GroshLink

As I said earlier, I came across Henri Blocher when seeking a larger framework for addressing the question of the effects of evil in day-to-day living. I found Evil and the Cross: An Analytical Look at the Problem of Pain a powerful piece for directing my consideration of the topic. So when a friend asked me about theodicy last night, Blocher came right to mind (have I mentioned that I just wrapped up Original Sin: Illuminating the Riddle the other day, quite helpful. More later). Below are some quotes from the conclusion that provide how to live in the presence of evil, by the grace of the cross. How applicable as we reflect upon the incarnation during the Advent season (which this year is enriched my the release of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe).

Just as evil still torments people, casting a dark cloud over their happiness, polluting, and plaguing their mind and conscience, so too the problem of evil remains without any rational solution . . . If we look to remove the thorn completely, we simply drive it in deeper, and a poisonous abscess forms, that of some kind of deceitful Gnosticism . . . The Bible says nothing which might in the least measure diminish the offense of evil; it refuses any attenuation, whether optimistic, or pessimistic . . .

At the heart lies the inscrutable mystery of the first appearance of evil . . . From the source of goodness there could not flow anything that was bitter (cf Jas. 3:12).

Even less could it be conceived that God would become the accomplice of evil by raising it up for the purpose of acting as his instrument or as a convenient foil. Then, if it is true that evil arises from the misuse of created freedom, that of the devil and that of human beings, that does not give us any final explanation either. How was evil born of a freedom that was good? To argue that evil is there and therefore was possible, and that doing evil was a real possibility arising from that freedom, is to cover us the discontinuity of that singular fact -- singularly singular . . . The sovereignty of God, which is affirmed times without number in his own revelation, makes his permission of evil an impenetrable mystery.

Divine sovereignty, however, is indispensable to the denunciation of evil, for it alone can guarantee the order with respect to which evil is denounced as disorder. It is short-sightedness together with an absent-minded dash of anthropomorphism which plays with the empty notion of a form of divine sovereignty to which God himself has set limits. It is better to observe that the three branches of the capital T of the biblical doctrine, i.e., the abhorrent nature of evil, the goodness of God, and his absolute sovereignty, assign to evil its position of utter loathsomeness, of being an unjustifiable reality, and ratifies our initial, wholesome reaction against it of shame and indignation.

When we join the book of Job and the ninth chapter of Paul's letter to the Romans by forgoing the rational explanation of the origin of evil, we find ourselves moving on to the answer to the question, 'What is evil?' It is, of course, formally defined as something that is contrary to the will of God and yet permitted by him; but if we ask what is its 'essence,' its 'nature', the phenomenon does not belong to the order of the creation; neither is it an independent principle, for it draws its force from the created realm that it corrupts. It is neither really 'something' (for it is not from God, from whom all things come forth), nor really 'nothing'. It is neither a metaphysical datum nor a surface effect that can be easily dispersed . . .

The absence of any theoretical solution, as we have perceived, opens the way for the practical answer to the question: 'Lord, how long?' . . .

A ray of light pierces the gloom. It comes from the cross. The impenetrable mystery of evil meets the paradoxical mystery of the cross . . . At the cross we find the verification of God's mastery over evil, of his incorporating it within his plan, of his using evil men, and of his freedom from all suspicion of complicity in it . . . At the cross we find confirmation that evil does not belong metaphysically to the condition of the human race; to a catastrophe in history, God reacts in human history. At the cross is revealed how his kingdom comes about: not by might (of weaponry), or by power (of worldly means), but by the Spirit of sacrifice (Zc 4:6) . . . The way of the kingdom requires that it spread most unobtrusively, by spiritual influence . . .

The wisdom of the way of the cross is that it attacks evil according to the ambiguity of its unique nature, and its illegitimate status . . . the evil one being disarmed by the expiatory blood which alone washes away sins. The power of the devil over human beings is that of accusation, as his name, Satan, the accuser, indicates (Rev 12:10ff; Col 2:14f) . . .

At the cross evil is conquered as evil: corruption, perversion, disorder, a parasite, and yet also weighed down with the load of the people it has led astray and deep in debt from the responsibility incurred . . .

We have no other position than at the foot of the cross. After we have been there we are given the answer of the wisdom of God, which incenses the advocates of optimistic theodicies or of tragic philosophies. God's answer is evil turned back upon itself, conquered by the ultimate degree of love in the fulfillment of justice.

This answer consoles us and summons us. It allows us to wait for the coming of the crucified conqueror. He will wipe away the tears from every face, soon.