A good review in the New Yorker this week by James Wood, surveying the problem of theodicy - i.e. how is it that human suffering and evil can be countenanced by an omnipotent, omniscient and benevolent God? Wood embeds his theological points within a personal narrative of struggling with his own beliefs, tallying up the pros and cons of faith in God:
Theodicy, or, rather, its failure, was the other major entry on my debit side. I was trapped within the age-old conundrum: the world is full of pain and wickedness; God may be jealous but is also merciful and all-loving (how much more so, if one believes that Christ incarnated him). If he has the power to alleviate this suffering but does not, he is cruel; if he cannot, he is weak. I wasn’t consoled by the standard responses. Suffering is a mystery, I was told, as is God’s absence in the face of suffering. But this was what I was also told when prayers failed to make their mark: the old “incomprehensibility” routine. It seemed to me that the Gospels, central to my family life, made some fairly specific promises and laid on us some fairly specific obligations; yet that specificity could simply go on holiday whenever God himself seemed to have gone on holiday. (“God moves in mysterious ways.”)
He ultimately rejects God, though he seems open to those who have not. And this brings me back to Chinese thought, which is, unfortunately, not included in this or most standard Western recitations of theodicistic questions.
I have blogged about something close to this question before, what I called the "religion problem." And I have made reference to the Augustinian invocation of free will in reflections on my son, Aidan. So, my comments here will be brief.
One approach to the problem of evil is simply never to bring God into consideration. This does not have to be an anti-God position, a settled and militant atheism; rather, it can simply be a world-view that makes no reference to God. Perhaps he is there, but we cannot see or understand him; and, most importantly, there are ways of coming to terms with the terrible things that happen without bringing him into it. I have found and developed this orientation through my engagement with ancient Chinese thought.
Of course, historically speaking, there were understandings of ghosts and spirits and super-natural forces that circulated around and through the minds of the people who wrote the classic texts of Chinese philosophy. But the thought itself, at least as far as Confucianism and Taoism are concerned, can be understood without reference to god-like presences. What matters more, in these ways of thinking and apprehending the universe, is an open acceptance of natural forces beyond our control and the vagaries of fate and destiny.
"Way" and "Heaven" best summarize such a godless orientation to the world around us. "Way," of course, is both undefinable and defined in various particular ways. Here is a passage from Chuang Tzu and a short comment I made in an earlier post:
"The Tao [Way] has its own nature and its own reliability: it does nothing and it has no form. It can be passed on, but never received and held. You can master it, but you can’t see it. Its own source, its own root – it was there before heaven and earth, firm and constant from ancient times. It makes gods and demons sacred, gives birth to heaven and earth. It’s above the absolute pole, but is not high. It’s below the six directions, but is not deep. It predates the birth of heaven and earth, but is not ancient. It precedes high antiquity, but is not old. (Chuang Tzu 87)
"Instead of the certainty of a singular source of truth, Taoism asks us to open ourselves to the multiplicity and vastness of Way. There may be a kind of "order" to Way, but it is not an order that we can define concretely or apprehend completely. Instead of searching for neat answers, we just have to accept our inability to comprehend Way. Surrender as opposed to mastery is called for."
That is one Taoist way of letting go of the search for precise and comprehensive answers to the questions posed by theodicy. Yes, bad things happen. But many of them are out of our reach. People will, at times, do horrible things to each other. They always have and, most likely, they always will. Acceptance of that history and likelihood does not relieve evil doers of responsibility - they are, after all, violating Way - but the recurrence of evil should not surprise us. The question is less a matter of "why would God let this happen?" than it should be "how can people be dissuaded from performing bad deeds"?
Confucianism is very much here-and-now and people oriented. It is all about cultivating our better angels (in a much more extensive and specific manner than Taoism), in hopes that the "evil doers" among us will either be brought over to the side of Humanity or will be punished and limited in their ability to harm others. Again, no reference to God or a transcendent divine power is necessary for a Confucian response to evil.
Bottom line: if you find yourself caught up in conundrums of theodicy, just let it go. There are answers to the problem of evil, effective answers that tell us why bad things happen and what we can do to heal ourselves and prevent future malevolence, all without the unresolvable problem of God's role and responsibility.
Essentially atheism. You know saying "theodicy leads to atheism" is much shorter.
Posted by: Samuel Skinner | June 04, 2008 at 07:16 PM