where are you?
In a recent situation of pain, sickness and dying of a loved one, I was asked, "Where is God in this?" It may be the question asked the most by believers, the faithful, when we are in extremis, a crisis of life where nothing seems to help and we wonder about our all powerful all loving God after all.
Not only a Jew at Auschwitz as fumes begin to fill the gas chamber, but any husband whose wife is dying of cancer, any parent hearing the phone ring or a police knock at the door in the dark night, any patient hearing the doctor's dreaded terminal prognosis.
Mindful that we hope and expect God will intervene to heal and save in response to our prayers, I am still and nevertheless always mindful of a prayer I heard at Episcopal summer camp as a teenager seventy-odd years ago. The teenager told our small group that her youth group at home always ended their Sunday evening sessions with the prayer, "God has no hands but our hands to do his work today ...". To me, it's the best possible reminder of Jesus' promise, "Where two or three gather in my Name, there am I in the midst of them." Theologically, if we are together in God's name, then God is there with all our power to act. And possibly, as Jesus said, "greater works than these."
Anyway, the question, "Where is God?" is not rhetorical, it's agonizingly, challengingly real. And working through it may involve some kind of change of faith. Evolving. Perhaps from innocent, untested, childish naiveté to a more experiential sort of the faith that Hebrews 11:1 says is hope, confidence; not certainty, but hope. The shift can be destroying. An event that keeps coming back to me over the years, I remember a quarter century ago when our HNES student seven year old William Hall died as the result of a boating crash in spite of my being there in the ER with William and his parents, to hold him close and pray for his life. In my stunned disbelief after William died, I asked myself and my congregation at the Time, "Can the faith of Tom Weller survive the death of William Hall?" And the answer was "No." I came through that experience into a very different sort of faithing that is still being tested and honed, torn down and rebuilt anew, differently.
Wandering back to the question that I was asked, "Where is God in this?", I responded that God is present in the love that you bring to the situation, present in the lovingkindness that you share to make the situation better, lighter, easier, more bearable; present in the care of the medics and others. God does not promise to break forth from eternity into Time and space with the holy angels, or to materialize as the Ancient of Days beside a hospital bed or at the scene of an accident; rather, we are the angels of God, we are God's presence. Through life, and into death if that comes.
Which is why, when I convene a Sunday service, I open with the proclamation, "In the Name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit." Theologically speaking, God is fully present from that moment.
At any event, below is copy-and-pasted an essay from the Tuesday online edition of Times of Israel. The question is not "Where is God?" but, all the way back to the Lord God walking in the Garden in the cool of the evening and asking of the man and woman, "Where are you?" I hope someone else will find the essay as thought provoking as I do.
Blessed are you, Lord God, king of the universe.
T89&c
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Not ‘Where is God?’ — but ‘Where are we?’
It is a question I have also asked myself—now and in the past. Like more people than one might imagine, I have lost a child, a baby who died as a result of a strep infection shortly after birth. This was many years ago, and my wife and I are blessed with five healthy children, three wonderful daughters-in-law, and many grandchildren. But one does not forget the pain of such a loss, even after a long journey of healing. It is partly through that journey that I have learned that when facing suffering and loss, on a mass scale or in one’s personal life, the real question to ask may be not, “Where is God?” but rather, “Where are we?”
This is the challenging paradigm shift required to find peace of mind, inspiration to move forward, capacity to make a difference, and maybe even deeper relationships with or belief in that greater Being. It elevates us from feeling like forsaken pawns to active participants in our destiny.
In fact, the Torah’s first question is “Where are you?” This is the question God asks of humanity when He calls to Adam and Eve in the Book of Genesis after they eat from the forbidden tree and try to hide. This phrase and the story of Adam and Eve show that we must, ideally, take responsibility for our choices and their impact on the world—and live with the consequences of the choices of others, even when they lead to terrible consequences.
That is the price we pay for God’s gift to us of having free will. Even in a just war, innocent civilians are killed – one of the tragic consequences of free choice and human conflict. Free will requires us to navigate this world even with all the tragedy, suffering, and hate, often created by human actions. Free will brings both challenges and opportunities. One obvious tragedy is humankind’s destruction of others and often our environment as a consequence of that freedom. At the same time, the virtue of free will grants us opportunity and meaning to our lives. This is a concept examined at length by Viktor Frankl, the Austrian doctor, philosopher and Holocaust survivor of four concentration camps, in his 1946 book Man’s Search for Meaning, reflecting on his time in Nazi concentration camps, and recalling the inmates who, despite their own suffering, comforted others.
Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms – to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.
In other words, with every experience, we have the ability to determine our response. It is in our power to choose our response and in that response lies our free will and our freedom.
Even when events are not on the scale of the Holocaust, Frankl’s philosophy is still extremely relevant. After our baby daughter died, in addition to the comfort of supportive family and friends, we found some solace in working on a campaign with so many others in a similar situation to institute standard testing of pregnant women for Group B Strep, which could have saved our daughter’s life, but was not the practice protocol at the time in the United States. These efforts were crucial to rebuilding after our loss, making a difference for others to be spared such pain. In other words, we were able to find ourselves even as God felt distant.
Choosing action over despair
In fact, the Biblical Hebrew word God uses to ask Adam and Eve “Where are you?” – ayekha – is made up of the same Hebrew letters, Aleph, Yud, Kof, Hey, as a similar term, pronounced differently that is used in the Book of Lamentations to ask, “How, God, did you let such tragedy happen?: Eikhah. The similarity in the terms that essentially ask such different questions – “Where are we in the narrative (making a difference)?” and “How could God let such tragedy happen?” – is a reminder that in moments of suffering we must find meaning, not necessarily in the suffering itself but through the work to transform the moment; through love and relationships; and by changing our attitude toward unavoidable suffering that is out of our control. The first two help give us the ability for the third.
Of course, choosing action over despair is much easier said than done, but small steps can make a big difference. Practically speaking, when someone has a chance to help someone or do a good deed, they should take it if they are able. Such actions are a form of tikkun olam – adding good to the world, and seeing the impact of that, no matter how small, can help make life feel more meaningful, or at least make getting through the day more manageable. In fact, scientific research has found that helping others, even acts like donating money, especially during times of crisis, reduces negative emotions like pessimism and increases overall life satisfaction.
Engaging with others
Spending time and communicating with others also helps. This can include taking a moment to appreciate any family or friends we have, or participating in activities with others. This engagement with others, especially those also facing similar difficulties, has crucial benefits. Despite the horrors of Oct. 7, 2023, Israel ranks as the eighth happiest country in the world, mainly because social connection – having others to rely on and share experiences with – is a key to resilience. The importance of social support in building resilience has been echoed in other studies, including findings that such support reduces the chances of someone falling into depression, or the severity of that depression.
This increased resilience is what paves the way for coping and sustains hope even when things are difficult. Perhaps instead of giving up on God, we ask what we can do to help, and we seek out meaning wherever we can, despite the difficulty.
And indeed today, worldwide, many are asking that question of what they can do. There is a wide phenomenon of renewed interest in faith, meaning and God, as demonstrated by trends like rising sales of Biblesof all kinds among first-time buyers, and data showing that more than 80% of Americans believe there is something “spiritual” beyond the natural world, even if they don’t practice a religion.
Asking “Where is God?” assumes that He exists – or at least that He should exist. But it alone is not enough to deal with our challenges. Only through a dedicated effort – a quest to find meaning in our actions and relationships – can we begin to glimpse God in the world and realize that we can indeed shape a better present and future, restoring or inspiring faith among ourselves and others.