"Theodicy" (Theo-what?) - Sunday's discussion

"Theodicy"  (Theo-what?)

Church was cancelled AGAIN.

The ice made the roads too treacherous for our guest speaker, Rev Dr Reuben Bell, to make it up to us to preach.  So church was cancelled, and I was prepared to sit alone in the church with candles and Gregorian chant playing on the stereo, and praying.

Well it turns out that since worship had been cancelled the two previous Sundays, the longing for spiritual community won the day for several locals plus two not-so-locals!  As we had such a small community and no organist, I opted for a gentle discussion group with the seven of us.

I opened the Word, led us in prayer, read a little Scripture, and then after a few other discussion points, opened up the topic, "Why does God let bad things happen to good people?"

In case anyone cares, that HUGE spiritual question is called the question of "Theodicy," which is the attempt to understand how God can be good and yet there is so much evil in the world.



So we reviewed some of the ways people answer this question. (Note:  This is the way PEOPLE answer this question.  These are not necessarily "right" answers.)  Each one of us must answer this for ourselves and we often travel around between these or combine two or three as we struggle to make sense of this question.

1. God sends bad things as a punishment for sin. 
2. God sends bad things to test our character, or to show us what we are capable of
3. God allows bad things to happen because we need to learn something.
4. Bad stuff just happens and God isn't all that involved down at our level.
5. There is no God.
6. God doesn't cause evil nor prevent evil, but is right there with us walking through the suffering.  God's job is not to protect us from bad things happening to us but to be with us even in the heart of them.

We looked at each "solution" and reflected on the different ideological landing places.  I talked about some of the psychological underpinnings of these various solutions,  with each one making sense when we understand the sort of thinking or perspective that drives it.  

1. For example, deciding that God is punishing us for our sin comes from the sort of reasoning that causes a child to think they caused their parents' divorce.  It is connected to a feeling of dependency and powerlessness. We feel powerless in the face of the tragedy and want some sense of control.  We decide either God is Bad or we are, and the idea that God is evil is just too terrifying, because then we would be utterly helpless in a hostile universe.  In this case it is more comforting to think that we are to blame.  Because if we are to blame, we can maybe do something to make things better.  We still have agency---we still can have a way to put things right.  

2.  "God sends bad things to test us or show us what we are capable of."  We leaned more towards the "help us see what we can do" idea than the "God is testing us" idea.  (Besides, an omniscient God wouldn't need to test us.  And God is not passive aggressive, and does not need to grade us nor to create martyrs.)

3.  "God allows bad things to teach us something."  At least one member liked this one.  I certainly have heard such sentiments as, "I wish I would learn what I need to learn from this so it would pass."   Notice that the idea of "needing to learn something" gives us a feeling of some control in a tough situation.  In that case, if we just "learn" whatever it is we need to learn, the bad situation would go away, right?  I knew someone with a chronic illness who said fairly often, "I guess I haven't learned what I need to learn yet." Certainly all sorts of good learning and good secondary experiences (human compassion, human cooperation) can happen around and in the wake of tragedy.  But I am not sure that our learning is ever the primary reason God would allow our suffering.  

4.  "Bad stuff just happens."  God neither causes it nor prevents it.  This answer lets God at least be neutral, if a bit detached from human affairs.  This God has left us on our own, or has different priorities than we do. (Some could argue that this is a typical Swedenborgian conclusion, if we read only the passages that say that God doesn't pay attention to any temporal affairs unless they have a direct impact on our eternal well-being.  It does not take into account the numbers that say that God is aware and present in even the least moment of our lives, guiding and guarding while leaving us in spiritual freedom. Putting these teachings together implies that our perspective on tragedy and suffering and what is allowable is different than that of God's; meanwhile God cares deeply and is intimately present with us in our suffering.  This leads to 6.) 

