Twenty-First Sunday after Pentecost, Year B

Donna G. Joy

Job 38:1-7, 34-41  Mark 10:35-45

I suspect that each of us has, at times, wondered why there is so much suffering in the world. I suspect that many of us have questioned (perhaps challenged) God on that very subject.

Recently in the news we have been reading about 14 year old Malala Yousafzai who was shot by the Taliban. She is a beautiful, courageous, smart, insightful young person who has dedicated her childhood to championing education for girls (like herself) in Pakistan.

As I read of this event, I join with countless others in asking God, why? Why is this young person (and SO many countless others) made to suffer through such challenges and such inexplicable pain?

Here in Canada we have also been following the story of Amanda Todd, who committed suicide a week and a half ago. The agony of her life and death has captured our attention and motivated Canadians to start addressing the issue of bullying with a renewed sense of urgency (and in this case, cyber space bullying in particular). Amanda made one big mistake when she was about 12 years old. Following the lead of someone who is almost certain to be an adult she posted something very personal on line and ever since then she has been tormented and bullied by her peers along with the world way beyond her peers to the point that the only way she could envision an end to the bullying was to end her life. She actually told her story with a series of flash cards and published it on the internet just days before she ended her life. As I read of this event, I join with countless others in asking, why? Why is this young person (and SO many countless others) made to suffer through such challenges and such pain?

And, in addition to such stories as these, each of us has experienced various kinds of suffering. We may know the physical and emotion pain of injuries, or illness; the psychological/spiritual/emotional pain of broken relationships, death of loved ones, financial stress, employment insecurity, ridicule that can occur in so many different forms. And often, I am sure, we find ourselves asking, "Why am I - or those who I care about - made to suffer through such challenges and such pain?"

Well, herein lies the Book of Job: the story of a good man – an exceptionally good man -who has been blessed with children and greatwealth.  But one day, and for no apparent reason, Job is plunged into terrible suffering. In a series of disasters, his children are taken from him, his cattle are seized and his property is destroyed. And as if that isn't enough, he also begins to develop debilitating health issues: painful sores from head to foot.

In the midst of all these catastrophic events, Job finds himself discussing with his friends the problem of human suffering. They ponder and discuss such things as, "Is our suffering a punishment for our sins?" "Does God even know about our suffering?" "Does God even care about our suffering, or even worst, is God the one who causes it to happen?"

Well this discussion between Job and his friends carries on until one of Job's friends expresses his exasperation that they have found no answer to the questions they have raised, at which point God Himself finally speaks.

And this is where this morning's passage begins. Here we have God's response to the discussion that has been taking place. Finally, God Himself speaks to Job. God's response is not likely what Job was expecting or wanting, but it is a response none-the-less. God answers Job, but not according to Job's definition of the problem of suffering. Instead God transposes the issue to another level which emphasizes God's power and divine knowledge in contrast to the human weakness and ignorance of Job.

In a series of rhetorical questions that contrast the power and wisdom of God with the weakness and ignorance of Job, the speech argues that, since Job was not present at the creation and has no notion of how such matters as the sun's rising occur, he has no right to demand such explanations.

God, clearly, does not and will not give Job a straight answer. So, if we, along with Job are looking for God to explain why bad things happen to good people and how justice reigns in the cosmos, neither God nor the Book of Job as a whole provides any clear answers. If the Book of Job poses the question of why the righteous suffer, then the conclusion seems to be that we
cannot know the ways of God, and to insist that God act in a certain way is to limit God's great power and knowledge and potential. To insist that God act in a certain way is to expect that it is possible to confine God to our own limited ideas of what is possible.

There is a story of a little girls sitting at a table about to eat dinner with her parents. As she listened to her mother say grace, she was especially intrigued that she thanked God for God's presence everywhere.
After her mother finished her prayer the little girl asked if God really is everywhere, to which her mother responded, "Yes." The little girl then asked if God is in their house, to which her mother responded, "Yes."Then, "Is God in the kitchen?" "Yes." Her mother replied. "Is God on this table?" And again, her mother replied, "Yes." Then, finally, pointing to the cup that was holding her milk, "Is God in this cup?" And when her mother, once again, replied, "Yes," the little girl quickly covered the cup with her hand and exclaimed, "I've got Him!"

