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Thursday, March 31, 2005 | return to: torah


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God’s silence amid tragedy doesn’t mean we should be silent

by rabbi stephen s. pearce

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Shemini
Shabbat Parah
Leviticus 9:1-11:47
Numbers 19:1-22
Ezekiel 36:16-38






The December tsunami, described by the media as being "of biblical proportions," destroyed the homes and lives of thousands. Reacting to this catastrophe, many reasoned that if they were God, they would have sent armies of angels to gently carry to safety those in harm's way or they would have prevented the earthquake that launched the huge surging waves. But these are difficult times for those who believe in a benevolent loving God.

Natural disasters as well as man-made calamities lead a student of the Torah to wonder how it is possible to believe in a benevolent, omnipotent God in a world in which innocent people often suffer and evil individuals are rewarded, especially in light of the untimely tragic deaths of Aaron's sons, Nadab and Abihu, chronicled in Shemini, this week's Torah portion. Furthermore, the Haftarah that normally accompanies Shemini records another seemingly undeserved death: When King David transferred the Holy Ark to Jerusalem, the oxen pulling the ark stumbled. Uzzah, an innocent bystander, touched the Ark in an attempt to steady it and immediately died.

These indefensible actions focus attention on the notion of theodicy, which asks the question: "Is it possible to affirm that God is both good and omnipotent, given the existence of evil in the world?" More recently, Archibald MacLeish framed this issue in his play "J.B.": "If God is God He is not good, if God is good He is not God, take the even, take the odd."

From this vantage point, it is necessary to abandon a belief either in God's power or goodness, a theme that dominates biblical writing. For example, unable to understand why God would destroy the innocent along with the evil inhabitants of Sodom and Gomorrah, Abraham asked, "Will the Judge of the earth not deal justly?" (Gen. 18:25)

Later, Job (13:24) offered the plaintive challenge: "Why do you hide Your face and treat me like an enemy?" The Talmud offers an even more troubling illustration: A child was sent up a ladder by his father and asked to chase away a mother bird before taking the eggs from her nest. Though perfectly innocent, he died in a fall while fulfilling the multiple mitzvot of obeying a parent and not taking fledglings in the presence of their mother. (Kiddushin 39a)

In general, Judaism does not offer lame excuses to explain why God allows evil. Nor does it disconnect God from evil or rely on some other kind of theological framework to justify God's action. To do so would rationalize and thereby diminish the scope of tragedy. Nevertheless, God's silence in the face of evil is also not meant to give us permission to be silent.

Even when absent, the divine voice must speak through us. Judaism requires human action to shatter the silence, to prevent evil where ever possible, to infuse it with words of comfort and hope and a message of courage and determination. God's silence cannot excuse our silence. That is why "The Gates of Prayer," the Reform prayerbook, admonishes worshippers: "Pray as if everything depends on God; act as if everything depends on you."

We cannot explain or prevent tsunamis or earthquakes, but we can work on correcting distasteful occurrences and healing the hurts that confront us daily. We do this by rooting them out and fixing a world in which God seems absent. That is why each year on Yom Kippur, we are reminded of a litany of evils. We not only should ask for forgiveness for committing them but also resist future temptations.

Shemini serves as a reminder that although Aaron was silent upon learning the news of the death of his two sons, his silence was followed by a new determination to continue serving God, thereby providing a model for dealing with unanticipated tragedy: When grief-stricken, the courageous response is to eradicate evil, comfort those touched by heartache and develop a faith that is even stronger than before. There is no protection against tragedy, but Judaism teaches how to live with it and not lose faith.




Stephen S. Pearce is senior rabbi at the Reform Congregation Emanu-El in San Francisco.


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