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The Rev. Michelle Meech
Job 23:1-9, 16-17
Psalm 22:1-15
Hebrews 4:12-16
Mark 10:17-31
For a few weeks this fall, we get a glimpse at the Book of Job. Something that happens every 3 years in the lectionary cycle. Job is thought to be one of the oldest scriptures we have, having been written sometime between the 7-4 century BCE.
The historical context that gave rise to Job’s story is like many other stories we have in the Hebrew Scriptures: The split of Israel into the northern and southern kingdoms that ended with the destruction of Jerusalem. Or, more specifically, the destruction of the Temple in 586 BCE. For the Ancient Israelites, the Temple was the home of God on earth. So when it was destroyed, people felt God had abandoned them and were looking to lay blame. Division and fear and suffering.
So perhaps it’s not surprising that the Book of Job deals directly with the question of theodicy, or why a loving God permits evil to exist. Of course, this question was on the minds of people at that time – a time of political, social, and economic turmoil.
If we believe God is good then what sense can we make of suffering?
And if we are good, then why do we suffer? What does it mean when bad things happen to us? Is it our fault or someone else’s fault?
If we could just figure out what happened and why then, perhaps, we can prevent it from happening again and thus, regain God’s favor. Or someone’s favor.
These are just some of the questions when we try to make sense of suffering and evil. And given that this question about suffering and evil is really one of the core issues we struggle with as humans, I often wonder why we only read Job every 3 years.
Now, in this reading, which we call Job’s complaint, Job is bitter.
Which is odd because Job is usually an “Isn’t God great? kinda guy.
Job is a wealthy person, head of a great household, with many comforts and possessions and a large family. He has “won” at life. He has all the things that we might call blessings and he is thankful for them. Is this what makes Job such a pious person? Because he is utterly devoted to God.
So then, why does Job suffer? And Job does indeed suffer through the loss of everything he has: His wealth, his family, his health. If he’s devoted to God, why doesn’t God take care of him? That is the demand of theodical question.
Several characters try to help Job make sense of what’s happening.
His wife tells him that if God’s not showing up, best just to curse God.
His friends tell him that it’s all his fault. But Job maintains his innocence and, although it’s not the final assessment, he comes to the determination that God is unjust. Reflected in today’s passage: “my complaint is bitter… I would find God in his dwelling place and make God listen… God would give heed to me… but I have looked forward, backward, left and right, but I cannot see God.”
The question that the story of Job asks is eternal: Why do bad things happen to “good” people? Fast forward several centuries and we have same basic question happening in Mark’s Gospel in the Parable of the Rich Man.
The rich man isn’t suffering like Job was, but he is confused. And is insistent that his pious efforts should save him. He says: I have done well. I have lived by the Jewish law. I have “won” at life. So, Jesus, what must I do to inherit the kingdom of heaven?
And the next line is important here because I think it’s easy to leap right into judgment about those who have wealth. But Jesus is not judging the rich man. The scripture tells us: “Jesus, looking at him, loved him…”
Jesus’ response comes from love. This is not the same place his response comes from when he’s talking to the Pharisees. He’s not angry. He’s loving and compassionate. He sees the problem immediately and he knows the reaction this person will have even as he offers his response.
“You lack one thing”… Jesus says… “go sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.” The man walked away in grief, the Gospel tells us.
And then Jesus turns to teach the disciples, which is us, presumably.
“How hard it will be for someone with wealth to enter the kingdom of heaven”
Jesus is seeing that his words are creating some anxiety – perplexed, is the work Mark uses – so he presses the issue.
“Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God! It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.”
They replied in their astonishment, “Then, who can be saved?” Jesus looks at them and says: “For mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God all things are possible.”
Like Job and like this rich man, we humans often believe, I think, that how well we do in the world, the comforts of our lives, the ease with which we are able to do things, the general lack of suffering we experience, that these are all blessings from God. That if we should suffer, then we are not blessed. We are not loved by God. God has abandoned us.
And that’s exactly the notion that Jesus is trying to challenge here, that wealth and ease of life and success and status are blessings from God. But they are not.
Because even in our suffering, in our darkest night, God hasn’t gone anywhere. Even if our wealth is depleted. Even if our temple is destroyed, and our life has been turned upside down, God hasn’t gone anywhere. God’s blessing hasn’t passed over us.
This is why Jesus is called savior of the world. Because, in this parable, Jesus is attempting to free us from the world’s grasp on us. To free us all from the oppression created by the ways we are beholden to the things that make us comfortable or powerful. In this case, wealth. And the belief we have created that if we have this comfort, if we have this temple, that is. Or in the case of this parable, if we have this wealth, only then we are blessed.
Because if that’s true, if wealth is about blessing, then have the poor done something to deserve their suffering? Do we really believe that salvation is about having bootstraps? For some people, yes they do. It’s why we have the blasphemy that is the prosperity gospel. It’s why we have the sin of white Christian nationalism. Neither of which are the Gospel. Because neither one is the salvation of Christ.
We have Jesus. The one who loved the rich man enough to confront him. The one who loves us enough to confront us. Knowing that it would be the hardest thing this man would ever hear and would ever have to do: To give up the world in order to receive the reign of God. To lose what he thought of as his life so that he would know life itself.
How hard it is when we become trapped by the things we think will save us. Jesus is telling us that we cannot create our own salvation. We cannot manufacture or achieve or cultivate our own salvation just as we cannot prevent so much of our own suffering. Because there is something else that is so much more precious – a life in the Spirit. For God all things are possible, Jesus says.
If we really lose everything that brings us comfort, everything and everyone we love, everything that brings us a sense of security and purpose, will we be able to believe that God has not abandoned us? If we are suffering, do we know that God is with us?
There is no judgment if the answer is no. Jesus knows this. It’s why he responds with love to the wealthy person in the parable. But the invitation Jesus is extending here is to sow the seeds, to come to recognize just how easily destroyed our temples can be – not to create anxiety, but to point us to what is real.
A life in the Spirit is a release from all the ways we have come to believe we need to be in this world, all the beliefs we have about who we are so that we might realize the immediacy of God’s presence. That God is here. With us. Closer even than our breath.
The accumulation of wealth or comfort or privilege or status is not only unimportant in the reign of God, but it’s a burden that actually can prevent us from experiencing God’s presence.
Our hope is not in making sure we are comfortable or in trying to make sure we remain free from suffering. For comforts can always disappear and suffering is always a part of the human experience. These are always traps. They are temples we have built where we believe salvation exists for us.
Rather our hope is in releasing from these desires and fears and day by day in living a life in the Spirit – God’s Spirit. For this can never be taken from us, even in our darkest hour, especially in our darkest hour.
The nearness of God, the immediacy of God, the intimacy of God is unquestionable. Closer than our very breath.
This is our hope because this is the only thing that is real.