5.  There is no God.  This is a common and understandable landing place for many of us in the face of deep suffering.  Please don't judge such a person. (To blame someone for losing their faith as a result of terrible loss and pain is just adding insult to injury.)  When one must choose between an incomprehensible, uncaring God or no God at all, many choose "no God."  Until one can see another option, "God cares and helps but doesn't always stop tragedy," the "no God" option makes perfect sense. 

6.  God is present with us in the suffering and carries us through.  God's job is not to protect us from earthly hardships, but to walk with us through them.  There are reasons this conclusion satisfies many theologians and pastors, though it can be small comfort to the one in the depth of suffering. We can remember that Jesus did not protect himself from horrible suffering, but walked all the way through it, even to the point of feeling abandoned by God and a slow agonizing death.  He braved the whole experience without sparing himself one bit, as a way to show he is willing to come with us into the very worst of human suffering, and as a way of saying there is something more beyond.

However, when someone you love is suffering, the best thing you can do is be with them, and ask them what they need.  If chaplaincy training taught me anything at all (and I still often need reminders of this, because the urge to offer comforting words can be so strong) it is the value of the ministry of presence.  What most folks need in the heart of a crisis is company more than quotes, a steady presence, rather than platitudes.  Just be there. Just stand by them. Words are not as necessary as you might think.

Well, this summary of our discussion has turned into a mini sermon.  I have shared some extra things here and skipped some others.  I hope we all came away with new tools and ideas to support us in living into this profound question.

We wrapped up our discussion and shared an amazing tea hour (no coffee).  And we sent each other off with love and wishes for safe travels.

And I will leave it on that sentiment.  Life can be slippery and uncertain sometimes.  May we all go carefully.  And when the worst happens to one of us, may we all take extra good care of each other, and the bruised one most of all.

Blessings,
Pastor Alison

When Things Fall Apart - sermon Feb. 1

 “When Things Fall Apart”

Rev. Alison Longstaff, February 1^st, 2014

Bath Church of the New Jerusalem

Ezekiel 37: 1-14; John 11:portions of 1-45; Apocalypse Explained 555:14

           

"Mortal, can these bones live?" I said, "O Sovereign Lord, you alone know."  Then he said to me, "Prophesy to these bones and say to them, 'Dry bones, hear the word of the Lord!  And as I was prophesying, there was a noise, a rattling sound, and the bones came together, bone to bone. I looked, and tendons and flesh appeared on them and skin covered them, but there was no breath in them. Then he said to me, "Prophesy to the breath; prophesy, mortal, and say to it, 'This is what the Sovereign Lord says: Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe into these slain, that they may live.'" So I prophesied as he commanded me, and breath entered them; they came to life and stood up on their feet—a vast army.

 

Bones and flesh and breath. We are more than our bones. Our bones are our ideas, and they are the truths we need in order to live an “upright” life. They are the things we all know . . . but can fail to live. A “truth” is a dry bone when we know it, but we don’t live by it yet.

The thing is, it is hard for us to make dry bones live without the help of God—some might say, impossible. Look at the alcoholic who knows he or she shouldn't drink, but can’t seem to stop.

"Mortal, can these bones live?" says God to Ezekiel.  And Ezekiel says, "O Sovereign Lord, you alone know."

Put yourself in Ezekiel’s shoes. Staring at a valley full of dry bones, how would you answer God? Perhaps Ezekiel was hedging his bets with his response. “God alone knows,” he said. Was he being sarcastic? Or reverential? Despairing? Or perhaps, skeptical? Was this his way of saying, “I’m not going to touch that one….”? 

But God can look at a valley of dead dreams and wasted efforts, and make them live again. And when God asks us if we think the bones can live, “He” makes space for all of our responses, whether we are in the optimistic and shiny faith of the newly spiritual-born, or the jaded and weary faith of the long-lived spiritual traveler. Depending on who we are and what we have been through, we may be jaded, or hopeful, bitter, or deeply trusting, or a mix.

Bones need flesh to live—flesh that softens and rounds and pulls things together—flesh that can pull these dry bones into a human form, capable of hugging, lifting, carrying, serving, holding, and bandaging the wounded. Flesh corresponds to love. Flesh symbolizes putting things to use. “Fleshing out” a belief is when we try to live it. 

