The
tsunami of sea water was followed instantly by a tsunami of
spittle as the religious sputtered to rationalize God's latest
felony. Here we'd been placidly killing each other a few dozen
at a time in Iraq, Darfur, Congo, Israel, and Palestine, when
along comes the deity and whacks a quarter million in a couple
of hours between breakfast and lunch. On CNN, NPR, Fox News,
and in newspaper articles too numerous for Nexis to count, men
and women of the cloth weighed in solemnly on His existence,
His motives, and even His competence to continue as Ruler of
Everything.
Theodicy,
in other words--the attempt to reconcile God's perfect
goodness with the manifest evils of His world--has arisen from
the waves. On the retro, fundamentalist, side, various men of
the cloth announced that the tsunami was the rational act of a
deity enraged by (take your pick): the suppression of
Christianity in South Asia, pornography and child-trafficking
in that same locale, or, in the view of some Muslim
commentators, the bikini-clad tourists at Phuket.
On the
more liberal end of the theological spectrum, God's
spokespeople hastened to stuff their fingers in the dike even
as the floodwaters of doubt washed over it. Of course, God
exists, seems to be the general consensus. And, of course, He
is perfectly good. It's just that his jurisdiction doesn't
extend to tectonic plates. Or maybe it does and He tosses us
an occasional grenade like this just to see how quickly we can
mobilize to clean up the damage. Besides, as the Catholic
priests like to remind us, "He's a 'mystery' "--though that's
never stopped them from pronouncing His views on abortion with
absolute certainty.
The
clerics who are struggling to make sense of the tsunami must
not have noticed that this is hardly the first display of
God's penchant for wanton, homicidal mischief. Leaving out
man-made genocide, war, and even those "natural" disasters,
like drought and famine, to which "man" invariably contributes
through his inept social arrangements, God has a lot to
account for in the way of earthquakes, hurricanes, tornadoes,
and plagues. Nor has He ever shown much discrimination in his
choice of victims. A tsunami hit Lisbon in 1755, on All Saints
Day, when the good Christians were all in church. The faithful
perished, while the denizens of the red light district, which
was built on strong stone, simply carried on sinning.
Similarly, last fall's hurricanes flattened the God-fearing,
Republican parts of Florida while sparing sin-soaked Key West
and South Beach.
The
Christian-style "God of love" should be particularly
vulnerable to post-tsunami doubts. What kind of "love"
inspired Him to wrest babies from their parents' arms, the
better to drown them in a hurry? If He so loves us that He
gave his only son etc., why couldn't he have held those
tectonic plates in place at least until the kids were off the
beach? So much, too, for the current pop-Christian God, who
can be found, at least on the Internet, micro-managing
people's careers, resolving marital spats, and taking excess
pounds off the faithful--this last being Pat Robertson's
latest fixation.
If we are
responsible for our actions, as most religions insist, then
God should be, too, and I would propose, post-tsunami, an
immediate withdrawal of prayer and other forms of flattery
directed at a supposedly moral deity--at least until an
apology is issued, such as, for example: "I was so busy with
Cindy-in-Omaha's weight-loss program that I wasn't paying
attention to the Earth's crust."
It's not
just Christianity. Any religion centered on a God who is both
all-powerful and all-good, including Islam and the more
monotheistically inclined versions of Hinduism, should be
subject to a thorough post-tsunami evaluation. As many have
noted before me: If God cares about our puny species, then
disasters prove that he is not all-powerful; and if he
is all-powerful, then clearly he doesn't give a
damn.
In fact,
the best way for the religious to fend off the atheist threat
might be to revive the old bad--or at least amoral and
indifferent--gods. The tortured notion of a God who is both
good and powerful is fairly recent, dating to roughly 1200 BC,
after which Judaism, Christianity, Buddhism, and Islam
emerged. Before that, you had the feckless Greco-Roman
pantheon, whose members interfered in human events only when
their considerable egos were at stake. Or you had monstrous,
human-sacrifice-consuming, psycho-gods like Ba'al and his
Central American counterparts. Even earlier, as I pointed out
in my book Blood Rites, there were prehistoric
god(desses) modeled on man-eating animals like lions, and
requiring a steady diet of human or animal sacrificial
flesh.
The
faithful will protest that they don't want to worship a
bad--or amoral or indifferent--God, but obviously they already
do. Why not acknowledge what our prehistoric ancestors knew?
If the Big Guy or Gal operates in any kind of moral framework,
it has nothing to do with the rules we've come up with over
the eons as primates attempting to live in groups-- rules
like, for example, "no hitting."
Yes, 12/26
was a warning, though not about the hazards of wearing
bikinis. What it comes down to is that we're up shit creek
here on the planet Earth. We're wide open to asteroid hits,
with the latest near-miss coming in October, when a city-sized
one passed within a mere million miles of Earth, which is just
four times the distance between the Earth and the moon. Then,
too, it's only a matter of time before the constant shuffling
of viral DNA results in a global pandemic. And 12/26 was a
reminder that the planet itself is a jerry-rigged affair,
likely to keep belching and lurching. Even leaving out global
warming and the possibility of nuclear war, this is not a good
situation, in case you hadn't noticed so far.
If there
is a God, and He, She, or It had a message for us on 12/26,
that message is: Get your act together, folks--your seismic
detection systems, your first responders and global
mobilization capacity--because no one, and I do mean no One,
is coming to medi-vac us out of here.
Barbara
Ehrenreich is a columnist for The Progressive. She is the
author of "Nickel and Dimed: On (Not) Getting By in
America" and "Blood Rites: Origins and History of the Passions
of War."
© 2005 The Progressive
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