The mystery of the providence of God
The horrible slush keeps pouring out as if from a broken sewer pipe.
Instead of admitting that we do not know how to reconcile a loving God with terrible disasters like Haiti and Indonesia, some theologians come up with cruel solutions…We do not know the answer to this conundrum except to say that is the nature of freedom in an imperfect world and that is the mystery of the providence of God. God will work all things for our good even if we don’t understand. That is what faith is: the moment we say we understand, there is no longer any faith.
We do not know except to say – it’s always ‘except to say,’ isn’t it – it’s never just we do not know. What’s really meant is They don’t know but I do. We do not know except to say ‘that is the mystery of the providence of God.’ That’s knowing a hell of a lot! And it is of course knowing way more than we do in fact know. We don’t know if there is anything that matches the name ‘God’ and we certainly don’t know anything about what such a god’s ‘providence’ might be, or that what happened in Haiti is some of it. We don’t know jack shit, and saying ‘all we know is that that is the mystery of the providence of God’ is the very opposite of saying we do not know. It’s just part of the endlessly tiresome conceit of religious people to think they can get away with saying ‘we don’t know except for just this one big thing’ – to think they can get away with eating their cake and having it in that brazen way. I’m so humble, I know we don’t know, and also, I have the knowledge of ‘faith,’ so I do know, so I get the credit for both – humbleness and faithy knowledge.
And the upshot of this contemptible enterprise is still to end up in the same place – God will work all things for our good even if we don’t understand – so it’s okay that God crushed a lot of people to death at once and let a lot of others die very slowly in pain and thirst and fear. Well fuck that. It’s not okay. If God exists and did that, God is a monster. Don’t explain away horrors.
James Wood, in his alternately insightful and contemptuous Op-Ed article, concludes by dismissing the views of a Haitian bishop — who affirms that “what happened is the will of God” and “we are in the hands of God now” — as “little more than a piece of helpless mystification, a contradictory cry of optimistic despair.”…The bishop’s theology is neither mystifying nor contradictory, and in fact represents one version of a view held by many Christians and other religious people: namely, that God is deeply present in and through the events of the world — often inscrutably, but always powerfully and lovingly — and though we cannot for the life of us see how, even catastrophes include divine presence and power.
Yes, of course that’s a view held by many Christians and other religious people; it’s still both wrong and cruel. Dressing it up in unctuous churchy language doesn’t make it any less of either. Telling people that smashing tens of thousands of people to death is something to do with a God who is loving is just to sanctify a nightmare.
The perpetrator of that second one is an associate professor of ministry studies at Harvard Divinity School.
Ugh. The final line of the associate professor’s letter is also revolting: “Mr. Wood may not share [the view of the Haitian bishop], but he has no right to scorn it, especially from a safe harbor.”
Mr Wood does have a right to scorn it. And the bit about “especially from a safe harbor” is not only nasty by implication, but stupid because it means no-one can say anything about Haiti except the Haitians, including the associate professor of ministry studies himself. The prof is doing that thing that apologists love to do: claiming others are being nasty while actually being rather underhandedly nasty themselves.
Harvard Divinity School! BWA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA! Must be one of the more *cough* prestigious *choke* divinity schools!! AAAAAAH HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!
Well surely it’s almost as prestigious as Harvard Bidness School isn’t it Roy?
Emily, I know, I ground my teeth at that bit too. Didn’t go on about it only for the sake of concentrating on one point. The other nonsense about that ‘safe harbor’ thing is that it implies that saying God meant to do it is comforting and saying that’s bullshit is anti-comforting. But why is it comforting to say ‘God meant to smash all your children in their school? If anyone has no right to say it’s people who say that.
“We do not know except to say ‘that is the mystery of the providence of God.’ That’s knowing a hell of a lot! And it is of course knowing way more than we do in fact know. “
I don’t have anything to add to this; I just wanted to quote it for truth. How wonderfully well put – and how incisively you cut through the layers upon layers of theological bullshit heaped on this topic by people who desperately want us to believe they have something meaningful and comforting to say about all this horror.
