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Priest explains: Where is God in this pandemic?
Translated from Dutch. View the original post
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What God has to do with the coronacrisis? The honest answer, according to priest James Martin, is that we do not know.
James Martin27 March 2020, 11:00
Last summer I had to be irradiated. Every time I went to the hospital in New York City to the “radiology oncology” department, it seemed like my heart was skipping. I myself was in little danger (it was a benign tumor, and yes, sometimes it requires radiation anyway), but I met people who were close to death every day.
For six weeks, I held a cab every day at work. “To the corner of 68th street and York Avenue, please.” When I arrived I always first walked into a nearby church to pray. When I then walked through the hospital, I passed through cancer patients who had lost their hair, tired elderly people in wheelchairs, pushed by their caregivers, or patients who had just had a major surgery. And there were also busy doctors, friendly nurses, and many others, all in seemingly perfect health.
One of those days I realized: we're all on our way to the corner of 68th street and York Avenue, only we all have our appointment at a different time.
Who's James Martin?
James Martin is an American Jesuit and priest. He works at the Catholic magazine America. He is also advisor to the Vatican Secretariat for Communications and regularly performs in American television programmes to identify developments in the Catholic Church. He wrote more than ten books, some of which became bestsellers in America. In the Netherlands he published his book 'Building a bridge' in 2018, in which he advocates a better position of lhbt'ers in the Roman Catholic Church.
In a horror movie
Over the past few weeks, millions of people have found fear that they are suddenly heading for their appointment at a terrifying pace, thanks to the coronavirus. The pure horror of this raging virus is accompanied by the almost physical shock of its sudden onset. As a priest, I am confronted with an avalanche of emotions: panic, fear, anger, sadness, confusion and despair. I feel like I've ended up in a horror movie, but the kind that you instinctively want to turn off, because it's too intense. Even the most religious people ask me: why is this happening? And, where is God in all this?
That's actually the same question people ask when a hurricane demands hundreds of lives, or if a child dies of cancer. It is the question of 'the problem of suffering, ''the mystery of evil', or the' theodice'. And it's a question that believers and theologians have been struggling with for millennia.
The question of 'natural' suffering, such as diseases and natural disasters, differs from that of 'moral evil', in which suffering arises from the actions of individuals — think of Hitler and Stalin. But apart from that kind of theological distinction, millions of believers are currently struggling with ever-increasing mortality rates, with stories of doctors who have to make choices between which patients can be treated and which ones can't, with images of long rows of coffins. Why?
Over the centuries, many answers have been formulated to the question of natural suffering, each with its own lack. The most commonly heard answer is that suffering is a test. Suffering tests our faith and makes it stronger. In James's letter, in the New Testament, it says: “You must vote to great joy, brothers and sisters, when you undergo all kinds of trials. For you know: when your faith is tested, it leads to steadfastness.”
The empty subway hall in the financial disctrict of New York.Picture AP
No monstrous god
Suffering as a test — that may suffice when it comes to minor problems (patience put to the test by someone else's irritating behavior, for example), but that explanation fails when it comes to the really difficult things people can experience. God sends cancer to test a child? Yes, the parents of that child may learn something about perseverance or faith, but otherwise this approach to suffering makes God a monster.
The same applies to the reasoning that suffering is a punishment for sin, a conviction that is still common among some believers (those believers usually say that God punishes people or groups who show behaviour that they themselves disapprove of). Jesus himself rejects this way of thinking.
The John Gospel describes his encounter with a blind man. Jesus gets the question: “Rabbi, how come he was blind when he was born? Has he sinned himself or his parents? ” Jesus answers, “He's not, nor his parents.” With this very resolutely, Jesus rejects the image of the monstrous God. In the Gospel of Luke he does something similar. Referring to a stone tower that had collapsed and perished eighteen people, he says, 'Do you think they were more guilty than all the people living in Jerusalem? ? Certainly not, I tell you.”
The confusion for believers is contained in what is called the 'inconsistent triple'. This can be summed up as follows: God is all-powerful, and thus God can prevent suffering. But God does not prevent suffering. Therefore God is either not omnipotent or loving.
In the end, the most honest answer to the question of why the Covid-19 virus kills thousands of people, why infectious diseases plague humanity, and why there is suffering at all: we do not know. For me, that is the most honest and accurate answer.
One might say that viruses are part of the natural world and in a way contribute to life, but this approach is totally inadequate when you talk to someone who has just lost a friend or loved one. An important question for the believer in these times of suffering is this: can you believe in a God you do not understand?
If the mystery of suffering is insoluble, where can you turn to as a believer in times like this? For Christians and perhaps for others, the answer to that question is to Jesus.
