An Age-Old Religious Question

Sophie Satloff eloquently asks:
My general question is why G-d does bad things to good people. I know that many people give answers like, "to test you" or "G-d always has His reasons and if you really believe in Hashem then just go with it." It is easy to give those answers but harder to believe them. When I hear about people who went trough the Holocaust and have survived the horrors I can't believe they are still shomrei mitzvot. I understand that the survivors are thankful for having survived, but by being thankful, they are also thanking the person who allowed this to happen.

How are you supposed to convince your friend or family member that even though they are going through an extremely hard and challenging time, that they should continue practicing Judaism? If there really was a G-d why was He doing this to you? You didn't commit murder or do some heinous crime, so why is this happening to you? What should I say to a friend that will actually make sense and that can actually explain why he/she should continue following the laws of Hashem even if it seems He has turned his back?

Mrs. Schapiro writes back:
Your question really has two parts: 1) Why do bad things happen to good people? 2) Why should people practice religion if God allows bad things happen to them? These are huge questions and I can only share with you my tentative thoughts.

1) Your first question is such a good one that the Gemara has a tradition that Moshe Rabbeinu himself was troubled by it. In Berachot 7a, the Gemara describes how when Moshe asked Hashem in Shemot perek 33 "Show me Your glory that I may know You" he was really asking about this issue – why do bad things happen to good people? The Gemara says that Hashem did indeed offer answers, but does not give a definitive one. Religious philosophers, starting with the author of Sefer Iyyov, have struggled with this issue. There is a tradition (Bava Batra 15a) that Moshe Rabbeinu himself wrote Iyyov in an effort to answer this question, and the commentaries on that sefer struggle to define what the answer offered there is. Rav Saadya Gaon (Emunot ve-Deot 5:3), Rambam in Moreh Nevuchim (III:17 and further), Rav Soloveitchik (in a book called Out of the Whirlwind) and other Jewish philosophers have written on this as well. There is a book of essays edited by Rabbi Shalom Carmy called Jewish Approaches to the Experience of Suffering that discusses these and other sources in a readable way. Ultimately, the truest answer may be expressed in Hashem's words to Moshe in Shemot 33:16 "You may see My back, but My face cannot be seen": it is beyond human intelligence to understand God's ways completely.

2) I don't think we keep the mitzvot as a quid-pro-quo: only if God satisfies us do we agree to do what He wants. Each mitzvah has its own reason, or maybe even no understandable reason. Ultimately the mitzvot are a gift to us – a privilege and responsibility that we struggle all our lives to uphold. When everything goes well it may be easy (but it also may lead us to forget Hashem) and when times are challenging it may be harder (though we can also be brought closer to Hashem). There will probably be times that we fail. Indeed, a famous and fundamental idea of Rav Soloveitchik ("footnote 4" in Halakhic Man) is that religion is not meant to be soothing, happy and comforting, but an arena for struggle, difficulty and doubt. It's a hard idea to grasp, and certainly hard to live by.