“Exactly,” said the old man. “When you reject something, it is destroyed in your eyes. Ben Abouya became an apikorus—a nonbeliever, an apostate. Why? Some commentaries say he’d become infatuated with Hellenistic philosophy and left the pardes with a dual gnostic concept—the idea that there are two gods in the universe. The core of Judaism revolves around the fact that there is only one Hashem.”

Decker nodded.

“Others say ben Abouya fell apart when he failed to learn the secrets of the Divine’s plan of reward and punishment. He couldn’t understand why some evil men appear to prosper when righteous men are thrown into abject misery. Ben Abouya couldn’t accommodate himself to this lacuna in his understanding of Torah. It led him to complete rejection of Judaism, to a life of immorality. From the moment of his fall from grace, Elisha ben Abouya is referred to in the Gemara as Acher—the other—a euphemism for an apostate.”

“If a great rabbi loses faith because he can’t understand God’s justice system, how am I supposed to maintain mine?” Decker asked.

“Patience. We still have Rabbi Akiva left. The Gemara tells us he entered in peace, he left in peace,” Schulman answered.

“Why was he spared?”

“The right question. Now the point of all of this. Rabbi Akiva was spared because he knew when to quit. He knew what not to ask. There are certain aspects of Hakadosh Boruch Hu that we as mortals cannot question. Yes, as frustrating as it is for rational beings, there are some things we must accept on blind faith. To not accept that is to not believe. And to not believe leads one to say that creation was a molecular accident. I look around me and I say this is impossible.

“Murder is horrible. I’m not debating that. The reason for it? It’s a question I’m not going to ask. Our lives on this planet are infinitely short when measured against the hereafter. Some lives are shorter than others. To our shallow perception this may seem an injustice. But in reality it is all the will of Hashem and we simply cannot hope to understand His wisdom. If we try, we are destined to fail and destroy ourselves.”

Decker started to say something, but shook his head instead.

“You are not satisfied,” Schulman said.

“That would be little comfort to the parents of a murdered child, Rabbi,” Decker said.

“Ach, a child!” Schulman said with pain in his voice.

“A teenager. A girl my daughter’s age.”

“And you talked with the girl’s parents today?”

“Her mother.”

“What did you say to her?”

“I didn’t say much. I mostly listened.”

“Sometimes least is best.”

“What would you tell the parents of a murdered child, Rabbi?”