I like to think of myself as environmentally conscious, but how much do I actually do on a daily basis to help the environment? Do I recycle diligently? Do I walk when possible, rather than drive? Do I compost? Do I support businesses that have proactive environmental practices?  This is a fairly civic and world-bound illustration, but you can extrapolate over to any value that you desire to embody—be it devoting more time to your relationships, to being trustworthy in your workplace, to working out more often and eating better, to being kinder to that one person that absolutely drives us up the wall.

Getting such “bones” fleshed out isn't as easy as we wish it was. Living our beliefs is where the “rubber hits the road,” and sometimes our efforts can feel pretty dead and lifeless.  I know mine seem to need constant “resurrection” or re-commitment, like any New Year’s resolutions that died within a few weeks of their launch.

This piece of Scripture, like every other passage in God’s Word, has layer upon layer of meaning.  We can study it from all sorts of angles and find new, fascinating, and nourishing insights. And like we discussed in the children’s talk, the ideas we find are never meant to be used to whack our brothers and sisters over the head with, though this does tend to be what we do, at least at first, with God’s truths. This passage is for me to use in my life, and you to use in your life, not for me or you to use to find fault with someone else’s life.

So what is this passage primarily about?  Is it a confirmation that living our faith can sometimes be hard work? Oh, this passage goes way beyond that. This passage is about the despair we feel when we have tried and tried to live a better way, and have failed.

           

This story describes the death of living dreams. There is a saying that goes, “A person can survive up to forty days without food, three days without water, but scarcely a minute without hope.” This level of discouragement is absolute.  We are ready to throw in the towel.  No doubt all of us here have experienced this despair to some degree, but this despair is well beyond the loss of hope and deep into bitterness and anguish. This despair is what Jesus was feeling when he cried out from the cross, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?”  God is the only hope left, and God doesn't seem to be doing anything to help us.

At the time of this story the people of Israel had been captive in Babylon for over a generation.  They had been torn from their burning homes and possessions, had seen their children dragged off to be slaves, their leaders and warriors had been murdered, and their great and beautiful temple being torched and demolished. They had been marched hundreds of miles from their homeland to be slaves in an alien land. This was not even a fresh reality. By the time Ezekiel was prophesying to them, they were in their second generation of slavery in Babylon, and their children had no sense of identity other than as slaves—no experience of their homeland. They could see no way out, and no way to rebuild. Sorrow upon sorrow. Loss upon loss.

It is important to understand that the Judaic people had then and continue to have a profound sense of “place” as an important part of their identity as a worshiping nation. Christians do not have this as part of our religious narrative, so we can have a hard time understanding it. “Where two or three are gathered” is where we can worship, no matter where that is. But for this people, the “Holy Land,” and particularly the city of Jerusalem is a part of their flesh-and-bones sense of religious place, and without living there and worshiping there, they do not feel that they are being God’s people the way they ought to be. Before you snort at this idea, realize that you and I all have within us attachments to certain ideas of how things need to be for us to be right in God’s eyes, beyond which we cannot see. We too have attachments to ideas that might look silly to someone else. We are not so different.

And if it is in God’s Word, it is in our story too. You and I may never be carried away captive from our physical homelands. But we can and will know the equivalent depth of despair in our spiritual lives. When we are at this level of spiritual despair, it is as in the story of Lazarus—by the time Jesus arrives, all hope of rescue is long gone.  

Was Martha feeling bitter when she says, “If you had been here, my brother would not have died,”?  Did she feel abandoned? She had expected Jesus to save the day, and He hadn't shown up in time. This is the cry of every person of faith when we bang into the hideous unfairnesses in life from which we think we should have been spared. But we are not spared. Lazarus did die and lay dead four days. 