Okay, I’m gushing; I’ll stop. :)
I was thinking the other day of the young priests that I had known, just ordained and setting off to their first parishes, all kitted up with the usual anodyne stuff that they’re often taught, and if not taught, that they picked up as children (most people go through theological school without changing the core of their faith very much); and out they go with authority to preach empty comfort to people.
It takes a lot of gall for an institution to do that, but there’s a deep sense of complacent entitlement about it, and they don’t like to be challenged. This is my flock, my congegation, my parish. I have an office from God himself. I have been called, chosen, set apart, to care for God’s people.
There is also a sense that they are working at the coalface of human misery. They know, as others do not. That’s why they’re so quick to intervene if anyone suggests that suffering has no meaning or purpose. If it hasn’t, then their time is wasted and their vocation empty. It’s not much wonder they don’t like being scorned, and it would probably be wrong to think that they never bring comfort or provide help in time of trouble. Religion has a strong grip. It doesn’t easily let go. People expect to be consoled. Their leaders should start acknowledging that they really don’t have consolation to give.
Really, they’re like the primitive monster who appeared to Job and overawed him by the sheer display of power. Job said: “I want justice.” And God said: “Were you there when I laid the foundations of the earth?” That’s still God’s defence, though he’s never been around to make the claim for himself. It’s just a story. But in the story he’s as powerful as Job is weak, as knowledgeable as Job is ignorant, poor blindly suffering sod. And that thought is supposed to overawe us too, and set our minds a rest. But only the indoctrinated and the unreflective can take the story seriously.
As Herman Tønnessen says in his paper on Job, “A Masterpiece of Existential Blasphemy,” God is a primitive cave dweller, who answers pleas for justice with wanton acts of vandalism. Such a god must be scorned, and those who believe they speak for such a god must be scorned too. It’s the only way to rid the earth of the scourge of religion. They must be told, again and again, that they have no answers to suffering, and they can’t use a man on a cross as an answer. He’s the problem. And all the vaunted superiority of Harvard cannot change that.
Well, if we define consolation to mean only, and nothing but, reassurance that there’s a divine plan for you, then yes. And I think lot of people do conceive of it that way. But that’s very bothersome, because it just isn’t so.
Any kind person has consolation to give. It comes in the form of a hug, holding someone’s hand while they cry over a death, bringing food and water to the hungry or the sick, listening to a person in distress complain or cry, or just saying “I know, I know.”
It isn’t magic, and clergy don’t have a corner on the market. I can’t say for sure, but I suspect hungry, frightened people in disasters would take some bit of consolation in this kind of speech (contrast with typical preacher spiel):
“We’re in a terrible crisis, and we’re in terrible grief. We’ll cry and comfort each other for a long, long time. But we will put our lives back together. We are already starting to rebuild our communities. We are feeding each other with the help of kind people the world over, and we are wiping each others’ tears as we bury our dead.
We will work to make sure this never happens again. We will strengthen our buildings; we’ll shore up our governmental infrastructure. We will never let our government neglect us so terribly again. We’ll rebuild our schools . . . “
OK, so it’s not poetry, but we can express empathy and sorrow, and speak uplifting words that inspire real action to alleviate real suffering. If that’s not consolation, what the hell is?
I’m tired of hearing people (I’m looking at comfortable Westerners, especially the atheist-butters) say “But they need to believe in the divine to get through this.”
Bullshit. “They” are not a different species, and “they” are not incapable of taking real comfort in a hot meal, a warm embrace, and a practical plan to put their lives back together.
As some of you know, I work for a nonprofit that guards grieving consumers against the predations of the American funeral industry. As such, I speak to thousands (yes, really) of grieving people by phone and email every year. No, I do not contradict or interrupt people who express their religious beliefs. I don’t offer my own thoughts – that’s not my place. But I also do not spend time merely sympathizing, or exhorting them to get “grief therapy,” or “see their pastor.”
I provide practical, plain English, step by step instructions. I show them how to pick, how to afford, and how to get through a burial with a minimum of commercial manipulation. I remind them that money can’t buy love, and that whether they spend $1 or $10,000 on a coffin, their dead are no less dead, no less loved, and no less fondly remembered.
