Pentecost 19, Year B
Donna Joy

Job 1:1, 2:1-10, Mark 10:2-16

Today I want to reflect on the question, “Where is God when it hurts?” Reading through the Globe and Mail I came across an article on the Oregon shooting this past week, where 9 were killed and 9 injured. My heart goes out to teachers, students, school staff - whose sense of terror and loss has reached a depth that I am not able to comprehend... My heart goes out to all the friends, siblings, parents and other family members of those who were injured and killed...

There is a photograph of fourteen year old Elizabeth at a prayer vigil and the grief on her face is nothing short of heart wrenching.

Then there is the profile of the young man who chose to wreak havoc in this way... a profile that describes him as terribly broken; one who exhibits signs of anger and loneliness...

And, in addition to this, there is a courageous, yet visibly shaken, exasperated, and devastated U.S. President who vows to make gun violence a political issue. In his address on Thursday evening a seemingly heartbroken and subdued Obama said that the U.S. has grown numb to mass shootings, and this cannot be seen in any way other than a political issue.

I find myself asking the question, “Where is God in the midst of all this pain?” “Where is God in all the fear, as American people anticipate a next time?”

Last week our Diocesan Refugee Coordinator spoke to us about the devastating realities regarding refugees... Children, women, and men living in the most terrifying, uncomfortable and unhealthy conditions... fleeing from one war torn place... and yet, with no particular place in which to go. Where is God in the midst of this?”

This week I finished reading another Lisa Genova novel... Lisa Genova is a neuroscientist who also loves to write, so in each of her books she weaves a story around a particular neurological disorder. The book I finished this week is “Inside The Obriens” – a story about a 44 year old man – police officer - who is diagnosed with Huntington’s disease. Huntington’s is a lethal neurodegenerative disease with no treatment and no cure.

As the story unfolds the reader becomes familiar with the relationships between this man, his wife, and their four children who are in their twenties. As this family learns to live with the progression of the illness, they also have to live with the realization that each of the four children has a 50% chance of being HD positive. Will they go for the testing? Won’t they? While this is a work of fiction, it is based on all the real people with HD and their families whom Lisa Genova interviewed. I, as one of her readers, was made aware of the profound life changing realities that are inevitable with such a diagnosis, and how it affects each and every family member. Joe, the main character in this story, is married to Rosie who is a devout Irish Catholic, and as his disease progresses and impacts their family in some devastating ways, she asks the question, “Where is God in all this?”

This past week I spent some time with a friend who is living with the effects of divorce. The actual separation took place almost a decade ago, but because the dynamics were particularly difficult, the consequences continue to surface. Her children are now in their late teens and early twenties, and with much tenacity, hard work, and support they have worked and continue to work through the affects all this has had on them. My friend is a good and faithful soul, and the decision to leave her husband was not made easily or lightly, but as is so often the case, for reasons that the average person could never know it was a decision that had to be made. She and I have had many conversations, wondering where God is in the midst of her pain, the pain of her children, and the pain of her ex-husband whose life is fragile.

So, it is with all this in mind that I turn to our readings for today, beginning, of course with Job. This morning’s particular passage simply sets the stage where Job is described as an exceptionally good man, living at peace with God, prosperous, and blessed with a large family. For reasons that Job has no way of understanding, Job is faced with 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 loses his health. (It was interesting to move directly from reading ‘Inside the Obriens’ to this passage from the Book of Job. There really is no such thing as a new story.) As all this unfolds Job’s own wife urges him to abandon his faith in God, but he refuses to do so.

This morning’s reading ends there, but I think it is important to look ahead to how the story unfolds, with friends who visit and in a complex and beautifully expressed debate, they consider the problem of human suffering. Is our suffering a punishment for our sins? Does God know about our suffering? Does he care about it, or is he the one who inflicts it? These conversations in the Book of Job offer a profound reminder of the many unfortunate things that are said when people are trying to offer pastoral help in the midst of peoples’ pain and sorrows and disappointments. For example, how often have we heard people say, “God won’t give you anything you can’t handle...?” To say this is to say that God actually did cause this atrocity to happen. I believe this theology is wrong. Or, "Everything happens for a reason." To say this suggests that there is some master plan in which this or that terrible tragedy was all part of God's plan. Again, I believe this theology is wrong.

The Book of Job ends with affirming the mystery of human suffering, with the message that in the midst of it, God remains immeasurably great and unknowable; unfathomable, yet always present, and we often do not know why certain things happen. And yes, life can be tough; life can be hard. But in the midst of the pain, and grief, and disappointments, God is with us... giving us strength... And the lower we become, the more fragile we are, the smaller we may feel... the more open we are to discovering that great and awesome Presence of God. God does NOT cause suffering; God is the One who carries us through it. Much around the experience of suffering remains a mystery... This side of the grave we may never know why... but perhaps ‘why’ is not the right question to be asking... perhaps ‘where, God, might I find you in the midst of all this’ is the better question to ask.

And this brings us to our Gospel reading this morning, which is often a passage that is understood as Jesus’ decree on divorce; but I think it is so much more than that.

There’s an old joke about a guy who asks a rabbi, “Rabbi, why do Jews always answer a question with another question?” To which the rabbi responds, “Why do you ask?”

