This has been a rough week for Americans. First, we
had the bombings at the Boston Marathon, then some pretty unusual and severe
weather around here, with houses blown away and roofs torn off, and to top off
the week, we got word of an explosion at a fertilizer plant in Texas that was
so severe it registered on the Richter scale. The blast was felt 40 miles away.
I know because my wife felt it.
All of this was not lost on newscasters who made the
point that April seemed to be a terrible month for tragedy. On April 19, 1993,
ATF officers stormed the Branch Davidian compound outside of Waco and in the
resulting assault and fire, over 80 people, men, women, and children, lost
their lives.
Two years later, on April 19, 1995, Timothy McVeigh
filled a rented truck with fertilizer and set off a terrible explosion in front
of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City. That blast claimed
the lives of 168 people including 19 children under the age of 6.
Then, on April 20, 1999, two students entered
Columbine High School with semi-automatic weapons and murdered 12 students and
one teacher, and injured 21 others before killing themselves. Tragedy upon
tragedy.
Besides these highly publicized tragedies and sorrows,
we all have our individual tragedies. We have lost loved ones, suffered
financial set-backs, and fought serious injury and disease. Sometimes it’s hard
to maintain our faith in the midst of such suffering.
This week, I was talking with someone about this very
issue. In theology, it is known as “theodicy” which is an attempt to understand
the goodness of God in the face of evil. The question posed is that God is
either good or powerful, but not both. If God were both, God would eradicate
evil, thereby showing both his goodness and his power. Some people claim that
since evil has not been eradicated, then God must not be good—he doesn’t care,
or he must not be all that powerful—he cannot overcome evil.
That’s where the title of this article comes from. I
wish I had thought of it, but I didn’t. Some years ago, my cousin sent me a
book with that title; it is actually a golf metaphor. Back in the days when the
British ruled India, the ruling class tried to carve golf courses out of the
jungle. Mostly they were successful; the grass grew well and the climate was
ideal. The problem was the wildlife. They don’t have monkeys in Scotland, so
the rules of golf never addressed the contingency of having your ball stolen
off the green. What is a serious golfer to do? You guessed it. In India, the
rules of golf state that you “play the ball where the monkey drops it.”
Philosophically, you embrace the chaos. It could be a better lie or a worse
one.
But what does this have to do with God, tragedy, and
theodicy? If we believe that God truly is in control, and that God truly is
good, then there must be some other explanation. For most theologians, from
Augustine on down, it means that we have to hold these two seeming opposites in
tension, understanding that we do not see the big picture. It may look like
chaos and tragedy, but perhaps it is not. Perhaps there are lessons to be
learned, and strength to be built. Any athlete will tell you, no pain, no gain.
We are building strength for eternity, and God is there to help, not hinder. We
have to trust where we do not understand. So we can believe that God is both
good and powerful. They are not necessarily mutually exclusive.