I got the unexpected call while driving to work: a friend and former classmate, Harrison, had passed away. As I reeled from the tragic news and its impact not only on me but also on those who knew him, I began to ponder more intensely my own thoughts on life’s hardest moments, the ones that dare to crush us. For the first time in years, finding an adequate response to hardship became nearly impossible. As someone who prides himself on being able to handle pain, I felt confused and even resentful, a reaction worth reflecting on. A few points of emphasis will be explored below with a desire to help others navigate the journey through significant pain and loss.
The Ultimate Inadequacy of Theodicy
After taking a course on the problem of evil last year, I felt confident in my ability to provide what’s called a “theodicy,”[1] a potential reason why God would allow evil in the world.[2] I was comfortable in my ability to engage with the problem of evil on a philosophical basis. Indeed, considering various theodicy proposals not only had been beneficial on an intellectual level but also provided comfort when I would encounter minor trials or setbacks. Surely, God was allowing these things to happen for justified reasons. Perhaps God was using these challenges to make me a better person, refine my soul,[3] or maybe I was supposed to learn a lesson that I could learn no other way. As long as nothing too bad occurred in my life, I was satisfied in not fully grasping God’s reasons.
But I ran into a problem when reflecting on Harrison’s passing: none of my theodicy musings were making much of a difference to alleviate my grief. My inability to think of a justification for God to allow such a tragedy only intensified the sting of the loss.
Interestingly, I’m not the first to realize the failure of theodicy to address significant evil. Christian philosopher Nicholas Wolterstorff goes to great lengths in his book Lament For A Son to explain why, when his 25-year old son lost his life in a rock-climbing accident, theodicy proposals by loved ones only made the tragedy more unbearable.[4] Upon the passing of his wife, C. S. Lewis wrote A Grief Observed, where he attempts to grapple with this searing loss. He agonizes while speaking of God’s presence, “Why is He so present a commander in our time of prosperity and so very absent a help in our time of trouble?”[5] When it comes to those in his life who try to use religion to comfort him or to attempt to justify his wife’s death, he bluntly retorts, “But don’t come talking to me about the consolations of religion or I shall suspect that you don’t understand.”[6] It’s hard not to empathize with Lewis’s sentiment. When dealing with grief, we must look beyond speculative theodicies towards something – or Someone – better.
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