In these nine scenarios – fictional situations that could well be only a few details away from real persons and events – there is either no emotional space or no time for propositions, reasoned arguments, or any of the remote and trite platitudes I have added as afterthoughts from the modern world. Your heart has been concentrated to a single point – enough for one prayer, one consolation, or one hope.
In this moment of existential extremity, be it imminent death or gradual degradation, you face the undeniable impact of the Transcendent. The world has failed you, and your ordinary self is naughted. There is nothing left to you . . . nothing but GOD.
Or who responds to one distressed when he calls unto him? (Q27:62)
أَمَّنْ يُجِيبُ الْمُضطَرَّ إِذَا دَعَاهُ
This is a matter beyond religion, or rather all religion is derived from a non-denominational moment like this. You probably have a religious name for it, but words alone do not convey its force. When this reality appears, it may very well engender a word on the lips, whether as a cry or a groan. But as Reality, This is far greater than any human expression, greater even than time and space, and more precious than the entire universe. It is at this instant that a door opens for you to realize what Divinity means.
When you are presented with such grim, desperate, or hopeless situations, your first instinct is to look for a way out. You could, conceivably, ‘start life over again’ as the merchant in (2), or become a celibate monk in (4), or get counselling in (8). People who have spent their lives looking out for themselves will keep looking, almost reflexively. That can be the best and healthiest reaction to a crisis when hope is an option, but not all crises offer that option. In (1), (5), and (6), for example, imminent death appears unavoidable.
This suggests a second means of coping with the cognitive dissonance posed by the sudden unravelling of your life. You could, if you believe in heaven or karma, console yourself with the thought of rewards in the Everafter proportionate to your suffering in this life, as in (1), (7), and (9). You could think, in the last few seconds of your existence, of what you have left as a legacy – your descendants, in the case of (5), or your achievements, in the case of (6). You might even, as with (2), content yourself with knowing that God, the Just, will settle accounts on the Day of Judgement with those who wronged, oppressed, deceived, or despised you.
All these solutions, however, have one inescapable flaw. They put you at the centre of attention, and seek – quite as a matter of course – to rescue, reassure, or compensate you. Whether by postponing the inevitable reckoning or rummaging through one’s spiritual cabinet for a few scraps of solace, they do not address the main issue highlighted by these scenarios:
Verily humanity is at a loss. (Q103:2)
إِنَّ الإِنسَانَ لَفِي خُسْرٍ
GOD, I believe, is relevant to all these scenarios, but not just as a last straw to be grasped. I have deliberately crafted situations in which responses such as “Luckily, . . .”, “At least . . .” ring hollow, even if we were to try to dress them up with references to God, such as “Luckily, God . . .” or “At least God . . .” or “Your sacrifice for God . . .”. In other words, the suffering implicit in these scenarios is so overwhelming that conventional thoughts of God will probably not ‘make it go away’. In these circumstances, the death or degradation or defeat is too immediate to allow for thoughts of Divine compensation in a distant future or even recollection of His favours in the past.
At such an extreme point like this, a person can lose his faith. As a member of the ‘What’s in it for me?’ crowd, he suddenly realizes that God was not ‘there for him’. I am reminded of a conversation between a pastor and an innocent man on death row, only minutes before his execution, in John Grisham’s The Confession:
“My point is you’re about to die, and you know when it will happen. Very few people know this. Soldiers in battle may feel like dead men, but there’s always a chance they’ll survive. I suppose some victims of horrible crimes know they’re at the end, but they have such short notice. You, though, have had this date for months. Now the hour is at hand, and it’s not a bad time to make amends with God.”
“. . . But you’re missing something here, Keith. . . . Me, I am innocent.”
“True, but death is death, and in the end nothing else matters except your relationship with God.”
“So you’re trying to convince me that I should go running back to God here at the last minute, and just sort of forget the past nine years.”
“You blame God for the past nine years?”
“Yes, I do. This is what happened to me, Keith. I was eighteen years old, a longtime Christian, still active in church . . . Then, for some reason I guess I’ll never understand, a bolt of lightning hits me square in the head. I’m wearing handcuffs. I’m in jail. My picture is on the front page. I’m declared guilty long before the trial. My fate is determined by twelve white people, half of them good, solid Baptists. The prosecutor was a Methodist, the judge was Presbyterian . . . I remember sitting in the courtroom, looking at their faces as they condemned me to death – hard, unforgiving, Christian faces – and thinking to myself, ‘We don’t worship the same God.’ And we don’t. How can God allow His people to kill so often? Answer that, please.”
“God’s people are often wrong, Donté, but God is never wrong. You can’t blame Him.”
“. . . I was a faithful servant, Keith, and look what I get.”
. . . Keith’s time was up. “Would you pray with me, Donté?”
“Why? I prayed the first three years I was in prison, and things just got worse. I could’ve prayed ten times a day, and I would still be sitting right here, talking to you.”1
1 John Grisham, The Confession, pages 317-319 passim.
The GOD You Already Know 