Who is responsible for the pain and suffering in this world? Who should do something about it? And what? If there is a God, why doesn't he do something?

Nietzche (atheist philosopher) liked to quote the Greek teacher Epicurus: "If there is a god, he does not care for you." To which the Christian answers, "If he does not care for you, he is not God."

One of the radio preachers to whom I sometimes listen often prays, "God, if you never cared for us, you're still God. If you had never sent your Son to save us, you're still God. We worship you because you are God."

My answer to that is, if somewhat less than delicate: Hogwash!

My Bible says God is love. It is in the nature of love to care. God can not not love us. It is his very being. Jesus could not have not died! Love would allow nothing else!

A lady in India watched a spider on a leaf in the great river. The leaf began to drift away from the shore, so she reached out to save the spider. Her reward was a spider bite! Pretty soon the spider began to float away again. Again she reached out to save it. And again the spider bit her.

"Old woman," asked a bystander, "Why do you keep saving the spider when it keeps biting you?"

She answered, "It is the spider's nature to bite. It is my nature to save."

It is God's nature to save, to love; he never gives up on us. Adam and Eve disobeyed. God didn't give up; he had already made a way for them to be saved. Abraham and Sarah laughed at his promise, but God made a way.

Moses killed a man and later altered God's plan to include his own theatrics. God didn't give up on him.

David stole another man's wife and killed her husband. God forgave him.

Ahaz sold out to Assyria. God never gave up on him. Peter denied Jesus. Jesus welcomed him back. They all repented of their evil doings, of course.

"Why did God let this happen to me?" You have said it. I have said it. We have challenged God for letting bad things happen to good people.

Some time ago I talked at some length to a well-educated businessman in Detroit. He told me he was reared a Christian, but gave it up a few years ago when a home for mentally retarded in Chicago burned, killing several innocent children. He said, defiantly, "No God would let that happen!" Where was God?

Where is justice in all this? Or is there justice? Where is God in our suffering?

Our Gospel is a commentary on the role of suffering, and of punishment. Do we suffer because we have been bad? "What did I do to deserve this?"

Luke has just closed a section about the punishment of the wicked in the final judgment. (Luke 12:57 - 59) Now he brings us a marvelous story about Jesus and his ubiquitous critics.

"Alright, Jesus, how about the Galileans whom Pilate killed, right there in the temple, slit their throats before the very altar of God, mixing their blood with the blood of their sacrifices?"

And what about the 18 people who were crushed beneath the falling tower of Siloam?

We are not so naive as to deny cause and effect in disease and trauma. If you eat improperly and clog up your arteries, you can't blame God for heart problems. If you smoke and get lung cancer or have a heart attack, it isn't God's fault. If you speed and have an accident, you will have to accept the consequences.

But how about the disease which just strikes, for no reason? I asked that when I had by-pass surgery and then again when I got cancer. Both my cardiologist and my oncologist told me there was "no reason" I should have such problems. But I did!

Now I have been battling leukemia for nearly 5 years. Why me? First of all, Why not me? I'm no better than anyone else. I'm no better than the many we have watched die during these past few years, die of cancer, heart attacks.

Sometimes I almost believe in a manipulative God! I had become so arrogant about my good health that maybe God sent me the problems to humble me?

No, not really. But even tho I don't believe God sent all these problems, they have served a purpose in my experience. So I praise God for the suffering, which in comparison to the problems some others have faced, has been minimal, has so far not been terminal.

Not so minimal and not at all temporary for a psychiatrist who was injured in an automobile accident. Loss of his mobility, confined to a wheelchair, dependent on his family, he became depressed and suicidal. One day he wheeled himself into the bedroom, held a revolver to his head, ready to end it all.

Then he prayed, "God, I can't go on like this. But I am willing to try, for the sake of my family, if you will do two things for me: give me relief from the pain, and control of my bladder."

He later reported that in the few moments after his prayer he heard a thunderous reply: "No deal. You either accept life as it is, or die."

