A reflection on the readings for Advent 1C: Jeremiah 33:14-16; Psalm 25; 1 Thessalonians 3:9-13 and Luke 21:25-36 by Janine A. Goodwin, M.A., M.S. Ed.
There
will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth
distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves.
People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the
world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken. Then they will see
‘the Son of Man coming in a cloud’ with power and great glory. Now when
these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because
your redemption is drawing near.
The readings for this week are apocalyptic. We've made that word
come to mean the end of the world, and often a violent end at that.
Movies and popular culture throw out more apocalypses than cell phone
apps. Just off the top of my head, there's the classic war film
Apocalypse Now and the increasingly popular idea of the zombie
apocalypse. People joke about their post-apocalyptic skill
sets--crocheting, knitting, spinning, cooking from scratch, raising
chickens, woodworking with hand tools.
But that's not what the word "apocalypse" really means. It means
"unveiling." It means finding the hidden meanings and truths that lie
behind current events and everyday existence. Apocalyptic writing, like
the passage from Luke and the books of Daniel and Revelation, use
complex symbolism to try and make sense of the world, and to
prophesy--another loaded word: a prophecy is not a fortuneteller's
prediction, but a projection forward, a warning of what may come if we
don't change direction or a vision of hope and trust in God's ability to
save the world from whatever mess we've made of it. The truth of
prophecy does not lie in whether it came true the way a weather
prediction comes true; it lies in the deeper insight it gives into our
existence and God's way of working in the world.
In popular culture, and in too much of Christian history, both
apocalypse and prophecy have often gotten warped by triumphalism.
Triumphalism is the belief that there is one right interpretation, I've
got it, and the rest of you, up to and including everyone in the past
several thousand years, are all wrong. There are two large problems with
that attitude. The first is that the people with this attitude tend to
make rash predictions, which are proven to be wrong. People who set a
date for the end of the world end up looking bewildered the day after
the world failed to end on schedule. My parents, who seldom bought a
book but never got rid of one, owned a book that was published nearly a
hundred years ago: that book lined up every single event in Revelation
with the early part of the First World War. Its presence in our home and
its manifest failure at predicting the end, which should have come
sometime in the 1920s, helped me get out of an anxiety attack caused by a
similar book that was written in the early 1970s and is similarly
obsolete now. The first problem, then, can be simple.
The second problem is more complex and far more serious:
triumphalism is a failure of humility and charity. It has no place in a
living faith. It does not bring us closer to God.
Thinking that we,
and only we, know what God has said or is saying or is going to do cuts
us off from other people of faith, including people of other faiths,
just when we need to be talking to them. It gives us a sense of safety,
but that safety is spurious. It's not a way of knowing God, but a way of
trying to control God and tell God what to do, which, as the history of
our faith (and just about anyone else's) tells us, never ends
well. Humility before God requires that we do our best to learn and
understand Scripture, but can never fully know the mind of God and must
not presume to do so. Charity requires that we are always open to the
insights of others, past and present. Feminist theology, liberation
theology, and new scholarship do not make old work valueless; they
enhance it. They add new voices and insights to the rich, long
conversation the human race is always having about faith. Even when
older work is demonstrably wrong, our corrections of those wrongs do not
make us superior to those who came before us; in most cases they, like
we, were doing the best they could. If they were dishonest, let us
acknowledge it and then look to make our own work and lives as honest as
we can. Good scholarship honors the truth and seeks the truth, but does
not presume to own it.
The reality of prophecy and apocalyptic is this: the writer had that
time, place, and situation in mind, and the writings also have meaning
for other people at other times. This is partly because human history
does tend to repeat itself. There are always signs in the heavens and
distress among nations, and we are always wondering how the story of
this world will end. It is also because we look for meaning and hope,
turning to ancient writings for insight. It is good to do that as long
as we do not ask for, or fabricate, more certainty than there actually
is, or force our certainties on others.
