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Good morning. It’s difficult to find reasons to hope, when the world bears such an immense burden of suffering. The pandemic afflicts us in different ways, but it widens the growing gulf between the most powerful and the most vulnerable, exposing the raw injustices at the heart of many of our societies and institutions. I’m sure I’m not alone in being haunted by the question, where is God in all this? The greatest European thinkers of the 20th century grappled with this dilemma after two world wars and the holocaust. Atheist existentialists such as Albert Camus and Jean Paul Sartre embraced the futility and absurdity of life that must nevertheless be affirmed in the face of death and nothingness. I find these forms of atheism persuasive. They’re very different from the slogan that appeared on London buses a few years ago – “There’s probably no God. Now stop worrying and enjoy your life.” I understand the proposition that there may be no God, but I can’t understand how that offers an enjoyable escape from the sorrows of life. However, nor do I find consolation in the endeavours of theodicy – the theological quest to reconcile faith in the goodness of God with the problem of evil. For me, such rational explanations fail to take seriously enough the tragic dimension of the human condition. I don’t think the alternative to atheism is agreeing to a set of theological arguments or religious propositions. There are too many injustices, wars and killings perpetrated in the name of God to see religion per se as the solution. I share the experience of those who speak of faith as a visceral mystery. But also, I see two possible biblical responses to suffering. One is the voice of the creator speaking to Job out of the whirlwind. This situates Job’s anguished quest for meaning in the face of personal catastrophe in the context of a cosmic mystery beyond human explanation. The other is the God who takes the side of the victims against their oppressors, supremely for Christians in the crucifixion, and who promises that justice will be restored. Ultimately, however, I find more sustenance in the writings of anguished atheists than I do in those of theological optimists. When I reflect on why I take a wager on faith – to borrow Pascal’s expression – it’s because for me, giving up on God wouldn’t solve the problem of suffering, it would take away the possibility of hope.