Faith and The Problem of Evil

In our attempts to conceptualize the Godhead, we frequently resolve upon three primary attributes: goodness, omniscience, and omnipotence. Leaving aside, for the moment, the crucial question of God's power, let us first consider the two attributes of goodness and omniscience, and let us inquire as to how it may be conceivable for God, who is infinitely good, to harbor a knowledge, -- which is to say, an acquaintance, -- with evil.

Before we can answer this, we will have to examine the nature of knowledge with respect to the nature of evil. In other words, we must ask what it means to know, and, specifically, what it means to know something which is, by its nature, rooted in ignorance; the very absence of knowledge. To know a lie, or to understand an illusion, is to know it as a lie, or as an illusion. Only an intimate experience of what is good can prepare us for a clear-eyed perception of evil. Though we might expect the ones who practice evil to be most intimately acquainted with its workings, reason suggests to us, with even greater assurance, that this acquaintance must somehow be uncertain or incomplete; for the man who has been thoroughly and effectively schooled in the nature of evil must know it as evil, and he therefor can abide no sentiment which might endear and involve him in something so anathema to the purposes of God.

God knows things as they are in reality, and according to the loftiest, most comprehensive vantage point. At no time, and by no means, does He deny, nor downplay, the existence and significance of suffering. He gives the devil his due, but no more. He sees that no matter how terrible the forces of wickedness, no matter how formidable their power appears, they are as nothing in proportion to the forces of good. Before the presence of the Lord, whom they cannot so much as think of in order to approach, all the powers of wickedness are spiritualized, transformed, resolved. They are ignorance itself; ignorance of light. Hence, the very mention of light significantly alters and dispels them. Formerly, the spirits of darkness drove us to question ourselves and our direction. Suddenly, they are beneath the light of interrogation, and no additional form of punishment, nor rehabilitation, need be applied. They wither at once. The name of "Mary" scatters them like crows.

It is the privilege of God to know things, not by reflection, as one who stands outside of an object or situation might reflect upon it, but by entering into them, through a process of illumination from within. While God has a most intimate acquaintance with evil, He can only know it as Himself; that is, as the Divine Light which, as it illumines, converts all things to good. The whole of creation, to the extent that it is illumined by God, is converted to the service of righteous purposes, and the greater illumination we receive, the more clearly will we begin to perceive the conversion taking place, at all times, in all things. The most horrific manifestations of evil are not so delighted with themselves as we might guess, but are continuously involved in an epic struggle against themselves. It is the nature of evil to undermine, and not to give life; hence, evil cannot so much as promote its own existence, but destroys itself quickest when it most seems to gather force. The flame catches, and may flash more threateningly for a while, but it is only to more rapidly consume the very objects upon which it depends for subsistence. And what does evil consume? Only those parts of ourselves which ought to be relinquished, and which the saints have always encouraged us to leave behind. With or against our will, the forces of good and evil work in mysterious harmony for the liberation of souls. Where the angel cannot entreat you, the devil can whip you.

The heart falters, and so begins to seek a more enduring love; something upon which to fix her affections, once and for all; something eternal and ever-present. By and by, she comes to learn the secret of secrets: That Love itself is the only worthy and truly compatible object to which her own love might seek a permanent attachment. Moreover, that the love which seeks an object, already being composed of the very substance it seeks, discovers the germ of the Beloved within itself; one substance with itself. The first is soul, the second spirit. And both are love.

Evil, in being known by God, must also know itself in the light of God, which is effectively to undermine its own existence; for it is an illusion founded on ignorance, and ignorance, once unmasked, has no recourse but to surrender its illusions. The legions of darkness, when they gather, are less like storm clouds threatening the land, than like sheep being gathered into a fold for the purpose of sheering. The ends of evil are always good, and the more speedily its plots are brought to completion, the more plainly are its flaws made manifest. Demons are nothing if not good for a laugh. Even in numbers, they are like armies of lemmings, knowing only how to march dimly over precipices, - and when they fall, it is with eyes cast open into the abyss. Where they come to fruition, they come to die. And by their entrails you shall know them.

It is a spiritual law, most firm and fast, that the beginnings of things are subtle and steeped in mystery, while the ends are bold and manifest in light. If we, therefor, consider the evil that is seen, we should soon progress to an awareness of that evil which is unseen. Receptive to the subtle origins of evil, we shall be positioned to redirect its course while it is still small and susceptible to manipulation. This is the method of saints and righteous persons. However thick the evil outgrowths they encounter in the world may be, in themselves even the merest seeds of evil cannot take root, for they well know that what is grown is soon to perish. Indeed, it is the fear of full-grown evil (evil as it confronts us in the world), which moistens the dry seeds of evil within, and allows each new crop to take root. The pure ones are quick to banish fear, and to burn up the seeds of evil, having recourse to the fires of faith. What they see in the world is sufficient to catalyze their faith in the unseen. Where the trail of reason goes cold, the path of faith begins. For every faithful pursuit of truth becomes transcendent; transformed into the truthful pursuit of faith.

Now all that has been said must sound idyllic to those who have not yet grasped the essential point to which this meditation leads. The specter of evil is not easily dismissed, -- not unless it is confronted with a supernatural knowledge; a gnosis which belongs strictly to God, but which man may potentially act upon through the miracle of faith. While knowledge is generally a prerequisite for right action, a properly directed faith is capable of intuitively glimpsing and acting upon knowledge which it does not technically possess. Faith, understood in this way, might be called rational; or super-rational, since it transcends rational argument, and even transcends argument altogether. According to this view, the only truly irrational responses would be discouragement, apathy, disillusionment, and despair. It is not difficult to see that, in the face of overwhelming odds (i.e. wherever faith is lacking), such cowardice might take on the appearance of a rational response. We have only to converse with the common man in one of his more desperate moods to see how easily he is swayed and persuaded by the most cynical, jaded, and disheartening "logic". Yet, when no exhibition of reason, however eloquent, however authoritative, however infused with the most compelling moral passion,  -- in short, when no argument whatsoever is sufficient to prevail upon his darkened mind, a mighty show of faith can do much to ignite his heart and inflame his courage.

