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Lucky Me!
Reverend Brian J. Kiely, Unitarian Church of
Edmonton, February 9, 2003
Why is it that I am not some Iraqi fruit vendor, selling spoiled
produce, trying to keep my family alive, living under the threat
of repression for speaking my discontent, all the while waiting for
the bombs to drop? Why is it that I get to live in one of the very
best countries in the world with a reasonable degree of freedom,
a good lifestyle, a happy marriage, rather too much to eat and no
worries for my safety when I go to sleep at night?
Did I actually do something right to deserve this? Of course not,
no more than that poor Iraqi fruit vendor has done anything wrong.
The only difference between us is that I got lucky and he didn't.
As I thought more and more about this idea of good fortune, a topic
suggested by a church member, I realized that it is a variation on
one of the oldest questions in human existence: the question of meaning.
Why? Why am I here? Was I put here for a purpose? Is some great unseen
power watching out for me... and watching me? Why has this good or
bad thing happened to me?
It probably says something about human nature that few philosophers
have written about this question from a positive angle. Most, starting
with the author of Job, have gone the other route, trying to come
up with a divine explanation for apparently random bad things that
befall us.
It's a bit of an intellectual trap. You see philosophers and theologians
and tribal shamans are devoted to making sense of the unseen. They
construct systems to explain every act, whether human or natural.
They are unwilling or unable to accept capriciousness or randomness.
Everything has to have a reason. Over the centuries they have come
up with some odd theories. They mostly start with a belief that some
deity or deities rule events in our lives. The hunt failed because
we performed our rituals incorrectly. You are sick because you have
displeased your God. Or my favorite, this half of the room goes to
heaven because God decided it before creation began and the rest
of you are out of luck...bring sunscreen.
Stuff happens, they say, so there has to be a logical explanation.
Except, there often is no such explanation.
I recently reread Rabbi Harold Kushner's excellent little book "When
Bad Things Happen to Good People". He wrote the book after his
own son's tragic death. Kushner understands that theology is to a
degree a "game" . He also understands that theology only
presents unreal models. He sought a human answer in his library,
not a theological one, but could not find it. Kushner wrote:
"
The books I turned to were more concerned with God's honor - with
logical proof that bad is really good and that evil is necessary
to make this a good world, than they were with curing the bewilderment
and anguish of the parent of a dying child. They had answers for
all their own questions, but not for mine." (p.4) As he adds
much later, 'Why is God doing this to me?' is not a theological question,
but a cry of pain."
In the same way, "How did I get to be so lucky?" is not
that start of an intellectual search, but a cry of exultation.
We don't quietly say, "Why is this happening to me?" in
a calm and rational way...No we shout out, "WHY IS THIS HAPPENING
TO ME?" in joy or anguish. People wrestle with this because
of some event that has happened to them or a loved one. It's not
an explanation they seek, or even advice on how to proceed. What
they want, what we want is comfort in times of sorrow, companionship
in times of joy and reassurance that we are good people.
Much of the time there is no real answer to give. I can't explain
why a child has a failing heart, why this person got cancer while
that one did not. It seems so unjust, so random, so unfair. We humans
don't like not having answers. As Kushner wrote, "Some people
cannot handle the idea (of randomness) they look for connections,
striving desperately to make sense of all that happens. They convince
themselves that God is cruel, or that they are sinners, rather than
accept randomness." (p46-7)
The same is true when good things happen. Athletes thank God for
victory, for the goal that went in, for the pass they intercepted.
Highly successful people in many fields hold that their success was
'meant to be'. Even in love, we meet someone with whom we are compatible
and believe we were drawn together by irresistible forces, when in
reality it could well have been an accident of fate.
Randomness is as good an explanation as any, but it's not really
satisfying. You can't blame or celebrate randomness, you can't hate
it or love it, you can't rail against it. Even the idea of God targeting
you for some bad thing at least means you can hate God, or possibly
blame yourself for your own misfortune. When our worlds are falling
apart in an irrational crisis, we want to find a rational anchor.
We seek answers and explanations if only to help us feel like we
still have some grasp of reality. The kinds of answers we find vary
greatly.
In ancient times the people lived tribally subject to the vagaries
of weather and roving bands of marauders. They saw the natural world
as a place where good and evil did battle and where there was no
guarantee of good winning. When bad was ahead in the cosmic conflict,
then people died, or crops withered. When good was dominant, then
harvests were good, weather was kind. Being caught between good and
evil like a farmer in a war zone is one explanation. We are not at
fault, we're just caught in situations we cannot control.
In a more stable culture where there was a rule of law imposed by
a monarch, a different understanding of good and evil evolved. People
stopped seeing themselves as mere bystanders in this cosmic struggle
and began to envision divine beings as kingly figures who affected
their lives. Our ancestors began to think that if they behaved in
certain ways, they would appease the gods and bring good fortune
to the people. If they disobeyed, they were subject to punishment.
