Out of the Whirlwind: Unveiling Truth

We continue our story today in the book of Job. Last week, we met Job. And we heard about the wager between God and The Satan - the setup of this fictional thought experiment that is the book of Job. A thought experiment that explores many different questions. Questions about suffering and especially about innocent suffering. Questions of faith. Hard questions that ask us about the nature of our own faith and why we believe.

Today, we tackle another question. A question concerning truth.

As a result of the wager between God and The Satan, Job has lost all his wealth. He has lost his children and their spouses. He has lost his health. Yet, he has not cursed God. Chapter 2 ended with Job in silence. With his friends. Silently sitting. Silently grieving for 7 long days. It is here where our story resumes, beginning, in chapter 3.

Afterward, Job spoke up and cursed the day he was born.

Job said:

Perish the day I was born,

    the night someone said,

    “A boy has been conceived.”

That day—let it be darkness;

    may God above ignore it,

    and light not shine on it.

May deepest darkness claim it

    and a cloud linger over it;

    may all that darkens the day terrify it.

May gloom seize that night;

    may it not be counted in the days of a year;

    may it not appear in the months.

May that night be childless;

    may no happy singing come in it.

May those who curse the day curse it,

    those with enough skill to awaken Leviathan.

May its evening stars stay dark;

    may it wait in vain for light;

    may it not see dawn’s gleam,

    because it didn’t close the doors of my mother’s womb,

    didn’t hide trouble from my eyes.  --Job 3:1-10 (CEB)

After seven long days of silence, Job speaks. The first words out of his mouth are a curse. Job curses the day of his birth. Lamenting that he was ever born. 

It is important for us to understand Job’s position in society. He had been at the top - a patriarch, enjoying great wealth, privileged, highly respected. Early on we are told at the beginning of the story that he was the greatest of all the people in the East. He has the most to lose. And this was a long way for him to fall.

So, he curses the day of his birth. And if we were to continue on for the rest of the chapter, we would notice that his lament does not stop with his birth. He begins to complain about God. Not to God. But about God to his friends. How far he has fallen! Innocently fallen! We can understand his grief and his anger, can’t we? Especially because all of the suffering he is experiencing is not his fault. Or is it?

Enter Job’s friends. We continue in chapter 4.

Then Eliphaz, a native of Teman, responded:

If one tries to answer you, will you be annoyed?

    But who can hold words back?

Look, you’ve instructed many

    and given strength to drooping hands.

Your words have raised up the falling;

    you’ve steadied failing knees.

But now it comes to you, and you are dismayed;

    it has struck you, and you are frightened.

Isn’t your religion the source of your confidence;

    the integrity of your conduct, the source of your hope?

Think! What innocent person has ever perished?

    When have those who do the right thing been destroyed?

As I’ve observed, those who plow sin

    and sow trouble will harvest it.

When God breathes deeply, they perish;

    by a breath of his nostril they are annihilated. --Job 4:1-9 (CEB)

Job’s friends had begun so well. Sitting with him in silence. The silence that finally allowed him to put words to his grief. But, then, they go so horribly wrong. Eliphaz, Job’s friend, opens his mouth to respond. And it is not good.

You see Eliphaz has created his own truth. A construction of his own reality. One that is based on two things. First, his reality is based on conventional wisdom. What we might call common sense. Or what everybody “knows.” 

Secondly, his truth is based on assumptions. Some of these assumptions arise out of his own experience. What he’s seen and learned along the way. Other assumptions come from more universally-agreed upon principles. Such as, if you do something wrong, you will be punished for it. These constructs are how Eliphaz views the world. It’s why he suggests at the end of the reading that maybe, just maybe, Job has done something wrong to deserve this. 

I grew up a redneck. I’m serious about this. My dad, for example, voted for George Wallace. He was a complex man. So I grew up with a certain construction of reality - a way of viewing the world. When I moved to Los Angeles at 19 and I began to experience living and working together with people from many different places, with many different beliefs, and of many different colors, you can imagine how that construct was challenged.

