JOB 23:1-9, 16-17 NRSV
1Then Job answered: 2"Today also my
complaint is bitter; his hand is heavy despite my groaning. 3Oh, that I knew where I
might find him, that I might come even to his dwelling! 4I would lay my case before
him, and fill my mouth with arguments. 5I
would learn what he would answer me, and understand what he would say to me.6Would
he contend with me in the greatness of his power? No; but he would give heed to
me. 7There an upright
person could reason with him, and I should be acquitted forever by my judge.
8"If I go forward,
he is not there; or backward, I cannot perceive him; 9on the left he hides, and
I cannot behold him; I turn to the right, but I cannot see him.
16God has made my heart
faint; the Almighty has terrified me; 17If
only I could vanish in darkness, and thick darkness would cover my face!
***
I’d
like you to hear a modern day Job. This recording comes from NPR’s This
American Life. The theme of the show is, ‘What Doesn’t Kill You.’ It features
comedian Tig Notaro doing stand up a few days after she was diagnosed with
cancer. The recording is a little long, and quite uncomfortable to listen to,
there is lots of nervous laughter in the crowd, and I invite you to respond
either with laughter, or silence, or tears, or even taking a break if you need
to. Like the friends who come to visit Job to whom he is responding here,
hearing stories of another’s pain is not easy.
What
if this is faith? What if this sarcastic rant against God is faith? What if
faith is diving into the darkness of suffering, and naming it out loud, and
calling God to accountability? What if faith is being angry at the absence God?
What amazes me about this passage is that Job is so angry with God yet is still
talking to God. What if Job’s calling God to an argument is faith? What if
faith isn’t about trite responses, but instead really questioning?
Perhaps
this type of faith, faith that wrestles with God, is stronger than the faith,
which refuses to question. I understand people who are atheists or agnostics a
lot better than I understand those who, “grew up in the church and never
questioned.” Even a loss of faith may reflect a more genuine engagement with
God than a faith that refuses to allow itself to be tested.
Elie
Wiesel, the Jewish writer who has spent his life attempting to come to grips
with the Holocaust that he experienced firsthand as a boy in Nazi concentration
camps, recounts his loss of faith in God as a result of that dehumanizing
experience. He writes,
“Never shall I forget that night, the first night in
camp, which has turned my life into one long night,…Never shall I forget those
flames which consumed my faith forever. Never shall I forget the nocturnal
silence, which deprived me, for all eternity, of the desire to life. Never
shall I forget those moments which murdered my God and my soul, and turned my
dreams to dust.[1]”
“Other Jews have gone even farther than Wiesel by
questioning the very reality of God. We too, like Wiesel, like Job, must
confront honestly and courageously, the possibility that many of our time
honored doctrines about God might not stand up to the test of massive suffering
experienced by individuals and communities. When the powers of nature or
history so conspire against persons that their legitimate desires for a
reasonable measure of happiness in life are destroyed, we dare not trivialize
such suffering and despair by pointing to an ultimate consummation in which all
wrongs are righted.[2]”
It’s
sad, but one of the warnings I got about being a pastor in times of personal
crisis is that people will say dumb things. Rev. Keith Hudson told me that
after his father died in a tragic horse accident, folks in his congregation
said a whole slue of really bad comments. These comments spanned from, “It was
God’s plan,” to, “he is in a better place.” Others in this line of typical bad
responses include, “God doesn’t give you more than you can handle, or what
doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, or everything
happens for a reason.” None of these are in the Bible, and we talked last week
about speaking for God, so I won’t go there. But if you learn nothing else from
this sermon, I hope you learn not to say these things to the grieving.
Thankfully, maybe divorce has fewer easy standards than death, because your
words to me have been unbelievably thoughtful, and have really met me where I
am. But in the wider culture these phrases are well accepted and are to be
challenged with the courage of Job.