Prophecy and apocalyptic, when we don't warp them into ways to make
ourselves feel safe or superior, point to trust
in God and openness to one another. The fact is that we don't know the
future; only God knows when and how the end of our individual lives and
the life of the world will end. The good news, which we often forget, is
that our redemption, whatever it is, is always drawing near. The
apocalypse is, indeed, always now, because the truth is always being
unveiled. Thanks be to God.
A footnote: two very good works about the apocalyptic book of Revelation are The Power of the Lamb: Revelation's Theology of Liberation for You, by Ward Ewing, and The Rapture Exposed: The Message of Hope in the Book of Revelation, by Barbara R. Rossing. If you are inclined to choose a book for Advent reading, I'd strongly recommend either of them.
Friday, November 30, 2012
Saturday, November 3, 2012
All Saints' Day
A reflection by the Rev. Crystal Karr...
Isaiah 25:1-10
O Lord, you are my God; I will exalt you, I will
praise your name; for you have done wonderful things, plans formed of old,
faithful and sure. For you have made the city a heap, the
fortified city a ruin; the palace of aliens is a city no more, it will never be
rebuilt. Therefore strong peoples will glorify you; cities of
ruthless nations will fear you. For you have been a refuge to the
poor, a refuge to the needy in their distress, a shelter from the rainstorm and
a shade from the heat. When the blast of the ruthless was like a winter
rainstorm, t he noise of aliens like heat in a dry place, you
subdued the heat with the shade of clouds; the song of the ruthless was
stilled.
On this mountain the Lord of hosts will make
for all peoples a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wines, of rich food
filled with marrow, of well-aged wines strained clear. And he
will destroy on this mountain the shroud that is cast over all peoples, the
sheet that is spread over all nations; he will swallow up death forever.
Then the Lord God will wipe away the tears from all faces, and
the disgrace of his people he will take away from all the earth, for
the Lord has spoken.
It will be said on that day, Lo, this is our God; we
have waited for him, so that he might save us. This is the Lord for
whom we have waited; let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation. For the
hand of the Lord will rest on this mountain. The Moabites shall be
trodden down in their place as straw is trodden down in a dung-pit.
Many of us will be celebrating All
Saints Sunday tomorrow. It is the day in
which we honor our dead—the saints who have lived among us, fellow believers,
teachers, leaders, and inspirations of faith.
We share their stories, remembering how their faith touched our lives
and helped us to go a bit farther along our faith walk. It is a time in which the scriptures take the
form of flesh and blood as we tell the tales of grace lived out, love taking
human form as we remember one of our beloveds who taught us how to live more
like Christ—lending a hand, offering a shoulder to cry upon, practicing grace
and forgiveness in the most difficult of circumstances. It is a day in which we practice resurrection
as we reflect and remember, and are
inspired to live out of the hope and
love gifted to us by those who have passed on.
I love how on this day, the
scriptures we read leave the page and jump into our lives. My Aunt Susie died last week. She’s not the average church woman, not a
traditional pillar of faith by any means.
She would rather sit in a bar smoking and drinking with the guys than
spend any time in church at all. Yet,
she taught me that believing in something didn’t mean a damn thing unless my
life reflected what I believed. My rough
spoken, hard living Aunt Susie taught me that the scriptures I study take on
flesh and blood in this present life, and if they don’t, well then they don’t
mean a damn thing.
Susie lived in my grandparents’
farmhouse on the outskirts of town along a bend in the road. Between the bend in the road and the steep
drive rarely did anyone pull in to turn around or ask for directions. Yet one day as Susie was at the back of the
house, someone knocked on the door. I
nearly jumped out of my skin. I
cautiously approached the door, having learned at school to be afraid of
strangers. I looked through the glass to
see a raggedy bearded man standing there.
Just when I turned my head to call for Susie, she was standing there and
barking at me to open the damned door.
She invited him in; he wanted a glass of water. She sent me to get the water. He drank it and left.
“Did you know that guy?”
“Nope.”
“Then why did you invite him in?”
“He might have been Jesus.”
