“The Lord God is subtle, but malicious he is not.” — Albert Einstein
This past Sunday, my pastor mentioned his affinity for the Irish Goodbye. Same here. I like to think he and I have a lot in common, but his brain and heart are way bigger than mine.
Joey’s Earth exit was an Irish Goodbye, and in that case, I hate it. I remember him once, while observing one of his grandparents with all the indignities and frailties that come with old age, saying, “I’m not a big fan of the fade-out.”
God’s subtlety can be hard to take, especially considering some terrible-looking things. I’m often like, God, do something! I’m tempted to think He is malicious. But deep down, I don’t believe that. I can’t. All my confirming evidence to the contrary won’t allow for it.
Yesterday, after a therapy session in which I mostly spoke of Joey and my grief, I got into the car, and a song that I had shared with Joey came on my Sirius XM station, “Coffee House.” It was a song I had shared with Joey, and ever since, I never fail to think of him when I hear it. As I re-read the lyrics now, I can see that it was even more fitting than I knew when I shared it with him initially. Fun fact: Joey even knew this well-known artist personally. Unfun fact: The song, now, felt a little cruel. Things didn’t turn out the way I had “planned,” and so hearing the song yesterday reminded me of this heartbreak. Not like I needed a reminder.
As soon as the song ended, Sirius did what it sometimes does: a single line out of a different song was inserted as a filler between songs.
This was the line:
“But it’s hard to forgive your Irish goodbye.”
It was like God nodding his head in understanding, not shame: “I know, sweetheart.”
It’s a mystery why God is distant or way too subtle or unfriendly for my liking. His subtlety is sometimes not a good look.
I heard Elizabeth Gilbert relate a story in which Albert Einstein answers the question, “Is the universe friendly?” He went from “universe” to “God.” His answer was “The Lord God is subtle, but malicious he is not.”
Einstein, like my pastor, has a brain way bigger than mine.
Gilbert went on to say, “I think that is a really interesting question to live in for your entire life. And it’s a really interesting question that I ask myself when I’m in moments of great trial here on Earth School, which as you know, I’ve already expressed my belief that is a very difficult curriculum. And it’s like, is this a friendly universe or is this a malicious universe? And if it’s malicious, then life is pointless suffering. And if it’s friendly, the suffering might have a point. And if it’s friendly, what might the point be? And where can I find that? And how do you want me to move through this now, assuming that it’s friendly? How do you want me to move through this terrible-looking thing?”
I’ve been asking God, “How do you want me to move through this terrible-looking thing?”
I keep listening for the answer.
I’m in the middle of a mystery.
I call myself an “evidence gatherer,” and just today, I saw that Mary Oliver wrote a book of poetry titled Evidence. In this collection of poems, you can find her poem, “Mysteries, Yes.”
Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous
to be understood.
How grass can be nourishing in the
mouths of the lambs.
How rivers and stones are forever
in allegiance with gravity
while we ourselves dream of rising.
How two hands touch and the bonds
will never be broken.
How people come, from delight or the
scars of damage,
to the comfort of a poem.
Let me keep my distance, always, from those
who think they have the answers.
Let me keep company always with those who say
“Look!” and laugh in astonishment,
and bow their heads.”
― Mary Oliver
I don’t have all the answers, but I do know that I held my son’s hand and that bond will never be broken.
People who know what we’ve been through the past several years, ask me how my faith is—am I mad at God—do I still believe? I concede that I don’t understand—I am often mystified, confused, disappointed…But I have seen too many lambs (and goats) snacking on grass.
So, I bow my head.