I recall a conversation with a couple of work colleagues, one Mexican, the other black. They were relating to me stories of being stopped without any cause by the police. DWB-ing they called it. Driving While Black. Or Driving While Brown. The construction of my own reality could not let me believe that this happened. Because, in my own experience, I was never stopped by the police without a reason. So, if it didn’t happen to me, certainly, it couldn’t happen to anyone else. And, certainly, not because of the color of their skin.

But, then, my son had an experience that blew this construct to pieces. Some of you have heard this story. He attended California Lutheran University, which was located in Thousand Oaks, northwest of Los Angeles in a very white, very wealthy suburb. We lived in the heart of Los Angeles. My son loved the urban wear look - you know, the pants hanging down, the hoodie. You get the picture. He also drove a 1966 Dodge Dart. A neighbor of ours had given it to him for free. Michael had spent some of his hard-earned money that summer before school on new rims. Rims that were really dope. And urban.

One Sunday night, after a weekend at home, he left to return to school. It was in the wintertime and it was pretty cold outside. The heater in his Dart didn’t work. So, he pulled up his hoodie, put on some gloves, and took off for school. About 45 minutes later, I received a call from him. He told me that he had been stopped by a sheriff’s deputy near school, just after he’d gotten off the freeway. There were no tail lights out in his car. He swore he wasn’t speeding. But, what was more curious was what happened when he pulled off to the side of the road and the officer approached his car. He shined his flashlight in my son’s face. And seemed surprised. “Oh! This was a mistake,” he said. “You can go!” My son didn’t understand what had happened. But, I did. Once the officer got beyond the hoodie and the gloves, the tricked out vehicle, he saw that my son was white. And he let him go. No warning. No ticket. Nothing. 

And the construct of my reality was expanded to accept the truth that my black and brown friends had told me all along. And I deeply regretted and grieved that I had not believed them in the first place. 

This is what is happening here. Both with Job and with Eliphaz. Their own constructs of reality are being expanded in the midst of Job’s suffering to include new experiences, new realities. But, along with that expanded reality, comes loss. Loss of dreams and expectations. Loss of hope. And, so, Job continues his lament. But, this time, it is directly to God.

We read in chapter 7.

But I won’t keep quiet;

    I will speak in the adversity of my spirit,

    groan in the bitterness of my life.

Am I Sea or the Sea Monster

    that you place me under guard?

If I say, “My couch will comfort me,”

    my bed will diminish my murmuring.

You scare me with dreams,

    frighten me with visions.

I would choose strangling

    and death instead of my bones.

I reject life; I don’t want to live long;

    leave me alone, for my days are empty.

What are human beings, that you exalt them,

    that you take note of them,

    visit them each morning,

    test them every moment?

Why not look away from me;

    let me alone until I swallow my spit?

If I sinned, what did I do to you,

    guardian of people?

Why have you made me your target

    so that I’m a burden to myself?

Why not forgive my sin,

    overlook my iniquity?

Then I would lie down in the dust;

    you would search hard for me,

    and I would not exist. --Job 7:11-21 (CEB)

We are in the midst of incredible times. Everything we know. Our own constructions of reality - like those of Job and Eliphaz - are being challenged, expanded, even blown completely apart. We lament this. We grieve the loss and suffering of it all. The loss of life from COVID-19. The loss of life from racism and racist acts. The economic loss. The loss of companionship and community. 

Everything we know is being challenged. What else is there to do but to sit in the midst of it - in the midst of our grief and lament - and to ask God why. Like Job. Why?

I’m sure you have heard it said that it feels as though we are in apocalyptic times. Perhaps, I’ve even said that. It may feel like that. But, I would remind you that the word apocalypse means unveiling. What if this time is an unveiling? An unveiling of the constructions of reality that are not true? That are not consistent with God’s truth? What if God is at work in the midst of our world, in the midst of the evil in which we find ourselves, in the midst of these times, working to unveil these untruths and to rebuild a world of truth? Of new truths? Of new constructions of reality that are God’s reality? God’s truths? Truths that are based in the saving acts of Christ and the renewing work of the Holy Spirit? That are about justice and peace? And wholeness and equity? Constructions of reality that are expansive enough for everyone - for all that God has created? 