Christians believe that Jesus is completely divine and completely human. But sometimes we overlook that second. Jesus of Nazareth was born in a sick world. In her book 'Stone and Dung, Oild and Spit', about everyday life in Galilee from the first century, Jodi Magness, connoisseur of early Judaism, mentions the time in which Jesus lived 'filthy, stinking and unhealth'. John Dominic Crossan and Jonathan L. Reed — both specialising in the historical background of Jesus' life — summarise these circumstances in a sobering phrase in their book 'Excavating Jesus': 'A case of flu, a bad cold or an inflamed molar could already be fatal. ' That was Jesus' world.
Theologian and philosopher Gerko Tempelman (you might know him from this book, which was nominated as best theological book of 2019) made a series of short fimpes about God in times of corona - see the introduction above. In it he goes into questions such as: Why would God let corona happen? Can religion offer hope in times of corona? And what can believe if learn about dealing with suffering?
Praying to someone who understands them
Moreover, during his public life Jesus constantly sought out the sick. Most of the miracles he performed were healings of diseases and disabilities: debilitating skin disorders (in the category “leprosy”), epilepsy, a woman who flowed blood, a withered hand, dropsy, blindness, deafness, paralysis. In these frightening times, it could comfort Christians that if they pray to Jesus, they pray to someone who understands them. Not only because he is divine and omniscient, but also because he is human and has experienced all this misery.
But even those who are not a Christian could see Jesus as an example of how we should deal with the sick. It goes without saying that if you take care of someone with the coronavirus, you need to take the appropriate precautions so that the virus does not spread further. But for Jesus, the sick and the dying was not the 'other', not someone who was guilty of anything. The sick is our brother and sister. When Jesus saw someone in distress — so tell the gospels — his heart was 'moved by compassion'. Jesus is an example of how we should take care of the other in this crisis: moved by pity.
Every time I went to pray in that church on the corner of 68th street and York Avenue, I thought about a statue of Jesus. His arms spread, his heart open. It was just a plaster sculpture, not a great art, but it meant a lot to me. I don't understand why people are dying, but I can follow the one who shows me how to live.
Read also:
The RIVM has taken the place of God
In ancient times, man in times of illness turned to God and church. Can faith offer a way out now - in corona times - our theological team wondered.
Read also:
How to teach the Catholic Church to love gays? Priest James Martin explains
American priest James Martin wrote a controversial book calling on the Catholic Church and the gay community to engage in dialogue with each other. Read here the interview Stijn Fens had with Martin.
James Martin27 March 2020, 11:00
Last summer I had to be irradiated. Every time I went to the hospital in New York City to the “radiology oncology” department, it seemed like my heart was skipping. I myself was in little danger (it was a benign tumor, and yes, sometimes it requires radiation anyway), but I met people who were close to death every day.
For six weeks, I held a cab every day at work. “To the corner of 68th street and York Avenue, please.” When I arrived I always first walked into a nearby church to pray. When I then walked through the hospital, I passed through cancer patients who had lost their hair, tired elderly people in wheelchairs, pushed by their caregivers, or patients who had just had a major surgery. And there were also busy doctors, friendly nurses, and many others, all in seemingly perfect health.
One of those days I realized: we're all on our way to the corner of 68th street and York Avenue, only we all have our appointment at a different time.
Who's James Martin?
James Martin is an American Jesuit and priest. He works at the Catholic magazine America. He is also advisor to the Vatican Secretariat for Communications and regularly performs in American television programmes to identify developments in the Catholic Church. He wrote more than ten books, some of which became bestsellers in America. In the Netherlands he published his book 'Building a bridge' in 2018, in which he advocates a better position of lhbt'ers in the Roman Catholic Church.
In a horror movie
Over the past few weeks, millions of people have found fear that they are suddenly heading for their appointment at a terrifying pace, thanks to the coronavirus. The pure horror of this raging virus is accompanied by the almost physical shock of its sudden onset. As a priest, I am confronted with an avalanche of emotions: panic, fear, anger, sadness, confusion and despair. I feel like I've ended up in a horror movie, but the kind that you instinctively want to turn off, because it's too intense. Even the most religious people ask me: why is this happening? And, where is God in all this?
That's actually the same question people ask when a hurricane demands hundreds of lives, or if a child dies of cancer. It is the question of 'the problem of suffering, ''the mystery of evil', or the' theodice'. And it's a question that believers and theologians have been struggling with for millennia.
The question of 'natural' suffering, such as diseases and natural disasters, differs from that of 'moral evil', in which suffering arises from the actions of individuals — think of Hitler and Stalin. But apart from that kind of theological distinction, millions of believers are currently struggling with ever-increasing mortality rates, with stories of doctors who have to make choices between which patients can be treated and which ones can't, with images of long rows of coffins. Why?
