Thus the goat shall carry on it all their iniquities to an inaccessible region; and the goat shall be set free in the wilderness.
Vayikra 16:22.
As I sit in my “ma’mad” (bomb shelter) while this dreadful war is taking place[1], I am reminded of a Dutch-Jewish novel called De Soete Bazinne (The Sweet Mademoiselle), about one of the notorious battles between the Dutch and the English navies in the 17th century.[2] The issue at stake was to whom the North Sea belonged, the Dutch or the English.
The English fleet had just destroyed a Dutch commercial vessel, and a child aboard the ship was drowned. The boy’s older friend, Jan Seghers had become mentally disturbed as a result of this tragedy and he called for a lawsuit against God for not saving the innocent child.
Upon hearing this, the fanatic pastor of the Amsterdam Christian community was so infuriated that he initiated a riot and insisted that the city council of Amsterdam expel this mentally disturbed man, who he believed was possessed by the devil.
The bailiff of Amsterdam, the highest judicial authority in the city, did not know what to do. He asked the leader of the Jewish community, Dr. Chaim Toldeche, a pious and wise Jew, for advice and how to help this traumatized person.
To the bailiff’s total surprise, Toldeche suggested that the court case against God should go forward. He argued that there was truth to Seghers’s claim. After all, God — no less than humans — must be held accountable for His deeds.
The shocked bailiff could not believe his ears, and asked the doctor where this court case should take place. In all seriousness and without blinking an eye, the doctor suggested that it should take place in front of the Rabbinical Court of Amsterdam.
After regaining his composure, the bailiff rejected this suggestion on the basis that the Christian population of Amsterdam would be so infuriated with the idea of God standing trial at the Rabbinical court, that it would result in a pogrom against the Jews leaving not one Jew alive.
The Trial of God
Although we do not find an actual trial of God in the Bible, God having to give accountability for His behavior in times of disaster is not uncommon. Throughout history, this is part of the normative Jewish Tradition.
The first man who dared challenge God for planning injustice against humans is Avraham. After God informs him that He plans to destroy the citizens of the town of Sodom because of their wickedness, Avraham protests:
Will You indeed sweep away the righteous with the wicked? …What if there should be fifty righteous people in the midst of the city? …Far be it from You to do such a thing …to bring death upon the righteous along with the wicked, so that the righteous will be like the wicked …Shall the Judge of all the earth not do justice?[3]
At this point, the most outrageous discussion in all of human literature takes place. Avraham asks, what about forty-five righteous people. When this does not work, Avraham presses his case further: What about thirty people? Twenty? Or even ten righteous people? Avraham’s impertinence is unprecedented.
But God does not lose His patience and takes it all in stride, as if this were a normal discussion between two friends. In the end, “God departed when He had finished speaking to Avraham and Avraham returned to his place”; as if nothing extraordinary had happened.
Throughout the Tanach, there is a blatant refusal to give in to God’s evil. The prophet Yirimiyahu confronts God with the following impudence:
You are always righteous, Lord, when I bring a case before You. Yet I would speak with You about Your justice: Why does the way of the wicked prosper? Why do all the faithless live at ease? You have planted them, and they have taken root; they grow and bear fruit![4]
And so there are other occasions in Tanach where God is challenged about His injustice.[5]
There is never justification of God’s evil, only indignation. There is no “Unde malum” — “from where evil — when there is a God?” as in later Jewish and non-Jewish sources. It is all blunt and uncompromising.
The Biblical Jew openly resists being cowed in the balancing between him and his God. Instead, he says, “We will not let God get away with this.”
It is an unprecedented struggle in which the Biblical man asserts nothing less than his moral equality with his God. How is this possible?
It is possible because there is a covenant between God and man, and both are bound by the same moral standards. God is not only a metaphysical God but also the moral God of justice and mercy. He may have His reasons for creating evil, known only to Him, and these reasons may make sense to Him, but they definitely do not make sense to us. Nor does this free Him from taking responsibility for the evil He created — or allows — in the sight of man.
In fact, God ensnares Himself by insisting that there is an equal covenant between Him and man. God is bound by His own moral strictures.
God’s Prayer
But more. “Does God pray?” asks the Talmud,[6] and answers, indeed He does — God prays to Himself, saying “May it be My will that My mercy may suppress My anger.”
Such a prayer may seem scandalous — even blasphemy — in non-Jewish religious circles, but for the religious Jew it is authentic, and in no way heretical. Such a prayer arises from within our deepest belief in God’s righteousness. How can a righteous God not do justice?
The person questioning God’s actions defies, but does not deny. His critique is sanctioned by the whole of Jewish tradition. While many attempts were made to reconcile these opposing notions in later Jewish literature, the Tanach’s critique of God is clear and unapologetic.
The great prophet Yeshayahu (5:20) states this clearly. “Woe to those who say of evil, it is good, and of good, it is evil; who change darkness into light and light into darkness, who change bitter into sweet and sweet into bitter.”
There is no mercy for God when it comes to justice. Neither does God attempt to explain Himself. He only asks man, nearly mockingly, where he was when He founded the universe and shows him the limits of his understanding (Iyov 38:4).
God’s repentance on Yom Kippur
One of the most perplexing rituals in Judaism took place in the Temple on Yom Kippur, where two identical male goats were sacrificed. But they weren’t sacrificed in the same way; one of them was offered in the traditional manner on the altar, but the other was sent away into the wilderness where it would fall to its death from a cliff.[7]
In a fascinating essay inspired by Rav Kook’s Orot Hateshuva, Rabbi Shlomo Aviner brings an unusual explanation for this odd ritual.[8] According to Rav Aviner, human beings cannot atone for all the evil in the world, because it is God himself who created evil. Thus, one goat is brought in the name of the human being to atone for his share in all the evil he has done. But the other goat, the Sa’ir leAzazel, is brought in the name of God for having created evil.
