One of the hardest questions of faith arises when a person faces a tragedy that cannot be explained or accepted. Why do innocent people die? Why do some survive wars, illnesses and disasters while others become their victims? And if the Almighty truly governs the world, does this mean that everything that happens takes place by His will? Jewish tradition holds the concept of Divine providence — hashgacha — according to which the world does not exist independently of the Creator and is not beyond His power. Yet here it is important to distinguish between the claim that the Almighty has power over what happens and the claim that every human action directly expresses His desire. After all, if a person commits murder, betrayal or violence, we cannot on that basis declare his deed right or pleasing to God. In the book of Devarim (30:19) it is written: “I have set before you life and death, the blessing and the curse; therefore choose life.” The very existence of such a choice implies the possibility of acting against the moral demand of the Creator. At the same time, the question of how human freedom relates to Divine providence remains a subject of serious theological reflection. In the “Laws of Repentance” (5:1–5), the Rambam emphasizes the freedom of human choice while acknowledging how difficult it is to reconcile it with Divine knowledge. It seems to me especially important not to turn faith in the omnipotence of the Almighty into a certainty that we are able to explain the causes of every tragedy. To acknowledge that what happens is not beyond God’s power is not the same as claiming that we know why He allowed this particular event. Sometimes a religious person tries to find an explanation for another’s suffering too quickly, because he himself finds it hard to live with questions that have no answer. But such haste can cause the one who suffers even greater pain.
The idea of Divine providence becomes especially dangerous when it leads a person to passivity. If everything is in the hands of the Almighty, why heal the sick, prevent crimes, defend oneself against violence, or help those in trouble? Yet the Torah itself does not allow such a conclusion. The book of Devarim (22:8) contains the commandment to build a parapet on the roof of one’s house to keep a person from falling. In the book of Vayikra (19:16) it is written: “Do not stand idly by the blood of your neighbor,” and Jewish legal tradition regards these words as the basis for the obligation to rescue a person in danger. Here an important feature of the religious understanding of responsibility comes to light: faith in providence does not release us from the need to take reasonable precautions and to resist evil. A person does not know what will happen tomorrow and has no knowledge of the Divine plan. Therefore he has no right to justify his own inaction in advance by saying that everything has already been decided. If someone needs help, our moral duty is determined not by guesses about why he ended up in trouble, but by our ability to help him now. At the same time, the obligation to save life and prevent harm does not mean that a person can control every circumstance or guarantee a good outcome. We may act rightly and still face tragedy. But failure does not make the efforts we made meaningless. Our responsibility lies not in controlling all the consequences, but in not shrinking from right action wherever we have the possibility of choice. And when we speak of the struggle against evil, we must remember that evil does not become good merely because its existence is permitted in a world created by the Almighty.
For me, the hardest side of this question has to do not even with why evil exists, but with how a person can go on trusting God when faced with suffering that seems utterly meaningless. In the book of Job this problem is posed with particular sharpness. Job’s friends try to explain his calamities through familiar notions of just retribution, assuming that suffering must have a clear moral cause. Yet the book itself shows the limits of such explanations. Job receives no detailed answer about the reasons for all he has endured, and his questions cannot be reduced to a simple accusation of lacking faith. The book of Kohelet (9:11) likewise says that life’s circumstances by no means always match human expectations of a just distribution of success and misfortune. These texts remind us how limited our understanding of events is. We can believe in the justice of the Almighty and at the same time admit that we cannot explain every human tragedy. Moreover, faith itself does not demand indifference to suffering from us. Jewish tradition knows lament, mourning, questions addressed to God, and even expressions of protest in the face of injustice. None of this is necessarily a denial of faith. Sometimes it is precisely the person who deeply believes in the moral order of the world who feels its obvious violation most painfully. Trusting the Almighty does not mean we must stop asking hard questions, and acknowledging His power does not mean we should resign ourselves to human cruelty. Perhaps a mature relationship to Divine providence begins with acknowledging two things: we are not able to fully understand the causes of everything that happens, but we are able to answer for how we act in the face of what happens. And so, when we encounter another person’s misfortune, it is far more important not to explain to them why God allowed their suffering, but to try to do everything possible so that there is less of that suffering.
