Sunday, October 4, 2015

A Timeless Story


Job 1:1, 2:1-10

Powerful people have a whole lot of control over our lives. There is little disputing this. We know it now, and Machiavelli knew it back in the 16th century when he composed The Prince, a litany for tyranny based on the proposition that those in charge can justify immoral actions if these actions achieve the desired results.   

What you might not have known is according to a recent article in the Wall Street Journal, successful leaders in industry and business are not necessarily nice folks. Having to choose over being liked or being powerful, taking a page from Machiavelli, they often justify decisions based on profit margin rather than acceptable ethical practices.

But those folks make up only a minute percentage of our population. For most of the rest of us, personal ethics seems to matter. I would like to think everyone here believes a high moral code is an essential part of any community. It is important that we strive to do the right thing. Deuteronomy 30 declares, “Do what is right and you will be live. Live outside the laws of God and your life will be miserable.” What exactly does that mean?  According to the Law of Moses, it begins with treating our neighbor as we would desire to be treated. Jesus ups the ante by absurdly suggesting we must also love our enemies. Being good is hard. But making the “right choice” becomes easier when we believe God will reward us for our decisions.

Don’t you wish that is how life worked? Billie Holliday sang, “Them thats go shall have, them thats not shall lose. God bless the child thats got her own.” A central theme of the Bible is to love one another and yet so often it is the ones steamrolling the opposition that end up winners while the rest of us struggle to survive.  Don’t you wonder why God allows life to work this way?  Have you ever dared to ask yourself when Godly people suffer, why do they continue to believe? Or maybe you have considered the unimaginable. Is  faith only a means to a selfish end? These are the questions the author of Job dares to raise.

“Once there was a man who was blameless and upright. He feared God and turned away from evil.” So begins one of the great works of literature in which an unknown poet engages in a probing theological investigation of human suffering.  We are not reading a historical account. Job is a fictional character, but then so were King Lear, Don Quixote, and Huckleberry Finn. Within these masterpieces of literature we are liberated to explore ancient questions that still cry for answers.

Why do godly people suffer? That seems to be our entrance into the Book of Job, but ironically, the question is practically turned on its head. In a conversation God is asked, “If a godly person falls on hard times, will they remain faithful?”  The question intrigues God. The Almighty assumes creation is thrilled with life, regardless of their station or circumstance. But what if life becomes hard? What if hope barely exists? What if there is no reason to rejoice? Would earth’s greatest creation still worship God?

Job is the very definition of success. He has seven sons and three daughters. He owns thousands of sheep, camels, oxen, donkeys and ample slaves to take care of his every need. Job was the greatest man in all the land and he acknowledges this by giving thanks to God every morning and night. Life is good in the land of Job.

Then one day, raiders from the north slaughter the slaves and rustle all the animals. While this was happening all the children are at the big house having lunch. A huge storm destroys the building killing everyone inside. Within a matter of hours the richest man in the land has lost his wealth, his children and perhaps his reason for living. To make things worse, God is directly responsible for the calamity that befalls this “blameless and upright” man. Job is left with three friends who are no bargain and a wife who suggests Job should just kill himself.

Let the dialogue begin.

Job initiates the next 40 chapters of poetry with the words, “Let the moment when I was born perish. Let that day be darkness; let that night be barren.” As Job laments his existence, his friends jump in and question Job’s sainthood. Remember Deuteronomy 30? If Job was sinless, how could anything bad happen to him? It is logical for the friends to conclude Job must have displeased God. This is where Job moves from an interesting story to a masterpiece. In the face of all the past theological evidence, the author is not satisfied to ask WHERE is God in the midst of calamity.  He dares to inquire WHO is God in the midst of tragedy.  Then he challenges our naïve assumption that stuff just happens by asking who do we become and how do we respond in the midst of the unimaginable?

Eli Wiesel tells the story of a trial that takes place in the extermination camp of Auschwitz. A loaf of bread is stolen and the prisoners are accused of the crime. No one confesses because the stolen bread was taken by a guard who placed the blame on the prisoners. But punishment must be forthcoming. Three Jews are randomly selected and publicly executed.

The next day the rabbis meet to discuss who is ultimately responsible for the deaths of the three men. One rabbi defiantly accuses God of deserting the Jewish people and allowing them to be brought into this house of horrors. In accordance with Jewish law, if charges are brought, then a tribunal must take place. Over the course of the next few days God is placed on trial. Accusations are made, arguments are heard, and in the end the rabbis unanimously agree that God is guilty as charged. Then the rabbi who brought the charges stood and made the following declaration. “Hear O Israel, the Lord is One. Blessed be the name of the Lord.” 

If you are here to receive answers to the questions raised by the Book of Job, you have come to the wrong place. But if you are here to confirm, despite the evidence, that, “The Lord is One; blessed be the name of the Lord”, then welcome to a sanctuary from the world’s WEARY logic that leaves us without hope.

The friends of Job offered time honored answers that were more accusations than solutions. Someone had to be at fault. The wife of Job, surely overwhelmed by her own loss, suggests death to be more comfort than life. Job, by declaring his innocence also declared his desire to live. Job, by raising his voice against God, struggled to find answers, even though he knew no answer would ever make sense. Job, a pawn in a heavenly game, is trapped in the eternal struggle between knowledge and faith.             (Stop)

Today, like every other first Sunday at Rockfish Presbyterian, we come to the Table. Today, like every other First Sunday we hear the words, “This is my body, broken. This is my blood, spilled.”  We understand brokenness. We haven’t lost ten children and a fortune, but we have been hurt. We have witnessed tragedy. We have seen humanity at its worst. We who have been broken, come together with a community of broken people hoping to be made whole.

I ask you, what is logical about this table? The sacrament itself is built around the inconceivable notion of God becoming powerless, and of Jesus dying, in order that death might be overcome. Where is the proof that this is possible? Where is the evidence that any of this happened?

There is none, except the faith residing in our hearts singing there can be no greater truth than the grace of God.

The beauty of the Book of Job is the author dares to take us on a journey where obvious answers do not work and easy answers are easily discarded.

The same can be said of the table of the Lord. This is the place, despite all the logical evidence, that we broken ones come and irrationally whisper, “The Lord is One. Blessed be the name of the Lord.    Amen

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