Most people would be shocked at how effective this is. We assume “they” need professional help, or that the most important thing is “spiritual guidance.” Some people seek this out, of course, and everyone is different. But in my experience, the most important thing is to be reminded of your own competence by a caring, but no-nonsense person who wants to help you help yourself.
People who called on the phone so confused they couldn’t turn around frequently say, “I can’t thank you enough – you’re the first person who spoke to me like I was an adult since my son died. I know I can handle this now.”
Sorry for the long rant, and this is meant to be self-aggrandising. I just don’t buy the idea that hollow, empty promises, of the religious or therapeutic sort, are worth more than kind but practical support.
Isn’t – this isn’t meant to be self-aggrandizing. One of those typos!
Not a rant, and very good, Josh.
The Guardian article about the secular chaplain says something similar to what Eric and Josh say – sometimes people want a consoling presence – that doesn’t automatically mean they need a goddy one. (Josh is saying not just a consoling presence, but I take it to be relevant anyway.)
Damn typos, and yes, that’s what I meant to say, not meant to be self-aggrandizing. Now, see how I spelled it with an ‘s’ before? I think I’ll just claim I was “thinking of England.”
Yes to your observation about Greg Epstein, as a secular chaplain. I’m not as disturbed about it as some atheists appear to be – I really do think functioning in that kind of role can have real human value. Many people I like find it distasteful because they think it’s aping church. I’d submit it’s religion that has coopted rituals and relationships that many, maybe most humans, find value in.
Yes, I think you’re right Ophelia, it IS seen as anti-comforting. It’s seen as nihilism, which as about un-comforting as you can get. Religious thinking seems to make the jump from “God doesn’t care” to “no-one or nothing cares,” forgetting that we can just bloody well care for each other. The universe may be indifferent, but we’re not. Much more beautiful and significant, in my opinion.
Yes, Josh, I should have added that. Of course, any person may have comfort to bring. In fact, the comfort clergy bring to parishioners is almost always the comfort of a human presence. If they intrude religious stuff into the midst of the human context – except for those who are really quite religiously devout – prayer, or talk of god, is almost always an intrusion. It doesn’t belong in that simple human context, which, as Emily says, is much more beautiful and significant. (Of course, the religious will talk of human presence in terms of god’s presence. Well, they would, wouldn’t they? They use Jesus that way too. He was – what else? – god suffering with us. No he wasn’t. He was a man, suffering, so far as we can tell, because he had a fantasy that only if he died in some miserable way could he bring this world to an end and usher in the reign of god. His did.)
alternately insightful and contemptuous
Alternately? No, the most contemptuous parts were the most insightful.
Emily,
Thank you, beautifully put.
Did I already say on a previous post that I started mentally substituting “Asshat” for Douthat pretty much automatically after reading his very first editorial on the NYT? Whether I’ve said it before or not, it certainly remains true after reading this particular bit of effluvium.
Some opponents are worthy, and one must read what they have to say so one can understand and better oppose them, even learn from them. Others are intellectual impostors, beneath notice and beneath contempt. Ross Douthat is definitively the latter. Stomp on him if you must, OB – but wipe your feet thoroughly after, or the stench might cling.
Douthat has two tricks: religious apologism and patronizing sexism (usually about abortion and birth control).
Well however blindingly obvious it is that Douthat is (cough) not much good, the fact remains that the NY Times sees fit to inflict him on us. I think that fact alone makes it worthwhile to spend some time stomping on him when he obtrudes himself on my notice.
I was looking out a bus window, this morning, as it was passing by a Presbyterian church; in the vicinity of Parnell Sq, Dublin. A big billboard within the church ground suddenly caught my fearful eye.
“If God was so unforgiving Heaven would be a very empty place’.
I went back to reading post apocalyptical book ‘The Road’ by Cormac McCarthy. There was a double bleakness in my bones as I shuddered at contents of both without and within — which lay before my fearful eyes. The ‘Road’ and the ‘board’ were both full of emptiness and where was God in all of this indeed I thought. What a whole load of claptrap. How dare religion be allowed to scare off folk.
Thanks, Don and Eric. :-) I’m chuffed. I do think my expression is getting better, hanging around B&W will do that to a person!