Response to My Uncle Myron on the Book of Job

Monday, September 3, 2018

Dear Uncle Myron,

I read and reread your wonderful essay on the Book of Job several times.  Some personal reflections:

It seems to me that the question is not “why bad things happen to good people”, but “why things happen”.  My mom used to frame this existential dynamic in her own words: “It is because it is”. I never saw these words as defeatist or fatalistic, but rather and acceptance that things just happen.  Life isn’t planned and can’t be predicted. “Man plans, God laughs”.

Like many, I have faced difficult, painful experiences (although not quite Jobian). My father’s illness and death, at a time in my life when I was just beginning to make sense of things, was profoundly painful – and the pain had a half-life far longer than I could have imagined.  Fourteen years after his death, when we learned that Jo was pregnant with our first son, my sadness arose like some mythical demon.  In the moment, it was unrecognizable and undefinable.   As I wrote in an essay 13 years ago, when Jacob was diagnosed with significant developmental challenges: “Compounded by the unresolved mourning for my father and by the memories of ongoing loss, my bereavement over my son’s autism was overwhelming.  It was exponential sadness and I was rendered helpless.’

On the day we buried my father I was engulfed with sadness and pain. And when Jacob was diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder the emotional devastation was unbearable.  

In those moments, both upon the death of my father and the discovery of Jacob’s developmental challenges, had I been able to look into the future, and, perhaps, see time and space as God does, I would have seen myself standing under the Chupah with Jo at my side, and Uncle Myron looking at us lovingly.  I would have watched from above as I stood in awe at the birth of my children and at my granddaughter’s Simchat Bat.  I’d picture myself pushing Alya, Nomi and Jacob in a swing, reading them books and playing with them on the floor.  I would have seen Jacob returning from his year in Israel and walking across the auditorium stage to be handed his college diploma. I would have seen myself playing with Bina and experiencing a greater joy than I thought was possible.

Of course, in moments of profound sadness, none of us have the gift of future vision.  But, we can engage in it retroactively; I can look back and see the death of my father and other struggles I have faced in the context of my life and all the blessings I have been given.  I can also look back and understand that these pains and these hardships were essential elements of the framing of who I have become.  In my essay about my dad’s passing and Jake’s autism I wrote: “Time doesn’t heal all wounds, it’s how you choose to spend your time that can heal wounds.  

How many of us are blessed to see our children’s children? Ad kama v’kama (how much more so), our children’s children’s children.  Here is another question: How many of us have had the blessing of being a spiritual guide, a friend, a teacher, a mentor and role model to thousands of people?  How many of us can say that we have made the world a better place?  I’d like to think that I have done a fraction of this – and I’d like to think that I have done a fraction of what you have done. 

Certainly, I was not able to see or comprehend this in the immediate days following my father’s death. But, had I, in those days, been able to see the fullness of my life and the blessings that God would, one day, bestow on me; a wonderful wife, children, grandchildren, dear friends and a belief that I have been a force for good, I might have, in concert with all the divine beings, “shouted for joy” (Job 38:7)

“Then the Lord replied to Job out of the tempest” (Job 38:1).  Each of us will face times when our lives are in tempest.  And in the midst of these whirlwinds of profound sadness and pain, when our lives seem shattered and in turmoil, how will God speak to us?  What will God say? Will we be able to hear God? Perhaps, this is the understated lesson of Job; in the midst of our personal tempest, listen for the voice of God. Perhaps that voice can only be heard, truly heard, out of the tempest.  Exodus 19:16: "And it came to pass on the third day, when it was morning, that there were thunders and lightnings and a thick cloud upon the mount." A tempest, no?

Perhaps it is of little comfort to those who have suffered or who are facing suffering, but, to an extent, I wonder if one can truly feel love and joy in their fullest if they have not also been able to experience pain and heartbreak. Here’s another line I wrote over ten years ago that I like: “I have learned the hard way, but perhaps the only way, that memories, and generations of memories, of life, love and loss can provide us with great potential and great strength.  If we can face the sadness and the hurt that lies in our memories we can also find the passion to pursue and, hopefully, find hope, joy and love”.

This may be my favorite line in your essay: “You may not find an “answer, but you will be comforted to know your question is real, authentic and Biblical.”   “Theodicy, to justify the workings of a good God in the face of evil.  It is an ongoing and ever-renewing problem, with no easy answer.”  Easy answers to difficult and painful questions are rarely satisfying and, most often, not helpful.  It is the hard-earned answer, borne by struggle, by devotion, by wrestling with angels that are both sustaining and definitional.  The path to leading a meaningful life in the context of suffering and pain must be a personal one and each individual’s life answer must be sui generous.  Perhaps the import of the search for answers far outweighs the answers themselves. And perhaps, among all the great lessons I have learned from you, this is the most meaning and impactful.

With love, respect, admiration, and devotion,