2003-08-03 - 6:11 p.m.
NEEDING GOD
Years ago, when I was a teenager, the rabbi of our congregation made an announcement. Having the rabbi make an announcement was not unusual. He made announcements frequently. Having the rabbi add, �God willing,� to his announcement also was not unusual. He said, �God willing� frequently. But this particular time, even he heard the undertones of his announcement. �Services will start at 9:00 next Saturday morning,� he intoned and then added his usual, �God willing.� There was a pause and then he continued. �Actually,� he said. �I am sure God is willing. It is the congregation I am not as sure about.�
What happened to the rabbi is similar to what happened to me today. His habitual way of speaking of God appeared, for at least a moment, to fail to match his actual conception of God. He mused and he corrected. For me, too, my speaking about God appeared to failed to match my thinking of God. But something different has happened as I have mused. I realized that they were closer than it seemed at first.
I got out of the passenger side of the car after a session in which Kat worked on parallel parking and other general driving skills and almost announced, �Hey. You�re doing well. I don�t need God any more.� I did not make the announcement but I did tell her I almost had.
Kat looked a little startled and I thought about it. I had not said that God was not present any more. I would not have said that because I believe that God is present and is everywhere. I believe the force of God, the �breath� of God, the spirit of God is all around. �Yes,� I remember explaining honestly to an inquiring kindergartener. �I believe God is even in the bathroom.� Yet, still, it sounded odd.
I do not believe that God�s present will save me from car accidents or floods or illness. I do not believe that the absence of bad things happening to good people establishes God�s presence. If that were true, then God was not present in the concentration camps of World War II and is not present today in Liberia or other desperate nations whose good people find themselves in desperate straits. Clearly, the Book of Job suggests that one�s allegiance to God can be strong and one�s worthiness be great and yet one�s life can be horrid and difficult.
I therefore long have had trouble with the �praise be to God that I was not hit by a truck when I failed to stop at the stop sign� notion. It always seemed to me that if protection were that personal, the protection of God should have prevented the blowing of the stop sign. Nor can I accept the idea that I should thank God that my multiple sclerosis is not worse but not associate God in any way with my having the disease in the first place. Either God is a part of the whole or God is not and if the illness is a blessing, it surely is a mixed one.
So what could I possibly expect of God in the passenger seat? Some, including some ancient rabbis, would suggest that I asked the wrong question. The question, they suggest, is not what I expect of God but what God expects of me. In the passenger seat, though, the question of what God expects of me seems fairly straightforward. What God expects of me appears to be to teach my child well, to send her forth with sufficient skills not to harm others or herself, and to make sure she has enough maturity and judgment to drive on her own.
As a parent, these frequent driving lessons have a bigger point. They are to prepare Kat so that she can do what must be done when I am not there. While God is always present, perhaps God concentrates energy more in some places than other. Perhaps, as God�s child, these frequent driving lessons have a similar point. When I do what is expected of me, perhaps God can concentrate energy elsewhere. Even if God is infinite energy, relying on God, as a roommate of mine once did, to help make decision on whether to wear the blue shirt or the green, may create a drain or, at least for a moment, an imbalance.
So maybe I really meant it�and maybe not needing God was good.
LAST YEAR: I�m Sure I�m Insane
TWO YEARS AGO: Painting Therapy
IN CASE YOU MISSED THEM:
Under the Stairs
Zit
Justice and Peace
Enemy of the People, Part II
Terrorism in a Small Town
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Copyright 2006 by Ellen |