The rabbi Jesus is doing just that at the outset of this story. The Pharisees are trying to trick Jesus into saying something that will alienate him from both the Romans and the Jews as they ask him a question about divorce, “Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife?” and Jesus answers with another question: “What did Moses command?” Of course, they know the law, so they recite it, to which Jesus responds, “Because of your hardness of heart he wrote this commandment for you. But from the beginning of creation, ‘God made them male and female.’ ‘For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.’ So they are no longer two, but one flesh. Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate.” Then later on in someone’s home this discussion continues when people start bringing their children to be touched by Jesus; the disciples try to turn them away; but Jesus insists that they are free to come.

So, what are we to make of this? Why have we suddenly shifted from a discussion on divorce, to a scene with little children coming to Jesus? Once again, I am convinced that this is much more that simply Jesus’ decree on divorce. I think this message offers a clue as to where God (made known in Jesus) is when life is broken and painful and I suggest that our primary clue can be found in Jesus’ words, “Because of your hardness of heart he (Moses) wrote this commandment for you.” In order to make sense of this we need to recognize that in both Jewish and Roman law at the time, men had most (perhaps all) of the power. For Jewish couples, only the man could file for divorce, and he could do so for any reason. In both Roman and Jewish households it was women and children who would be most vulnerable if and when divorce occurred. It seems possible that – as is Jesus’ focus consistently - in emphasizing the unbreakable union of marriage, Jesus is protecting those who are vulnerable... because, in that culture, when divorce did happen, it was the women and children who would suffer. “Because of your hardness of heart.... Because the vulnerability of women and children is so often lost on you... Moses wrote this commandment... for you.”

Of course, marriages that stand the test of time are consistent with God’s best laid plans, as it says in our Anglican Liturgy, “Marriage... is a way of life that all should reverence, and none should lightly undertake." But, even still, it may be possible that Jesus is not actually emphasizing the wrongfulness of divorce... It may be that he is protecting those who are vulnerable. And it seems quite possible that what follows after this discussion... that is, Jesus insisting that the children be brought to him... He is making the point that those who are vulnerable can find in him a blessing and a warm embrace.

Because of human frailty and error, and sometimes sin, marriages do become broken, and when this happens, often hearts get broken, lives become fractured, and people suffer. The Anglican Church of Canada has created a liturgy to mark the end of a marriage; it is not intended to encourage divorce or to promote an indifferent attitude to marriage breakdown. It is intended to provide an opportunity for those involved to move from peril to hope; from the death of a relationship to hope from a new day. This liturgy includes these words:

Marriage is intended as a lifelong commitment, in which husband and wife give themselves to each other, to care for each other in good times and bad. They are linked to each other's families, and they begin a new life together in the community. Sometimes, however, despite good efforts, human frailty destroys marriage, changing mutual comfort and help into brokenness and pain. When a marriage ends in this way, memories are tarnished, and hopes and dreams are dashed. Many people are affected, family relationships may end, friends are saddened, and a time of mourning ensues. It is to acknowledge this, and to pray for healing and wholeness, that we gather here today.

I think it is important to be mindful of all this when pondering divorce from a Christian perspective, but having said that, I do think that this morning's Gospel reading offers much deeper and broader insight than simply stating a particular decree on the matter.

Contrary to the culture in which this Gospel took place, we currently live in a culture where people’s rights are protected when divorce happens, and so as far as legal issues are concerned people are (for the most part) protected. But we know that the hearts of men, women, and children alike often do become broken when marriages end ... and in this passage today, Jesus is saying to any one of us who knows what it is to be vulnerable and broken, “Come to me. I will wrap you in my arms. Lay my hands upon you. I will bless you.” God has come to us in Jesus, and draws us into his embrace in the midst of those difficult times.

I have been fascinated with the images of the children approaching Pope Francis, on his recent visit to the States. Like the disciples in this morning’s reading, the security guards tried to stop them, but Francis reached out to them, took them in his arms, and blessed them. This is a wonderful re-enactment (extension) of this morning’s reading.

Indeed, Jesus reaches out to us, to welcome us, and in the midst of our greatest weakness blesses us and gives us strength. And with this gift there comes a profound responsibility ... to embrace others as we have been embraced. As we become increasingly aware of our own vulnerabilities, along with the needs of those who are vulnerable in our church and our world, how might we partner with Jesus in reaching out, embracing, and responding in faithful ways?

As we accept the gift of Jesus’ blessing and embrace, and accept the responsibility that comes with this gift, we are never alone. Together, with all who gather in this place, Jesus reaches out to welcome us to and feed us at this table. For this is where Jesus gathers and embraces the sinful; the weak; the broken hearted, and empowers us to share that gift with others. This is where Jesus takes what is broken – our world, our relationships, our lives, our promises, and our covenants. Jesus invites us to this table, and when we come, all of us, to join the joyful feast, he takes the bread, blesses it, breaks it, and gives it to us. What is broken becomes whole. He pours out the cup, and in it we drink of the new covenant where our relationship with God is restored. Through sharing this meal together, we are given a taste of perfect wholeness, which we then embody and carry with us as we continue to seek healing and wholeness for ourselves and offer it to others.

In and through this meal.... This is where God is in the midst of pain, and brokenness, and suffering. Saints and sinners and all who are broken gather here, and in this breaking, blessing and giving we are renewed and restored, our brokenness healed in the bread that is broken, our emptiness filled by the cup that is poured, in the blessing that is freely given for you, for me, and somehow – through us, by extension, for the world in which we live: for those whose lives were forever changed this week in Oregon; those who have fled a war torn country and remain in limbo with no safe place to go to, those who struggle with debilitating illness and their families who suffer with them, those who live with the reality of relationships that are broken. Indeed, in this breaking, blessing, and giving - life in many forms is renewed and restored.