O Death, Where Is Thy Sting?: A Meditation on Suffering

by Joe Hoover

Here is a book of theodicy that employs stories from unique, compelling angles on everything from philosophy and theology to art, theater, sports, and social justice as it grapples with suffering. It is a thorough exploration of the bleakest and most fearful questions around God's presence in human suffering and death.

1 pages, Audio CD

Published October 12, 2021

Reviews

[William Stallings · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book is exactly what it says in the subtitle: a meditation on suffering. The author does not try to answer the question of how a loving God could allow suffering. But he forces the reader to think about it. Very well written, easy to follow, but tough to read because of what it's about. The author is a Jesuit priest who has spent his career working with the poor and incarcerated but there isn't a trace of Catholic doctrine in it. A person of faith will find this work challenging but it is really worth the effort.

[Julia White · Rating 3 out of 5]

Brilliant points, and often very good writing. However, I find his tone to be utterly painful, and at times insulting to the suffering about which Hoover writes. The unrelenting level of cynicism detracts from the larger points I believe he is trying to make.

[Ben Travis · Rating 4 out of 5]

A little spacy at points but overall very helpful in the underlying messaging

[Christine Eberle · Rating 5 out of 5]

In a blog post yesterday, I riffed on the theologically problematic use of the expression “There but for the grace of God . . .” and recommended O Death, Where is thy sting? for further reading. This morning, I opened that slim volume again and read this: “Behold any crumbling human sputtering and begging on the sidewalk: There but for the grace of God . . .

“Really? The shining thread of God’s grace was held out to you and not to him? And he received from the Lord what? A sharp stick in the eye?” (p. 9).

If passages like that touch a real, raw nerve in you . . . if you find yourself struggling to defend or even understand God’s goodness in the face of palpable and presumably avoidable evil . . . you are going want to read and reread this book. Subtitled “A Meditation on Suffering,” it is precisely that: a meditation, or a rumination, perhaps. This is not a linear march through a line of reasoning. It is shimmering mosaic, through which Hoover reveals painfully sharp fragments of experience as part of his whole life of faith.

What makes this book so worth reading is the fact that the fist shaken at the heavens is that of a Jesuit brother—someone who has pitched his tent in the mystery, for better or worse. Hoover does not attempt to solve the mystery, though. On the contrary, he insists that “any words that attempt to explain the way God works in human suffering [are] a bad translation of a language that hasn’t even been invented yet” (p. 162). But, for today, knowing that a person of vowed faith can feel and articulate such profound distress and keep seeking God in the seeds and glimmers is consolation enough.