This piece appeared first on December 2, 2013, in The Huffington Post.
As the National Transportation
Safety Board launches its investigation into Sunday’s Metro North accident, which
killed four and injured more than 60, I am reminded of countless classroom discussions
on the subject of disasters. They always came down to the same question, does
everything happen for a reason?
Whether it was a natural disaster –
a hurricane wipes out the Phillipines, a tsunami crashes into Indonesia – or a
nightmarish mass murder caused by deranged people armed with guns or bombs, the
majority of the class would decide that indeed, “everything does happen
for a reason.”
“OK,” I would ask the students, “ so
then what is that reason?”
No one in the class could ever come up with a satisfactory answer to that question, but that wouldn’t matter. Even in
the face of monumental death and destruction, the college-aged students would
stubbornly stick to their belief that there was some kind of overarching logic,
some sort of rational explanation.
The discussion would inevitably
turn back to their own lives. Students
clung to the notion that no matter how severe their life circumstances were,
there was always some logic, an ultimate explanation. This explanation usually resolved
into personal or even heroic triumph over difficult life issues.
For some students, it simply came down
to religious beliefs. An all-powerful
God would never permit a personal disaster, no matter that the reason remained
obscure. Your mom abandoned you? Your dad was in jail for murder? Your family
ends up homeless? No matter, the situation ultimately forced the student to
step up, to work harder, to make sure the choices they made in their own lives
were consistent with a God who is good.
Of course, it isn’t just students who
grapple with these issues. In the face of excruciating loss, all of us are
puzzled by the questions why and how? No matter what your religious
affiliation, death and destruction always bring us face to face with an age-old
question that philosophers through the ages have wrestled with: the notion of
evil.
One of the most popular novels we have
read in the classroom, Sula, by Toni
Morrison, presented an easy rationale. God, she posited, had not three faces in
the form of Father, Son and Holy Spirit. God has a fourth face, Morrison
contends, the one that embodies
the devil, all the bad or evil things that happen in our lives.
I would try to force the students to widen their thinking by
taking into account this notion of a God who wasn’t all good or all kind. I
would suggest they embrace the notion that “stuff happens,” and we are forced
to live with that stuff.
I would ask them to consider a
different idea about God, one that goes far beyond human love and logic. A God
that is some kind of energy, some force that no one will ever be able to
explain.
We build our religions to conform
to human logic, I’d tell then, but isn’t everything about the universe a marvel
that cannot be fathomed? I would ask them to explain wondrous miracles: flowers
blooming, babies who emerge out of two cells? I would ask them to explain human
consciousness or the fact that I could stand in front of the class saying words
that students could hear and understand. Or I’d tell them to go home some night
and just lay down under a sky full of stars, and ask yourself, how far does the
sky go? And what lies beyond that ultimate border?
Whatever transpired inside the
classroom, students would emerge from the discussion thinking about questions in
ways that they hadn’t really considered before.
Perhaps, I would say, the notion of
God in human terms misses the mark. Maybe disasters force all of us to go well
beyond human knowing to fathom an energy, a powerful force the source of which
we cannot comprehend in human terms.
In the end, I left the students
asking big questions for which there are ultimately no answers. Questions that
make all of us stop and wonder every time we confront a disaster like Metro North
or personal disasters that occur every day in our lives. As long as we live, we
will continue to ask “why?”
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