"It scared me. It wasn't what I expected from God at all. I put away the revolver and never considered suicide again." He went on to live a long and productive life, even as a cripple.

Professor and ex-World War II soldier Perry Miller struggled with his faith. He remembered the liberation of the Jews in German death camps.

He said, "I was one of the first to arrive at a concentration camp. To my last day on earth I'll remember that scene. I looked up at the sky and saw a beautiful sunny day. God seemed nowhere in evidence!

"A soldier next to me said, 'I can't believe any god would tolerate this.' (slaughter of Jews) I nodded . . . Then another soldier . . . got down on his knees and started praying. He had his rosary beads in his hands. His gesture broke the ice for all of us. Others got down and prayed with him."

In City of God, Augustine noted that when barbarians raped and pillaged Rome, Christians suffered just as much as pagans. But "Christians differ from pagans, not in the ills which befall them but in what they do with the ills that befall them."

Evil -- the devil, if you prefer -- is part of our existence and will be for as long as we are here. The difference, as Augustine says, is how we react to evil. Evil will not go away, even for the praying Christian. In fact, Jesus promised suffering and hardships for his followers. You can't "stare down" the devil!

Jay Rathman was hiking in the wilderness in northern California. As he walked by a rocky ledge he sensed a movement by his head. Suddenly, a timber rattlesnake struck, just missing his ear and catching its fangs in Jay's sweater. He grabbed the snake just behind the head and held it while they both tumbled down the slope thru brush and rocks. His eyeball to eyeball encounter taught him that snakes don't blink!

We can add, the devil doesn't blink. You and I will face tragedy and disaster and evil as long as we live.

We have all been knocked off balance and tumbled down some slope, doing battle with evil. We will tumble down many hills, desperately trying to hold the evil at arm's length. Does that mean God planned it that way? Is it his will, his purpose? Does it mean God is punishing us? Are we more evil than those who don't suffer the tragedies? Please remember that I have always promised you more questions than answers!

I read an interesting story the other night: In the window of a coat store in England is this sign:

"We have been established for over 100 years and have been pleasing and displeasing customers ever since. We have made money and lost money, suffered the effects of coal nationalization and coat rationing, government control and bad payers. We have been cussed and discussed, lied to, held up, robbed and swindled. The only reason we stay in business is to see what happens next."

If you think you've had it bad, just listen to this: At a dinner party in the late 19th century, French playwright Victorien Sardou spilled a glass of wine. The woman next to him sprinkled salt on the stain. Superstitious as he was, Sardou picked up some salt and threw it over his left shoulder. The salt went into the eye of a waiter, who dropped the platter of chicken. The family dog pounced on the chicken, but a bone lodged in the dog's throat. The host's son tried to dislodge it; but the dog bit his finger, which had then to be amputated!

All of which is not to make light of suffering. The hardest part of any minister's work is to visit people who suffer. Stand or sit there and watch the suffering -- nothing meaningful to say, no way to help. Those are the times I remember that Jesus said, "I tell you the truth, anyone who has faith in me will do what I have been doing. He will do even greater things than these." (John 14:12)

So then I remember, Jesus healed the sick. Why can't I heal the sick, relieve the suffering? Don't I have enough faith? Is it just not the right thing to do at the time? God has answered so many prayers for me, yet I just sit silent in the presence of suffering, whether my suffering or your suffering. Somehow, it just doesn't seem right.

Let's go back and let Luke finish the story: Jesus was faced with two very logical questions: Why did God let those poor Galileans be slaughtered by Pilot? Why were those Jerusalemites in the wrong place at the wrong time when that tower collapsed?

Good questions, those! They are much the same questions we have been discussing. So what do you say, Jesus?

Jesus answers now, as he answered then, "Do you think these Galileans were worse sinners that other Galileans? I tell you, No."

Another time Jesus had been asked about theodicy, how to vindicate the judgment of God in permitting evil. His answer then was, "God makes the sun to shine on the good and the bad, rain on the just and the unjust." (Matthew 5:45)

One time when they saw a blind man, the disciples asked, "Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents?"