Susie didn’t
need someone in robes telling her what was proper. She didn’t want to hear about sinning and
combating evil. She wanted and needed to
live out the Gospel as best she could, without words but with deeds. I learned from her that day, that I need not
be afraid of strangers, they might be Jesus.
As I grew in faith, I discovered that Jesus, the Christ, a spark of
divine, lives within each of us, every human being on the face of the
planet. It is my job to recognize that
spark and treat each one with the same love and compassion I would offer to
Jesus.
Like my Aunt
Susie, sometimes I do so masterfully while far too often I fail miserably. Yet, it was Aunt Susie who taught me that
living out the Gospel is a must for my faith.
If sitting in a pew on Sunday mornings is where it begins and ends it is
worthless. I worship a God who promises
to care for the poor, the needy, the distressed and thus this is part of what I
do as well. I do not honor my God if I
turn a blind eye to those in need; offer a cup of water to the Christ before
me.
Too often Christianity is presented
as a promise of life after death---as in Revelation 21:1-6:
Then I saw a new heaven and a new
earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea
was no more. And I saw the
holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a
bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from
the throne saying, “See, the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with
them as their God; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with
them; he will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more;
mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed
away.” And the one who was seated on the throne said, “See, I
am making all things new.” Also he said, “Write this, for these words are
trustworthy and true.” Then he said to me, “It is done! I am the
Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. To the thirsty I will give
water as a gift from the spring of the water of life.
We take courage and assurance with the promise that God will
set all things right, that one day our tears and sorrows will be wiped
away. However, that is not all of our
Christian faith. If we look to another
of today’s lectionary scriptures, Matthew 5:1-12 we find a blessing on those
who are struggling, not just for their afterlife but for their life on
earth. Throughout the New Testament
Jesus says, “The Kingdom of God has come near.”
The Kingdom of God is here and now if only we have the eyes to see and
the ears to hear, and each day we have the opportunity to participate in making
the Kingdom of God present in this life on earth. We have been invited to participate in
creating God’s justice on earth. We have
been invited to offer a cup of water to the Christ before us. We have been invited to make the scriptures
put on flesh and blood. We have been
invited to inspire and lead others who may be younger in the faith and
encourage them upon their journey.
Perhaps one day, they will be celebrating and resurrecting you through
stories and remembrances of your life, your love, your faith that so embodied
and made real the love and grace of God that it helped them to believe, to live
as though their faith mattered and made a damn big difference.
May you be
blessed to see, hear, and participate in the Kingdom of God this day and every
day. Amen.
Saturday, October 27, 2012
Proper 25B
Jeremiah 31. 7-9, Psalm 126, Hebrews 7.
23-28, Mark 10. 46b-52 by The Rev. Dr. Sarah Rogers
I can’t
say that I follow American politics particularly avidly, I know the
Presidential election is imminent and realise that it is important to keep
abreast of what is happening politically around the world as it inevitably has
a knock-on effect on the rest of the globe.
Mind you, I find it hard enough to keep up with what is happening in
Europe, let alone across the pond. All
that said..I am a huge fan of ‘The West Wing’, I came to it rather late on, so
didn’t see it when it was on TV here.
So, I caught up with it on DVD, borrowed from my brother. I was gripped, watching back-to-back episodes
for nights in a row.
In
thinking about the readings for this Sunday, I am reminded of that wonderful
scene in the ‘Two Cathedrals’ episode, when Jed Bartlett is alone in the
Cathedral after Mrs Landingham’s funeral
and he really lays into God. How could
he take Mrs Landingham in that way…he is
at the end of his rope and lays it all at the altar in a very dramatic
way. A true example of lamentation, very
similar to some of the psalms. If you
haven’t seen it, or want to refresh your memory you should be able to see it on
u-tube if you click this link http://www.youtube.com/embed/GBAleMrZQzA. His words in Latin are particularly
poignant. He says ‘gratias tibi ago, domine. haec credam a deo pio, a deo justo, a
deo scito? cruciatus in crucem tuus in terra servus, nuntius fui;
officium perfeci. cruciatus in
crucem eas in crucem
Which I believe roughly means...
