"Why do bad things happen to good people?"
This ancient question is built upon a number of unspoken axioms. Without positing the following three attributes about God, the inquirer really has no question.
God must be:
1) all good,
2) all knowing,
3) all powerful.
If you remove any one of these attributes, the question disappears.
If God isn't all good, He can do evil and even enjoy inflicting pain. Is there any wonder why bad things happen to good people?
If God isn't omniscient, bad things occur because He doesn't know everything that is going on in the world. If He knew about it, He would certainly put a stop to it.
If God isn't omnipotent, bad things happen because there are forces in the world beyond God’s control. Diseases and natural disasters are too mighty for God. We can only call God to task for events that are in His hands.
If one believes in an omnipotent Being who is all good and all knowing, then the question "Why do bad things happen to good people?" poses a real challenge. Our goal is trying to reach some kind of understanding of suffering without removing one of these three essential characteristics of God.
While paying a shiva call to a friend who lost her mother to leukemia, I witnessed a young student launch into a detailed explanation of Judaism’s philosophical approach to suffering. I sat there squirming in my seat, looking for a natural break in his dissertation to change the topic. My friend occasionally nodded politely, but inside the student’s words cut like daggers.
When someone asks, "Why me, God?", we need to discern if she is asking a philosophical question or letting out an emotional cry. A philosophical question is a request for clarity and warrants an intellectual reply. However if her words are an expression of emotional anguish, any rational explanation is worse than irrelevant, it’s downright insensitive and cruel. An expression of pain requires empathy, not answers; silence, not words. My friend, while in the midst of experiencing profound loss, had no interest in hearing a philosophy lecture.
This chapter takes a decidedly intellectual approach to the question of suffering, speaking more to the left side of the brain than to the right. The emotional turmoil inherent in suffering is not our presentfocus. The following philosophical approaches are not meant to be tidy answers to one of life’s most profound issues. They require the ongoing dedication to wrestle with them, striving to assimilate them into the daily fabric of our lives.
Is it only in the aftermath of the Holocaust that we are justified in questioning God's fairness? Or after the death of a baby? Just how much pain must occur to legitimately raise the question "Why do bad things happen to good people?" The Talmud gives the example of a person who reaches into his pocket with the intention of getting a coin and instead pulls out a smaller coin. Forced to reach into his pocket a second time, he experiences minor discomfort. The Talmud declares that this added exertion is enough reason to necessitate asking, "Why is this happening to me? What did I do wrong to deserve this?"
Any amount of pain poses the same theological question, even the stubbing of a toe. Philosophically, the dull aches in life demand an explanation as much as the major crises. After all, if God is all good, all powerful and all knowing, why should my daughter get a paper cut?
Furthermore, minor examples of discomfort are more conducive to delving into the issue of suffering since they diffuse the emotional tension, making it easier to focus on acquiring intellectual clarity.
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