Rabbi Hoffman states that "in Deuteronomic theology... we always get what we deserve" and goes on to detail the 2 instances where this theology is challenged–Ecclesiastes and Job. Throughout Ecclesiastes the author "recognizes the futility of imagining that if we are only good, we will prosper," but in the end "the great skepticism...is denied in a simple one-line conclusion that reasserts Deuteronomy's promise of justice: 'The sum of the matter, when all is said and done: revere God and observe his commandments, for this applies to all man-kind, that God will call every creature to account for everything unknown be it good or bad' (12: 12-13)." [all quotes p. 165]. I don't agree with Hoffman that the last line necessarily negates the rest of Ecclesiastes (though I am speaking here based on just what he has written and not with first-hand knowledge of the book, which I've never read completely). Does the last statement really deny the idea that prosperity comes from doing good and downfall comes from doing bad? Could it be that yes, what you do or don't do may not cause your suffering or your blessing, but you WILL eventually have to answer to God, whether that be on Yom Kippur or when you die, or whenever. We don't know how God will call us to account, but we can certainly imagine, and isn't it just like children to imagine the worst from their parent? If we go with the idea of God as Father or as King (melekh), do we not fear the worst when going against what they have asked?
Hoffman turns to the Book of Job, taking time to go through the arguments set forth by Job and by his friends, pointing out that the "ostensible point of the book is Job's unswerving faith in God despite his sufferings. But though he refuses throughout to curse God, he refuses equally to blame himself his afflictions" (166). In the end Job never admits he is the cause of his own suffering, nor does he curse God, instead just admitting that God is mighty and that he (Job) does not understand His ways. In response to the ending of Job, Hoffman states that "God admits, then, how wrong it is to hold that only the guilty experience tragedy and how equally mistaken to argue that God offers suffering as a loving corrective to human beings" (167).
As we saw previously in our discussion of Gnositicism, the Rabbis thoroughgoing monotheism made them concede that somehow, even the evil in the universe must come ultimately from God. But their balanced estimate of human character prevented their painting everyone as a complete sinner, and they seem to have recognized that suffering cannot be explained solely as punishment that is never undeserved or even that it is a blessing in disguise, a mild rebuke that is ultimately for our own benefit. - p. 168So, where does that take us? What does it mean to suffer? Can we find anything spiritually fulfilling in it? Honestly, it depends on how you look at it and how you deal with it; if you believe that you have sinned and therefore caused your own suffering, is that going to help you get better? Will you, in fact, cause your situation to worsen because of this attitude and belief? Conversely, if you say "what will happen will happen" will you treat all situations as being left up to fate, to random chance? Should there not be a middle ground, where we can grant that suffering and illness are not caused by sins we commit, but are caused by something? If you get lung cancer after you have smoked 3 packs a day for 50 years are you being punished for sins, or are the physical repercussions of your actions just finally catching up to you? It would be a comforting thought to know that if we did good we would be happy, and when it does work out that way we feel vindicated in our beliefs. But, when we base our beliefs on a system that can, in the end, disappoint us, where does that leave our beliefs?
Rabbi Hoffman states that "suffering may have meaning. People want to believe that it does. But the dominant meaning-making schemes that surround it are morally unsavory. Sickness is not sent by God; it is not God's way of punishing us; we are not responsible for it ourselves; it does not express our inner character; and pain is not good for anyone" (173). He isn't saying that we aren't responsible for ourselves at all, because we can just as easily fall into the pattern of not taking any responsibility, but if you just think about it logically, who can honestly say that pain is good? That suffering is good?
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As someone in my sixteenth year of an extremely painful and rare degenerative illness, now mostly bedridden, I can say that you can have too much of a good thing.
Seriously: while adversity in some degree and of some kinds can truly make us stronger and actually more appreciative and joyful people when we look back on it, adversity that is too severe and/or prolonged - or that never goes away at all - simply takes away more than it gives.
Yes, I've learned things from these last sixteen years; and yes, it's taken away far, far more from me and those who love me than it has given.
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