Suffering, prostitution, poverty, drugs . . . evil in the world seems so insurmountable. We accept it, take a deep breath and keep moving. One reaction is to ignore evil. Another reaction is to simply blame God. "It's not my fault," we say. "How could a loving God allow so much suffering?" This question I've heard a million times, and I myself have asked this question, certainly here in Calcutta. After much thought, I believe the question is misplaced. God loves us so much that He gives us free will to speak, act and think. Surely no one resents an independent mind and choices. God does not force our love as a dictator would force obedience: free will allows for an authentic response of love to God's love. Free will allows us choices: that means we can can choose well, and we can also choose badly (whether we know it or not).
I asked Josh if he ever gets angry with God after one of his daily walks down Sonagachie Street (one of the red-light districts in Calcutta), seeing the prostitutes with few or no options, some of whom were sold into the sex trade against their will. Josh had a tough childhood with a remarkably dysfunctional family life . . . we're talking a field day for Oprah. As such Josh easily has a case for being angry for a situation he didn't choose, and for a situation many of these women didn't choose. "No," he says, "I'm angry at the sin nature of the world and of people." He's mad at the things people do to others and the choices people make, whether they want to admit these choices are in fact evil or not. So just as he can see God shaking his head sometimes, he can see Satan smiling.
We think about God, but how often do we consider Satan, a very real and powerful force bent on our distraction and destruction? I don't want to think about a Satan figure; I don't even want to believe that he is real. Kevin Spacey's character in the movie "The Usual Suspects" tells a police investigator, "Satan's greatest trick was to convince the world he doesn't exist." While I can readily and palpably see God here in Calcutta, in equal measures I see the waste Satan has laid. Not believing Satan exists just because I don't want to believe I could ever be used by him, or because I don't like to think about it, is just kidding myself. There is evidence of people's sin nature and bad choices all over the place in Calcutta (and in America, for that matter). So I wonder to God, "Why are things the way they are with sin and suffering . . . how did we get here?"
In Dostoevsky's The Brothers Karamazov, the author writes a curious dialogue about power and freedom. The agnostic brother Ivan writes a poem called "The Grand Inquisitor" set at the height of the Spanish Inquisition. The Inquisitor, a cardinal, recognizes Jesus in a crowd and throws him into prison. There, the two visit, and the Inquisitor accuses Jesus of forfeiting to Satan the three greatest powers at his disposal: "miracle, mystery and authority." He should have followed Satan's advice and performed the miracles on demand in order to increase his fame among the people. "Instead of taking possession of men's freedom, you increased it, and burdened the spiritual kingdom of mankind with its sufferings forever. You desired man's free love, that he should follow you freely, enticed and taken captive by you."
Philip Yancey, author of The Jesus I Never Knew, thinks a lot on Dostoevsky's book and writes at length in response:
"I believe God insists on 'the miracle of restraint' because no pyrotechnic displays of omnipotence will achieve the response he desires. Although power can force obedience, only love can summon a response of love, which is the one thing God wants from us and the reason he created us. For God, preserving the free will of a notoriously flawed species seemed worth the cost. God made himself weak (in the form of Jesus) for one purpose: to let human beings choose freely for themselves what to do with him. I never sense (in the Bible) Jesus twisting a person's arm, rather, he states the consequences of a choice, then threw the decision back to the other party. Jesus' resistance against Satan's temptations preserved for me the very freedom I exercise when I face my own temptations. Jesus knows first-hand what I'm going through, because he too was tempted, and he too suffered. I pray for the same trust and patience that Jesus showed."
Gary Haugen is the president of International Justice Mission in Washington, DC, and previously worked in the UN genocide investigation in Rwanda, and in the US Justice Department civil rights division. This guy has been to the most remote parts of the world and has witnessed poverty and horror beyond our imagination. I recently read his book Good News About Injustice, and he offers some interesting insights along the same lines as Yancey:
"I believe the reason these offenses occur is because people choose to indulge their selfish and brutal urges to dominate the defenseless. For most of us these latent urges are kept in check by various social and cultural restraints, but we should be under no illusions about what exists at the human core. Perfectly ordinary human beings are capable of atrocities. In Rwanda, to say nothing of Eastern Europe during the Holocaust, the killing was not performed by specially trained pathological killers but by ordinary people: farmers, clerks, school principals, mothers, doctors and mayors."
