which God is involved in the affairs of the world and the lives of the people. An immediately apparent issue would be, if God does not act, and is in fact absent during times of crises, then what might be God’s role. Indeed as Sweeney notes, there are several essential questions that have been raised, and indeed must be raised. Thus for example Sweeney responds to Ignaz Maybaum’s The Face of God after Auschwitz, in which Maybaum argues that Jews are destined to suffer and the Shoah was theologically justified in order to save the world. That is, there is a greater good and importance to the slaughter of six million Jews, for such is their lot in this life; thus their suffering and death will witness to and save the world. Not surprisingly, Maybaum’s ideas have not generated widespread support, and indeed have met with astonishment by many. However, this notwithstanding, Sweeney notes that there are a number of critical questions that might be raised. “Can G-d’s love and justice be understood in relation to the Shoah? Is it even possible for the Shoah to be understood as a form of punishment? What sins would justify the punishment the magnitude of the Shoah?”11 This idea can certainly be expanded to include other genocides, exiles and such altering and dramatic moments that transform the landscape of human life. Indeed after such extraordinary events, one might very well be left to wonder how a human-divine relationship might continue, and if so in what re-designed form. Even if one wanted to, one cannot overlook the exile or the Shoah as a defining event, and in light of these it is impossible not to wonder about the role of God.
Elie Wiesel places the most dramatic reading of God’s role in his novel, The Accident. The protagonist, not coincidentally named Eliezer, concludes that God is malevolent, and abuses his power by using humans for his own sport and entertainment, and there is nothing that humans can do about it. David Blumenthal’s examination of abuse, as a particular way of exploring God’s action and inaction on behalf of Israelites in Exile and Jews in the Shoah raises further questions, and places the issue squarely within the category of human experience that affects the ordinary person, regardless of race, ethnicity, nationality, or religion to identity. Could God be an abuser? Referring to Blumenthal’s study, Sweeney notes,
Taking an analogy from contemporary concern with the abusive behavior of spouses, parents, clergy, and so forth, Blumenthal posits that G-d may be viewed as an abuser insofar as the Shoah constitutes abuse perpetrated or permitted by the ultimate figure tasked with the well-being and security of the Jewish people and humankind in general. In such a model, the abusive perpetrator is one who is known to and loved by the victim; the abuser breaches and takes advantage of a relationship based on trust; the abuser blames the victim; and the abusive relationship seeks the continued commitment of love while continuing to perpetrate the abuse.12
Like all analogies, this too ultimately breaks down, but like all good analogies, this too has truth to it, with the particular complexity of divine-human relationship. Thus, the questions and statements of abuse between human perpetrator and human victim might also be voiced here, namely, “why don’t you leave,” “sever the relationship,” and “carve out a new direction for life.” Indeed many who have suffered have done these very things, and many who have suffered in the Shoah have lost their faith in God and severed their relationship with God. One of the components of this analogue of abuse is the particularly egregious level of suffering of the children, given that children are often equated somewhat with innocence; and in this case divine abuse takes on a very difficult and painful quality. As if to underline the extraordinary drama of violence against children, only recently has the world witnessed the massacre of twenty-seven persons in Newton, Connecticut, twenty of whom were little children. The world mourns and the phrase “this is different” reflects the painful unparalleled act of the slaughter of children.
The Hebrew word for “question” is she’elah, which as Elie Wiesel notes, has el, God in it. God is thus in the questions, and someone might say that there is something divine about the great questions, including the questions that are posed to God. Perhaps one might equally say that answers should not be the logical conclusion to every question. As we explore the various themes that surround exile, punishment, redemption, ritual, injustice, among others, we are led inexorably by the prophets to the matter of divine righteousness, justice, power, and inevitably to the issue of theodicy. What is God’s role and intention in the punishment and suffering of the covenant people? Sweeney notes that the book of Isaiah raises some very disturbing questions. One of the factors that seems to have characterized many interpreters of the Hebrew Prophets is the very particular reluctance to raise sustained questions about the issue of theodicy and the disturbing realities of prophetic complicity in the punishment of the people. More disturbing is the matter as to God’s role in intentionally creating a circumstance that makes it impossible for the people to come to a realization of what they are doing, and what needs to be done in order to change their actions and rectify the relationship. “To what extent does YHWH consign the people of Israel, Judah and Jerusalem to suffer by rendering them blind and deaf and therefore unable to repent? To what extent is their suffering explained by their own wrongdoing, even when they are prevented from recognizing that wrongdoing and changing their ways? What might have become of the people had Isaiah done more than simply ask, ‘How long, my L-rd?’”13 In this last question, is there a sense that Isaiah has simply decided that the punishment that is meted out is justified, that YHWH will not listen, that the decision is a fait accompli? Yet, one must ask, “what if?” This is more than simply a rhetorical device. It is a way of saying that in the face of what is about to transpire, one cannot say that belief in God is central, and yet decline to ask what might be the final and defining question.
The conventional view among the majority of scholars is that the Hebrew prophets based their pronouncements on the verifiable and defensible fact that God was faithful and Israel repeatedly was unfaithful, and therefore the prophets over the course of centuries would also repeatedly prophesy with sharp and piercing invectives. While this perspective is substantially true, there are still notable moments where questions to, and about God and the role and actions of God are brought into question. The reason for the questions or occasional challenges is not to usurp the role of God or for that matter tarnish the character of God. Rather it is to walk in the footsteps of those biblical characters who have questioned or wondered aloud about God’s actions, and indeed have not been cast aside by God for blasphemy or arrogance. Questions about the nature of punishment and the depth of the judgment, from bondage to exile, to the remarkably defining moment of the Shoah must be voiced.
I believe that it is important, even ethically mandatory, to recognize and resist dangerous thinking wherever it occurs including and perhaps especially in the Bible. To be faithful, I believe demands recognizing the problems of biblical texts, how they participate in the web of power relations that are toxic . . . I believe that [the Bible] has to be read responsibly, with eyes wide open. To attempt to “fix” the problems of the Old Testament by reading it selectively or making excuses for it is, in my understanding, not only dishonest, but also dangerous.14
It is the capacity to raise substantial and existential questions to, and about God that reflects that depth of confidence and faith, and belief in God who is indeed God of the universe and is unafraid to face major questions. Not to question strikes me as a weak sign of faith. Sometimes a question must be posed even if it remains unanswered. Ignoring or diminishing the ‘Why?’ questions is often a remarkably easy way to escape from our own complicity in such matters. Sweeney poses a number of questions that are generated from Job that have universal claims, and thus must be asked beyond the parameters of the story of Job. “Why do the righteous suffer? Does G-d indeed protect the righteous? Is a human being capable of questioning G-d? Is it sinful for a human to question G-d? Is it futile for a human to question G-d? Is suffering the lot of human beings because humans must ultimately die? Can humans correct G-d? Can humans challenge G-d’s power? . . . Rather than condemn Job and the readers of the book for asking such questions, the book of Job is designed to elicit and affirm such questions, even if the answers are not easily forthcoming”
