I think I can hear him

Today, I pondered how in the world I was ever going to finish the work that lies ahead of me for the rest of the semester. I think about times where I can escape to read different material, where I can write, and where I can think about what I am learning and apply it to the various facets of life.

Today, I was reminded of the suffering around us. I get isolated here at school, turning the ideas about what I learn into idolatry and not realizing that they are insignificant as people around me suffer and are filled with pain.

Today, a friend from high school told me that the brother of one of our friends suddenly passed away a few days ago. It simply started with a sinus infection, then meningitis, and then a brain tumor. The whole ordeal was very sudden and unexpected. But then again, when do we ever expect this sort of thing. My heart sank when I heard his because their dad passed away about ten years ago. How is it possible that so much affliction could come to one family?

Today, the question was begged of how bad things could possibly happen to good people. My friend’s family has looked to God through the past pains, they go to church, and it is incomprehensible how my friend’s mom could endure the loss of both a husband and a son. How could God let this happen?

Today, I thought of what is in my opinion one of the greatest literary works of the 20th century--“Night” by Elie Wiesel. I would think it would be hard to find a more detailed and descriptive account of the horrors that took place during the Holocaust. It is cold, dark, and chilling, but still I think is a must read. The underlying question Wiesel poses is always “where is God?”. Perhaps one of the most profound insights does not come for his text, but comes from the forward.

And how many devout Jews endured such a death? On that most horrible day, even among those other bad days, when the child witnessed the hanging (yes!) of another child who, he tells us, had the face of a sad angel, he heard someone behind him groan:
“For God’s sake, where is God?”
And within me, i heard a voice answer:
“Where He is? This is where--hanging from this gallows.”

And I who believe that God is love, what answer was there to give my young interlocutor whose dark eyes still held the reflection of the angelic sadness that had appeared one day on the face of a hanged child? What did I say to Him? Did I speak to him of that other Jew, this crucified brother who perhaps resembled him of that other Jew, this crucified brother who perhaps resembled him and whose cross conquered the world? Did I explain to him that what had been a stumbling block for
his faith had become a cornerstone for mine? And that the connection between the cross and human suffering remain, in my view, the key to the unfathomable mystery in which the faith of his childhood was lost? And yet, Zion has risen up again out of the crematoria and the slaughterhouses. The Jewish nation has been resurrected from among its thousands of dead. It is they who have given it new life. we do not know the worth of one single drop of blood, one single tear. All is grace. If the Almighty is the Almighty, the last word for each of us belongs to Him. That is what I should have said to the Jewish child. But all I could do was embrace him and weep.

Today, as I think about Jesus, the only image that came to mind was the Christ who weeps. He knows our suffering. He hangs in the gallows alongside those he loves. I think I can hear him.