My Old Man

Chapter One: Bad Things Why is this happening to me, Rabbi?" the dying man moaned from his bed."I'm not a rabbi yet," I said. "I have four more years to go.""Well, that's soon enough," he said, "so tell me: What did I do to deserve this? Why does God want me to die before my time?"His name was Neil Roth. He was a married father, thirty-nine years old, and he was dying of leukemia. I was in my second semester at the Rabbinic College of Reform Judaism, visiting him at Memorial Sloan-Kettering as part of my pastoral care internship, and Neil was the first patient on my list who'd been conscious.When I saw that he was awake I'd opened with, "How are things going?" and Neil told me his story. He was a computer programmer on the Upper West Side, a lifelong loner, and he had just resigned himself to the possibility that he might spend the rest of his days single when one day he walked into a flower shop in midtown and exchanged a glance with the curvaceous Costa Rican manager, Angela. She was a knockout in her early forties, and as Neil ordered a bouquet of mixed roses to have sent to a sickly aunt in Miami, Angela smiled at him with such unguarded warmth, he knew right then they would marry.They had a whirlwind romance and got married six weeks later. She moved into his place on Riverside Drive, and a year later they had a baby girl they named Ruby. Each night Neil would come home from work to the sight of his wife nursing his baby, a sight he had never thought he'd see, and then one night as he was getting ready for bed he saw these black-and-blue marks he couldn't explain.The doctors diagnosed him with leukemia, and though they put him through chemo, he didn't respond. Now they were saying he'd be lucky if he made it three months. Angela had been at the hospital with him every night this week but had gone home to get a little sleep."You didn't do anything wrong," I said, trying to sound rabbinical and authoritative even though I was scared out of my mind. "God doesn't have a plan for us. We make our own paths and the reason we can experience great joy is because we can also experience great heartbreak."Neil was wearing a Yankees cap to cover his bald head, and his cheeks were sunken and gray. He breathed irregularly, almost randomly, which I found unsettling although I tried to act comfortable. He had no eyebrows but his eyes were bright and confrontational. "Why would a just God let a decent person die?" he asked plaintively, in a hoarse, faraway voice.I cleared my throat, stalling for time. I knew that Jews liked to ask questions, but I hadn't been prepared for anything so hard-hitting. "Many people have struggled with the very same questions as you," I said. "They wonder, If God is omnipotent and just, why would He bring sudden tragedy into the lives of decent human beings? Since they can't find a reason, they tell themselves that they must have sinned in some way, and that they're being punished, or tested.""Exactly," he said. "I have a brother I don't speak to -- we had a falling-out over money twelve years ago -- and I was thinking maybe this is God's way of telling me to make up with him. I don't want to, but if this is a test I might. So am I being punished?""A time of great illness is certainly a good time to take stock of one's relationships, but no, I don't believe you are being punished." Rabbi Freedman, one of the chaplains at Memorial, had told us that when patients tried to blame themselves, they wanted to be assured that they hadn't erred in some way. "Given the paradox that God is just but evil exists, some choose to believe that the reason tragic events can befall good people is because God is beneficent but not, in fact, omnipotent. God is engaged in a work of creation that is only partially finished, one that struggles against the forces of chaos."He rolled his eyes. "But every page of the Torah is all about how powerful God is. AndSohn, Amy is the author of 'My Old Man', published 2004 under ISBN 9780743238281 and ISBN 0743238281.