know by now that many of us fail the test. If He is only giving us the burdens
we can bear, I have seen Him miscalculate far too often.”
Jesus is very clear that the Galatians suffered, not because they were worse people than others.
He assures us that there is limitless forgiveness and patience in Christ once we awaken to and acknowledge that we have strayed and then return to the right path. Bad stuff happens to good people. That is not in God’s control. What’s important to know in this life is that grace is abundant and free and available – at all times – but especially in times of need and trouble.
I might already have told you the story of my grieving grandmother, shortly after the very sudden and unexpected death of my grandfather. She was in the rocking chair in her parlor – the room that was just outside the living room. The room that was always closed and always very cold. The room with every piece of upholstered furniture was covered in plastic and everything smelled vaguely like moth balls. Maybe your family had a room like that.
Anyway, she was in the parlor, rocking rhythmically in her rocking chair in time to her wailing in her grief as was appropriate and proper for a Portuguese/Azorean woman of her generation. “Oh, God,” she cried out, “Oh God, why did you strike him down? He was such a good man. A good provider for his wife and children. Why did you take him? Why not take me?”
And suddenly, we heard a loud TWACK, and just like that, she was sitting on the floor in the midst of her broken rocking chair. She and the whole family were struck silent in our shock, only to be suddenly roused back by hearing her say to God, “I didn’t mean it! I didn’t mean it!”
Rabbi Kushner writes, “If we want to be able to pick up the pieces of our lives and go on living, we have to get over the irrational feeling that every misfortune is our fault, the direct result of our mistakes or misbehavior. We are really not that powerful. Not everything that happens in the world is our doing.”
That’s a very hard lesson to learn. Some of us who grew up in large, dysfunctional families, grow up believing that everything IS our fault. I remember clearly the day my spiritual director sat patiently listening to me as I wailed about one situation or another that I felt was my fault.
She sighed and said, “Again? Another something you messed up? That’s really your problem, you know?”
“What? I asked.
“You think everything is your fault,” she smiled wryly. You have never really forgiven yourself for starting the Vietnam War, have you?” I looked at her and suddenly realized that she was exaggerating to make a point, and I started to laugh with her.
“There’s a fine but distinct
line,” she said, “between the importance of taking responsibility for your
mistakes and thinking everything is your fault. Here’s the thing,” she said, “You
are not that powerful. No one is. Not everything that happens in the world is
our doing.”
“When you have been hurt by life, it may be hard to keep that in mind. When you
are standing very close to a large object, all you can see is the object. Only
by stepping back from it can you also see the rest of its setting around it.
When we are stunned by some tragedy, we can only see and feel the tragedy. Only
with time and distance can we see the tragedy in the context of a whole life
and a whole world.” (Kushner)
Lent is a time to take that step back, to see the larger picture, to enter into the discernment process of choosing that for which we must take responsibility and that for which we can neither take, nor assign, blame.
Rabbi Kushner reminds us that “Pain is the price we pay for being alive. Dead
cells—our hair, our fingernails—can’t feel pain; they cannot feel anything.
When we understand that, our question will change from, “Why do we have to feel
pain?” to “What do we do with our pain so that it becomes meaningful and not
just pointless empty suffering?” He continues:
Are you capable of forgiving and accepting in love a world which has
disappointed you by not being perfect, a world in which there is so much
unfairness and cruelty, disease and crime, earthquake and accident? Can you
forgive its imperfections and love it because it is capable of containing great
beauty and goodness, and because it is the only world we have?
Are you capable of forgiving and loving the people around you, even if they
have hurt you and let you down by not being perfect? Can you forgive them and
love them, because there aren't any perfect people around, and because the
penalty for not being able to love imperfect people is condemning oneself to
loneliness?
And if you can do these things, will you be able to recognize that the ability
to forgive and the ability to love are the weapons God has given us to enable
us to live fully, bravely and meaningfully in this less-than-perfect world?”
I will leave you with an old Chinese tale about the woman whose only son had
died. In her grief, she went to the holy man and said, 'What prayers, what
magical incantations do you have to bring my son back to life?'
Instead of sending her away or reasoning with her, he said to her, 'Fetch me a mustard seed from a home that has never known sorrow. We will use it to drive the sorrow out of your life.'
The woman set off at once in search of that magical mustard seed. She came first to a splendid mansion, knocked at the door and said, 'I am looking for a home that has never known sorrow. Is this such a place? It is very important to me.' They told her 'You've certainly come to the wrong place,' and began to describe all the tragic things that had recently befallen them.
The woman said to herself, 'Who is better able to help these poor unfortunate people than I, who have had misfortune of my own?' She stayed to comfort them, then went on in her search for a home that had never known sorrow.
But wherever she turned, hovels and in palaces, she found one tale after another of sadness and misfortune. Ultimately, she became so involved in ministering to other people's grief that she forgot about her quest for the magical mustard seed, never realizing that it had in fact driven the sorrow out of her life.”
As we move deeper into Lent, I wish you the journey of that woman in search of the magical mustard seed to drive the sorrow out of her life. For, as Jesus told us, all you need is faith the size of a mustard seed and you can move mountains of doubt and fear and pain. Nothing will be impossible for you.
Amen.
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