LITMIR.BIZ

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      The sermon texts raise these existential dilemmas. In John, we hear the question of Jesus' disciples as they observe a blind man: "Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents that he was born blind?" (John 9:2b). Jesus did not give an orthodox answer. He did not draw any connection at all between the man's sinfulness and his predicament. In fact, Jesus eliminates this theology altogether. He says, "Neither this man nor his parents sinned" (John 9:3a).

      Likewise, in the Gospel of Luke, we find Jesus taking a similar stand. This time the circumstance is not a personal affliction but a major disaster. Jesus asks the rhetorical question: "Those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them—do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem?" Jesus answers his own question with an emphatic "No" (Luke 13:4, 5a). Jesus is suggesting that in the face of disaster, tragedy, or sickness, one cannot draw conclusions as to the "goodness or wickedness" of the victims. Jesus would have us reject the notion that tragedy is to be understood as a punishment for wrongdoing.

      This is not to say that tragedy cannot be a direct result of our wrongdoing or poor judgment. We can smoke cigarettes for thirty years and then develop lung cancer. Such a disease is not the punishment for sin but rather the consequence of harmful habits. It is the body's reaction to abuse. At the end of our lives we may face financial ruin or poor health, all because of our behavior and lifestyle.

       Sin does have consequences.

      Sin does have consequences. Evil does entrap us in various tragedies: loss of friends, lack of meaning, backlash, resentment, and hostility. But the question raised today is not whether or not we may suffer from our own sinfulness; indeed, all sin causes suffering!

      The basic question we are facing today is whether or not the suffering we experience should be understood as a punishment from God. Such a question is not one limited to biblical times. I have heard several parishioners with severe illnesses say, "I must have been a bad person to have to suffer like this." Others tearfully question, "What have I done to deserve this?"—as if to say, "God is doing this to me. Why?"

      Jesus never fully answers the question of why. He does not give us an adequate reason for our suffering. What Jesus does instead is to suffer with us, for us, like us. Jesus has experienced what we now experience. Jesus knows what suffering means. He now suffers with us.

      In reflecting upon suffering, Jesus is quick to rule out one theological premise. He refutes the idea that all tragedy, sickness, and hardship are punishment for sin.

      Jesus would never want us to assume that if someone suffers a deep human tragedy that such is a sign of deep sinfulness.

       He refutes the idea that all tragedy, sickness, and hardship are punishment for sin.

      And don't we all know of experiences in life that support this truth? Don't we all know saints who have suffered greatly? Don't we know scoundrels who seem to hardly suffer at all? If anything, I am inclined to conclude that the good people of this world seem to suffer the most. And of this I am certain: The truly good people of this earth are able to suffer and still not be defeated.

      The choice before us is to decide whether we have a God of pain or a God of compassion, whether we believe in a God who inflicts pain to punish or change us, or a God who sends rain on the just and unjust and allows tragedy to fall on the good and the bad.

      My hunch is that some of us make God a God of punishment because of our own guilt. Several years ago I visited with a woman who had faced one major crisis after another. I honestly did not know how she could handle all the problems, suffering, and anxiety. But I was surprised one day when she said she wondered if God was punishing her for her wrongdoing.

      My first impulse was to say God does not act that way, instead I decided to ask a question. "Have you done anything in your life that you think is deserving of your present suffering?" Before she realized it, and before I was prepared for it, she confessed to a serious wrongdoing.

      I do not believe that God was punishing her for her wrongdoing. God was not causing problems for members of her family as a means of divine punishment or as a motivation for her to change her behavior. Rather, she was so burdened by her guilt that she felt deserving of God's judgment. Perhaps she even wanted God or someone to somehow force her to stop.

      Most of us, if we were given God's absolute power for a day, would do things differently. Many of us would ensure quick justice. Thieves would have their loot snatched from their hands. Criminals would not have trials but instant punishment, because with divine powers we could determine unmistakably who was guilty and who was innocent. We might even give some reward to those who were nice— perhaps better health, a bonus of some sort.

      We might rig the lotteries to pay only to those who would be generous with their winnings. We might bless all the churchgoers and place a mild affliction on those who choose not to worship. If we were allowed to be God and have God's power, things probably would be different. Goodness would be instantly rewarded and evil would be readily and firmly punished. And it would be a better world.

      Several years ago I would have especially enjoyed having supernatural powers. A young man liked to ride his motorcycle with no muffler through the apartment complex where we lived—especially in the middle of the night! As he neared our window he would slow down to avoid the speed bumps, then rack the pipes, thus awakening half of the apartment complex. He avoided the speed bumps by riding through the small gap in the middle that was just wide enough for his small tires.

      I must confess to fantasizing about putting tacks in that gap or a wire or rope across the road, even though I knew that might be dangerous. But what a thrill it would have been to possess the divine power to yank him off his bike and drop him in the countryside where he would be forced to walk home!

      If we could be God, we would probably reward goodness and punish evil. But under that system, how could one ever be truly good? If being good were always to our advantage, could we ever really act unselfishly? Could we ever really sacrifice solely for the sake of others?

       Good is neither always immediately rewarded nor evil always resisted or conquered.

      Today, God is still in charge. Yet there is still suffering, even undeserved suffering. How then do we understand God's role? Is God the instrument of pain or the instrument of comfort? Paul gives a partial answer to this question in his letter to the church at Corinth: "Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and the God of all consolation, who consoles us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to console those who are in any affliction with the consolation with which we ourselves are consoled by God" (2 Cor. 1:3-4).

      I suggest along with Paul that God is not the cause of suffering, but its healer. God is not the creator of pain, but rather the one who hears our cries and offers the presence of the Holy Spirit. God is not constantly slapping our hands, but lovingly offering to walk with us. God is not forever giving out rewards, but instead offers us his guidance through the Spirit and the Word.

      By now, surely we have realized that life is not fair. It does not ensure equality. There is no exact justice. Good is neither always immediately rewarded nor evil always resisted or conquered.

      Our God comes not to give us pain but to be with us in our pain. God comes as our comforter and invites us to be a part of the healing process. We can comfort others as God comforts them. We can offer our prayers, our cards, our food, our help, our presence. We cannot take the pain away, but we can help others to bear it.

      Christians are not ones who are protected from all pain. Rather, Christians are given an antidote. We are given the presence of God, a presence that can offer us power, spiritual healing, and peace.

      In my ministry, I have witnessed people in the midst of pain and suffering who have received God's healing presence even in the face of death. I know that these spiritual healings happen. The God I worship is not one who brings suffering to us. Instead, the God I worship offers us loving presence. My understanding of God is like the one Paul describes

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