Tragedy, hardship and blessings

Zion said, "The Lord has forsaken me, the Lord has forgotten me." -- Isaiah 49:14

The epigram to this column is referred to as a biblical "cry of dereliction," a "Where are you, God?" theme also seen in the opening verses of Psalm 22 -- words that Jesus of Nazareth would repeat from the cross: "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" (Matthew 27:46)

In both Old and New Testament accounts, we find people, and even Jesus himself, questioning where is God when the worst happens. And why does tragedy seem to pile on certain individuals and families, leading others to say, "Why does that person or that family suffer so much hardship?"

The temptation to become anecdotal is irresistible at this juncture, so here goes: A parishioner loses a preschool child to a mysterious illness. Another child of this same parishioner, a motorcycle rider without a helmet, spends weeks in a Cape Girardeau hospital after a motorist unexpectedly opened a car door.

With no time to react, the young man flew into the air. When the cyclist miraculously emerged from a weekslong coma, I told his mother, "I don't know what I would have said to you had you lost a second child."

She replied without hesitation, "There is nothing you could have said."

Pastors can tell stories about repeated tragedies that befall certain families. There are chilling narratives of families who seem to receive more than their share of catastrophe, although who is to say what "their share" is?

A former grocery store manager, whom I worked for as a teenager, lost both his legs to diabetes. He was very careful about his diet, kept his weight down, and for all his precautions, the disease still took his lower extremities. "What did I do all that for?" he asked.

I had an uncle, on life support but conscious, who languished in a hospital for weeks. When I came in the room, he asked, "Why me?"

Clergy don't have answers to these "why" questions. We bring consolation and understanding -- and mainly our presence. But no answers. Actually, the most effective thing clergy do in the face of inexplicable tragedy visited on the same person or family is to refer them to the scriptures.

Let me finish the Psalm 49 citation above, by looking at the next two verses: "Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands." (Isaiah 49:15-16a)

Those words are not physically curative -- you may still lose a leg, you may still lose your life or someone close to you may, in fact, pass away -- but to believe you are remembered by God in these moments of crisis brings strength in the present moment and hope for what may come.

As we gather with family this week for Thanksgiving, we must recall the adversity of the year just past.

I do not suggest or recommend rose-colored glasses for the bad things that befall us. But we can put the setbacks, the disappointments, the bereavements and the inexplicable tragedies in a different perspective.

Instead of lingering on why something happened as the food is dispensed around the table, we could take a moment to reiterate faith in the one who promises not to leave us. Ever. "I will never leave you, nor will I forsake you." (Deuteronomy 31:6; Hebrews 13:5)

And we can do one more thing. As Aunt Sadie or Uncle Joe passes the sweet potatoes your way, you might add a little sauce for the goose -- e.g., remembering all the blessings in the midst of the pain. As the old song proclaims, "Count your many blessings. Name them one by one. Count your many blessings. See what God has done."

Happy Thanksgiving.