Thank you, Lord. Am
I to believe these things from a righteous god, a just god, a wise god? To hell
with your punishments! (literally "(put/send) punishments onto a
cross") I was your
servant, your messenger on the earth; I did my duty. To hell with your punishments! And to hell with you! (literally, "may you go to a
cross")"
Today’s
readings don’t include such a clear example of lamentation, but they certainly
allude to it. In the reading from
Jeremiah we are told that ‘With weeping they will come, and with consolation I
will lead them back’, Psalm 126 is essentially a psalm of thanksgiving, but
again ‘Those who sowed with tears will reap with songs of joy.’, in the letter
to the Hebrews we are reminded of the weakness of our humanity that necessitates
daily sacrifice and in the gospel reading from Mark we find Bartimaeus, the
blind man who has suffered all his life.
Bartimaeus is a little bit different, he doesn’t seem to be angry at God
for his fate. He had been completely
blind since birth, he had never seen any of the beauty of the world, but he is
also poor as he is sitting at the side of the road begging. No doubt as a child he was cared for by his
parents, but because he was blind there would have been no employment for him
as he grew up and so he would have fallen into destitution. But, Bartimaeus had clearly heard people
talking about Jesus, he would not have witnessed any of his many miracles, but
he had heard all about them.
So no doubt
when he heard that Jesus was passing by he was filled with hope. He must have had a friend close by, filling
him in on the unfolding drama as Jesus and his entourage approach. When he hears that Jesus is close by he calls
on him to have mercy on him.
What surprises
me about this story is the reaction of those around Bartimaeus. Jesus can’t go anywhere without hundreds of
people following him. They have
witnessed his many miracles and the way he has healed others and yet, they
treat Bartimaeus with disdain and tell him to be quiet. Bartimaeus is the lowest of the low and not
worthy of their consideration, he is a blind beggar man. It is only Jesus who
treats him with any kindness. One can’t
imagine what it is like to be blind, to not be able to see the beauty of this
world. Bartimaeus responds to Jesus’
kindness wholeheartedly, he throws off his cloak as he springs up from his seat
at the roadside, he had complete certainty that Jesus would cure him. It is a wonderful image, as in throwing off
his cloak Bartimaeus reveals himself to those around, he is no longer hiding
under a heavy cloak somehow ashamed of who he is.
I can’t
help wondering who is truly blind in this story. Bartimaeus may be physically blind, but
spiritually he is clear sighted, he knows that Jesus is the answer. Without Jesus we are all blind. Those around Bartimaeus are certainly blind
to that, otherwise they would have tried to help him. Jesus freed Bartimaeus, we can only imagine
the joy he felt, seeing a human face for the first time, a tree, the beautiful
blue sky, the sun. Jesus, the great high
priest, the perfect one, the one who doesn’t need to make sacrifices everyday
because he has atoned for the sins of all the world by dying on the cross for
us, doesn’t treat Batimaeus with disdain, he treats him the same as everyone
else who calls upon him, he simply asks ‘What do you want me to do for you?’,
such a simple question, full of compassion.
When we reach out to God in our distress all he asks is to know what he
can do for us. Bartimaeus had complete
faith and trust in Jesus and that brought him healing, he regained his
sight. The trials and tribulations of
everyday life can sometimes seem so severe, that we really lay into God and
plead with him for release from our suffering and we get angry, just as Jed
Bartlett did. We may not get the answer
straight away, it may not come in the way we expect, but we can be sure it will
come. For Jed, his consolation comes
when the dead Mrs Landingham appears to
him. We may not know when or where our
consolation will come from…but we can be sure that it will come.