Pleasing and placating the gods became important with formal rituals
and elaborate sacrifices.
But they, too, noticed that some punishments were far too severe
for any possible crimes. Their beliefs included the possibility of
divine capriciousness and even gods who were mean spirited. Their
gods weren't always moral or ethical in the way that Christians and
Jews expect high standards from their god. The gods were capable
of all sorts of mayhem and could strike someone down on a whim or
out of sheer cussedness. But whether you deserved it or not, the
things that befell you were caused by a god.
Many today still do believe that the bad things that happen in the
world are punishment for some sin. Kushner tells of visiting a bereaved
family whose young daughter had died of a brain aneurysm. The parents
were racked with guilt, for they believed she died because they failed
in their ritual fasting requirements that year. They honestly held
that their daughter was punished for their sin. I wouldn't want to
worship so petty and mean-spirited a deity, yet many people live
their lives in fear because of such beliefs. It is their answer to
why bad happens.
Most of us look at the world around us, see some pretty nasty people
being successful in life and ask, "So where is their thunderbolt?" It's
obvious to anyone who has spent anytime reading newspapers that there
is not nearly as much justice in the world as there should be and
that divine retribution is more notable for its absence than anything
else. If God is watching over the day to day affairs of the world
as some assert, then he's doing a pretty sloppy job!
"Ah, well", said the theologians, "God works in mysterious
ways his wonders to perform." They say the world is still under
development and that the divinity has to hurt some people in order
to realize the ultimate plan. This plan is so vast that we mere mortals
cannot comprehend its complexity. We have to believe that our misfortune
will eventually lead to a greater good. Besides, all suffering is
makes you better in God's eyes anyway, and you'll get your reward
later. "Yah, but it sure hurts" comes the unsatisfied reply.
A fourth variation on suffering as divine punishment, is that suffering
is good for us. We learn to correct our mistakes, our suffering gives
a chance to change the course of our lives. You have all heard the
phrase "No pain, no gain." A little hard work, a little
pain was good for us. As the saying goes, "that which does not
kill me makes me stronger."
I am sure you have gone through something painful in your life -
a divorce, an illness, a bankruptcy - and found that you came out
of it a person changed for the better, wiser, more appreciative of
what you have. Some hard times can help us learn about ourselves
and how better to make our way in the world...in seminary we used
to rudely call such events by the acronym A.F.G.O. Another Flipping
Growth Opportunity.
Well, all credit to the person who can gain new insights through
their adversity, but as a theological doctrine, I can't accept it.
Oh, the idea is fine for workouts and divorces and so on, but what
is served when an innocent party suffers? Anyone who has watched
a child dying knows that this is a ridiculous argument. There is
nothing a child could do to deserve such treatment, and to suggest
that God is killing the child to teach the parent a lesson is so
unspeakably cruel that I can't even think about it. I find randomness
a comforting thought here, for at least a random universe isn't deliberately
inflicting pain.
Other traditions offer a few other explanations for the events in
our lives: fate, karma, the balance of the universe, but you can
see the essential point. Why things happen is finally not a question
with a logical answer, so we humans have turned ask religion to project
answers to give us some peace of mind. Sometimes it helps. Often
it does not.
In the end there is a different issue we must face. What do we do
with the good or ill fortune that befalls us?
About 17 years ago my roomate, Rev. Mark DeWolfe, contracted AIDS.
He was a dear friend and the man who inspired me to go into the ministry.
He was ill for about two years with the disease before his death.
Although he had his days of denial and anger and self-recrimination,
his lasting legacy is the way he faced his disease. Mark was a leading
example of the phrase "living with AIDS" instead of dying
from it. He became an outspoken advocate for AIDS patients and, because
of his role of minister in our Mississaugua church, was able to show
early on in the crisis that AIDS is a disease that strikes anywhere,
even at the center of the church.
What happened to Mark was unfair, unjust and a terrible blow to,
family, friends, his congregation and to Unitarianism in Canada.
But his inspirational attitude was, "So what? I can't undo the
fact that I have this disease, all I can do is what any of us has
to do, live out my days as best I can making the best contribution
I can make."
Mark and Rabbi Kushner agreed on this as they pondered how best
to respond to the tragedies that befell them. Kushner says that we
can redeem tragedy. We have to get past asking why the bad things
happened and move on to: Now that this has happened, what am I going
to do about it? How can I give my suffering meaning?
And Barbara Rhode in our reading gave an answer for the good things.
When asked how skeptical UU's deal with miracles she wrote, "She
does what all humans do in the presence of wonder. She gives thanks." Indeed.
What else is there to do?
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