Thursday, October 21, 2010

Theodicy Shmeodicy

Last spring, while painting his house, a seventy-year-old man from our church fell off a ladder and seriously hurt himself. The situation reminded me of Ivan’s accident in Tolstoy's story "The Death of Ivan Illyich," so mundane as to be ridiculous. But this man (I'll call him Fred) was seriously injured—a punctured kidney, broken ribs. He was in ICU for weeks, and had to have a feeding tube installed. All because of painting his house.

It was very interesting to hear people at church discussing the situation. They thanked God that Fred was alive and that, eventually, he was well enough to leave ICU. But what about blaming God for letting Fred fall? Imagine if someone intentionally shot another person, then put a tourniquet around the wound and saved his life. Would we say, “Thank you for saving Jim’s life?” Of course not—we’d arrest him for attempted murder. Why do we let God off so easily? He gets all the credit when someone recovers (or even, in a case like Fred’s, when someone only marginally improves); but He gets none of the blame. Of course, some would argue that I'm creating a false analogy; God didn't intentionally push Fred off the ladder. Well, I suppose that depends on one's idea of God's sovereignty. But, if people don't blame God because he didn't directly hurt Fred, it seems inconsistent to credit God with Fred's (partial) recovery; God didn't directly help Fred either.

Last Sunday, Fred was well enough to come back to church. I was very curious to hear what he would say. He assured everyone that he was “a miracle.” He described his accident, blaming it on a strong gust of wind—God was noticeably absent from that part of his story. But then he went on to describe his very lengthy recovery, after weeks in a coma and after numerous operations. During all that time, he said, God was taking care of him, guiding the doctors’ hands, heeding the prayers of the faithful. He was sure that God had a purpose for him, since He had spared his life. I don’t understand how he couldn’t see the contradiction in his own attitude. Where was God when he was up on that ladder? Why does God get all the credit for guiding human ingenuity and effort (and this from a Baptist, who would insist on human free will), but no credit for guiding natural phenomena? Fred's whole experience seems to be an example of confirmation bias. Fred already believes in God, so he will ignore anything that seems to call His existence into question. Instead, he focuses on facts that seem to confirm His existence--no matter how tenuous those “facts” are.

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