A Question or Two for God by Glen J. Hettinger

A tragedy such as occurred in Littleton, Colorado cuts like a sharp knife. The thought of young people being cut down in the prime of their lives for no apparent reason, the grim succession of funerals, the grieving of families and friends – these images conjure a sense of dread that is tangible. The televised barrage of grim images and the constant parade of maudlin news anchors magnify the horror that grips us all.

As we attempt to come to terms with the events in a town not unlike those that many of us live in, voices arise. These voices have different motives, some good, some selfish. All of them offer some sort of solution for the horror of the inexplicably evil events. Two particular sets of voices have caught my attention. In these two sets of voices – each accepted by the conventional wisdom – I hear messages of such radical dissonance that I am shocked that people will listen to both messages.

One of the most predictable reactions to an evil of the magnitude of the Littleton massacre is to search for and punish those responsible. One is reminded of the words of Inspector ______ at the end of Casablanca, “round up the usual suspects.” The parents of the shooters, no doubt nearly drowning in grief and shame, are the first target. The Attorney General of the United States (lacking any experience in raising children) descends on suburban Denver to announce that the parents of the murderous youths will be the subject of questioning and that action will be taken if she “does not like their answers.” Radio talk show hosts, eager to teach the lessons of “responsibility” bray that the parents were at fault for the killings. The frenzy for accountability only begins with the parents. The media mob soon descends on the home of an 18-year old girl who reportedly purchased two of the weapons and renders her a virtual prisoner in her own home with their relentless lust for an accounting. Politicians (of course) soon join the fray demanding legislation that would make any person that owns a gun strictly liable for anything done with the gun, regardless of any personal fault for the act. Police announce that the unfortunate soul who sold the murder weapons will probably be arrested for technical violations of weapons statutes that would have gone unnoticed but for the carnage. The first arrest, however, is a hapless hardware store clerk who invented the story of how he sold the bomb components to the killers.

These efforts are largely appreciated if not praised by the public at large because it is cathartic when unspeakable evil occurs to hold someone, anyone, responsible. The worst form of evil, after all, is evil that cannot be explained and for which no one is responsible. We demand that evil have an evil doer attached, and that the evil doer be punished. If we cannot locate the agent of the evil and punish him, we are left with the possibility that we cannot solve or remedy the evil – that evil might win. Above all, then, we cry out that someone be held responsible.

The people who get caught by our demand that evil be accounted for and punished are, however, an odd lot. Parents who were in the public mind insufficiently vigilant over the undoubtedly less than tidy room of a troubled teenager. Eighteen-year-old prom dates. Tattooed second hand gun dealers. Beleaguered school administrators. No doubt some of these people made mistakes. Serious mistakes. But, how can we begin to think that these mistakes ought to lead to any sort of ultimate moral responsibility for the horrifying carnage that took place in the halls of Columbine High School? These are weak and small humans. These are people who through a cruel coincidence of time and circumstance find themselves facing the same tragedy as we are, but who must answer the question, which we feel so secure in posing, “why did you not stop this from happening?” Someone, after all, must be responsible.

One of the most troubling questions that confronts us as we consider evil events – the slaughter at Littleton is just one of such events – is how God, the all- powerful, all knowing, perfectly loving sovereign of the universe allowed such a grotesque set of events to transpire. Every day another event will whisper this question to us. Five little girls decide to play in the trunk of a car and suffocate. Kosovars are herded out of their land, raped, tortured, and murdered live via satellite. A mother, feeling burdened by her young children drowns them. Jonesbourough. Paducah. Pearl. Springfield. These events wrench the stomach.

In each instance when a tragedy such as these strikes, we are forced to consider the question of why a loving God would permit such evil to exist. Yet, this question is answered in surprising ways. We hear the answers from the pulpit, at lunch, from pundits, and in conversations with our friends. “We learn faith by the things we suffer.” “God allows this evil to teach us to love each other.” “God allows this evil to further a greater good.” “Our suffering is for but a short time only.” “We should thank God a person I knew was saved from this evil – this is a miracle.” “We cannot understand God’s ways.” “God will do justice in the end.”

These answers may have merit. Each of us can judge whether they do for himself of herself. My question is this: why such a soft standard for God? Where is the cry for the King of Heaven to stop the spilling of innocent blood, the purposeless suffering and cruelty that wash over us daily. Where is the moral equivalent of the Attorney General demanding that God answer some questions and demanding that He have the right answers, or else? Where are the radio talk show know-it-alls demanding to know why God did not just stop this before it got started? Why is it only the weak, the pitiful, and those who are suffering like us from whom we demand such answers? Why the double standard? Let me suggest that the reason that we do not make such demands of God is that we are afraid of the answers. We are moral bullies who are swift and sure in demanding answers and accountability from the weak things of the earth while dreaming up every possible excuse or rationalization – or, more charitably, fashioning the most creative possible intellectual arguments, the glorious theodicy – to explain why the One we believe created this universe does not stop these horrors.

The problem of why God permits the horror of evil to persist eludes understanding. I suggest only that some of our dread, our horror, our anger not be pointed at those who like ourselves are fragile and weak. Maybe, sometimes, there should be a tough question or two for God.