“God is great, God is good, and we thank him for our food. Amen.” How many of us said that at the dinner table growing up? For some, it may have become a routine, something uttered before asking your mom to pass the rolls.
But what happens when you search your soul, and God does not seem to be great or good?
I am writing this on Friday evening. I took off early today. My heart was not in my writing and I had a difficult evening ahead. Driven by the increasingly dire economic situation in this country, my daughter, son-in-law, grandson, and granddaughter departed this evening for another state. Another loss and another fracturing that was driven by the greed, ambition, and arrogance of those who currently wield power.
I embraced each of them for what would be the last time for some time to come. As I sit here, I am awash in memories of birthdays, trips to the butterfly biosphere, ballgames, playgrounds, dollhouses, and toy castles. And I mourn the fact that it may be a year or more before I see them again. I rocked them to sleep, played with them in the backyard, took them on trips, stood by their beds when they were sick, and watched them grow. I love them. And tonight, they are gone. And I am empty inside.
The pain I am feeling tonight is by no means unique, nor is it the most traumatic in the world. There are those this night who are struggling with horrific diagnoses, even terminal ones. There are those who have lost a loved one. Someone out there faces life with a debilitating or disfiguring disease or injury. Some live in fear of terrorists, gangs, religious persecution, under the weight of unimaginable poverty, or in the midst of war perpetuated by greedy people, who cannot see the misery they have caused as they fail to look beyond the piles of money and the rush of power. There are parents grieving the illness or loss of children. There are children grieving the illness or loss of parents. And then there are those who are forever caught up in the gears of debt and desperation.
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And yet at the same time, there are politicians and media figures who posture and who feign outrage over issues that will never affect them. They stand atop piles of money and influence, with ears that are deaf and eyes that are blind to the suffering around them. It seems as if they are granted their hearts’ desires, while much of the world bows its collective head and tries to figure out how to live through another day. It is tempting at those times to lash out at God. We want to shake our fists and demand, “Where in the hell are you? Who do you think you are?” Our prayers and desires may be as pure as a mortal can make them and yet we are denied even an acknowledgment, let alone an answer to our prayers. Meanwhile, the wicked prosper, celebrate, and scheme. We may fall on our knees at the injustice and pain of it all and cry out in our own way, “Eli Eli Lama Sabachthani?”
But even as I sit here, my voice hoarse, my eyes red, my heart more broken than the day before, I realize that I mourn the departure of my daughter, son-in-law, and especially my grandchildren because I truly love them and because there has been so much to celebrate over the years. And God willing, there will be again. The capacity to be broken is a byproduct of the capacity to love.
As odd as it may seem, we should not pity the man who weeps. We should not pity the man who feels a loss. We may mourn with him, but we should not pity him. On the contrary, our pity should be reserved for our enemies, who, despite their empty words, cannot feel loss since they feel nothing for anyone but themselves.
To know pain is to know love. And to know love is to possess a spark of the Divine.
Good night, and God Bless.
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