Where is God in a tornado?

By Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel
Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

CHULA VISTA, California — A tornado flattened much of the town of Moore, Oklahoma with gale winds exceeding over 300 miles an hour. This was not the first time tornadoes visited the area of Oklahoma, better known as “Tornado Alley.” In 1998, 2003, and 2010, smaller tornadoes left their mark on the communities in the Oklahoma City vicinity.

So far, the death count is at 24 and many are still missing. Among the victims, nine of those killed were children—which makes the catastrophe ever more tragic. Over 100 survivors were rescued from the rubble. So far, about 240 people were injured.

The twister was frightening to see; it was 17 miles long, and 1.3 miles wide.

People of faith inevitably wonder: Where was God in this disaster?

Of course, one could ask this question whenever a natural catastrophe occurs. The Torah says that God got out of the flood business, but the recent tsunamis of South East Asia would probably beg to differ.  The Torah says nothing about God getting out of the tornado business.

One might wonder: Why does God allow natural disasters to occur in the world? Isn’t enough that we have to deal with moral evil? Is it reasonable that we should also be responsible for the natural catastrophes that occur in the world too?

In Late Antiquity, the philosopher Epicurus likewise fleshes out the cognitive dissonance people experience when contemplating the problem of God’s justice and fairness in the face of evil in the world:

1. Is God unable to prevent evil?

2. Is God unwilling to prevent evil?

3. If God is able and willing to prevent evil, then where does evil come from?

4. If God is neither able nor willing to prevent evil, then why do we call him “god”?

Unfortunately, Epicurus did not differentiate between moral vs. natural evil. Nevertheless, his questions are nuanced.  More to the point: Is all natural evil directly or indirectly due to moral evil? The moral and theological debate came back with a Jobian vengeance when the Lisbon earthquake struck in 1759, many skeptics wondered how God could allow such a devastating disaster to strike. From the modern critical perspective, the story of the Flood raises serious issues regarding the relationship between natural evil, commonly referred to as “acts of God,” and God’s justice.  In the case of moral evil, the impact felt by the victim is identifiable and with the help of the law, the perpetrator(s) can be brought to justice. Nevertheless, natural evil poses a different kind of problem. One cannot subpoena an earthquake, tornado, or a fire, or a disease after they strike. When natural evil strikes, the effects leave for the most part, little positive benefits with nobody to blame—except God.

After the Lisbon earthquake, the French philosopher Voltaire articulated his own brand of Epicurean doubt. Voltaire wondered how religious people could still refer to God as “benevolent” or “loving” after the death of so many thousands of innocents. In response to Voltaire’s criticism, his fellow Frenchman, Jean Jacques Rousseau argued that human beings must take the primary responsibility for what happened during the Lisbon earthquake. Poorly designed structural buildings, along with a lack of thoughtful urban planning and human error, played a role in the corporate damage the earthquake caused. A superiorly designed city might have suffered much less casualties and death. [1]

Might the same argument be said about community leaders who deliberately build their homes in an area known for its deadly twisters? Jean Jacques Rousseau would probably argue that there is some degree of human culpability in this instance.

Jewish tradition has its own unique response.  One Midrashic text speaks about the imperfection of this world. Nowhere does the Bible say God created a “perfect world,” but rather, God created an imperfect world that requires human beings to perfect it.

  • A Roman general named Turnus Rufus once asked R. Akiba, “Whose works are more superior—those of the Holy One or those of flesh and blood?” R. Akiba said: Obviously, those of deeds performed by flesh and blood are lovelier!  Turnus Rufus replied: Oh really? Take heaven and earth—can man make anything like them?
  • R. Akiba: Do not speak to me of matters that are beyond human capability; speak to me about matters that are in the range of human power.” R. Akiba brought Rufus ears of grain and delicate breads and said, “The ears of grain are the work of the Holy One, the breads the work of flesh and blood–are not the loaves of bread more comely?” R. Akiba also brought him flax stalks and garments made in Beth-shean, and said, “The first are the work of God; the second, the work of man. Are not the garments more to be admired?”
  • Rufus: Why do you have yourselves circumcised? R. Akiba: I knew that you were going to ask me this question. That is why I anticipated you by saying, “The works of flesh and blood are lovelier than those of the Holy One.”  Rufus: “Assuming that He desires circumcision, why does not  the infant emerge from his mother’s womb already circumcised?” [2] R. Akiba: “Why does the umbilical cord emerge with the infant? Should not the mother have had the infant’s umbilical cord cut off [in the womb]? As to your question of why an infant does not emerge circumcised, it is because the Holy One gave the precepts to Israel to purify them.” [3]

In Rabbi Akiba’s deep response, only people can transform the chaos of the world into an orderly cosmos; God limits His power so that people might step up and eliminate suffering wherever and whenever possible. When people act in the highest  interest of the human family by sending food, clothing, medicine, and money to those who suffer from a natural catastrophe—we are responding with compassion. In my opinion, this seems to be the only logical response to the problems of natural evil. With respect to human evil, we are totally responsible when it comes to eradicating human generated evil. In the final analysis, whether it is natural or moral evil—we need to spiritually grow up and take total responsibility in how we confront the forces of chaos that seek to unravel our lives.

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Notes:

[1] Rousseau writes in his correspondence with Voltaire:

I do not see how one can search for the source of moral evil anywhere but in man. . . . Moreover . . the majority of our physical misfortunes are also our work. Without leaving your Lisbon subject, concede, for example, that it was hardly nature that there brought together twenty-thousand houses of six or seven stories. If the residents of this large city had been more evenly dispersed and less densely housed, the losses would have been fewer or perhaps none at all. Everyone would have fled at the first shock. But many obstinately remained . . . to expose themselves to additional earth tremors because what they would have had to leave behind was worth more than what they could carry away. How many unfortunates perished in this disaster through the desire to fetch their clothing, papers, or money? . . .

There are often events that afflict us . . . that lose a lot of their horror when we examine them closely. I learned in Zadig, and nature daily confirms my lesson, that a rapid death is not always a true misfortune, and that it can sometimes be considered a relative blessing. Of the many persons crushed under Lisbon’s ruins, some without doubt escaped greater misfortunes, and . . . it is not certain that a single one of these unfortunates suffered more than if, in the normal course of events, he had awaited [a more normal] death to overtake him after long agonies. Was death [in the ruins] a sadder end than that of a dying person overburdened with useless treatments, whose notary and heirs do not allow him a respite, whom the doctors kill in his own bed at their leisure, and whom the barbarous priests artfully try to make relish death? For me, I see everywhere that the misfortunes nature imposes upon us are less cruel than those which we add to them. . . .

Voltaire’s Correspondence, vol. 30 (Geneva: Institute et Musee Voltaire, 1958), quoted inDiscovering the Western Past: A Look at the Evidence: Since 1500 Merry E. Wiesner, Julius R. Ruff, and William Bruce Wheeler (Boston, Ma: Houghton Mifflin Company, 2003), 102-115.

[2] Actually, sometimes a child is born circumcised! This condition is known as aposthia is rarer than one out of 400 births.

[3] The precepts do not exist for God’s benefit; rather, they exist to teach mortals the importance of holiness and ethical living.

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Rabbi Samuel is spiritual leader of Temple Beth Shalom in Chula Vista.  He may be contacted at michael.samuel@sdjewishworld.com