It is very significant for my faith that I worship a God who did not stay far off on some heavenly throne as we suffered. Rather he came to suffer with us, and because of that he can draw near in our suffering as the one who truly understands.
In your book Non-Identity Theodicy, you take a different approach to the question of why God couldn’t have created a world without suffering. Can you explain?
God could have created a world with no suffering and, for all we know, maybe he has in other realms of existence. My contention is simply that had He done that, I don't think that you or I, or the people we love, or the people that we see walking down the street every day, would have existed. And I don’t think God would welcome that result because I believe He created our universe out of a particular love and desire for each individual who has come to exist.
To illustrate this concept, I like to share this story of my parents on their second date. I'm not recommending this approach, but it’s a true story. They were standing on a bridge, and my dad noticed a ring on my mom's finger. He asked about it, and she said, “That’s just from one of my old boyfriends. I just wear it because it looks nice.” My dad said, “Oh, yeah, it is nice. Let me see it.” My mom took it off, handed it to my dad, and my dad threw it off the bridge, his way of communicating that she wouldn’t be needing that ring anymore. My mom loved it, but what if instead my mom had thought to herself, “That's not normal. I'm going to go back to my old boyfriend.” I might be tempted to think that could have been better for me. Maybe the old boyfriend was taller or better looking, or maybe he lived in a castle—I could have been royalty! But there's a philosophical mistake in that line of thinking. If my mom had married her old boyfriend and not my dad, maybe they would have had some very nice kids, but I would not have been one of them. It doesn't take much to change procreation history. My dad throwing a ring off of a bridge is enough to change who winds up getting together and who winds up coming to exist.
So what about God deciding what sort of universe to create and how that universe is going to unfold? And what if it's the case that even before the foundation of the world, God had specific people in mind that He wanted to choose to exist because He wanted to love them and invite them into relationship with Himself?
The sub-title of your book is “A Grace-Based Response to the Problem of Evil.” What is it about your argument that is grace-based?
I wanted grace in the subtitle specifically so people would make that connection. God has chosen to bring into existence a universe that allowed for me and you to exist, but this is not because of our merit; it is not because we're the most impressive creatures that God could have created. An analogy that I think of sometimes is of someone walking into an orphanage and choosing to adopt a child as their own. On the left side is objectively the most impressive child—highest IQ, most athletic, best looking, etc. But as you walk into this orphanage, you just find yourself drawn to a child that you see on the right side of the room. By any sort of objective standards, someone might say this child is much more average, but you just find yourself with a heart full of love for him or her. The way that their hair curls, something about their eyes—you can't even fully grasp what it is, but there's this particularity to your love for this specific individual that is non-comparative. So you decide to take that child home and give that child a good existence. I believe that could be an act of love, and an act of grace similar to God’s choice of us rather than more worthy or comparatively better creatures.
Philosophical arguments aside, can it speak pastorally to someone who is in the throes of grave suffering, say from a miscarriage or other great loss?
My wife Jo and I went through the devastating experience of a miscarriage before getting pregnant again shortly thereafter. It was such a deep grief, and yet we were comforted by the thought that through this suffering, our children are inextricably and eternally connected. Our son Jonathan couldn't have come to exist had Jo still been carrying our miscarried child, Luca. In fact, Jonathan's middle name is Lucian as a way of honoring his sister and reminding us of the way that their lives are intricately linked. There is even gospel imagery here because through Luca’s death, Jonathan’s life was made possible, and now we live with the eternal hopefulness that one day we will all be together. We have so much to be thankful for. And yet, there is this very visceral love of a parent for the one that was lost. That’s not changed even in the hopefulness and even in our thankfulness for Jonathan. There is still -- years later -- this deep longing for Luca. When she passed, we had not yet heard her heartbeat, and the very first thing I am going to do in eternity is put my head on her chest and listen to her heartbeat. I cannot wait for that moment.
When were at the doctor’s office we got the news that Jo was likely to miscarry. We walked out to our car in a mental fog. It felt surreal. We decided while sitting in our car that we would name our baby Luca. We didn't feel like going home and certainly didn't feel like cooking dinner, so we searched online for a nearby pizza place. We selected “get directions” for the top-rated option without even looking at the name. Five minutes later, when we pulled into the parking lot, we were greeted by a large sign that read “Lucca Pizzeria.”
The philosophical theory is not the pastoral response. God in his kindness was assuring us of his presence and care at a time when philosophy would have brought little comfort. I think about Jesus in the garden saying, “My heart is sorrowful, even to death.” That is a very significant line coming from the mouth of the Incarnate God. It is very significant for my faith that I worship a God who did not stay far off on some heavenly throne as we suffered. Rather he came to suffer with us, and because of that he can draw near in our suffering as the one who truly understands.
When our older son had to undergo tests on his heart, at the tender age of one, he had all these wires and tubes going into him, and he couldn't understand anything. He was just on the bed screaming, and I couldn't explain anything to him. He wouldn't have understood me even if I tried. In that moment, I remember instinctively drawing really close to him, and I just said, “I'm here. It's okay, I’m here, Daddy’s here,” over and over. I think about my own grief, and I feel like that is what Jesus does. Jesus is God saying, “I'm here, I'm here”—Jesus Himself saying, Here I am. I come. I stand at the door and knock, and if you open the door, I'll come in, I'll meet with you and you with me. In Jesus, because he is here with us and because he has been through the deepest depths of suffering alongside us, we are invited never to suffer alone and always to suffer with hope.
Vince Vitale, Ph.D., is a philosopher, apologist, author and speaker serving as a host and presenter for the “Unbelievable?” podcast from Premier Insight. His book Non-Identity Theodicy: A Grace-Based Response to the Problem of Evil was recently published by Oxford University Press.
Photo Credit: ©Getty Images/Marjan_Apostolovic
Vince Vitale, Ph.D., is a philosopher, apologist, author, and speaker serving as a host and presenter for the “Unbelievable?” podcast from Premier Insight. His book Non-Identity Theodicy: A Grace-Based Response to the Problem of Evil was recently published by Oxford University Press.
