Antony was confused as he meditated upon the depths of God’s judgements, and he asked God, ‘Lord, how is it that some die young and others grow old and sick? Why are there some poor and some rich? Why are there those who are bad and rich and oppress the good poor?” He heard a voice saying to him, ‘Antony, worry about yourself; these other matters are up to God, and it will not do you any good to know them.’
The Desert Fathers: Sayings of the Early Christian Monks
There’s been a lot of ink spilled about this problem—that is, the problem of evil; or the question of why bad things happen to good people—and these are excellent questions, to be sure, but I think this little excerpt makes an interesting point as well: “it will not do you any good to know them”. Would my knowing the answer to the question give me any comfort? If this saying has any bearing in reality, the answer is that no, it won’t.
This sounds like a bullshit answer (to put it bluntly), but thinking about it, in moments when you were suffering (even if that suffering is righteous anger on behalf of others), has it ever helped to hear the rational explanation? I can say with full certainty that, in my case, it never has. I have always had to calm down before being able to listen to reason, for although it shouldn’t be, reason is often, as Hume would say, “the slave of the passions”. This is not to dismiss the question entirely. Rather, I’m suggesting that one must first be well-disposed to receiving the answer if there is to be any point in asking the question. In other words, if I’m just going to get angry or upset, why ask? That is one possible interpretation of this passage.
Another interpretation is this: let us go back to the beginning, and recall that Adam was commanded by God not to eat of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil (cf. Gn 2:17). Why was this? What’s wrong with knowing the difference between good and evil? Nothing, I suppose. It’s good to know what the good is, and to follow it. But despite God’s warning, Adam ate of the tree, his “eyes … were opened,” and he “hid … from the presence of the Lord God among the trees of the garden” (Gn 3:7–8). Notice that he didn’t stop believing in God. In fact, the leviathan’s (viz. the serpent) temptation wasn’t to doubt God’s existence, nor even his authority. At its core, the leviathan’s challenge was to God’s trustworthiness. By eating of the tree, Adam didn’t exhibit trust that God’s commands and works were for his own good.
What does this mean in the context of this passage? God could choose to reveal why things are as they are, but for what purpose? To put it another way, why do we need to know? At its core, perhaps our question is laced with this same sin of Adam: do we really trust that God has our good in mind despite the problems that exist in the world? Consider this: if I asked the mayor why there were so many potholes left unfixed, would it be because there is value in my knowing or because I want to see some accountability or justification for these things. I want to hear his reasons to make sure they’re good ones because only a good reason could justify and excuse this injustice. At the core of my question is a suspicion that the mayor is an untrustworthy fellow. Maybe in this case my mistrust of the mayor is justified, but mistrust is not the way that we should approach God. Thus, we can read this statement as God inviting us to question our motives in asking the question.
These are just two ways off the top of my head that we might interpret what was said to Anthony. On the one hand, who’s to say that God’s answer will grant us some peace with the injustices of the world. At a deeper level, our very question might emerge from a wrongful mistrust of God, and thus our motives in asking should be what are subjected to scrutiny. Who are we to question God, who created everything from nothing? As God said to Job:
‘Shall a fault-finder contend with the Almighty? Anyone who argues with God must respond.’
Job 40:2
In short, not only is our capacity to understand inadequate, but we must look inwards and consider the attitudes with which we wonder at the world.
For you rule the universe with the utmost justice, and in the inscrutable depths of your just judgement you know what is right for him, because you can see the hidden merits of our souls. And let no man question the why or the wherefore of your judgement. This he must not do, for he is only a man.
St Augustine, Confessions iii,6
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