When things go horribly wrong, especially with those who have lived good and honorable lives, we can feel betrayed by God. It is a mark of the deepest despair when we feel so abandoned by God that we question God’s existence. If you hit this level of spiritual struggle you are not “weak” in your faith.  You might even be at an advanced level of spiritual work.  Severe doubt is a very real part of developing a living, breathing, resilient faith.  Mother Teresa struggled with terrible doubt in God’s existence her whole ministry.  C.S. Lewis spent many years as an atheist. The current Archbishop of Canterbury and even Pope Francis struggle with doubt in God’s existence and benevolence. Even Jesus cried out, “Why have you abandoned me?” Doubting God’s presence and loving care is normal, and you are in good company if you go there.  

           

Remember, if it is in God’s Word, it is describing a phase of our spiritual journey. No part is “wrong.” It just is. This story is about a very hard part of the journey, and yet it is full of compassion and hope.

So there we are, staring at the dead and dry bones of our hopes, our dreams, and even our faith.  God leads us around and around the bones. They are very many—piles of them! And they are very dead.  And God says to us as we stare at the ruins of all that was meant to be, "Mortal, can these bones live?"

Well, if it was me, I’d say with deep sarcasm, “Oh sure they can.” Ezekiel says, "O Sovereign Lord, you alone know," which could also be heard as, “You know God, if anyone can do it, You can.”

Remember, this isn't just a curious story from an ancient text. Put yourself into the emotional place of Ezekiel. This is you and God, looking at the wreckage of your whole reason for living. And God says to us, “No matter how dry and dead are the bones and ashes of your dreams, I can resurrect them.” God stands beside us in the wreckage of our dearest hopes, and He promises that He can restore it all:   

Then he said to me, "Prophesy to these bones and say to them, 'Dry bones, hear the word of the Lord!’”  And as I was prophesying, there was a noise, a rattling sound, and the bones came together, bone to bone.  I looked, and tendons and flesh appeared on [the bones] and skin covered them, but there was no breath in them. 

God restores the fragments of our lives until they are whole again. Amazing! Can you feel the hugeness of this vision down in your bones? But still, there is no life in them.

Then he said to me, "Prophesy to the breath; prophesy, mortal, and say to it, 'This is what the Sovereign Lord says: Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe into these slain, that they may live.'"  So I prophesied as he commanded me, and breath entered them; they came to life and stood up on their feet—a vast army.

Breath. The breath of God. This is inspiration—to breathe in the Holy Spirit—to be in-spired by the Holy Spirit. Sometimes we need mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from God in order for our hopes and dreams to live again, in order to live, really live again in a life of joy and grace and rich faith. So God provides that too. It is a miracle surpassing all miracles. New life where there was only death.

Our reading from Swedenborg describes bone as truth before it is lived. But that is describing bone that is not attached to or an integral part of a living body. We do have living bones—living bones that ensure we stand upright, have the strength to hold our children and each other, and to withstand outside pressures. God wants our bones to live—and they can, with God’s help, with God’s breath. 

In this story, these are not bones that have never lived, these are bones that were alive once and have died. There is something so much more desperate about that image. We all know these skeletons of things we once loved—they are dreams we had once, relationships that thrived once, ideas and organizations that we trusted in once. How sad it is to stand there with Ezekiel and feel the desperate losses in these bones.

There is so much more to this story.  There is meaning in “the four winds,” and in the skeletons “standing on their feet.” But I need to wrap this up.

This strange story is about despair, but even more it is about hope. It is about hope against hope. It is about God being able to handle things, even when we have lost everything, our faith, our hope, our reason for living, even our belief in God. This story speaks hope into our darkest temptations and breathes new life, and new spirit into us, that we might live again. God revivifies the best of everything that we think we have lost. This story is telling us that we will again see every good thing that we have loved live again one day, because what is made of love never dies, it just hides and goes to sleep for a while. This can be impossible to believe sometimes, and that is okay. It can be impossible to look at three feet of snow on hard frozen ground and believe in soft earth and bare feet in warm grass too. We must await the warm breath of spring the way the bones awaited the breath of life. So, as we head into these last seven weeks of winter, let us live in this metaphor—let us remember this hope against hope, and go gently with each other until new life springs again fresh from the frozen earth.  Amen.