Perhaps the question for Job - and for us - isn’t “Why?”. Perhaps the question is, “What if?”.

Preached Sunday, June 21, 2020, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.

Pentecost 3

Readings: Job 3:1-10, 4:1-9, 7:11-21; Psalm 25:1-7

Out of the Whirlwind: Sitting in Silence

Today, we begin five weeks in the Book of Job. One of three Wisdom books in the Hebrew scriptures. Can you name the other two? Proverbs and Ecclesiastes. Proverbs shows us that God has ordered the world so that it is fair. Then, Ecclesiastes observes that this isn’t really so. And it makes us wonder whether God is wise and just. This is one of the questions that is explored in Job. Along with a couple of others, including whether God runs the world with justice and why people suffer, especially why innocent people suffer. These are the primary questions we will explore over these five weeks in Job, which is where we begin today.

There was once a man in the land of Uz whose name was Job. That man was blameless and upright, one who feared God and turned away from evil. There were born to him seven sons and three daughters. He had seven thousand sheep, three thousand camels, five hundred yoke of oxen, five hundred donkeys, and very many servants; so that this man was the greatest of all the people of the east. His sons used to go and hold feasts in one another’s houses in turn; and they would send and invite their three sisters to eat and drink with them. And when the feast days had run their course, Job would send and sanctify them, and he would rise early in the morning and offer burnt offerings according to the number of them all; for Job said, “It may be that my children have sinned, and cursed God in their hearts.” This is what Job always did.

One day the heavenly beings came to present themselves before the Lord, and Satan also came among them. The Lord said to Satan, “Where have you come from?” Satan answered the Lord, “From going to and fro on the earth, and from walking up and down on it.” The Lord said to Satan, “Have you considered my servant Job? There is no one like him on the earth, a blameless and upright man who fears God and turns away from evil.” Then Satan answered the Lord, “Does Job fear God for nothing? Have you not put a fence around him and his house and all that he has, on every side? You have blessed the work of his hands, and his possessions have increased in the land. But stretch out your hand now, and touch all that he has, and he will curse you to your face.” The Lord said to Satan, “Very well, all that he has is in your power; only do not stretch out your hand against him!” So Satan went out from the presence of the Lord.

One day when his sons and daughters were eating and drinking wine in the eldest brother’s house, a messenger came to Job and said, “The oxen were plowing and the donkeys were feeding beside them, and the Sabeans fell on them and carried them off, and killed the servants with the edge of the sword; I alone have escaped to tell you.” While he was still speaking, another came and said, “The fire of God fell from heaven and burned up the sheep and the servants, and consumed them; I alone have escaped to tell you.” While he was still speaking, another came and said, “The Chaldeans formed three columns, made a raid on the camels and carried them off, and killed the servants with the edge of the sword; I alone have escaped to tell you.” While he was still speaking, another came and said, “Your sons and daughters were eating and drinking wine in their eldest brother’s house, and suddenly a great wind came across the desert, struck the four corners of the house, and it fell on the young people, and they are dead; I alone have escaped to tell you.”

Then Job arose, tore his robe, shaved his head, and fell on the ground and worshiped. He said, “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return there; the Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.”

In all this Job did not sin or charge God with wrongdoing. --Job 1:1-22 (NRSV)

The story of Job opens in the make-believe land of Uz, an obscure land far away from Israel, in an unknown time. This seems to be on purpose so that our focus isn’t so much on the when and where, but on the who and the why. 

Job is a very wealthy man. Our story tells us that he was greater than all the people of the east. His wealth had not spoiled him, though. Job was a man of integrity - a sound and honest man, who feared God and shunned evil. He was so faithful in fact that he would proactively offer sacrifices for his children. Just in case they might sin and, in sinning, blaspheme God. 