Saturday, October 20, 2012
WORDS MATTER
A reflection the readings for Proper 24/B: Job 38:1-7, Hebrews 4:12-16, Mark 10:35-45 - by The Rev. Margaret Rose
At the back
of the dining hall where I went to camp every summer as a child there is a
large wooden plaque. On it is
written: “Words are so powerful that
they should only be used to bless, to heal, and to prosper.” The saying may have come from some poet, but
I knew them from the owner of the camp, Sue Henry. Sue had many such sayings that only she could
get across with great meaning. She had
been a boarding school English teacher—one of those who cared deeply about
students, teaching and the world at large.
Another of her sayings was “Humor that hurts another is not humor at
all”. You can be sure there was not a
lot of bullying at that camp. Words were meant to be used carefully and
only as needed. Words are so powerful
they should only be used to bless, to heal and to prosper. Holy
Scripture of course, and perhaps Christianity itself, is all about words. John’s Gospel is the prime example: “In the beginning was the Word and the Word
was with God and the word was God.”
In the
scripture lesson from Job, God speaks out of the silence of the whirlwind to
the suffering Job, “ Who is this that darkens counsel by words without
knowledge.”
In other words, do not speak unless you know what you are talking about.
In other words, do not speak unless you know what you are talking about.
And in the text of the Hebrews
there is a vivid picture of the power of words in scripture. “The word of God is living and active,
sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing until it divides soul from spirit,
joints from marrow; it is able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the
heart.” I can almost see words
dividing soul from spirit when hearing certain news---the diagnosis of cancer,
the quiet word from the doctor that there was nothing that could be done, the
difficult word that a friendship or lifelong partnership has ended. Words “dividing
joints from marrow” remind me of standing at the butcher counter watching the
skilled butcher at his craft, with the sharpest of knives, remove the bones
from the piece of meat. We don’t often
think of words in such a powerful way.
“Sticks and Stones may break my bones but
words will never hurt me.” Not True. Yes
they will.
Actually
that is what the political campaigns that we have been suffering these past few
months are all about. Whose words will carry
the day? And the debates are certainly a
verbal boxing match with the hope that our particular candidate will deliver
the knock out blow. Yet words, even
political words, also have the power to heal.
Last night I watched the videos of the two candidates for President
speaking at the Al Smith Foundation dinner.
Sponsored by the Catholic Church, it raises money for children in
poverty. The words this time were
roasts—humor used to help each laugh with the other and finally to state that
what really matters is the state of the world and how to make it better. These words were used to heal to bless to
prosper, even among the politicians.
Recently,
theologian Gustav Niebuhr wrote an article in the Harvard Divinity School
magazine called, Choosing Words over
Bullets. In it he spoke of The Parliament of World Religions, an
organization which for over a century has sought peace and understanding, and
promotes efforts of the various
religions to find ways to talk to one another, to share their religious
traditions—Christian, Moslem, Jewish, Buddhist, Jain, and more. They seek mutual understanding and lay a
foundation that puts relationship over turf battles, among religious traditions
or indeed nation states. Recent news makes this interreligious understanding
and dialogue even more vital for peace
in our world. How quick we are to assume
that one group does not care as much as another about human life or to
generalize one experience and claim this is the religious norm. Words may not seem like much. But when they are the cause of violence in
the name of our religions they have the
power of a two edged sword.
In the
Gospel today, it is the disciples who do not know the power of their words.
Almost like children they ask Jesus for a favor. “Let us sit next to you.” Let us be your special ones, at the places of honor on your right and on your left. Jesus is quick to reply. “You do not know what you are saying.” He lets them know that this request is one which calls for great sacrifice, suffering and death. The other disciples, of course, ( in not much more mature fashion) are angry that the two would seek a special place. As only Jesus can do, he moves to the heart of the matter. Their life together is not about who can sit at the right or left hand of God but who can be a disciple. And discipleship is about servanthood , caring less about who is the greatest, or who might rule over another but how one might follow Jesus, coming not to serve but to serve. Eventually Jesus words or his refusal to speak brought him to the cross.
