Is God an Underachiever?
Boris, Woody Allen’s character in the superb film "Love and Death," speculates that if there is a God, he’s an underachiever. I can’t help but agree with him. Lately anyway. It’s not just the precarious state of human events, with the Islamist fanatics bent on destroying the West, all the Christians and Jews and other so-called infidels (Muslims included). That situation could be attributed to God’s giving Man “Free Will,” the theory being that Man, in the exercise of Free Will, is responsible for Man’s Inhumanity to Man. I won’t get into the esotericism of God’s responsibility for Man’s misuse of said Free Will.
What I really wonder about is this: How can a God who is responsible for creating such beauty in the world, such perfection, embodied in a new baby, a mountain sunrise, Spring awakening from Winter, mathematics, Love, have at the same time committed such gaffes in His design? For instance: My neighbor, a 47-year old man with a loving wife and kids and extended family, died last week. He had been diagnosed with a “slow-growing” brain tumor 3 weeks ago. Why? Part of God’s so-called “Plan,” or just a design flaw?
When I was in the sixth grade, a new priest was assigned to our parish. He visited the classroom of our Catholic school and propounded upon his view of God. “God is not,” he said with confidence, “a Sandbox God.” Meaning that the world was not God’s plaything. He did not sit around, like some kid in a sandbox, moving things around and causing things to happen. We weren’t merely toys existing solely for the Big Guy’s enjoyment. I don’t remember what we were supposed to extrapolate from that (it was decades ago; I can’t remember everything) but thinking about it today, I have to say I agree with the concept, which is this: God isn’t sitting up there in Heaven saying, “Juliet, forget the whole Catholic thing. Instead, I want you to marry a nice Jewish man, go have four sons, quit your job as a lawyer and become a writer. That’s part of my Plan.”
We are responsible for our own destinies.
Maybe I like that because it makes me feel in control of what happens. It dovetails nicely with the idea that God gave Man (and me, Woman) Free Will. What we do with it is up to us. There is the problem of what other people do with their Free Will but we won't get into that here.
But getting back to my neighbor, how to explain, and accept, the tragedy of an untimely death, one that cuts through the heart of those who loved him?
When I was in the fourth grade (same Catholic school), my neighbor, an 8-year old boy in second grade named Michael, contracted meningitis and died, leaving his family and especially his mother devastated. Free Will doesn’t enter into the equation there. So we’re left with two theories: the flaw in design, the unwarranted failures, of the human body (hence God, the underachiever), or God’s Plan. (These theories of course, rest on the assumption that there is a God. For purposes of these ruminations, the existence of God is a given. And since these are my ruminations and I believe in God, you’ll just have to accept the underlying assumption.)
Anyway, I was about 10 years old. I clearly recall the funeral Mass. I was the only fourth grader in attendance, because my family was friends with the boy’s family. I sat on the aisle, at the end of a row of second graders. When the time for the sermon arrived, the Parish priest, Father Gallagher (not the same priest who talked about the Sandbox God) tried to explain why the boy died. “God has a plan for all of us,” he said (I’m paraphrasing here. It was 35 years ago so forgive me if I don’t recall his words verbatim.) “God gave each of us a job to do. We don’t know what it is, but when we finish, God calls us back. Michael had a job to do, and whatever it was, he did it. Now he’s with God.”
To my 10-year old ears, that was very comforting. Michael’s death wasn’t just random, not without purpose, not just a design flaw. Your life had purpose, and you’d be with God after you had fulfilled that purpose.
Sounds suspiciously like Father Gallagher believed in the Sandbox God. Wonder what a theological discussion between Father Gallagher and the priest who replaced him would have been like. (Father Gallagher is long dead and who knows what ever happened to the replacement priest? He didn’t last long in our parish, at least not that I can recall. Don’t like to speculate on the good Church’s motives for transferring priests around in those days.)