Over the centuries, many answers have been formulated to the question of natural suffering, each with its own lack. The most commonly heard answer is that suffering is a test. Suffering tests our faith and makes it stronger. In James's letter, in the New Testament, it says: “You must vote to great joy, brothers and sisters, when you undergo all kinds of trials. For you know: when your faith is tested, it leads to steadfastness.”
The empty subway hall in the financial disctrict of New York.Picture AP
No monstrous god
Suffering as a test — that may suffice when it comes to minor problems (patience put to the test by someone else's irritating behavior, for example), but that explanation fails when it comes to the really difficult things people can experience. God sends cancer to test a child? Yes, the parents of that child may learn something about perseverance or faith, but otherwise this approach to suffering makes God a monster.
The same applies to the reasoning that suffering is a punishment for sin, a conviction that is still common among some believers (those believers usually say that God punishes people or groups who show behaviour that they themselves disapprove of). Jesus himself rejects this way of thinking.
The John Gospel describes his encounter with a blind man. Jesus gets the question: “Rabbi, how come he was blind when he was born? Has he sinned himself or his parents? ” Jesus answers, “He's not, nor his parents.” With this very resolutely, Jesus rejects the image of the monstrous God. In the Gospel of Luke he does something similar. Referring to a stone tower that had collapsed and perished eighteen people, he says, 'Do you think they were more guilty than all the people living in Jerusalem? ? Certainly not, I tell you.”
The confusion for believers is contained in what is called the 'inconsistent triple'. This can be summed up as follows: God is all-powerful, and thus God can prevent suffering. But God does not prevent suffering. Therefore God is either not omnipotent or loving.
In the end, the most honest answer to the question of why the Covid-19 virus kills thousands of people, why infectious diseases plague humanity, and why there is suffering at all: we do not know. For me, that is the most honest and accurate answer.
One might say that viruses are part of the natural world and in a way contribute to life, but this approach is totally inadequate when you talk to someone who has just lost a friend or loved one. An important question for the believer in these times of suffering is this: can you believe in a God you do not understand?
If the mystery of suffering is insoluble, where can you turn to as a believer in times like this? For Christians and perhaps for others, the answer to that question is to Jesus.
Christians believe that Jesus is completely divine and completely human. But sometimes we overlook that second. Jesus of Nazareth was born in a sick world. In her book 'Stone and Dung, Oild and Spit', about everyday life in Galilee from the first century, Jodi Magness, connoisseur of early Judaism, mentions the time in which Jesus lived 'filthy, stinking and unhealth'. John Dominic Crossan and Jonathan L. Reed — both specialising in the historical background of Jesus' life — summarise these circumstances in a sobering phrase in their book 'Excavating Jesus': 'A case of flu, a bad cold or an inflamed molar could already be fatal. ' That was Jesus' world.
Theologian and philosopher Gerko Tempelman (you might know him from this book, which was nominated as best theological book of 2019) made a series of short fimpes about God in times of corona - see the introduction above. In it he goes into questions such as: Why would God let corona happen? Can religion offer hope in times of corona? And what can believe if learn about dealing with suffering?
Praying to someone who understands them
Moreover, during his public life Jesus constantly sought out the sick. Most of the miracles he performed were healings of diseases and disabilities: debilitating skin disorders (in the category “leprosy”), epilepsy, a woman who flowed blood, a withered hand, dropsy, blindness, deafness, paralysis. In these frightening times, it could comfort Christians that if they pray to Jesus, they pray to someone who understands them. Not only because he is divine and omniscient, but also because he is human and has experienced all this misery.
But even those who are not a Christian could see Jesus as an example of how we should deal with the sick. It goes without saying that if you take care of someone with the coronavirus, you need to take the appropriate precautions so that the virus does not spread further. But for Jesus, the sick and the dying was not the 'other', not someone who was guilty of anything. The sick is our brother and sister. When Jesus saw someone in distress — so tell the gospels — his heart was 'moved by compassion'. Jesus is an example of how we should take care of the other in this crisis: moved by pity.
Every time I went to pray in that church on the corner of 68th street and York Avenue, I thought about a statue of Jesus. His arms spread, his heart open. It was just a plaster sculpture, not a great art, but it meant a lot to me. I don't understand why people are dying, but I can follow the one who shows me how to live.
Read also:
The RIVM has taken the place of God
In ancient times, man in times of illness turned to God and church. Can faith offer a way out now - in corona times - our theological team wondered.
Read also:
How to teach the Catholic Church to love gays? Priest James Martin explains
American priest James Martin wrote a controversial book calling on the Catholic Church and the gay community to engage in dialogue with each other. Read here the interview Stijn Fens had with Martin.
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