My fears that morning were only vague, although the feeling of internal unpreparedness was very real. Soon, however, they took on a completely concrete form. Shortly after the arrival of the Red Army, arrests began, property confiscations, endless interrogations, threats, and intimidation. The communists tried to seize anyone whom they deemed could threaten them or the new regime.
As I observed all of this, I repeatedly had to fend off the question: "Why did God allow such evil to occur? How could He permit all of this? Why?"
For me as a priest, such questions were pure torment, but they could not be avoided. They attacked my mind during prayer, during the Holy Mass, coming day and night. It was not a crisis of faith. It was more a crisis of understanding, and no one who found themselves in it needs to be ashamed. Every good reader of the Old Testament knows these questions. "How long, O Lord, will my enemy be exalted over me?" And they continually resurface, especially in times after David, in the days of captivity when the glory of Solomon's golden age was but a memory by the rivers of Babylon, and the nation of Israel was broken and humiliated.
So it was with the people of Israel, who had to learn not to place their trust in either the ruler or the kingdom, but to demonstrate their loyalty only to the Lord and put all their trust in Him. The same holds true for the entire New Testament history. And it is the same in the life of each of us. It is in times of great loss, family tragedy, or personal despair that people turn to Him and ask, "Why?" In reality, they are compelled to turn to Him, and He ultimately becomes their last refuge when they need help, support, and comfort. God must mysteriously use our tragedies in His providence to remind our fallen human nature of His presence and love, the constancy of His interest, and care for us.
(Walter J. Ciszek SJ /1904–1984/, He Leads Me, chapter 1)