In Job's attempt to make sense out of his suffering, and insisting that God act in a certain way, Job is trying desperately to figure God out by confining God to his own narrow conception of who God is. In other words, Job was trying to get God to respond within the limited confines of Job's own theological cup.

Bottom line here, it seems to me, Job was a righteous man, a good man, and therefore believed that he was to be spared from such suffering. He is challenging God, to which God puts him in his place. God reminds Job, and each of us, that we are too tiny and within the confines of our human condition our understanding of the cosmos is too limited. God reminds us, "You were not present at the time of creation; there are so many mysteries that you cannot possibly understand. You - therefore - have no right to demand such explanations." Indeed, we discover here that to insist God act in a certain way is to expect that it is possible to confine God to our own limited ideas of what is possible.

So, what are we to learn from this seemingly unsatisfactory response to Job's questions, because when tragedy strikes innocent people, it challenges our belief that God is good, wise and powerful. And although God's response is not what Job would have expected, or what we might prefer, the Book of Job does explore these probing questions and inadvertently offers us some bearings.

First of all, God entirely desires the well-being of His creation. God takes pleasure in Job's upright life, and trusts that Job will keep his faith even through intense and prolonged trial.

We do not find answers to the questions of why bad things happen to good people; answers to these questions are simply not there to be found. What we do discover, however, is a God who never abandons those who suffer; a God who longs to be acknowledged; a God whose power makes it possible for us to endure; and, at the same time, a God who reminds us that our knowledge of such things is limited – that only God who is the creator of things in heaven and earth can possess such knowledge; a God who, all in the fullness of time, will restore us to life.

This piece of 'not knowing' is extremely challenging for us today, as our culture's predominant world view is one that human knowledge is limitless, that knowledge is power and, therefore, humanity is all powerful. But this passage turns that worldview completely upside down.

This is what we discover in the Book of Job; this is as far as the Book of Job can take us. But what we also discover today is that God continues his response to Job's questions with and through the gift of Jesus. In and with and through Jesus the whole matter of God's response to human suffering is taken much further; God's response to human suffering is fulfilled. Here we see God involved in human suffering; participating in human suffering.

In this morning's passage from Mark's Gospel, we hear the story of James and John who might be seen, by some anyway, as righteous. They are, after all,followers of Jesus, and clearly seem to think that there is some sense of entitlement that comes with this role. In some ways they're not unlike Job who, in the midst of his trials, demands that God act in a particular and certain way. They approach Jesus in a similar way that Job approached God, as they say, "Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you." And, when Jesus asks them to be more specific, they respond, "Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory." In other words, now that we are good and righteous in a whole new way as your followers, we ask (insist) that you allow us to sit next to you and protect us from all harm.

At this point in Mark's Gospel they have been told three times already that the Son of Man must suffer, and die, and rise again . . . and they have also been told that Jesus' followers must pick up their cross and follow him. And still, good old James and John want to be kept comfortable and protected from pain and suffering. But perhaps I shouldn't be quite so hard on those two, tired disciples. Perhaps they are no different than most of the rest of us.

It can't have been easy trooping around with Jesus through Judea. Their request can, at least in part, be seen as understandable and even quite typical in terms of what most of us might tend to expect: Teacher, when you finally get everything together and win your kingdom, we have to insist that you let us sit beside you in glory and comfort. Teacher, when you at last bring peace on earth, let that peace first be in my heart, my marriage, my family, my community. Teacher, when you at last lift up the poor and set things right in the world, be sure that I am one of the major beneficiaries.

And Jesus replies to this perfectly understandable request by saying: "You do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?" We know what the disciples don't yet know because we know how Mark's Gospel will end.  The road that Jesus is walking is a road that leads to torture and a humiliating, public death on a cross. The 'cup' that Jesus is to drink is the cup of his horrible death. The 'baptism' that will drown him is the baptism of his death as he suffocates to death on a cross.

They ask to sit next to Jesus in his glory, one on his right, one on his left. But, we soon discover that when Jesus came into his glory, it was not on a throne but on a cross with two thieves, one on his right and one on his left.

