Dear Rabbi:
Today I read the horrifying news of the young boy brutally murdered in Borough Park. I know there are plenty of horrors in this world, but this one won’t let me rest or think of anything else.
Do you rabbis have answers?
—Y. T.
Response:
I have no answer to calm your soul and let you rest. But I can share the thoughts I have written to myself this day.
We believe that G‑d is good. And yet He has created beings that commit horrific evil, acts He Himself despises in the most ultimate sense of the word. Things about which we can only recoil in horror while turning to the heavens in indignant outrage, screaming, “Why did You allow this? How could You?!”
And all we receive from heaven is a silent tear.
Of all the questions we ask, why does this one never receive a satisfactory answer? We believe our Torah is a Torah of truth, of divine wisdom, yet of all the questions it answers, why on this one does it fail us?
We are told that good cannot come without evil, just as darkness cannot come without light.
But, G‑d, dear beneficent and all-powerful G‑d, could You not do whatever You please? Could you not create light without darkness, good without evil? At the very least, did You have to create an evil so hideous?
We are told that commensurate to the darkness will be the light, commensurate to the pain will be the reward. Looking at this world and the pain we have suffered, the reward must be beyond any measure.
But, my G‑d, you are good! Does everything have to be measured so precisely? Can a G‑d who is good allow such horror, even if ultimately it will become good?
We are told that human beings must be given free choice. That this is the ultimate kindness of G‑d to humankind, that He grants us the space to fail, and the opportunity to achieve greatness on our own.
But if this is kindness, then what is cruelty? Are there no limits? Even the most liberal parents, if they care, they will have limits on the freedoms they grant their children. And here, in our world, we see ugliness without bound.
My G‑d, each day I am surrounded by Your wonders. Each day, I see Your miracles, one after the other, Your unending goodness to me and to each of us. I will not lose faith, I will not stop praying to You. But if I will not stand up and demand, “Does the Judge of all the earth not do justice?” if I will not declare, “Why have you done evil to your people?”—then what kind of a creature am I? And in what sort of a G‑d do I believe?
One day, we will understand. Until then, we must be outraged. We must recoil with horror, we must reach deep inside ourselves, we must protest to G‑d Himself. For only the righteously indignant can heal this world.
That is our answer for now: That we cannot be allowed to understand. For if we would understand, we would not be outraged. And if we were not outraged, then why would we ever stand up and do all that is in our power that such horrors could never happen again? And then there would be no one to heal G‑d’s world.
And so the answer is only a silent tear, falling from heaven, into our hearts.
(Source: Coping With Tragedy in Borough Park – R’Tzvi Freeman)