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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