By Rev. Emily Joye Reynolds
Job 1:20-22
Sometimes when I listen to our cultural conversations about God,
not just in the Church, but in the culture at large, I'm confused. Sometimes
when I listen to the music of our tradition, particularly in the first service,
but even in here, sometimes, I'm confused. Sometimes when I read the Bible and
try to study who God is, how God is portrayed in and through the scriptures,
I'm confused. Sometimes when I reflect on my own life experience, how God has
shown up over my 33 years, I'm confused. I'm confused because most of the time,
it doesn't make sense. Doesn't add up. Doesn't compute.
Theology is not like cooking, or putting together furniture from IKEA, or paint by number. The instruction manuals, the discourse, the resounding claims of truth, when it comes to God, don't lead to some neat and tidy conclusion. There doesn't seem to be an end product, no matter how many of our conservative brethren try to convince us that it's as simple as believing in Jesus Christ in your heart and professing that he is Lord aloud with your lips. In fact, I've found the more you seek, the more you realize you don't know. And not knowing, while a very human experience, can also lead to tremendous anxiety.
The season of Lent is a time of wandering in the Wilderness, intentionally as Christians. For 40 days and 40 nights, we, like Christ, take intentional time and space to honor the trials, the tests, the straight up hard knocks of human life. One of the most common wilderness experiences in human life is not knowing. Specifically not knowing about God, about what is of Ultimate Concern (to use Tillich's phrase). Not knowing who put us here and why and what it all means and how we're supposed to respond. Mind you, I'm not talking about innocent ignorance or the shadows of doubt. I'm talking about the tremendous anxiety that can come when our life experience and what we've known to be true or don't know to be true come crashing in on us. I'm talking about uncertainty that can drive us to the brink of madness. Cognitive dissonance of the highest, threatening order. Times when not knowing isn't okay, when we demand, body and soul, answers. And what happens, both spiritually and materially, when those answers don't come no matter how hard we seek them.
Today we begin a series of accompanying Job through his wilderness experience. This series will end at Easter, but my hope is that the Book of Job will haunt you and hold you throughout your life. And that in your moments of crashing uncertainty, in your own periods of wilderness, you will return to this text, as a faithful companion. Because if nothing else, and there is so much more, this book of the Bible, offers affirmation to those who are thirsty and cannot ultimately be satisfied. There is no tidying up the paradoxes this text kicks up and acknowledges. There is no theological winner to be had here. And while like I said, that kind of not knowing can drive us to hopelessness and pain at times, there is also something beautiful about biblical confirmation that we aren't the first and won't be the last.
At the end of this series, we are going to try something new. I want to let all of you know about it now so you can start preparing yourselves for how you participate in it. We are going to do a communal, improvisational enactment of a courtroom scene with all the characters from the Book of Job. God will be on trial--hence the name of the series. So as we go along, these next 5 weeks, pay attention to what character grabs you the most. Which character gets under your skin and irritates you the most, or strikes you admirable and worthy of defending?Absolutely every character is up for grabs, yes even God. I want you to choose a character in the next few days and stick with that character throughout Lent. Listen to the sermons with an ear for that character. Do study on your own when you're not in Church.
This is a way of moving with scripture that takes it from the
abstract head and places it into the spiral of the heart. If most of you are
willing to participate, I guarantee our community will not be the same after
this series, and you will never think about the Book of Job or not think about
the Book of Job the same, either. In fact, my hunch is that this experience
actually has the capacity to change how we read the Bible, think about our
tradition, and interact with God--which is all kind of a big deal--so I want to
invite yall to go in here. Go.all.in. I'm also invested in taking this
book back from the mainstream portrayal of it because it's white-washed and
weak. So: put everything you think you know or have heard about the book of Job
on hold and let's get busy diving in for ourselves. I'm inviting us to embark
on a communal spiritual discipline for Lent together. You with me?
Calendar date for the trial.
Okay. Here's the ark of the story.
Job is a wealthy, privileged man living at a time of agricultural prosperity. Like most patriarchs of the Bible his wealth and privilege come in the form of property ownership. He is the master of his house and his house in on land that he owns, full of humans and animals that he owns. He's married and has seven sons and three daughters. The second sentence of the story tells us in no uncertain terms that Job is "blameless and upright." The opening chapter uses very specific language to let us know that Job is faithful not just on Earth but before God.
All is going swimmingly for ole Job until the Accuser of the Divine Council comes before God. The two of them engage in an ego-driven challenge. God actually starts the challenge by boasting about Job. The Accuser who, duh, is an accuser, challenges God by essentially claiming that Job is only faithful to God because God's been faithful to Job. "Does Job fear God for nothing?" the Accuser asks. Then the Accuser offers to spike Job's punch, so to speak, to see if his faithfulness is the real deal. God gives the Accuser all power to mess with Job--except for causing his death, the Accuser can do anything he wants to bring misery on Job. This is what he proceeds to do for the next chapter and a half. Job’s servants die. His animals are killed. And his children's lives are taken because of a "natural disaster."
