Last week I received a phone call from someone whose father had died. The mom had died not too long ago, after several years of struggling with cancer. She used to be a regular shul attendee, but had stopped coming because she was angry at God. She felt God had deserted her, had stopped taking care of her, and so she was going to stop visiting God in shul. The son and I had a long and very fruitful chat about all this. When I suggested to him that her anger at God was a perfectly normal reaction, he was surprised. He thought that most folks maintain their faith in God, no matter what. I believe that is not the case, but rather that most of us have a rather fluid faith system-when things are good, we believe; and when things are not so good, we do not. When we were infants, everyone else took care of us-our parents, our older siblings, our family members and our doctors. We had to make no decisions on our own, our lives were in the capable hands of others. It was only as we grew up and older that we realized that we ourselves had to take on the responsibility for living our own lives and making our own decisions. No longer could we depend on others to keep us safe. Now, we were the main actors in our lives. All that is fine and normal, until death or illness enters our life. When that happens, we find ourselves wanting to return to the years of our childhood, we want to again rely on others to make us well, to return us to life. When our doctors and caregivers, in whom we place so much hope, do help, we feel safe again; but when they cannot turn away illness and sickness, we become angry. We know that they are but mortal human beings, doing the best they can. And we know that sometimes the human body has its own agenda, which no one can change. Still, we are angry. Sometimes the anger is directed at God, whom we would like to believe can do anything, even cure diseases which have no cure. Our heads know the truth, it is our hearts which break when pain overwhelms us. The anger is normal, but it is not truly anger. It is fear that we feel. When we have to change the way we have lived for so many years; when we become homebound or when we need our bedpans and walkers, when we have to depend on dialysis and adult diapers; when we spend too much time on the ICU floors and we begin to realize with certainty that our lives are coming to their end, we are scared. That fear comes out as anger, but the anger we feel is the fear that we will not be able to enjoy life as we used to. We are afraid that death is coming closer which each passing day. I would claim theologically (and you are certainly entitled to disagree) that it is only when we are fearful that God can come into our lives. From joy we might gain happiness and satisfaction, but from pain we can glimpse more closely the values toward which we can reach. God is the force in the Universe that gives us hope, that allows us to move forward when we feel like giving up. No matter how many or how few days and weeks and months are left to us, we have the ability to make decisions about how we live, how our lives will look, and what we want to happen before we die. The ability to look beyond pain is one of those precious gifts God gives to us. Even when we are filled with fear, or perhaps especially when we are filled with fear, God walks with us, just as God did when we were infants and young babes in our parents arms. God will be with us always. All we have to do is believe. |
