Why do we care why God allows suffering?

In high school, we read Edith Hamilton's Mythology book. While reading that book, I don't think the concept of the gods being just, or even good, ever really registered. Assistance, hospitality, caprice, revenge, and unending desire for pleasure all popped up over and over. The gods were good and they were bad. They were a lot like humans - well, super humans. Though you might hope that they would be kind and generous and loving, you really couldn't count on it, even when you were a demi-god, the child of a god.

So why, then, would people have a belief today that God should only be good and should only allow good things? Why would a post like this show up in my Google+ feed yesterday asking, "Why does god allow suffering?" Where did we ever get the idea that maybe God shouldn't allow suffering? It certainly seems like the gods of mythology (not just Greek, but Babylonian, Nordic, etc.) all created a fair bit of suffering among humans. Even Jehovah didn't spare his own son from suffering. So why do we seem to expect that God would forbid suffering during this life time? Why do we think that the existence of God cannot possibly coincide with the existence of suffering in the world? Why do people feel that suffering is one of the strongest arguments against God?

I wonder if the question doesn't reveal more about our own opinions of ourselves rather than our opinion of God. Did our sentiment around God and suffering change during the Enlightenment as we started to put more value on the individual?

I finally posted a response on the G+ thread: "I've been thinking on this one since you first posted it. What keeps popping back into my head is, 'Why do we expect god to not allow suffering?'" Joel, the one who originally posted the question, replied, "Great question. I guess for me it comes down to this: If god doesn't help people, why have a god? Why do so many people pray to god, if god isn't interested? Does he give us any benefits at all over not having a god?"

I thought that his questions, in turn, were also good. I'll post my reply to him here (in case you don't want to click through to the original post) but I'd be curious to also hear your thoughts. Why does God allow suffering? Why do we care? Are there any benefits at all to having a god over not having a god?

My last reply:

"What if god does help people, he just doesn't help all people all of the time? Does that make a difference?

"Or what if god provides basics - such as a working ecosystem that's well suited to our needs - but not necessarily all of our wants - such as the end of all sickness. Does that make a difference? In this scenario, no god would mean no ecosystem or a crappy ecosystem... and we'd still have sickness.

"I just think the underlying assumptions beneath your original question are really fascinating. I've heard people argue about god and suffering till the cows came home. But I don't think I've ever heard a conversation on the premises that these discussions are based upon.

"I wonder if the ancient Greeks ever sat around and asked, "Why does Zeus allow suffering?""

Why can't we all just get along?

I hear Rodney King's sentiment, "Why can't we all just get along?" echoed now and again among various groups of people that I hang out with. But I wonder what they mean by that. More often than not, the impression I'm left with is closer to "Why can't everyone who disagrees with me just stop being stupid and agree with me?" It seems that people would like to have unity, but at the same time I don't see them doing anything that involves them crossing those invisible barriers that divides groups of people from one another. They're not building bridges. They're not listening to opposing view points. They're not walking in other people's shoes. 

I came across two quotes recently that I found interesting in that they seem to encourage a culture of discovery, discussion, respect and scholarship. I'm sure I could find all sorts of quotes that encourage such a culture, but what struck me about these quotes is that they actually are already rooted in a culture: Judaism. 

Pertaining to Biblical studies, the saying shiv'im panim la-Torah, "The Law has seventy faces," is a reminder that Torah can be interpreted many ways.

In other words, just because it's plain as day to me that such and such means THIS, that doesn't mean that everyone else is seeing with the same eyes. And just because their perspective is different doesn't mean they're wrong. We should explore our difference of opinion. Maybe there's information that colors our understanding that would be helpful to share. Perhaps there's experiences or details that, while not changing our mind, might help us to graciously accept and understand why the other person thinks differently. Perhaps we can stop thinking that we are always right.  

For those who undertake the study of more than five centuries of rabbinical thought--the Talmud--another maxim applies: elu va-elu divrey Elohim khayim ("both are the words of the living God"). This means that interpretations which are contrary to one another may both be acceptable.

The endless debates regarding free will vs. predestination immediately jump to mind. (As do several political debates that seem to polarize the church as well as the nation.) If all things are predestined, then how can we be responsible for anything we do, whether good or bad? But if all relies upon free will, then aren't we negating God's sovereignty and his will? But why does it have to be only one way or the other? Can't we be fully culpable for our actions and can't God also be fully in control? Isn't is possible that both are accurate interpretations of the scriptures? (The example of Pharaoh comes to mind.)

