Early on, Levy makes an interesting albeit contradictory move in order to steer clear of the rocks and shoals that threaten every theist who inquires too deeply into the absence of God when tragedy strikes. She denies the validity of the question “Why did this happen” and instead proposes that it is more important that we ask “How will I go on.” To an extent I agree with her; it is this question which informs the majority of her book and which in the end makes it good.
Although it is wise from a practical standpoint to focus on the question “How will I go on,” my agreement is limited. As a humanist and an atheist I am sympathetic with denying that there is any ultimate “why” and that in order to grow and survive, we must instead focus upon how we will solve our problems and move beyond our pain. Levy, as a theist and religious leader, cannot adequately justify doing the same. In her world, there is a God who has created us all and who has set events in motion for a purpose. In her world, there is a good, omnipotent God which is ultimately answerable to the question of “why” things happen.
Part of Levy’s program is to answer, “What are the steps which restore people to life and faith?” If she limited herself to the latter, she might be able to get away with ignoring the “why” things happened; but if she is going to promote anything approaching a rational faith, then she cannot sidestep the “why.” Perhaps if she advocated an unquestioning and blind faith, then the contradiction would not hold — but at no point does she do that, and after reading her book I would be really surprised if she tried.
Because she fails to offer even an inadequate explanation of the existence of evil, pain, or suffering in a universe with her Good God, she also fails to explain how and why anyone should restore religious faith. I think that she regards it as a source of hope and comfort — but I have to ask, “Why should it?” People are perfectly capable of discovering those things within themselves, and I do not understand what might be wrong with encouraging people to do so. Occasionally, Levy makes moves in that direction, but ultimately her message seems to be that only through God — an unknown God with unknown motivations and who at least allowed all this to happen in the first place — will we be able to overcome our pain.
Interestingly, Levy spends some time exploring the problems of “false comforts” — addictions and “remedies” which take away our pain but fail to actually help us. I cannot help but think that adherence to such religious faith might also count as a sort of “false comfort.” Levy partly defines them as something which fails to “steer us back to life,“ and I think that any focus upon a supernatural spirit is inherently distracting from this life. It is a basic humanist principle that this life must be lived for itself and as an end in itself without regard for any “after life” and without regard for the needs or desires of anything supernatural. Turning to a supernatural spirit in time of crisis leads one in exactly such a direction.
In the end, I find Levy’s advice to be a bit confused. At times, she writes as a humanist and leads us to more humanistic views of living and coping. She willingly brings up questions about whether or not faith in a God is warranted. More often, though, it seems that she thinks people should hold on to their faith no matter what and indicates that this God will be the key to our handling the crisis, even though it was absent when the crisis occurred. Can an atheist find value in this book? Yes, but not quickly and only with a careful reading.
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