You-Know-Who

I haven't been much in the mood to post lately. There's something about coming here and talking about trivial stuff that makes the stillbirth of my friends' baby even worse. If I don't post, if I don't visit anyone, if I don't make any phone calls, if I dig in my heels deep enough, maybe the world will stop for a second or at least slow down. But it hasn't slowed.

This morning they laid their tiny boy to rest on the same hill where their other son, who was stillborn a year ago yesterday, is buried. Talk about getting kicked when you're down. I wish my friends hadn't had to learn just how strong they are.

I'm having trouble with little things lately -- things like saying Hamotzi, things like taking my two living children to Tot Shabbat tonight where we will all get to sing about how great God is.

Don't get me wrong. I am incredibly thankful for my healthy children and my wonderful marriage and the roof over my head and the abundance of food we have to eat. I'm just having a little trouble with thanking God for it. So maybe I am being blasphemous -- but it's just the truth.

Here's my problem: If God is responsible for the good things in my life, he must also be responsible for the bad things in my friend's life. I don't get how we thank God when the good things happen and then curse our luck when bad things happen. It has to be one way or the other -- all random, or all by design. If God has blessed me with the good life I have right now, then that means God has protected my family and me from the dangers in the world, right? And so that means God did not protect my friends. And if that is the case, do I want to associate myself with this being who protects me with one hand while killing babies, either through action or deliberate inaction, with the other? Thanking God in such a case seems like kissing up to a playground bully in an effort to keep from being picked on oneself. And that, my friends, is not my style.

Or, do I say that God has nothing to do with babies' deaths? Perhaps God created the world and then just stepped out, washing his hands of it. If so, then God also had nothing to do with the births of my children, the food on my table, the roof over my head. And in that case, why pray to God at all? Perhaps I can see thanking God for creating the world in the first place, a world in which joy and happiness are possible for at least limited amounts of time. Then what do we say about the part where death and hatred and violence and illness are possible in the same world?

I don't know. I'd say approaching the rabbi tonight might not be wise. "Rabbi, I am interested in converting to Judaism, but at the moment I'm really mad at God. So, please, let's just not talk about You-Know-Who. The rest of the conversion stuff, though, is open for discussion."