Saturday, January 29, 2005

A Letter to Humanity As God Might Write it

By Rabbi Mark S. Glickman

Special to The Seattle Times

Dear Friends,
 
As you might imagine, it’s been a little hectic around here lately. Recent natural events have turned many of your hearts and souls heavenward, just inundating Me up here with millions and millions of your prayers.
 
I’m glad you’ve been praying.  But in recent days, I’ve noticed a troubling theme in many of your supplications, and I need to respond.
 
For some reason, you seem to have gotten it into your heads that everything in the world is always supposed to be good and happy – that every day is supposed to be sunny, that you’ll never get sick, and that your homes will stand forever.  And when those things don’t happen, you come to Me demanding explanations and compensation.
 
Let Me be clear, folks – I never promised you that life would always be wonderful.  Sure, it would’ve been great if I could have, but All-Joy-All-The-Time was never part of the deal, and I wish you’d stop assuming that it was.
 
Here’s what happened.  Back when I was creating human beings, I had to make a lot of Very Big Decisions.  Once I’d made the easy ones (opposable thumbs; wisdom teeth; dimples, etc.) I was left with the two biggest decisions of all – I had to decide whether people were always going to be good to people, and I had to decide whether nature was always going to be good to people.
 
The first was easy.  Early on, I realized that the most important and sublime part of being a human being would be your ability to make moral decisions. During each and every moment of your life, you can choose to do good, evil, or something in-between.  Your decisions will always have consequences, of course, but the point is that you get to make those decisions yourselves.
 
Sounds pretty straightforward.  But, remember, there’s a downside.  You see, now, when you choose to do something bad, I can’t just swoop down there and stop you.  If I could, and if I did, you would no longer be human – you’d simply be machines, doing everything I’d want you to do because I wouldn’t have given you the chance to do otherwise.

But what about nature?  If people can’t be good all the time, couldn’t nature be?  

Sorry, but no.  You see, another factor that makes life good and sweet is its unpredictability.  You could win the lottery tomorrow, or you could lose your shirt.  A rainbow might glimmer over your head, or a sudden rainstorm might drench you and ruin your clothes.  You might find the love of your life, or you might lose it, too.  Your destiny each day, I decided, would be an adventure – unpredictable, mysterious, and exciting – and in order to see how it turns out, you’d have to live it.
 
Sadly, part of the downside here is that, as you have seen in recent days, though the earth will sometimes be solid beneath your feet and the water clear, blue and calm, at other times the earth and the water will move with crushing, destructive, murderous force.
 
I’m sorry, but it just has to be that way.  An all-good life, you see, wouldn’t have turned out very good at all, so it has to be unpredictable. In fact, your lives are unpredictable even for Me, otherwise I might be tempted to intervene and make them good – good, peaceful, and meaningless.
 
But know this.  When the bad things do happen, I’ll be there with you. When the world around you is destroyed, I will stand beside you, doing all I can to give you the strength to rebuild it.  When you lose loved ones, I will be sitting with you at their funerals, My arm around your shoulders, giving you whatever comfort I can.  And when despair overwhelms you, I’ll be with you then, too, gently trying to show you the path to renewed hope and joy.
 
In this unpredictable world of ours, that, at least, is something you can count on.
 
Love,
 
God