The following d’var Torah was given in the summer of 2005 for Parashat Chukat.
The main impetus for the talk was the London terrorist bombings that had recently occurred. Although the terrible natural disasters of 2005 had not yet occurred, this talk relates to those as well.
All these ideas remain eminently relevant.
Staring Down Evil
by Rabbi Rick Brody
What is the nature of evil? Why does it exist? Why does God not control or remove the evil that exists in the world? For me, the most persuasive theological response to the challenge of evil is that which recognizes that God is not all-powerful. God’s presence in our lives has infinite possibility, but just not in the realm of entirely preventing suffering or evil. It’s not that God is cruel or that God is weak. God’s strength is manifest in the human response to suffering—the comforting of those who are hurt or bereaved; the efforts to put an end to injustice and wickedness. But the nature of the world that God created is such that misfortune will occur; disappointment, loss, pain, and grief will befall those who have the ability to respond with emotion to their environment.
God may save us in our times of trouble—keep us from danger and harm. Many believe that each moment that we continue to live and remain free from the suffering that exists in the world is a gift from God, an experience of the miracle that is God’s saving power. Each day we thank God in the modim prayer of the amidah, praising God for “our lives, which are in your hand; our souls, which are in your care; and your miracles, which are with us every day, evening, morning, and noontime.” We might not appreciate God’s miraculous presence in our lives all the time, and sometimes, frankly, it may be very hard to discern. God’s saving power is not guaranteed to come in the way we wish. God may save us from harm. This is why we regularly express our fervent wish that God be with us as a protector.
When we set out on a journey, we pray that God protect us from the wild beasts and robbers that might endanger our way. When we lie down, as we will say in our Hashkiveinu prayer tonight, we ask that God remove every enemy and disease; the sword that symbolizes human violence; famine and anguish—and everything that seeks to cause us dismay or suffering. We know that these enemies and evils exist. We ask God to grace us with protection from them; there is no guarantee. And even moreso, there is the guarantee that something bad will happen to us all. Now, is the suffering of some greater than the suffering of others? Absolutely. Can God control this? I say no. Life is unfair. Suffering is not evenly distributed across creation.
But again, God can become manifest in our responses—our survival, our sharing our story, our experience of comfort and care of loved ones; and perhaps those who have suffered more have achieved deeper insight into the power of God’s grace by appreciating the gifts they do possess. Does this justify the suffering? Absolutely not. Life is unfair. Can God remain present in spite of this unfairness? This is our choice. This question is the challenge of humanity. Stories of those who have withstood the deepest suffering or loss appear to testify to the possibility that we can continue to discern God’s presence in our lives, in spite of all odds.
Nonetheless, the gifts of consciousness and reason—the faculties of humanity that suggest that we were created in God’s image—intensify the experience of our calamities. We dwell on our pain; we reflect on it, interpret it. The gifts of humanity are further complicated by the existence of free will, the ability we human beings have to not only be more aware of our pain, but to choose to inflict it. The devising of human evil is the price we pay for our intellectual freedom as a species.
In this week’s parashah, Chukat, the Israelites have evil befall them in the form of poisonous serpents. The fact that these serpents exist in the first place is a reminder that God does not grant us a free ride unharmed in the journey through the wilderness of life. In fact, many commentators have noted that it was the absence of the serpents up to this point in the Israelites’ travels that signified God’s miraculous grace. The normal way of the world is the world of the serpents; this is the world that we live in, in which we generally do not experience the Bible’s account of God’s mythic intercession in the natural order. God’s extra protection and care of the Israelites, symbolized primarily through the manna that rained down from heaven, was a gift that the Israelites failed to recognize and appreciate. Their complaining that they had become sick of this food led to their experiencing the natural way of the world—in which God’s protection is not automatic; in which the evils that exist all around us can easily snare us. This, of course, is our world—a world in which evil cannot always be held at bay by an omnipotent God; rather, it becomes a world in which we pray to God that we be spared; that we be the exception to the rule.
Now, when evil emerges from ourselves, we realize how much less control God has. The only control God has over the violence we commit towards one another is in implanting an awareness of goodness within us that can lead us to choose the upright path over that of destruction and hatred.
The Israelites were healed by staring at a copper serpent that Moshe constructed. Shimshon Raphael Hirsch suggests that true healing can only come alongside an awareness that danger remains a possibility, that more serpents lie ahead, that every minute of security is a gift from God to be cherished. Perhaps we need to stare down evil. In the case of uncontrollable evil—suffering that comes from nature—we may need to resign ourselves to the precariousness of life that comes without guarantees. In the case of human evil—ery different from what the Torah’s serpents seem to represent—perhaps we need to stare this down as well.
Perhaps looking in the face of those who perpetrate evil can somehow remind them that we are all God’s creatures and all have the responsibility to work together to preserve this gift God has granted us; perhaps our staring at the snake represents our will to live, our resolve not to be swayed by terrorists. Ideally, we will disarm those who cause violence by guiding them towards the light of peaceful living in this beautiful world. At the least, perhaps we can strengthen ourselves, knowing that even in the face of evil, we will continue to live. We may not all survive the venom of the serpent. My prayer is that those of us who do can look at it, see it as real, and nonetheless, prevail.