This is a poem that has worked out its theodicy from the depths of experience and witness. Or should I say here, the theodicy has been worked out for the time and place of this poem, of this theologian.
The good forces encircle and cover the the one who will go through the dark and the hard times. Yet from the same hand comes the bitter chalice. How can it be? but that is probably not the question.
The question is, do I love enough. The answer to this is always and ever, no. Not for lack of trying, no, the reason is way deeper. To love enough one has to be God. In His love all loves are complete, are enough. So I will rephrase this question of theodicy: do I have God? Do I love him enough to accept the protection and the cup bitter with suffering? Because that is how this works: love AND.
Wenn sich die Stille nun tief um uns breitet,
so laß uns hören jenen vollen Klang
der Welt, die unsichtbar sich um uns weitet,
all Deiner Kinder hohen Lobgesang.
In the silence (political, cultural, social, whatever), the oppressing unspeakability of the norm, God allows us to hear the Klang (There are days I love German), the sound of the free world within one’s grasp through trust and love. Trust and love of Him who drank the cup first.