Almost like children they ask Jesus for a favor. “Let us sit next to you.” Let us be your special ones, at the places of honor on your right and on your left. Jesus is quick to reply. “You do not know what you are saying.” He lets them know that this request is one which calls for great sacrifice, suffering and death. The other disciples, of course, ( in not much more mature fashion) are angry that the two would seek a special place. As only Jesus can do, he moves to the heart of the matter. Their life together is not about who can sit at the right or left hand of God but who can be a disciple. And discipleship is about servanthood , caring less about who is the greatest, or who might rule over another but how one might follow Jesus, coming not to serve but to serve. Eventually Jesus words or his refusal to speak brought him to the cross.
I imagine
that he was always aware of their spoken power, not only to heal, bless and
prosper, but as the Incarnate Word for the salvation of God’s world.
The Rev’d
Margaret Rose
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Sometimes Stuff Happens, Even Grace...
A reflection on the readings for Proper 23B: Job
23:1-9, 16-17; Hebrews
4:12-16; Mark
10:17-31 by the Rev. Terri C. Pilarski
Last week our readings were very complex. We began the book of Job with some troubling concepts presented about God, humanity, and the Satan. And we heard a difficult reading in the Gospel of Mark about divorce. But as a congregation we were celebrating the feast day of St. Francis and the kids were with us for the entire service. So instead of reflecting on the difficult readings I read a story, directed at the kids, but relevant to all of us, and we talked about the life and ministry of St. Francis.
So – this morning we have a little catching up to do. Let’s begin with last week’s troubling passage in Mark about divorce. Remember someone asked Jesus if it was okay for a husband to divorce his wife. And Jesus says, yes, according to the law of Moses it is okay. But, Jesus says, that doesn’t mean it is the right thing to do.
What Jesus is referring too, however, is not the kind of relationship that married couples have in this country today. Jesus is referring to legal contracts which made the wife a man’s possession. Cancelling this legal contract and disowning the wife meant that the woman was abandoned. She became a target for abuse, poverty, disease, and death. Jesus is making the marriage contract a binding one in order that women will be protected.
We also began the book of Job last week. It has been said that Job is a noble work of literature equal to the Greek tragedies, Dante’s Diving Comedy, Milton’s Paradise Lost and Goethe’s Faust. Modeled also on an ancient Babylonian myth about the god Marduk, Job exemplifies the literature of that era exploring the reality of suffering and the meaning of life. Job was probably written between the 6th and 3rd century BCE.
The characters in Job include:
God, who has a court of counselors who advise God.
The Satan – one of the members of God’s council. The Satan in Job is not the demonic counterforce familiar in Christianity and portrayed as the source of temptation and backsliding in C.S. Lewis’ Screwtape Letters. Nor is the Satan God’s evil antagonist, as described in Christian theology. Like the tempter in Jesus’ wilderness experience, Job’s Satan seeks to find out if our faith is authentic.[i]
The friends of Job: “Wise men” – each of these characters is a foreigner from places known for wisdom in the Near East during ancient Israel.[ii]
The story of Job is dealing with the reality of suffering and how to explain it or understand it. The friends of Job move around the questions and attempt to answer them from their own traditional belief in a God who rewards people for what they have done “right” and punishes people for what they have done “wrong.”
Job however raises a deeper question than right or wrong cause and effect. Job ponders the despair that accompanies suffering; especially the sense that God is absent in the presence of suffering which heightens the despair.
Job wonders, “What kind of a God is this God who in the face of suffering is nowhere to be seen?
The story of Job pushes us to explore the reality that God is in the midst of our suffering even when we have no idea how or where God is. Job meets God in a whirlwind – which suggests that in the very midst of our deepest despair God is there. God is a bigger God than the one Job’s friends portray – God is less concerned with punishment and reward and more concerned with being present in the center of the storm and working with us to transform suffering, through hope and grace and mercy, into some form of new life.
In this regard, transforming suffering into hope and new life, the story of Job mirrors the Christian story of what God is doing in and through Jesus. It’s the hope, grace, and mercy that the Eucharist points us toward. God is present in our suffering and leads us through it into a new place.