We as readers know something that Job does not. Job doesn't know that God and the Accuser are caught up in some big cosmic dual; he just thinks that one day, out of nowhere, as if it's some natural thing in life, he loses everything except his health and his wife. But that comes next. The first round of loss comes and goes and Job refuses to blame or curse God. The Accuser returns to God and brings about round two, saying "Skin for skin! All that people have they will give to save their lives." This time the Accuser causes boils to rise on Job's skin, "from the sole of his foot to the crown of his head." At this point, Job's wife intervenes and suggests that Job ought to "curse God and die." But he will not. He rebukes his wife but holds his tongue from sinning against God in response to his suffering.
Next three friends come to visit Job, and can't even recognize him after all this loss and sickness. They perform traditional rituals of grief and loss, then "sat with him on the ground, seven days and seven night, and no one spoke a word to him, for they saw that his suffering was very great." Friends that know how shut up at the right time. What a gift, right? Yeah, but not for long.
The next chunk of the book of Job--and it's a big chunk--is a bunch of speeches from various people. Job's cursing of the day he was born starts in Chapter 3, and then following are speeches by his friends, mostly trying to explain why what's happened to him has happened to him. Not helpful. Job responds with more aggravation, questioning and wrestling. He refuses to accept half-baked answers, refuses to be consoled by nonsense, even if its non-sense dripping with the God language. Later an anonymous dude named Elihu shows up, quoting Job and refuting his earlier speeches. God shows up after that and gives a speech from a whirlwind basically telling Job that his tiny-brain cannot comprehend the Divine Life so his questions are short-sided. God never takes ownership for the calamity that he intentionally brought upon Job. Job, after having heard from God, admits that he doesn't know what he doesn't know and gives a mysterious kind of repentance with his words. God proceeds to let Job's friends know that they were all full of crap, restores Job's "fortunes" twofold and Job goes on to live an even more "blessed" life than he had before. The End.
But not really.
Calendar date for the trial.
Okay. Here's the ark of the story.
Job is a wealthy, privileged man living at a time of agricultural prosperity. Like most patriarchs of the Bible his wealth and privilege come in the form of property ownership. He is the master of his house and his house in on land that he owns, full of humans and animals that he owns. He's married and has seven sons and three daughters. The second sentence of the story tells us in no uncertain terms that Job is "blameless and upright." The opening chapter uses very specific language to let us know that Job is faithful not just on Earth but before God.
All is going swimmingly for ole Job until the Accuser of the Divine Council comes before God. The two of them engage in an ego-driven challenge. God actually starts the challenge by boasting about Job. The Accuser who, duh, is an accuser, challenges God by essentially claiming that Job is only faithful to God because God's been faithful to Job. "Does Job fear God for nothing?" the Accuser asks. Then the Accuser offers to spike Job's punch, so to speak, to see if his faithfulness is the real deal. God gives the Accuser all power to mess with Job--except for causing his death, the Accuser can do anything he wants to bring misery on Job. This is what he proceeds to do for the next chapter and a half. Job’s servants die. His animals are killed. And his children's lives are taken because of a "natural disaster."
We as readers know something that Job does not. Job doesn't know that God and the Accuser are caught up in some big cosmic dual; he just thinks that one day, out of nowhere, as if it's some natural thing in life, he loses everything except his health and his wife. But that comes next. The first round of loss comes and goes and Job refuses to blame or curse God. The Accuser returns to God and brings about round two, saying "Skin for skin! All that people have they will give to save their lives." This time the Accuser causes boils to rise on Job's skin, "from the sole of his foot to the crown of his head." At this point, Job's wife intervenes and suggests that Job ought to "curse God and die." But he will not. He rebukes his wife but holds his tongue from sinning against God in response to his suffering.
Next three friends come to visit Job, and can't even recognize him after all this loss and sickness. They perform traditional rituals of grief and loss, then "sat with him on the ground, seven days and seven night, and no one spoke a word to him, for they saw that his suffering was very great." Friends that know how shut up at the right time. What a gift, right? Yeah, but not for long.
The next chunk of the book of Job--and it's a big chunk--is a bunch of speeches from various people. Job's cursing of the day he was born starts in Chapter 3, and then following are speeches by his friends, mostly trying to explain why what's happened to him has happened to him. Not helpful. Job responds with more aggravation, questioning and wrestling. He refuses to accept half-baked answers, refuses to be consoled by nonsense, even if its non-sense dripping with the God language. Later an anonymous dude named Elihu shows up, quoting Job and refuting his earlier speeches. God shows up after that and gives a speech from a whirlwind basically telling Job that his tiny-brain cannot comprehend the Divine Life so his questions are short-sided. God never takes ownership for the calamity that he intentionally brought upon Job. Job, after having heard from God, admits that he doesn't know what he doesn't know and gives a mysterious kind of repentance with his words. God proceeds to let Job's friends know that they were all full of crap, restores Job's "fortunes" twofold and Job goes on to live an even more "blessed" life than he had before. The End.
