The Paths of Glory

“The problem of suffering has haunted me for a long time. It was what made me begin to think about religion when I was young, and it was what led me to question my faith when I was older. Ultimately, it was the reason I lost my faith" – Bart D. Ehrman
September 11, 2001 meant nothing to me as the Twin Towers collapsed to a pile of dust-enveloped rubble. I looked at the images on the television screen of a blanketed lower Manhattan and thought: "Manhattan is gone, it is completely destroyed".  

I was unable to comprehend the magnitude of the unfolding 911 event. You see on that morning my wife was in Nyack hospital and had been diagnosed with ovarian cancer which was later found to be Stage 3. She was to undergo more radical surgery about one month later but before that surgery took place she slipped in the shower breaking her ankle and had to be hospitalized to have a plate and screws inserted in her lower leg. One month later she underwent further cancer surgery arriving and leaving the hospital in a wheel chair. In a few short weeks my world had become the world described in the biblical story from the Book of Job.

For the first few months of my wife's recovery I set up her bedroom in the main downstairs living room where she could look out across the lawn and see the daily activities of our neighborhood. Each day a neighbor from across the street would come over and sit a while with her.  He was suffering with cancer too and the two of them, now that the Grim Reaper had knocked on each of their doors, would talk about those things that only two people suffering in their own unique way could help one another understand.

During these visits I would leave them alone realizing that with cancer I was a stranger in a land that was foreign to me both in terms of its landscape and language. I could see and hear their interactions, but terminal cancer, while observed, is not comprehended. Yet, the theoretical understanding I had of suffering before 911 took on a more practical bent in the years following my wife's death in May 2006. I happened to read Bart Ehrman's book 'God's Problem' which was published about five years ago. It explores the different ways in which the bible attempts to deal with the problem of suffering. 

Theodicies, are difficult topics in theological discussion and Ehrman was dissatisfied with most of the current ones. He wrote that: "My ultimate goal was to examine the biblical responses to suffering. What came as a surprise was that some of the answers stood at odds with one another".    

In his book Ehrman discusses four explanations for suffering as put forth by various biblical writers: 

a) The Prophets: Suffering is a punishment for sin. 

b) The Book of Job, which offers a couple of different answers: Suffering is a test and you will be rewarded later for passing it; and suffering is beyond comprehension, since we are just human beings and God, after all, is God. 

c) Ecclesiastes: Suffering is the nature of things; just accept it. 

d) All Apocalyptic texts in both the Hebrew Bible and the New Testament: God will eventually make right all that is wrong with the world.

For Ehrman the question of why there is so much suffering in the world is more than a "haunting thought". His inability to reconcile the claims of faith with the facts of life led him to reject his faith. Publishers Weekly commented: Ehrman gave up on his Christian faith and fashioned a peculiarly utilitarian solution to suffering and evil in the world: first, make this life as pleasing to ourselves as we can and then make it pleasing to others. 

Having experienced five years of my wife's decline and death I came to realize on subsequently reading Ehrman's book that both she and our neighbor had lived in acceptance of the explanation from Ecclesiastes, which Ehrman had surprisingly rejected, while at the same time both had practiced Ehrman's utilitarian solution - to make this life pleasing to themselves and to make it pleasing to others. 

Earlier this year that good friend and neighbor died of his own disease and, in one of those strange coincidences that occur in life, his burial took place on the anniversary of my wife's death. As is the practice in his faith once the casket had been lowered into the grave those who had known and loved him began the process of filling in the grave.

This was the first burial I had attended for a member of the Jewish faith and I was therefore startled by the unexpected drum-like sound as the first few shovels of dirt and stones hit the casket. It was as if a dirge was being played with the slow beating of a mournful drum receding steadily into the distance as the grave was filled. I imagined in that few moments of the diminishing dirge that my neighbor was slowly departing from those of us gathered at his grave and that he was going on to meet those who had gone before him - including his friend in suffering from across the street - my wife.  The song ‘Bring Him Home’ (an extraordinary hymn-like prayer addressed by Valjean to God in the musical 'Les Misérables') might have been played at this point had my friend been a member of my own faith.

Standing across from the grave was a person with whom I had crossed swords several times in my political writings and in my political advocacy work in the Town of Clarkstown. There for a few moments on a warm sunny day in May we were spiritually united. I knew why he was there and what his relationship was to my deceased friend's family - I also knew that he could only but guess as to my presence and my relationship to the deceased. I said a silent prayer of thanks that for a few short moments on that day in May God chose to remind me that in His Kingdom there is no separation between His people.

The drummer had departed broken only by the muffled sounds of the shovels being thrust into the earth as the process of filling the grave continued.  I stepped forward to honor my friend's departed soul by helping in the task at hand and there across the pile of earth from me, shovel in hand and performing the same act of respect as myself, was my momentary spiritual friend. For a few short minutes we were united as brothers in performing a final common labor for the one who had brought us together.

As, we stepped back from the gravesite we smiled to one another, shook hands and he remarked: "This is something that you don't see every day of the week".

With that action I was reminded of the truth of the apocalyptic texts in both the Hebrew Bible and in the New Testament that 'God will eventually make right all that is wrong with the world'. While we may disagree about the actions and behaviors of ourselves and others, we must remain aware that in ways unknown to us we are joined together in the Spirit to work together for the best of others through our common humanity. As is explained in Micah 6:8:

He has shown you, O mortal, what is good.
And what does the Lord require of you?
To act justly and to love mercy
and to walk humbly with your God.

As I returned to my car Gray's poem 'Elegy Written In A Country Churchyard' came to my mind reminding us that each of our 'paths of glory' will eventually lead to our own grave ......

The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea,
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.

The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Awaits alike the inevitable hour.
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.

Full many a gem of purest ray serene,
The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear:
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.

One morn I missed him on the customed hill,
Along the heath and near his favorite tree;
Another came; nor yet beside the rill,
Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he;

"The next with dirges due in sad array
Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne.
Approach and read (for thou can'st read) the lay,
Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.

Here is Alfie Boe with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir asking 'God on High' to 'Bring Him Home'.  The paths of glory lead but to the grave - that is where all suffering ends and that is where all suffering is no longer 'God's Problem'. 

This blog is authored by Michael N. Hull, a retired senior citizen. Hull contributes periodically to the Facebook page Clarkstown: What They Don't Want You To Know.