The thing is, as Job portrays, it isn’t always possible to know how God is with us. There are no obvious signs, like the whirlwind of cloud and dust nor do we hear the voice of God like Job did. Life does not always have a complete restoration of what was lost. A loved one who has died does not come back to life. Sometimes life just brings more suffering.
So the story of Job is a myth for the process of suffering in which we experience the absence and silence of God. The struggle is in part, how to remain faithful while moving through the suffering to a new place. The new place one experiences is usually the result of an inner transformation – something inside of us changes and thus the way we perceive the situation changes.
Richard Rohr in his book Job and the Mystery of Suffering addresses this when he suggests that the verb used to describe Job as repenting IN sack cloth and ashes may also be interpreted as Job repenting FROM sack cloth and ashes – in other words Job transforms internally and changes his outward action – he no longer sits as a passive victim consumed by anger and stifled by frustration but becomes someone who is working to move through his suffering into a new place.
The book we read in Lent, Speaking of Sin by Barbara Brown Taylor, discusses the merits of acknowledging that there is real evil in the world, sin happens, there are consequences, but sometimes those consequences are not obvious because they affect other people more than ourselves. This is the global sin that Mark makes reference too in the Gospel – sin that comes from how one segment of society lives and how that lifestyle impacts others – so for example, the coffee we drink can either sustain coffee farmers – if its Fair Trade - or deprive them of living wage. The cell phones and tablets and iPads and ebooks that we use are sometimes made by people working in substandard conditions, sweat shops, earning something less than a living wage.
Job reminds us that our suffering and the suffering of others is not a punishment that God deals out, but is part of life. Sometimes stuff happens.
The Gospel pushes around the idea that stuff happens, suggesting that sometimes the suffering of the world may in fact be the consequence of how we are living.
Either way we are not to be passive victims of our own suffering nor impassionate disinterested passersby of the suffering of others.
Our reading from Hebrews reminds us that what we do matters. Can we summon up hope in the midst of suffering? Or at the very least can we muster the hope for hope? Can we come to a place of inner peace in the midst of suffering? Can we recognize the suffering of others and how our lifestyle might be contributing to that suffering?
There is beauty in this broken world and beauty in our broken lives. The task of being a person of faith is to trust that. And in time, as we move through our suffering, we will be able to recognize that beauty, claim, and proclaim it as the grace and mercy of an ever present God.
Last week our readings were very complex. We began the book of Job with some troubling concepts presented about God, humanity, and the Satan. And we heard a difficult reading in the Gospel of Mark about divorce. But as a congregation we were celebrating the feast day of St. Francis and the kids were with us for the entire service. So instead of reflecting on the difficult readings I read a story, directed at the kids, but relevant to all of us, and we talked about the life and ministry of St. Francis.
So – this morning we have a little catching up to do. Let’s begin with last week’s troubling passage in Mark about divorce. Remember someone asked Jesus if it was okay for a husband to divorce his wife. And Jesus says, yes, according to the law of Moses it is okay. But, Jesus says, that doesn’t mean it is the right thing to do.
What Jesus is referring too, however, is not the kind of relationship that married couples have in this country today. Jesus is referring to legal contracts which made the wife a man’s possession. Cancelling this legal contract and disowning the wife meant that the woman was abandoned. She became a target for abuse, poverty, disease, and death. Jesus is making the marriage contract a binding one in order that women will be protected.
We also began the book of Job last week. It has been said that Job is a noble work of literature equal to the Greek tragedies, Dante’s Diving Comedy, Milton’s Paradise Lost and Goethe’s Faust. Modeled also on an ancient Babylonian myth about the god Marduk, Job exemplifies the literature of that era exploring the reality of suffering and the meaning of life. Job was probably written between the 6th and 3rd century BCE.
The characters in Job include:
God, who has a court of counselors who advise God.