Indeed, it seems to me, Jesus is God's response to Job's questions. Jesus has come to enter into the messy experience of grave, human suffering; the kind of suffering with which Job was inflicted; the kind of suffering known only too well to Malala Yousafzai, Amanda Todd, and to each and every one of us in our own particular way. The mission of Jesus is to share in our suffering and redeem us in rather than from it. The theology of the cross does not explain human suffering, but it makes suffering bearable because in Christ we see God involved in it. On the cross Jesus enters into human
suffering.

I remember, several years ago, reading a line from the theologian you've heard me speak of often, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who was in a Nazi prison. Later he would be executed because he was considered a threat to Hitler and the Third Reich. But before his death, Bonhoeffer wrote from prison these words: "Only a suffering God can help." I've spent the better part of my whole ordained life trying to figure out what these six words could possible mean. "Only a suffering God can help." I have found it confusing because the God of my childhood seemed to speak of an all-powerful, sovereign God whose
purpose was to help me and protect me from the suffering that seems to be so much a part of the human condition. But I think I am growing closer to a better sense of what this may mean. The God made manifest in Jesus is not all powerful in a Superman or Wonder Woman kind of way. God's power is the power of compassion, mercy and love. God's power is the power of One who has suffered, on our behalf; who through the cross continues to suffer as humanity suffers; who rises from the ashes of this suffering offering hope for a new tomorrow. To say only a suffering God can help is just another way of saying that we are never alone in our suffering; God is intimately there with us and all who suffer. Once again, the mission of Jesus is to share in our suffering and redeem us in rather than from it.

So this message has the potential to be deeply comforting, and at the same time it is profoundly challenging: Challenging, because we are to drink from that same cup of sacrifice. Just as Jesus has made the ultimate sacrifice for the whole of humanity, we too must respond to the needs of the world and sacrifice for others. Jesus is not a technique for getting what we want out of God; Jesus is God's way of getting what God wants out of us.

God wants a world that is redeemed; restored to God. Jesus says that this ransomed world is the whole reason why he has come, the cause of his suffering and rejection. And the way God gets a ransomed, redeemed world is through ordinary people like us who are willing to walk like Jesus, talk like Jesus, and yes, even if necessary to suffer like Jesus.

So, when we suffer, we can know that, in ways we may not currently comprehend, God through Jesus suffers with us; that our suffering and the suffering of those we love will be redeemed in Jesus; that there is always hope rising from the ashes of our despair. Maybe not exactly as we may wish, but always offering new hope in ways that we may not even know how to ask or imagine.

When the Malala Yousafzai's of this world suffer and sacrifice their own safety, often their own lives, in order to receive such basic human rights as education, we are expected to follow the way of Jesus; we are expected to drink his cup of self-sacrifice and God's love made manifest in a way that encompasses the whole of humanity. To drink of Jesus' cup is to care
about such atrocities and respond.

This might involve something as simple as signing a petition, urging Pakistan's President Zardari to commit to funding for the education of Pakistani girls. The UN Education Envoy will meet with him very soon, and it is said that hand delivering 1 million signatures will strengthen his case. (If you wish to help reach this goal and be one to send one of these letters, you can do so by following this link:http://www.avaaz.org/en/malala_reblast_1/?bINrqcb&v=18952.)

It might also mean checking with the Mennonite Central Committee to send school supplies to places where supplies are desperately needed. But main point here is that to drink of Jesus' cup is to care about such atrocities and respond.

When we hear of Amanda Todd's tortured, young life, we are expected to follow the way of Jesus; we are expected to drink his cup of self-sacrifice and God's love made manifest in a way that encompasses the whole of humanity. We need to stand in the way of all bullying. This may mean participating in organizations that fight against this particular atrocity, or it may mean faithfully speaking and acting out against any bullying that we may observe. But again, the main point here is that to drink of Jesus' cup is to care about such atrocities and respond.

Where is God in the midst of suffering? God is on the cross, suffering with each and every one of us, and God is working in and through each of us as we respond to the atrocities of this world.

As I reflect on these readings it becomes increasingly clear to me that the God who responds to Job's questions, continues his response through the Incarnation of Jesus, and by extension through each of us. Amen.

Resources: Jewish Study Bible; William Willimon; N.T.Wright; Dietrich Bonhoeffer;