Courage, I say, and not hope. For hope, like reason, depends on many things. It is answerable to specific conditions, and its present action relies upon some eagerly anticipated outcome. Too often, faith has been confounded with hope. People speak of faith in heaven, when what they really mean is hope. It is hope which looks for a heaven beyond this world. It is faith which finds it, here and now. Courage is most secure when it is founded on faith, for then it is not inspired by the hope of victory (which is uncertain, as all outcomes depend upon a fortunate or unfortunate wind), nor of glory (which may not come, for one's heroics are often unnoticed), but by the will to charge forward, come what may.

In the cosmic conflict between good and evil, the real tragedy is not that the war cannot be won, but, that it cannot be ended. Not by us, at any rate, and not by any means apart from divine intervention. The only way to bring eternity to completion, paradoxically, is to embrace the fact that it will never end. Perpetual war is a horror to which no momentary defeat may be compared. Unflinching fidelity to faith, inspired by the grace of God, is the only thing capable of surmounting the eternal existential conflict. Faith is nothing more nor less than the power which inspires us, regardless of every conceivable objection or consideration, to declare a categorical rejection of despair, and of whatever entices to despair. It is the power to affirm for no reason whatsoever, -- none but the self-evident righteousness of affirmation itself.

Again, this is not deny the very real question posed by the existence of evil, but, rather, to answer it unequivocally with the vital affirmation of faith. If evil is truly given its due proportion, then good will be found to be greater still.

History has provided numerous examples of lives transfigured by faith, and of the power of such faith to inspire supernatural endurance, even ecstasy, in the midst of the most gruesome afflictions the devil can devise. Faith, in its essence, is affirmation of the most obstinate, inexplicable kind. There is no argument one can level which is even remotely capable of reaching this target; for it is the unique distinction and felicity of faith to disregard dispiriting claims, as though deaf to all but the promises, encouragements, and consolations of grace.

So long as faith is preserved, no argument nor evidence is fit to prevail upon it. Nor is there any exhibition more eloquent than its own endurance. The more horrendous the forces arrayed against it, the more definitively does its mere existence proclaim its validity and worth. It has no other defense, and none is needed, for the simple reason that fault is not to be found in the faith, -- but in the finding.  Only a poisoned mind would take issue with this ennobling, emboldening spirit, and seek to poison the minds in which it dwells.

Faith is fidelity to the most rudimentary laws of being. It is the soul intently, devoutly rapt in perfect attendance upon the music of the spheres, and calling out to the Conductor, and to all the choruses of angels, "Play on! Play on!" In contrast, the attitudes of doubt, despondency, and despair are intrinsically rebellious the breath of creation. They would like to place a gag in the very mouth from which the Divine Word emerges, and put a stop to what His utterance has set in motion. With logic, they propose to critique and to revise the natural order of the cosmos, as if they could alter one single jot or tittle of what is written, or scrap the whole business, as they see fit. Faith, on the other hand, affirms what the Lord has made. No more and no less. It has no criteria, no conditions to consult, apart from the plainly revealed will of God. Has it occurred? Is it occurring? Will it occur? Then it is manifestly the will of God, and the duty of faith, -- faith's very nature and reason for being, -- is to affirm it without question or complaint, without hesitation or equivocation, and without restraint. Yes, the universe itself must be passionately, vigorously affirmed, and not for any reason other than the simple fact that there is no moment but the present, and no world but the one we now inhabit. Not, at any rate, until we radically affirm it; for the world, in order to be transcended, must be affirmed with such force that the affirmation itself exalts and carries us well beyond the objects we affirm. 

"Your enjoyment of the world is never right, till every morning you awake in Heaven; see yourself in your Father's Palace; and look upon the skies, the earth, and the air as Celestial Joys: having such a reverend esteem of all, as if you were among the Angels."
~ Thomas Traherne (Centuries of Meditations)

In the service of incredible, rageful angst, doubt gathers objections with which to corrupt the childlike confidence of devout souls, and cannot succeed. Doubt seeks reasons for despondency, while faith dispenses with rhetoric altogether, in order to glorify the simple eloquence of affirmation. A doubting soul is a flagging soul, which lacks courage, but the wings of a faithful soul are strength-infused; they beat rapidly, without interruption, fanning the flames of spirit, and every moment raising the soul to new, unimagined heights of bravery and brilliancy.

The truest thing, the purest, most authentic expression of which we are capable, arises independent of all argument. It has recourse to none, requires none, and is answerable to none. How could faith defend itself with logic? Can a righteous man be justified by the rantings of a fool?

The faithful maintain calm and assurance in spite of all external provocations to the contrary, while the faithless grow anxious in spite of all encouragements to peace. Faith is the consolation which appears most hollow, yet it is precisely because it is founded on nothing that it possesses the unique virtue of depending on nothing. A castle in the sky is impervious to attack; the children of imagination are safely lifted above the tumult of earthly dispute. Who can strike out the heart of a disembodied king? Who can bury a spirit, as though it were a body, and would not rise? When faith is lost, all is lost. The body is devoid of life. But where faith is strongest, there the body can scarcely be said to exist.