The Satan – one of the members of God’s council. The Satan in Job is not the demonic counterforce familiar in Christianity and portrayed as the source of temptation and backsliding in C.S. Lewis’ Screwtape Letters. Nor is the Satan God’s evil antagonist, as described in Christian theology. Like the tempter in Jesus’ wilderness experience, Job’s Satan seeks to find out if our faith is authentic.[i]
The friends of Job: “Wise men” – each of these characters is a foreigner from places known for wisdom in the Near East during ancient Israel.[ii]
The story of Job is dealing with the reality of suffering and how to explain it or understand it. The friends of Job move around the questions and attempt to answer them from their own traditional belief in a God who rewards people for what they have done “right” and punishes people for what they have done “wrong.”
Job however raises a deeper question than right or wrong cause and effect. Job ponders the despair that accompanies suffering; especially the sense that God is absent in the presence of suffering which heightens the despair.
Job wonders, “What kind of a God is this God who in the face of suffering is nowhere to be seen?
The story of Job pushes us to explore the reality that God is in the midst of our suffering even when we have no idea how or where God is. Job meets God in a whirlwind – which suggests that in the very midst of our deepest despair God is there. God is a bigger God than the one Job’s friends portray – God is less concerned with punishment and reward and more concerned with being present in the center of the storm and working with us to transform suffering, through hope and grace and mercy, into some form of new life.
In this regard, transforming suffering into hope and new life, the story of Job mirrors the Christian story of what God is doing in and through Jesus. It’s the hope, grace, and mercy that the Eucharist points us toward. God is present in our suffering and leads us through it into a new place.
The thing is, as Job portrays, it isn’t always possible to know how God is with us. There are no obvious signs, like the whirlwind of cloud and dust nor do we hear the voice of God like Job did. Life does not always have a complete restoration of what was lost. A loved one who has died does not come back to life. Sometimes life just brings more suffering.
So the story of Job is a myth for the process of suffering in which we experience the absence and silence of God. The struggle is in part, how to remain faithful while moving through the suffering to a new place. The new place one experiences is usually the result of an inner transformation – something inside of us changes and thus the way we perceive the situation changes.
Richard Rohr in his book Job and the Mystery of Suffering addresses this when he suggests that the verb used to describe Job as repenting IN sack cloth and ashes may also be interpreted as Job repenting FROM sack cloth and ashes – in other words Job transforms internally and changes his outward action – he no longer sits as a passive victim consumed by anger and stifled by frustration but becomes someone who is working to move through his suffering into a new place.
The book we read in Lent, Speaking of Sin by Barbara Brown Taylor, discusses the merits of acknowledging that there is real evil in the world, sin happens, there are consequences, but sometimes those consequences are not obvious because they affect other people more than ourselves. This is the global sin that Mark makes reference too in the Gospel – sin that comes from how one segment of society lives and how that lifestyle impacts others – so for example, the coffee we drink can either sustain coffee farmers – if its Fair Trade - or deprive them of living wage. The cell phones and tablets and iPads and ebooks that we use are sometimes made by people working in substandard conditions, sweat shops, earning something less than a living wage.
Job reminds us that our suffering and the suffering of others is not a punishment that God deals out, but is part of life. Sometimes stuff happens.
The Gospel pushes around the idea that stuff happens, suggesting that sometimes the suffering of the world may in fact be the consequence of how we are living.
Either way we are not to be passive victims of our own suffering nor impassionate disinterested passersby of the suffering of others.
Our reading from Hebrews reminds us that what we do matters. Can we summon up hope in the midst of suffering? Or at the very least can we muster the hope for hope? Can we come to a place of inner peace in the midst of suffering? Can we recognize the suffering of others and how our lifestyle might be contributing to that suffering?
There is beauty in this broken world and beauty in our broken lives. The task of being a person of faith is to trust that. And in time, as we move through our suffering, we will be able to recognize that beauty, claim, and proclaim it as the grace and mercy of an ever present God.
[i]
Bruce Epperly at Process and Faith Blog: http://processandfaith.org/resources/lectionary-commentary/yearb/2012-10-14/proper-23
[ii]
The Interpreter’s One-Volume Commentary on the Bible: Abingdon Press, 1971
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