a case against god

Offering prayers for a woman who relied on a walker after being set on fire is undeniably absurd

By TSR

Brooklyn, NY -In the days following Christmas, New Yorkers bore witness to a prayer vigil organized by prominent religious leaders to honor the unidentified woman who was tragically set on fire in a New York City subway. For many, myself included, the spectacle likely elicited not solemn reverence but incredulous eye-rolls—so dramatic they might have vanished into the backs of our skulls. Praying to God for a woman who was immolated by a man on a train? Is this truly how we, as a society, choose to respond? The cognitive dissonance displayed by those who believe in the omnipotent God of the Bible never fails to astonish.

Here was a woman, homeless and vulnerable, simply minding her own business and, according to reports, asleep on the train. She became the victim of a heinous act, allegedly perpetrated by an undocumented immigrant who had previously been deported yet managed to re-enter the country. The officials whose failures enabled his return now decry the tragedy with public indignation, as though absolving themselves of the very negligence that made it possible. Meanwhile, the so-called omnipotent and benevolent God, true to form, was absent in her moment of greatest need. To offer prayers to such a distant and seemingly indifferent deity after the fact is not just futile—it is profoundly absurd.

When tragedies strike, communities instinctively gather to grieve, memorialize, and, often, to pray. At the vigil for this woman, attendees lit candles and invoked divine justice and mercy, asking God to provide peace for her soul. Yet the act of prayer in such moments raises an unsettling and unavoidable question: Why turn to God after the tragedy, when divine intervention was most needed before it unfolded?

This ritual of seeking solace from a higher power after acts of violence is a long-standing tradition of human grief, offering comfort, structure, and a sense of agency in the face of chaos. However, it simultaneously reveals the contradictions inherent in such faith. If a benevolent and all-powerful deity truly exists, why was this woman allowed to suffer such an unfathomable fate? Why do the most vulnerable bear the brunt of humanity’s failures while divine attention is only sought posthumously?

During the vigil, believed to be for a woman experiencing homelessness, prayers for her peace and for justice against her attacker filled the air. For some, however, these prayers felt hollow, an inadequate response to a tragedy so preventable. “If God cared, why didn’t He protect her?” one attendee reportedly asked, voicing a frustration shared by many. “Why are we praying now, when she needed Him most?”

The absurdity of post-tragedy prayer becomes particularly stark in cases like this. The woman’s suffering was not the result of divine will but rather human cruelty compounded by systemic neglect. She lived a life of marginalization, forced to sleep in public spaces where she was exposed to dangers most of us cannot imagine. Prayer in such a context risks becoming less a genuine plea for change and more an abdication of responsibility—a way to find comfort without confronting the societal failures that allowed such an atrocity to occur.

Religious leaders often counter these critiques with explanations of divine mystery or the importance of free will. They argue that God does not interfere with human choices but is instead present to offer solace in their aftermath. Yet this reasoning often rings hollow, particularly in the face of preventable suffering. To skeptics, prayer after such events appears not only ineffective but also a convenient distraction from the pressing need for accountability and action.

Indeed, prayer’s limitations are glaringly evident in moments like these. While it may offer emotional support to some, it does little to address the systemic issues that perpetuate cycles of violence. At the vigil, calls for greater protections for vulnerable populations, such as the homeless, were overshadowed by appeals for divine justice. But justice, in this world, is a product of human action—not heavenly intervention.

In the end, the most meaningful way to honor the memory of this woman is not through prayers to an absent God but through tangible efforts to confront the societal failures that left her unprotected. Her death is a sobering reminder that we cannot rely on faith alone to shield the vulnerable. True change demands systemic reform, proactive measures, and a collective commitment to ensuring safety and dignity for all.

Perhaps the greatest tribute to this woman’s life lies not in empty gestures or ritualistic responses but in the resolve to build a world where no one is left so vulnerable. A world where divine intervention (which does not exist) is not required.