This is the impossible position He has put us in: The paradox of outrage.

We believe that at the core of reality there lies a G‑d who is essentially good and cares for each one according to his or her needs, guiding each one to the right path, punishing wickedness and rewarding goodness in fair and equal measure. And so, over and over we are outraged—because what we experience flies in the face of this entire belief.

Yet, if we abandon either pole of the paradox, we might as well have never been born. If we learn to ignore the existence of the evil and the suffering, finding some justification for G‑d or simply hiding our heads in the sand—then for what purpose were we placed in such a world? To leave it as we found it? And what kind of a G‑d have our justifications created?

But if we should surrender our G‑d, concluding that, "there is no Judge and therefore no justice"--then what value does my life have? What value does any life have? And what, then, is the point of all the outrage?

This is the drama created by a G‑d entirely beyond any form of understanding—a drama powered by the agonizing tension of paradox.

They asked the Baal Shem Tov: "The Talmud tells us that for every thing G‑d forbade, He provided us something permissible of the same sort. He forbade us to eat blood and permitted the liver. He forbade milk and meat and permitted the cow's udder. If so, what did He permit that corresponds to the sin of heresy?"

The Baal Shem Tov replied: "Acts of kindness."1

Because when you see a person suffering, you don't say, "G‑d runs the universe. G‑d will take care. G‑d knows what is best." You do everything in your power to relieve that suffering as though there is no G‑d. You become a heretic in G‑d's name.