Job’s integrity was noticed by God, which is where we move next. Into the heavens. 

And we see God surrounded by his team, his heavenly council.  Part of God’s team, too, was one called The Satan. This was more a job title than a name. A better translation of his title was, perhaps, The Accuser or The Adversary. He is like the chief prosecutor in the heavenly realm - the one who is to prevent any sentimentality from eroding the order of the cosmos. Including such sentimental things as faith or the love between God and humanity. The Satan thinks this idea of covenantal love - of sacrificial love - is a divine delusion. And so, when we hear this story in the context of the covenantal love between God and Israel, we understand that it is this that is at stake.

God, almost naively, points Job out to The Satan. "Isn’t he wonderful? Did you notice Job? What integrity! What a man of faith!" But The Satan won’t have any of it. “Do you really believe that? Do you think Job believes in you for no reason? Haven’t you blessed him with riches and wealth? Of course he would believe in you? But, take it away and see what happens? See then that he will curse you to your face.” And the experiment begins. And so, too, the destruction of all that belongs to Job.

He first loses his herds and his caretakers. Then it's his flocks and his shepherds. And, then, his sons and daughters.

We wait to hear Job curse God, but he doesn’t. He engages in acts of mourning, but, even in the midst of his grief, he does not curse God. In fact, he continues to worship God.

But, The Satan isn’t finished yet. The wager isn’t over. There’s another part. If we continue on into chapter 2, we see the heavenly scene repeated between God and The Satan. This time the wager is Job’s health. The Satan strikes his body with severe sores from head to foot. Even Job’s wife tells him to curse God. “Are you still clinging to your integrity?” she challenges him. “Curse God, and die.” But Job will not have any of it.

It’s a hard image for us, isn’t it? That God and Satan are up in heaven using us like pawns on a chessboard. Playing games with our lives. Or with our health. It feels like that at times, though, doesn’t it? We try to be good people. We worship regularly. We say we believe. But, do we? On what does our faith depend? On what we can get from God? “God, if I believe, you’ll give me that new job, right?” Or, “If I go to church faithfully, you’ll restore my health, won’t you?” Don’t we make the same kind of deals with God as in Job's story? Isn’t our faith often a transactional faith, believing in God only if God will give us what we want? Do we love God for what we get out of the relationship? Or do we love God for who God is?

After this has happened to Job - after he has lost everything, we read at the end of chapter two, that he simply sits in silence. But, he doesn’t sit alone. His three friends - Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar - come to console and comfort him. When they see Job they don’t recognize him - the sores have so engulfed his body. They weep for him. They tear their garments in mourning. And, then, they sit with him. Silently. Present with him in his suffering. 

Isn’t this what God does for us? What God does for us in Jesus? Who has entered into our own pain and suffering and that of the world. Who has taken it upon himself. Expecting nothing in return, no wager or transaction. All done in love. 

I recently watched a video of a young African-American woman - Kimberly Jones - who was in pain. Not physical pain per se, but the kind of anguished and angry pain that comes from a sense of hopelessness and despair. A young woman who recounted the pain of what it has been like to be black in America for 400 years. Shackled. Enslaved. Families broken apart and traumatized. And, every time her people try to move ahead, try to be free, they are again enslaved. Lynched. Massacred. Incarcerated. Shut out of systems of power. Traumatized over and over and over again. 

Perhaps the first step for us as people of privilege is to simply sit with our sisters and brothers of color. To enter silently into their grief with them. With no expectation of anything in return. No attempt to fly in and “save” them. But to simply sit with them. To be with them in their suffering and pain, in the way that Job’s friends did for him. The way we do it for each other. The way Jesus did for us, for everyone, and for all creation. To simply be with us. Out of love.

May we do this for our friends and family. May we do this for our community. May we do this for our sisters and brothers of color who have been in so much pain for so long. Amen.

Preached June 14, 2020, online at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY

Pentecost 2

Readings: Job 1:1-22, Psalm 17