My 37-year-old son died of Stage Four Colon Cancer Dec. 14. People (who assume that as a pastor I understand God) ask me —“Why? It makes no sense…it’s not fair!”
I agree: “Why Steve? A kind, wise young man with a great wife, small children, family and friends who love him… who wanted a career teaching and mentoring youth? Why?”
How can a loving God allow suffering? This question has its own area of theology, called theodicy, so large has this problem loomed for theologians. We want easy answers, but there are none. In these columns I will share my emerging theodicy.
No, it’s not fair. But why do I expect fairness? It’s not fair that I was born in the United States rather than in Aleppo, Syria or Mogadishu, Somalia. It’s not fair that I was born white middle class rather than poor black. It’s not fair that I was born in 1952 rather than 1592 or 1259.
Not fair: Here’s what my dear Steve said at a gathering with friends and their families a couple of months before he died. A grandpa said, “When I was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease at 54 I thought, this is not fair. You must think that.”
“Yeah,” Steve replied. “But then, I realized I don’t apply that standard to good things…..like why am I so fortunate to have these great kids, great friends? Do you ask why you are so lucky as to have this lovely granddaughter?”
No, it’s not fair. Nothing is fair. What else do I tell myself?
This: If what really matters is love, connection and meaning…then Steve lived more than most people do in a lifetime. No, I’m not saying that when a person hits a quota of love, connection, and meaning, it’s like ringing one of those bells at a fair by putting enough muscle behind a hammer blow, and then that person can die. (Although it might explain why average life expectancy keeps climbing.) But I do think that many people never go to the depths of love that Steve did in his 37 years.
And here’s a favorite: It’s not how long you live, but the richness of your life that matters. This one really hit me when I was waiting to pay for gas at a Super America and the person ahead of me was trying to decide between Loterio and Lucky Dog; he paid and then realized he’d forgotten his chewing tobacco. Then I went into a café where the person checking out was obsessing about her food sensitivities. People! I thought: Why do you fritter? Why do you shop till you drop, gamble hours away, spend your precious minutes watching soaps? Why do you live in retirement villages where you golf and drink and golf and drink? Or go out for a family dinner and focus on your smart phones? (I know, I’m ranting….) Dying 40 years early — Steve’s lost years – may be less than most people’s frittered hours, days, months, and years.
Or this occurred to me just before Christmas: I was in a convenience store, and over the speakers came Frank Sinatra singing, “It’s the hap, hap-piest time of the year…” Hmmmm, I thought, I wouldn’t mind never, ever, ever, ever, ever hearing that again. And with our country facing an unprecedented wave of bigotry, bullying and cruelty to the vulnerable….well, maybe heading through those pearly gates would have its perks!
So, life’s not fair and I don’t understand. But I commit to learning from this loss—I resolve to appreciate the good gifts, to make loving connection my top priority, and not to fritter my life.
Plus glimmers of God: Before, during and after Steve’s death I have experienced amazing love, and the wonder of God’s “everlasting arms” holding me. These miracles—love, holding, insight – affirm for me that there’s way more to life than meets the eye. And the miracle of Steve’s life—his caring, his values, his humor, his presence—convince me he will (in a whole number of ways) live on. Even though I’m not counting on pearly gates or golden streets, I’m sure death is not the end.
Each month a member of the Cook County Ministerium will offer Spiritual Reflections. This month our contributor is Pastor Kris Garey, Trinity Lutheran Church, Hovland.
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