Haugen goes on to say this about our role as people relating to God as we see bad things like poverty and suffering:
"Viewing a world of injustice from a seat in the grandstand, we may be tempted to shake our fist at God, demanding to know why he's not harder at work blowing those mysterious winds to save someone. Over time I have come to see questions about suffering in the world not so much as questions of God's character but as questions about the obedience and faith of God's people. Gradually it has occurred to me that the problem may not be that God is so far off, the problem may be that God's people are far off. Through whose hands does God reach out to meet the needs of those who are poor and suffering injustice? Ours. We are God's hands of mercy and love. Through supernatural intervention God could meet all of these needs, yet he has given these tasks to his people. He gives us the great honor and privilege of being his instruments. How pathetic it would be if God said, 'Seek justice, defend the orphan and plead for the widow - and good luck to you out there!' But sometimes we act as if that's precisely the way he works, suspecting that he calls us to a grand, utterly impossible work in the world and then doesn't bother to show up. But this is not true. Jesus promised that when he left the Holy Spirit would come and we would receive power - witnesses to his love, his mercy and his justice (Acts 1:8)"
So, how could we as people build these societal systems and willingly (or unwittingly) allow evil to prevail through corruption, addiction, selfishness, greed and violence? Can we be Good Samaritans? Where are we when others suffer? Where am I?
In Calcutta and all over the world, the Missionaries of Charity are exercising their free will and choosing to live a life serving God by serving the suffering poor. Mother Teresa said it well, after being asked how she is able to serve the poor. "I don't understand the question," she said, "I'm simply loving my husband." I've never heard someone refer to God this way, in the context of a deeply committed love relationship. She responds to God, she walks with Him. Practically speaking, this intimacy came from loving and serving the poor and the sick.
Mother Teresa showed up and chose to be an instrument for good. Gandhi showed up. Countless black and white men and women in the Civil Rights era showed up. Groups like International Justice Mission, Friends of the Children, Doctors Without Borders, Salvation Army, Word Made Flesh . . . they showed up. Countless others in your community and mine who will achieve no fame or award . . . they showed up, too. These people knew/know what it means when Haugen says it's a "great honor" to serve the poor, the sick, the forgotten, the oppressed. In all of my reading and hearing stories of these individuals, it is clear this kind of service is not easy: yes, they saw innocent people die, some from injustice or murder or from just getting sick. Yes, they questioned God and cried out to Him often, not knowing why these people "drew the short stick." Yet these individuals understood they could be part of God's plan to help His people, and they found in the sometimes pain and struggle of service great fulfillment and even joy.
I realize that the free will we have is a frightening gift. I see we as people have choices and on a daily basis make bad choices, whether relatively harmless to downright evil; whether as a result of being fooled, of an honest mistake or of a calculated choice. Sometimes I feel I suffer from too much freedom. God, why can't you just overwhelm me? It's that pesky free will, isn't it? For as much as I enjoy and even demand it, it sure can stink sometimes. I still pray for God's miraculous intervention in situations, and sometimes I'm disappointed. But sometimes his response is far greater than I expected. I recognize I've only explored one aspect of an enormous topic of "why people suffer," and man, is it a hard topic. These notions alone are not enough to comfort a dying person at Kalighat. Yet this angle is an important one that calls me to action for what I am able to do and can be responsible for. Now that I've been studying and thinking on our human condition of free will and choice and how it relates to why people suffer, I believe my next subject of study is God's compassion: that He cares deeply about those who are suffering and does in fact respond. Sometimes we don't see it on this side of Heaven.
If God wants to use me to be his "instrument" like I think He does, how then shall I live today? What choices will I make? I can see God shaking His head at the bad choices I've made in the past, choices to let "road rage" take over, to be nasty to the telemarketer who calls me during dinner, to gossiping about or making fun of a co-worker . . . or worse choices like getting behind the wheel though I've had too much to drink, pretending the poor beggar at the traffic light doesn't exist, or lying to a friend to save my own skin.
I recognize I must be in prayer every single day to stay close to God and as a result, to choose well. I wonder how this time in India will affect how I spend my time, how I manage my money, and what activities I choose to participate in. So that is my lesson, and my homework when I arrive back home to Texas.
"Suppose a brother or sister is without clothes and daily food. If one of you says to him, 'Go, I wish you well; keep warm and well fed,' but does nothing about his physical needs, what good is it?"
