Whatever "God" may or may not be, I can't help but believe that faith in humanity alone is no better alternative. If God seems to fail at perfect goodness and power in light of human suffering and tragedy, so too does humanity.
With my legs spread out in front of me, exhausted and in total fear, I pray repeatedly "Lord, don't let my son die." EMT officials administer RCAN, but the heart monitor set up a few feet away is flat-lined. He died in my arms.
There will come a day when you will find yourself giving thanks for the very thing that once caused you the greatest trouble... the deepest sorrow. There is a mystery here that I can neither explain nor explore. I just know it to be true.
Don't ask the crocus, "Where is God?" / as though the crocus can respond to / our cries echoing over the flower beds. / The purple blooms have done their best / to disguise the traces of our bitter violence; / their job is not to soothe our seething conscience.
Lamentations, one of the five scrolls in the Jewish Bible, is a response to the destruction of the first Temple. Written in a dense, terse, poetically rich and complex five chapters, it has been a challenging text since its appearance.
Is it really such a healthy thing to feel oneself to be inadequate, judged and deficient? Does it make us better people, or does it make us more judgmental ourselves? And does God judge us, or only love?
I hadn't imagined that the omniscient, omnipotent creator of the heavens and earth could be an advanced version of a guy who spends his weekends building model railroads or overseeing video-game worlds like the Sims.
The question is not, will there be difficulties and threats to our existence, but how will we deal with them and what can we learn from them. How can they teach us about the meaning of our life and existence?