The priest at the funeral Mass for my neighbor tried to be comforting too. He said we might not be able to understand, but we must trust God, who loves us. Trust Him? That’s one tall order for a bereaving family. But I hope they were comforted. I wasn’t particularly comforted, but I did go home and tell my husband and kids how much I love them.
And I have a confession to make. I pray. So maybe I do believe in the Sandbox God, at least a little.
What I really wonder about is this: How can a God who is responsible for creating such beauty in the world, such perfection, embodied in a new baby, a mountain sunrise, Spring awakening from Winter, mathematics, Love, have at the same time committed such gaffes in His design? For instance: My neighbor, a 47-year old man with a loving wife and kids and extended family, died last week. He had been diagnosed with a “slow-growing” brain tumor 3 weeks ago. Why? Part of God’s so-called “Plan,” or just a design flaw?
When I was in the sixth grade, a new priest was assigned to our parish. He visited the classroom of our Catholic school and propounded upon his view of God. “God is not,” he said with confidence, “a Sandbox God.” Meaning that the world was not God’s plaything. He did not sit around, like some kid in a sandbox, moving things around and causing things to happen. We weren’t merely toys existing solely for the Big Guy’s enjoyment. I don’t remember what we were supposed to extrapolate from that (it was decades ago; I can’t remember everything) but thinking about it today, I have to say I agree with the concept, which is this: God isn’t sitting up there in Heaven saying, “Juliet, forget the whole Catholic thing. Instead, I want you to marry a nice Jewish man, go have four sons, quit your job as a lawyer and become a writer. That’s part of my Plan.”
We are responsible for our own destinies.
Maybe I like that because it makes me feel in control of what happens. It dovetails nicely with the idea that God gave Man (and me, Woman) Free Will. What we do with it is up to us. There is the problem of what other people do with their Free Will but we won't get into that here.
But getting back to my neighbor, how to explain, and accept, the tragedy of an untimely death, one that cuts through the heart of those who loved him?
When I was in the fourth grade (same Catholic school), my neighbor, an 8-year old boy in second grade named Michael, contracted meningitis and died, leaving his family and especially his mother devastated. Free Will doesn’t enter into the equation there. So we’re left with two theories: the flaw in design, the unwarranted failures, of the human body (hence God, the underachiever), or God’s Plan. (These theories of course, rest on the assumption that there is a God. For purposes of these ruminations, the existence of God is a given. And since these are my ruminations and I believe in God, you’ll just have to accept the underlying assumption.)
Anyway, I was about 10 years old. I clearly recall the funeral Mass. I was the only fourth grader in attendance, because my family was friends with the boy’s family. I sat on the aisle, at the end of a row of second graders. When the time for the sermon arrived, the Parish priest, Father Gallagher (not the same priest who talked about the Sandbox God) tried to explain why the boy died. “God has a plan for all of us,” he said (I’m paraphrasing here. It was 35 years ago so forgive me if I don’t recall his words verbatim.) “God gave each of us a job to do. We don’t know what it is, but when we finish, God calls us back. Michael had a job to do, and whatever it was, he did it. Now he’s with God.”
To my 10-year old ears, that was very comforting. Michael’s death wasn’t just random, not without purpose, not just a design flaw. Your life had purpose, and you’d be with God after you had fulfilled that purpose.
Sounds suspiciously like Father Gallagher believed in the Sandbox God. Wonder what a theological discussion between Father Gallagher and the priest who replaced him would have been like. (Father Gallagher is long dead and who knows what ever happened to the replacement priest? He didn’t last long in our parish, at least not that I can recall. Don’t like to speculate on the good Church’s motives for transferring priests around in those days.)
The priest at the funeral Mass for my neighbor tried to be comforting too. He said we might not be able to understand, but we must trust God, who loves us. Trust Him? That’s one tall order for a bereaving family. But I hope they were comforted. I wasn’t particularly comforted, but I did go home and tell my husband and kids how much I love them.
And I have a confession to make. I pray. So maybe I do believe in the Sandbox God, at least a little.
posted by calabresewoman | 12:19 PM
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