It is true that by creating the world in which human beings can do good, God was forced to introduce evil as a challenge for us to overcome. Without this counterforce we would have no freedom of will to choose between good and evil. But human beings are not responsible for this force of evil. Rather, it is the “collateral damage” which God has caused by allowing humans free will. The existence of evil is inherent in the creation of the world.[9]
What’s more, God shares partial responsibility for our wrong doings, since by creating the force of evil, He created the possibility for us to sin. Whenever we sin, God sins as well.
Thus, the goat for Azazel carries God’s sins to a deserted land, uninhabited by human beings — a place of emptiness, desolation, and destruction where man is absent and only God dwells. It is a way for us to say, I have done my part by repenting. Now let Him do His part.
Theodicy is no escape
This is no doubt a metaphor, but it is all the more fascinating and sends a powerful message — the need for absolute accountability. Authentic Judaism does not fall back on theodicy, by which God, as the Supreme Being, gets a free pass. In the eyes of Judaism, this won’t do.
The Jewish Tradition never told us not to question God’s ways. Such questions are not only legitimate, they are holy because they arise from a deep realization that God is righteous and at the same time honest enough to admit that He is at fault. This may sound outrageous, but it is most profound. I am reminded of the statement by the Swiss author and dramatist, Friedrich Durrenmatt: “He (who) confronts the paradoxical exposes himself to reality.”[10]
It is as if God is saying with Walt Whitman: “Do I contradict myself? Very well then, I contradict myself. I am large and contain multitudes”. [11]
Elie Wiesel once said that he was present when God was put on trial at Auschwitz, and was pronounced guilty for all the evil of the Holocaust. He later wrote a play on this topic: “The Trial of God.”[12]
But what is even more remarkable is the end of this story: After the trial was over, and God was pronounced guilty, one of the participants suddenly proclaimed, “It is time to pray Minchah!” Upon which, the Jews organized a minyan and prayed the afternoon prayer service, praising God for His greatness!
There is a powerful message in this: there is no place in Judaism for those who seek to justify God at all times. As for the atheist who says there is no God, he is like a fish in the ocean waiting for evidence of water.
Or in the words of the poet Edward Young:
Bid mercy triumph over — God himself,
Undeified by their opprobrious praise: A God all mercy is a God unjust. [13]
Dr. Chaim Toldeche and Elie Wiesel were right: God must stand trial, and must repent for the creation of evil in the world.
And after He is found guilty, we will turn to Him in prayer and ask for His mercy.
Questions to Ponder
- Do you feel that holding God to human moral standards is relevant? Can we apply human concepts of justice and accountability to a Divine being who operates on an entirely different level of understanding and omniscience? How can we be sure that our human understanding of justice is sufficient to judge the actions or inactions of a Divine being? Is it possible that there are dimensions of justice and morality beyond our comprehension that justify God’s actions?
- The essay emphasizes the covenant between God and humanity, suggesting that both are bound by the same moral standards. Can a covenant between a finite being and an infinite being truly operate on equal terms? What are the philosophical implications of holding God to the same moral standards as humans, and does this enhance or diminish the concept of Divinity?
- Rabbi Cardozo rejects theodicy as an insufficient explanation for Divine actions, advocating for a direct challenge to God’s justice. How does this stance impact the faith and trust in a benevolent deity? Can rejecting theodicy lead to a more honest and robust faith, or does it risk undermining the foundations of religious belief? How does Judaism’s refusal to accept easy explanations for suffering and evil contribute to a deeper understanding of faith and doubt?
- The concept of God repenting for the existence of evil as presented in this essay is profound, though paradoxical. What do you think of the idea that the Sa’ir leAzazel (the goat sent into the wilderness on Yom Kippur) is a symbolic act of God’s repentance? Can the idea of a perfect and omnipotent Being seeking repentance be logically sustained? Does this undermine the notion of Divine perfection, or does it offer a more relatable and compassionate image of God?
- If free will is essential for human moral responsibility, can we still place the blame for evil and suffering on God, or does this diminish the significance of free will? Is it fair to equate the creation of the potential for evil with direct responsibility for its outcomes? How does this view affect our understanding of the relationship between Divine omnipotence and human agency?
- Rabbi Cardozo implies that the act of questioning God is a form of deep faith rather than denial. How does this view challenge traditional religious practices that emphasize submission and acceptance? Can persistent questioning enhance one’s spiritual relationship with God, or does it risk fostering doubt and cynicism? Is it possible to maintain a genuine relationship with a Deity after acknowledging Divine guilt? Does this suggest a deeper form of faith that goes beyond mere obedience, or does it create an internal contradiction in the act of worship?
Notes
[1] This was written in the Summer of 2024, during the war against Hamas.
[2] Maurits Wertheim, Dutch-Jewish novelist, 1904-1968.
[3] Bereshit 18:23-25.
[4] Yermiyahu 12:1-2.
[5] See Tehilim, 44:24-27; Habakkuk,1:23,1:13, Iyov,27:2-6.
[6] Berachot 7a.
[7] Vayikra 16:6-30.
[8] Shlomo Aviner, Tal Hermon, 1985, pp 184-185.
[9] See: Yeshayahu 45:7.
[10] Friedrich Durrenmatt, “21 points”, The Physicists, 1962.
[11] Walt Whitman, Song of Myself, 51.
[12] See also: Jewish Chronicle, Sept 19 2008: “Wiesel, Yes, we really put God on Trial.” https://www.thejc.com/news/wiesel-yes-we-really-did-put-god-on-trial-gjs45iw9
[13] Edward Young, “Night Thoughts.” P 231.
