A Reflection for Friday of the Twenty-Sixth Week in Peculiar Time
Have you ever ever in your lifetime commanded the morning
and shown the dawn its place
For taking hold of the ends of the earth,
till the wicked are shaken from its surface? (Jb 38:12-13)
The theme of today’s readings appears to be, “Who do you think that you’re?” Within the Gospel, Jesus chastises all those that have seen the works of the Lord yet refuse to acknowledge their significance. And in the primary reading, God tears into Job for complaining in regards to the suffering he has endured.
This is just not a simple message! Particularly in the primary reading, God looks as if a reasonably bad guy. He has allowed Devil first to destroy Job’s livelihood after which to kill his entire family as a test of humanity’s capability to remain faithful, after which when questioned by Job, the perfect he can say is, “Who’re you to inquire from me?” It’s just about the ancient-deity equivalent of “Because I said so,” and the sort of response we’ve every right to get upset about. If we consider that God made a promise to be there for his people (and that’s the center of the Old Testament narrative, and our own faith too), he must do quite a bit higher than that.
In any meaningful relationship, sometimes taking the chance of claiming what you really think and feel is itself the trail out of the desert.
Consider it or not, the book of Job actually represented an evolution in Jewish fascinated with suffering. Prior to Job and among the other wisdom literature, suffering was understood as a sign of wrongdoing. In the event you got sick, had a baby die in childbirth or had a run of other terrible misfortune, you have to have committed some sort of grievous sin. Your pain was on you.
But Job does nothing flawed; in truth he’s first introduced as “blameless and upright.” (Job 1:1) Fairly than being our fault, suffering is known as something that just happens sometimes. That’s the reality God is supposed to be expressing in our reading, if in a really poor way: Why does suffering occur? Who knows? It just does.
If that reality makes us indignant, or the God of Job’s “Shut up and eat your breakfast” tone infuriates us, well, possibly that’s a superb thing. Most of us were taught being indignant at God was taboo, no less than a sin and at worst “Duck your head since the lightning is coming” dangerous. But we’ve known hard times, a few of us very hard times, or we’ve witnessed people we love ravaged by disease or addiction in ways in which just seem cruel or malicious. It’s only natural in those moments to show to God, who we hear again and again at church is here for us, loves us, walks with us, and ask, “Well? How about it? Where are you now that we really need you?”
We do this in good company, too. Within the Gospels of Mark and Matthew, Jesus himself looks up from the cross to wonder at God’s absence.
Will God have a greater response to our questions than he did to Job? I’d prefer to hope so, given how we see Jesus treat people within the Gospels. But as in any meaningful relationship, sometimes taking the chance of claiming what you really think and feel is itself the trail out of the desert. What’s shared isn’t any longer carried alone; in truth, it’s often released.