Originally “Them Dry Bones” preached Feb 9^th 2008 St James Lutheran in New Dundee Ontario

The Readings:

Apocalypse Explained 555:14 

“Bone” symbolizes truth before it is made living, that is, incorporated into how we live—this means every single thing we have learned but do not yet use. 

Ezekiel 37:1-14

The hand of the Lord came upon me and brought me out in the Spirit of the Lord, and set me down in the midst of the valley; and it was full of bones. Then He caused me to pass by them all around, and behold, there were very many in the open valley; and indeed they were very dry.  

And He said to me, “Son of man, can these bones live?”

So I answered, “O Lord God, You alone know.”

Again He said to me, “Prophesy to these bones, and say to them, ‘O dry bones, hear the word of the Lord!  Thus says the Lord God to these bones: “Surely I will cause breath to enter into you, and you shall live.  I will put sinews on you and bring flesh upon you, cover you with skin and put breath in you; and you shall live. Then you shall know that I am the Lord.”’”

So I prophesied as I was commanded; and as I prophesied, there was a noise, and suddenly a rattling; and the bones came together, bone to bone.  Indeed, as I looked, the sinews and the flesh came upon them, and the skin covered them over; but there was no breath in them.

Also He said to me, “Prophesy to the breath, prophesy, son of man, and say to the breath, ‘thus says the Lord God: “Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe on these slain, that they may live.”’” So I prophesied as He commanded me, and breath came into them, and they lived, and stood upon their feet, an exceedingly great army.

Then He said to me, “Son of man, these bones are the whole house of Israel. They indeed say, ‘Our bones are dry, our hope is lost, and we ourselves are cut off!’  Therefore prophesy and say to them, ‘Thus says the Lord God: “Behold, O My people, I will open your graves and cause you to come up from your graves, and bring you into the land of Israel.  Then you shall know that I am the Lord, when I have opened your graves, O My people, and brought you up from your graves.  I will put My Spirit in you, and you shall live, and I will place you in your own land. Then you shall know that I, the Lord, have spoken it and performed it,” says the Lord.’”

John 11: 1, 3-5, 14-15, 20-23, 25-27, 32, 34-35, 39, 41, 43-44

Now a certain man was sick, Lazarus of Bethany, therefore the sisters sent to Him, saying, “Lord, behold, he whom You love is sick.”

When Jesus heard that, He said, “This sickness is not unto death, but for the glory of God, that the Son of God may be glorified through it.”

Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus.  Yet, when He heard that he was sick, He stayed two more days in the place where He was. 

Then Jesus said to them plainly, “Lazarus is dead. And I am glad for your sakes that I was not there, that you may believe. Nevertheless let us go to him.”

Now Martha, as soon as she heard that Jesus was coming, went and met Him, but Mary was sitting in the house. Now Martha said to Jesus, “Lord, if You had been here, my brother would not have died.  But even now I know that whatever You ask of God, God will give You.”

Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise again. … I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in Me, though he may die, he shall live. And whoever lives and believes in Me shall never die. Do you believe this?”

She said to Him, “Yes, Lord, I believe that You are the Christ, the Son of God, who is to come into the world.”

Then, when Mary came where Jesus was, and saw Him, she fell down at His feet, saying to Him, “Lord, if You had been here, my brother would not have died.”

And He said, “Where have you laid him?”

They said to Him, “Lord, come and see.”

Jesus wept. Jesus said, “Take away the stone.”

Martha, the sister of him who was dead, said to Him, “Lord, by this time there is a stench, for he has been dead four days.”

Then they took away the stone from the place where the dead man was lying. And Jesus lifted up His eyes and said, “Father, I thank You that You have heard Me.”  Now when He had said these things, He cried with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come forth!” And he who had died came out bound hand and foot with grave clothes, and his face was wrapped with a cloth. Jesus said to them, “Loose him, and let him go.”