But not really.
Why is this one of the most popular stories in the Bible? Why
does Job’s character hold such prominence in the timeless human mind? Why
does this story stay with us and play with us, confuse, confound and console
us?
Biblical scholars have referred to the Book of Job as a "Polyphonic Text." What does polyphonic mean? Poly = many. Phonic = sound/sounds of speech. Right here in this one book of the Bible, we've got many voices. It's a polyphonic book. And let me be clear: it's not just the voices of the characters that are at play here. As we read this book, we are hearing the voices of the authors, their culture, their history, and the interpretations of Job we've inherited implicitly and explicitly throughout our own lives.
Now, if you think about it, "multiple voices" have a mixed wrap in our society. If people hear "mixed voices" in their heads, we often label them, medicate them, and some of them we put away because we consider them dangerous. But when it comes to an egalitarian way of doing things in community, many voices, at the table, or in the circle, or in the kitchen is considered an imperative. Right? We appear to have lots of desire for what's Polyphonic when it comes to community, but less when it comes to the individual. But what about when it comes to our notions of God?
I mentioned earlier in the sermon that part of what's so troubling about human life sometimes is the not knowing. I'm going to push that further. Sometimes when it comes to God, the competing voices in our heads, in our communities and in our traditions, can be deeply disturbing. Those of you who have recently exited Evangelical Christianity are particularly caught up in these questions. Those of us who have been harmed by Christianity's historic intolerance and persecution of the queer are particularly caught up in these questions. Those of us who are learning new concepts, ideas, and realities outside of our former world-views and spiritual frameworks are particularly caught up in these questions. Questions like: Who is right? Who is wrong? Who speaks in truth? Who speaks in the tongues of mortals? Who is trustworthy and who is worth chucking? How do we know? Why does it matter? Does it actually matter? Or is it all relative?
Biblical scholars have referred to the Book of Job as a "Polyphonic Text." What does polyphonic mean? Poly = many. Phonic = sound/sounds of speech. Right here in this one book of the Bible, we've got many voices. It's a polyphonic book. And let me be clear: it's not just the voices of the characters that are at play here. As we read this book, we are hearing the voices of the authors, their culture, their history, and the interpretations of Job we've inherited implicitly and explicitly throughout our own lives.
Now, if you think about it, "multiple voices" have a mixed wrap in our society. If people hear "mixed voices" in their heads, we often label them, medicate them, and some of them we put away because we consider them dangerous. But when it comes to an egalitarian way of doing things in community, many voices, at the table, or in the circle, or in the kitchen is considered an imperative. Right? We appear to have lots of desire for what's Polyphonic when it comes to community, but less when it comes to the individual. But what about when it comes to our notions of God?
I mentioned earlier in the sermon that part of what's so troubling about human life sometimes is the not knowing. I'm going to push that further. Sometimes when it comes to God, the competing voices in our heads, in our communities and in our traditions, can be deeply disturbing. Those of you who have recently exited Evangelical Christianity are particularly caught up in these questions. Those of us who have been harmed by Christianity's historic intolerance and persecution of the queer are particularly caught up in these questions. Those of us who are learning new concepts, ideas, and realities outside of our former world-views and spiritual frameworks are particularly caught up in these questions. Questions like: Who is right? Who is wrong? Who speaks in truth? Who speaks in the tongues of mortals? Who is trustworthy and who is worth chucking? How do we know? Why does it matter? Does it actually matter? Or is it all relative?
Yes. Yes. Yes.
That's the point of polyphonic texts, but more precisely, this polyphonic life. It's about those questions. It's about the process of hearing the many voices and wrestling. That's the invitation from and in my opinion the point of The Book of Job. I'm not here to tell you that all voices are worth obeying, not in the Book of Job, and not in real life, but they are all worth listening to and trying to understand. That's what the religious journey is all about. So, pilgrims and doubters and sinners and seekers divine, here's a challenge for you to hold and practice during this Lenten season inside and outside of Church, inside and outside of the Book of Job: listen to all the voices, seek to understand them, and when it's impossible to get it "right" or to arrive at a final conclusion, bless yourself because you stand in 2000+ years of wisdom wrestling with itself and you'll blend in among precious, beautiful, flawed and foolish company.
Amen.
That's the point of polyphonic texts, but more precisely, this polyphonic life. It's about those questions. It's about the process of hearing the many voices and wrestling. That's the invitation from and in my opinion the point of The Book of Job. I'm not here to tell you that all voices are worth obeying, not in the Book of Job, and not in real life, but they are all worth listening to and trying to understand. That's what the religious journey is all about. So, pilgrims and doubters and sinners and seekers divine, here's a challenge for you to hold and practice during this Lenten season inside and outside of Church, inside and outside of the Book of Job: listen to all the voices, seek to understand them, and when it's impossible to get it "right" or to arrive at a final conclusion, bless yourself because you stand in 2000+ years of wisdom wrestling with itself and you'll blend in among precious, beautiful, flawed and foolish company.
Amen.
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