Mitch Albom Quote
When I asked the Reb, Why do bad things happen to good people?, he gave none of the standard answers. He quietly said, No one knows. I admired that. But when I asked if that ever shook his belief in God, he was firm. I cannot waver, he said. Well, you could, if you didn’t believe in something all-powerful. An atheist, he said. Yes. And then I could explain why my prayers were not answered. Right. He studied me carefully. He drew in his breath. I had a doctor once who was an atheist. Did I ever tell you about him? No. This doctor, he liked to jab me and my beliefs. He used to schedule my appointments deliberately on Saturdays, so I would have to call the receptionist and explain why, because of my religion, that wouldn’t work. Nice guy, I said. Anyhow, one day, I read in the paper that his brother had died. So I made a condolence call. After the way he treated you? In this job, the Reb said, you don’t retaliate. I laughed. So I go to his house, and he sees me. I can tell he is upset. I tell him I am sorry for his loss. And he says, with an angry face, ‘I envy you.’ ‘Why do you envy me?’ I said. ‘Because when you lose someone you love, you can curse God. You can yell. You can blame him. You can demand to know why. But I don’t believe in God. I’m a doctor! And I couldn’t help my brother!’ He was near tears. ‘Who do I blame?’ he kept asking me. ‘There is no God. I can only blame myself.’ The Reb’s face tightened, as if in pain. That, he said, softly, is a terrible self-indictment. Worse than an unanswered prayer? Oh yes. It is far more comforting to think God listened and said no, than to think that nobody’s out there.
When I asked the Reb, Why do bad things happen to good people?, he gave none of the standard answers. He quietly said, No one knows. I admired that. But when I asked if that ever shook his belief in God, he was firm. I cannot waver, he said. Well, you could, if you didn’t believe in something all-powerful. An atheist, he said. Yes. And then I could explain why my prayers were not answered. Right. He studied me carefully. He drew in his breath. I had a doctor once who was an atheist. Did I ever tell you about him? No. This doctor, he liked to jab me and my beliefs. He used to schedule my appointments deliberately on Saturdays, so I would have to call the receptionist and explain why, because of my religion, that wouldn’t work. Nice guy, I said. Anyhow, one day, I read in the paper that his brother had died. So I made a condolence call. After the way he treated you? In this job, the Reb said, you don’t retaliate. I laughed. So I go to his house, and he sees me. I can tell he is upset. I tell him I am sorry for his loss. And he says, with an angry face, ‘I envy you.’ ‘Why do you envy me?’ I said. ‘Because when you lose someone you love, you can curse God. You can yell. You can blame him. You can demand to know why. But I don’t believe in God. I’m a doctor! And I couldn’t help my brother!’ He was near tears. ‘Who do I blame?’ he kept asking me. ‘There is no God. I can only blame myself.’ The Reb’s face tightened, as if in pain. That, he said, softly, is a terrible self-indictment. Worse than an unanswered prayer? Oh yes. It is far more comforting to think God listened and said no, than to think that nobody’s out there.