If we are ever to see unity within the church, we need to start by listening to one another. And we need to realize that *I* am not the final arbiter of what is right or wrong. God is. And he has placed us in a community, not for us to antagonize each other, but for us to learn from each other and encourage and exhort one another. 

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The quotes were taken from the book Hebrews through a Hebrews Eyes by one of my former pastors, Stuart Sacks.

Why Pharaoh Falls Squarely Into the Calvinist/Arminianist Camp(s)

I just read Wink's post entitled, I'm Sorting It Out, on the topic of Our Free Will vs. God's Sovereignty.  I was going to add a reply there when I realized that what I'd really like to post is my "Pharaoh list" (which is in the form of a jpg). But I generally try to avoid adding html to other people's blogs (off Multiply, that is) because more often than not it's either rejected or causes the reply to get held for moderation.  So I decided to post it here along with an excerpt from the essay I wrote on the "Pharaoh list".  This excerpt was originally written in January 2002.

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At some point, in reading the story of Moses, I realized a little detail that comes up several times, but that had never jumped out at me before.  In fact, I’ve never heard this preached on nor have I ever heard anyone bring it up in discussion.  Its one of those little details that you don’t tend to notice when you break a story down into chunks to study and its one of those items that you tend to notice one side of more than the other (depending on your doctrinal leanings). The problem is this, when Moses asks Pharaoh to let his people go, at times the text says that Pharaoh hardened his heart and at other times it says that God hardened Pharaoh’s heart.  Here’s a chart showing the flipping flopping back and forth in the assigning of responsibility (as in, who made Pharaoh’s heart hard):

So, which is it?  Does Pharaoh have free will?  Is he able to decide when he is going to harden his heart and when he is not?  Or is he just a puppet and God can pull the right strings to make him harden his heart?

Perhaps both may be true.

First of all, let me point out that in Exodus 9:34 it not only states that Pharaoh (and his officials) hardened his heart, but the statement was also made that Pharaoh “sinned again.”  Very clearly Pharaoh is responsible for his actions.  He had the choice, he made it, he sinned, and he is therefore guilty.  If he had no say in what path he had chosen, then it would be unfair for him to bear guilt.  Pharaoh had the free will to choose whether he would harden his heart or not.  

But note that just a few verses later, in Exodus 10:1, God claims responsibility for what the text just got done saying was Pharaoh’s responsibility.  

But how can it be both that God has acted and that Pharaoh has acted in the very same situation (in the same act!)?  And how can one be responsible for what the other has done?  The Bible makes it very clear that both God and Pharaoh are fully responsible for the hardening of Pharaoh’s heart.  Now if that doesn’t give you a headache, you’re probably not getting it yet.

Those that say that people have free will are absolutely correct.  And those that say that God predestines our lives are absolutely correct.  Here, in one story, both sides are shown to be true.

Perhaps you could try thinking about it this way.  The Pointillists were known for painting pictures using only primary colors.  They would paint by using very short brush strokes (or points) and when the completed painting was viewed from a distance, the eye blended the colors bringing out a plethora of colors beyond the simple few that the artist used.  Imagine that any one of us is an ant and we are viewing the picture from several different parts of the room.  The ant on the far side of the room might see a spot of orange, whereas the ants that are crawling across that section of painting might instead see either only red, or only yellow.  Now imagine that red is predestined acts and that acts done of our own free will are yellow. The ant that sees the orange is the one that sees things most clearly, though really, its still a bit fuzzy.  Orange indicates that both colors are present. The ant standing on the red dot has a skewed view, as does the one standing on the yellow dot.

The analogy is certainly not perfect.  It might be more accurate to imagine an artist mixing both red and yellow paint together to create orange.  What is created is now predestination and free-will combined so seamlessly that they have formed a new color, or a new status of predestination and freedom of choice.  In orange, one could say that red is fully there and yellow is fully there.  And yet neither can be seen because they have become a third color.  Predestination can be “true” and free-will can be “true” but neither one is fully accurate on its own because they are only describing components of a more full reality.