we ask the question too seldom. Maybe we can agree to a rule for its usage: "When sorrow comes, we have no right to ask, 'Why did this happen to me?' unless we ask the same question whenever joy comes our way."
His disciples asked him, Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?" John 9:2
He asked them, "Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans?" Luke 13:2
God of pain or Compassion?
F or countless centuries, people have been lifting their voices of despair or confusion: "Why, God, why?" "Why was my baby deformed?" "Why did the earthquake destroy the city?" "Why am I sick?" "Why did that accident have to happen?"
In the face of almost every tragedy, hardship, or sickness, people have asked, why. "Is there any reason for these things to happen?" In the Old Testament, one interpretation seems to dominate the others: tragedy, catastrophe, sickness, defeat are often understood as direct actions of God. These devastations are seen as a means of God's punishment for sin. According to this theological position, the root cause of suffering is sin. If one is sick, it is because of the spiritual unfaithfulness of the person.
Throughout much of the Old Testament, hardship and suffering are understood as tools of God—tools to punish, chastise, test, or temper the people of God. Suffering, tragedy, and hardship often were not understood as occurring by chance or as a result of human error; they were seen simply as God's intervention in response to the sins of the people. It is ironic that many insurance policies still refer to hurricanes, tornadoes, and earthquakes as "acts of God." I wonder: Is this the kind of God we worship?
Jesus was quite aware of the prevailing theology of his day. Sickness still was understood as a manifestation of sinfulness. Material wealth, health, large families often were seen as signs of God's approval. But many people still were not convinced of such a theology. Many who witnessed their own suffering and the suffering of others continued to raise the probing question: "Why?" "Why do people suffer? Is it really because of sin? If so, whose sin?"
The sermon texts raise these existential dilemmas. In John, we hear the question of Jesus' disciples as they observe a blind man: "Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents that he was born blind?" (John 9:2b). Jesus did not give an orthodox answer. He did not draw any connection at all between the man's sinfulness and his predicament. In fact, Jesus eliminates this theology altogether. He says, "Neither this man nor his parents sinned" (John 9:3a).
Likewise, in the Gospel of Luke, we find Jesus taking a similar stand. This time the circumstance is not a personal affliction but a major disaster. Jesus asks the rhetorical question: "Those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them—do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem?" Jesus answers his own question with an emphatic "No" (Luke 13:4, 5a). Jesus is suggesting that in the face of disaster, tragedy, or sickness, one cannot draw conclusions as to the "goodness or wickedness" of the victims. Jesus would have us reject the notion that tragedy is to be understood as a punishment for wrongdoing.
This is not to say that tragedy cannot be a direct result of our wrongdoing or poor judgment. We can smoke cigarettes for thirty years and then develop lung cancer. Such a disease is not the punishment for sin but rather the consequence of harmful habits. It is the body's reaction to abuse. At the end of our lives we may face financial ruin or poor health, all because of our behavior and lifestyle.
Sin does have consequences.
Sin does have consequences. Evil does entrap us in various tragedies: loss of friends, lack of meaning, backlash, resentment, and hostility. But the question raised today is not whether or not we may suffer from our own sinfulness; indeed, all sin causes suffering!
The basic question we are facing today is whether or not the suffering we experience should be understood as a punishment from God. Such a question is not one limited to biblical times. I have heard several parishioners with severe illnesses say, "I must have been a bad person to have to suffer like this." Others tearfully question, "What have I done to deserve this?"—as if to say, "God is doing this to me. Why?"
Jesus never fully answers the question of why. He does not give us an adequate reason for our suffering. What Jesus does instead is to suffer with us, for us, like us. Jesus has experienced what we now experience. Jesus knows what suffering means. He now suffers with us.
In reflecting upon suffering, Jesus is quick to rule out one theological premise. He refutes the idea that all tragedy, sickness, and hardship are punishment for sin.
Jesus would never want us to assume that if someone suffers a deep human tragedy that such is a sign of deep sinfulness.
He refutes the idea that all tragedy, sickness, and hardship are punishment for sin.
And don't we all know of experiences in life that support this truth? Don't we all know saints who have suffered greatly? Don't we know scoundrels who seem to hardly suffer at all? If anything, I am inclined to conclude that the good people of this world seem to suffer the most. And of this I am certain: The truly good people of this earth are able to suffer and still not be defeated.
The choice before us is to decide whether we have a God of pain or a God of compassion, whether we believe in a God who inflicts pain to punish or change us, or a God who sends rain on the just and unjust and allows tragedy to fall on the good and the bad.
My hunch is that some of us make God a God of punishment because of our own guilt. Several years ago I visited with a woman who had faced one major crisis after another. I honestly did not know how she could handle all the problems, suffering, and anxiety. But I was surprised one day when she said she wondered if God was punishing her for her wrongdoing.
My first impulse was to say God does not act that way, instead I decided to ask a question. "Have you done anything in your life that you think is deserving of your present suffering?" Before she realized it, and before I was prepared for it, she confessed to a serious wrongdoing.
I do not believe that God was punishing her for her wrongdoing. God was not causing problems for members of her family as a means of divine punishment or as a motivation for her to change her behavior. Rather, she was so burdened by her guilt that she felt deserving of God's judgment. Perhaps she even wanted God or someone to somehow force her to stop.
Most of us, if we were given God's absolute power for a day, would do things differently. Many of us would ensure quick justice. Thieves would have their loot snatched from their hands. Criminals would not have trials but instant punishment, because with divine powers we could determine unmistakably who was guilty and who was innocent. We might even give some reward to those who were nice— perhaps better health, a bonus of some sort.
We might rig the lotteries to pay only to those who would be generous with their winnings. We might bless all the churchgoers and place a mild affliction on those who choose not to worship. If we were allowed to be God and have God's power, things probably would be different. Goodness would be instantly rewarded and evil would be readily and firmly punished. And it would be a better world.
Several years ago I would have especially enjoyed having supernatural powers. A young man liked to ride his motorcycle with no muffler through the apartment complex where we lived—especially in the middle of the night! As he neared our window he would slow down to avoid the speed bumps, then rack the pipes, thus awakening half of the apartment complex.