Jesus gave a vague answer about sin having nothing to do with the cause of his blindness, but that "the work of God might be displayed in his life." (John 9:2,3)

What answer did Jesus give to those good questions about why people suffer? None! He evaded the questions, sidestepped the issue and instead talked about the need to repent. I think the reason is simply that there is no answer!

Thornton Wilder's novel, The Bridge of San Luis Rey, is a story of a small village in South America. One day a bridge collapsed and 6 people were killed. The local priest said, "Aha! I will do research into these people's lives and show why those six people were on the bridge when it fell. I will prove beyond a doubt that if you do bad things, bad will happen to you, and if you do good things, good will be done to you."

After studying the lives of the 6 victims, the priest concluded they were no better, no worse than anyone else in the village. In other words, he said "Amen" to Jesus.

In evading the questions, avoiding an argument, Jesus instead made a profound statement: Bad things do indeed happen to good people, and to bad people! But let's get to a more important theme, repentence. That is the question, the important question.

It is human nature for us to want answers, to persist for answers, but Jesus wants us tackle the more important issues. Rabbi Harold Kushner's best-selling book, When Bad Things Happen to Good People, was so popular because it flatters us in this self-pitying, narcissistic age. We believe any suffering, any tragedy is unfair. But Jesus says, "You must be born again."

Don't worry about the vices or virtues of others. You repent, get right with God, be born again.

As born-again Christians we are not so concerned with why we have to suffer as we are committed to have God in our lives, whether we are crying or laughing, hurting or singing. And to be with each other in all our suffering.

Wednesday night at our Bible study we have discussed what it means to be born again. Jesus made it an important part of his teaching. "You must be born again."

When one is born again he becomes a new person, completely new. Paul says, "Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!"

(II Corinthians 5:17)

The new person still lives in a world of evil, still faces temptations, still makes mistakes, but his attitudes and his life style, his motives and his priorities are in line with those taught and exampled by Jesus.

Let us pray . . .

Lord, we come to you with many questions, but we really look for answers. We don't understand evil. We don't understand why some of us face so many problems. Please take our tired bodies, our confused minds, our restless souls and give us some simple, quiet rest.

When we are tempted to ask, Why me? please accept our distractions, our fatigue, our irritations, our faithless wanderings. Grant us peace and courage, faith and trust.

Lord Jesus, help us to spread your fragrance wherever we go. Flood our souls with your spirit and your life. Penetrate and possess our whole beings so utterly that our lives will truly radiate your light, your life, your love.

Lord Jesus Christ, you are the Light of the world. Fill our minds with your peace; fill our hearts with your love.

Prologue:

Today I want to say a word about communion, or The Lord's Supper. We all know what it is, but we don't all feel the same about it. Some want the "wine" to be exactly that, fermented wine. Some prefer grape juice. Some Mormon churches use water.

Some would like it every week. Some want to celebrate it every time we meet. At St Paul's we celebrate it once a month. Seventh-day Adventists celebrate it four times a year.

To some, the elements become the actual body and blood, which is called transubstantiation. To others it becomes sort of that, but not quite. They call is consubstantiation. Most of us see it as symbolical.

To many people, communion is a vital part of healing, and of dying.

"I lost my dad last summer," she said. "Cancer. My sister, my brother and I were with him. He had a stroke a few days before he died and lost his speech.

"About an hour before he died he began a struggle. He used his last bit of energy to try to speak. It was frustrating for him, and painful to watch.

"Finally he pointed to my brother and motioned to the sink. Obviously he wanted some water. My brother got a glass of water and offered it to him, but he refused it. He motioned for my brother to drink. He did. Then Dad motioned to my sister. She drank. Then to me. It finally dawned on us -- communion!

Of course . . . he was offering us communion. This was no ordinary hospital room. This was a chapel. This was no ordinary dying. This was a sacred death.