The Wrath of God

 FJN, October 20, 2006

Question: Why did five little Amish girls have to die a gruesome death?

Answer: So that the world would be exposed to the alien concept of forgiveness.

Forgiveness? Are you kidding? Please don’t bother me with such things. In this bloody world, I don’t want to hear about forgiveness. I have no intention of forgiving the car bombers, bus bombers, or any other bombers. You think I’m about to forgive Hezbollah? I’d rather kill them myself. Give me a gun and let me join the army. Never mind that I’m way too old. Ditto Hamas. I’m smart enough to know who my enemies are. Fly a plane and strafe Iran, too, while I’m at it. And let’s not forget that man who won’t stop talking in shul and the woman who took my spot just as I was about to pull in. What’s this talk about forgiveness?

And then there are the Amish. People are looking at them with a mixture of disbelief, admiration, and head-shaking. No, these people are out of tune with reality, most people are thinking. How can you forgive a beast? Worse than a beast?

But they are.

They’re forgiving the children’s murderer and supporting his grief-stricken family even as they’re wracked with their own unbearable pain. And doing it stubbornly, unswayed by doses of outside-world reality. Their obstinate insistence on forgiveness clues us in to the undeniable fact that they most definitely are in touch with reality: They know that a great wrong was perpetrated on their community; yet, even as they suffer their own unimaginable loss, they believe that revenge belongs to God—and not to them. If everything comes from God, they reason, then anger has no place in their hearts.

Their immutable willingness to put themselves in God’s hands and see His hand in all experience has to give one pause.

Their immutable willingness to put themselves in God’s hands and see His hand in all experience has to give one pause. One can only imagine how easy life would be if one could do that all the time. We wouldn’t have to worry about making a living because it comes from God. We’d work hard, but if there were no results, we’d just figure God wanted it that way. We wouldn’t have to worry about our health because it comes from God. We’d take care of ourselves, of course, but if we became ill, we’d accept it. And if terrible things happen, we would merely resign ourselves that that, too, came from God. It was His Will; nothing we can do about it; just move on.

Life must be so simple for the Amish. There’d be no animosity because when someone does them wrong, they’d just figure he was God’s messenger, trying to teach them something—or not. They could also reason that maybe they misunderstood his intention and it wasn’t malicious in the first place. Whatever their conclusion, they’d do their best to learn the difficult lesson, and, in any case, they’d accept it. Hatred and anger would have no home in their hearts. What pure and untainted souls the Amish are!

But wait a minute. This is all Jewish stuff.

You don’t believe me? Let’s take a look at the Bedtime Shema. Here’s the attitude we’re all supposed to have when we shut down for the day: The prayer begins with, “Master of the Universe, I hereby forgive anyone who angered or antagonized me or who sinned against me—whether against my body, my property, my honor or against anything of mine; whether he did so accidentally, willfully, carelessly, or purposely; whether through speech, deed, thought, or notion; whether in this transmigration or another transmigration [that is, as a soul from a former lifetime]—I forgive every Jew. May no man be punished because of me. May it be Your will, Hashem, my God and the God of my forefathers, that I may sin no more. Whatever sins I have done before You, may You blot out in Your abundant mercies, but not through suffering or bad illnesses. May the expressions of my mouth and the thoughts of my heart find favor before You, Hashem, my Rock and my Redeemer.”

Whoa. This is pretty heavy stuff. That means you can’t hate your ex no matter how bad that ex seemed to behave. This prayer tells you to forgive her. Or him. The logic behind it is that you and your ex had some lessons to learn. God wanted you both to learn them. If things got testy, it probably means one or both of you didn’t learn them. Whose fault is that? Maybe the whole purpose of your having been created was to learn those very lessons. Who knows? In any case, it certainly wouldn’t do to take it out on your former partner. This is all about believing God runs the universe.

For the same reason, it also means you can’t have an “issue” with your son-in-law. If the two of you clash, ask God what to do about it. Solve the problem but hold the blame. Blame is pointless in a universe in which the good—and the bad—are orchestrated by God for some purpose which only He knows. Either we figure out that purpose or we just accept it and move on. And, as long as you accept it, you may as well forgive the guy that hurt you. He was just God’s instrument anyway.

Hmm, what was it that I was supposed to learn from that lady who stole my spot?

Maybe just to enjoy the sunshine while I meander around looking for another one.

So what lesson was God trying to get you to learn from that nasty encounter with your son-in-law?