If you were to die this
afternoon …
it is likely that by the end
of the month, I, along with your family and friends would gather with your body
or ashes in a cemetery. Standing on muddy ground in a wide-open space, huddled
shoulder to shoulder as a cold persistent wind blows, our eyes brimming with
tears, we would individually take a breath and sigh;
connected in that moment with
faces turned toward the earth we find an insulated stillness…
My voice casts the Word,
scripture, that hangs in the air as a blanket of comfort for the heart – I
know that my Redeemer lives, and that at the last he will stand upon the earth;
and after my skin has been thus destroyed, then in my flesh I shall see God,
whom I shall see on my side, and my eyes shall behold, and not another.
When
asked, “Where is this passage from?” who would guess the book of Job? I suspect
many would guess it was from one of Paul’s letters. This blanket of comfort for
the heart - I know that my Redeemer lives- is ancient! Ancient as in the 7th-4th
centuries BCE, that is 4-7 centuries before Jesus lived. The book draws on several
genres and traditions of ancient Levantine peoples forming the book around far
more ancient folktales that explore themes of undeserved suffering and final
restoration. Job is a legendary figure of antiquity, from the remote ancestral
period with the likes of Noah. With our ancient ancient ancestors we continue
to turn our faces toward the earth, finding an insulated stillness and
sacredness in the burying our dead; calm and comfort in the intonation: earth
to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
The Book of Job is an
ancient text that has layer after layer added and tweaked as humans try to
account for suffering. We learn through the story that Job’s human
understanding is limited, unable to classify suffering other than reduced to
legal categories of guilt or innocence. While the book of Job ponders
suffering, ‘why bad things happen to good people,’ questions where God is and
why is God, if God is just, not addressing inexplicable human suffering – it has been suggested that the principal
theological issue is presented at the beginning of the book: Will mortals –
human beings- be religious (will they fear God) if there are no rewards or
punishments?
That is a weighty question.
Would human beings choose to be religious, faithful, and fear God, if there
were no rewards or punishments attached? Without threat of judgement or hell?
Without golden crowns and a seat in heaven? Without reward for ‘doing what is
right,’ ‘loving neighbour and enemy alike’? Amid persecution, suffering, and without
answers to age old questions: Would -could- the human heart freely and
willingly choose to love God?
Reading the book of Job for
me, is like gathering at a graveside, in the moment when the gathered faces are
turned to the earth and focused on the remains of a fellow human being – when
there is a momentary pause for the mind and heart to be still; in the fleeting
moment of facing our own eventual return to the earth, ancient ancient words
are delivered in the extraordinary beauty of the poetry and mysteriously bring
a sense of meaning. Commentaries comment on the elusiveness of divine speeches
in Job, acknowledging that there is no answer to the questions Job poses that
will satisfy the human intellect. Yet holy words in the form of poetry do. In
the end, at the end, resolution to life’s questions are found in the depths of
faithfulness before a mysterious God. English speakers have a phrase, “the patience
of Job”, patience in the sense of endurance, persistence, and steadfastness –
this is the depth of faithfulness.
In the Lutheran calendar
that commemorates faithful witnesses through the ages, 19th Century
Danish theologian Soren Kierkegaard is remembered on Nov. 11. Kierkegaard sounded
like the prophets, decrying the complacency of the established church of his
day demonstrated in its lean toward intellectualized faith and a bending to be
accepted by the society. In his writings there is an exploration of faith that
has depth and is in communion with the Absolute (his expression of God’s name
and character). Kierkegaard’s theology is at home in the questions of Job, the
ongoing cosmic conversation, the pontificating of Job’s friends, and the Word
mysteriously winding through the poetry of the text. Kierkegaard reflects:
Truth is not something you
can appropriate easily and quickly. You certainly cannot sleep or dream
yourself to the truth. No, you must be tried, do battle, and suffer if you are
to acquire the truth for yourself. It is a sheer illusion to think that in
relation to the truth there is an abridgement, a short cut that dispenses with
the necessity for struggling for it.
In an Abstract, Benedict
Egbuchunam distills a portion of Kierkegaard’s philosophy to this statement:
Suffering, which is a dying
to immediacy, is an essential expression of the relationship to the Absolute.
Suffering, which is a dying
to immediacy, is an essential expression of the relationship to the Absolute.
We live in a society that
prizes immediacy. At our fingertips the internet has the answers to our
questions. With a voice command, Siri or Alexa can turn out our lights or turn
up the heat. Pinpointing our location, Google maps will give us step-by-step
directions to where we want to go. When we have a craving, the supermarket has
the food we want, whether in season or not. Doordash or other such service can
deliver takeout or groceries to our door in no time. Streaming services allow
us to watch what we want when we want. Work is about efficiency, a list of
tasks completed in the shortest amount of time. We like results, quick fixes,
and quarterly gains. It is preferred to buy new than take the time or energy to
repair or repurpose.
Immediacy
has and is shaping us. We use substances to mask pain. We go to great lengths
to avoid conflict. As a society we apply band-aids to alleviate poverty rather
than addressing the core problems. We opt out of uncomfortable situations and ghost
those we find difficult. We assume we know, rather than listening. And when it
comes to death there are options perceived to decrease suffering by speeding up
the dying process.
And after death, there are
less visitations or wakes, “too hard” people say. There are fewer funerals,
“too sad” people say. There are less graveside services or scattering of ashes
– because heaven forbid, we would take the time – to let go of the immediacy of
taking care of things and just be still. To risk suffering a broken heart, to experience
a fear of death, to have the ego suffer an acknowledgement of being human,
fragile, hurt, and broken. Humans who for centuries have pondered the purpose
of life, the cosmic actions and character of God, why suffering happens, have an
insatiable hunger to understand, and we can not unless we let go of immediacy
to stop and be still – and like our ancient ancient ancestors turn our gaze
towards the earth and remember that we are dust and to dust we shall return.
So many bypass the pause and miss finding in suffering the depths of faith
and falling into the Absolute. Be still and know that I am God.
The good news for me this
morning is that I am reminded that I am human, with a myriad of ancestors who asked
and pondered the same questions. I find truth told through the stories of
ancient ancestors who journeyed through immense suffering with endurance, persistence,
and steadfastness. The good news in the book of Job is that in the same breath Job
pleads to have his suffering recognized, he claims the promise of a redeemer
who is long in coming. Hearing Job’s journey, suffering is not an end, it is an
agent of change, that works deep in the bones awakening a depth of substance. Moving
in the deep, there is cosmic Mystery, and in the stillness, the Absolute.
Stripped down – meaning no immediate
reward or obvious benefit- Would - could – a human heart choose to love God? Ancestors
like Job most assuredly say ‘yes.’ In the cemetery huddled with others turning
our face to the earth, finding a moment of insulated stillness - the answer is
yes, I know that my redeemer lives.
O
Lord, support us all the day long of this troubled life, until the shadows
lengthen and the evening comes and the busy world is hushed, the fever of life
is over, and our work is done. Then, in your mercy, grant us a safe lodging,
and a holy rest, and peace at the last, through Jesus Christ our Lord. (ELW prayer
421)
No comments:
Post a Comment