“Partners in the Mystery of God”

Twentieth Sunday of Pentecost

Sunday October 18, 2009

Job 38:1-7, 34-41

Psalm 104

Hebrews 5:1-10

Then the LORD answered Job out of the whirlwind:  "Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge?  Gird up your loins like a man, I will question you, and you shall declare to me.  "Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth? Tell me, if you have understanding.”

Today’s suggested reading from Job 38 must surely be one of the most powerful passages in the history of writing.  The passage comes from one of the last chapters in the Book of Job; and, as such, is set after dozens of chapters of agonizing wrestling with some of the greatest, most complex and most troubling questions of human existence. 

Whether we have all read the entire Book of Job or not, most of us know the essential outlines of the story and the nature of the questions with which it wrestles.  In this ancient parable out of Israel’s wisdom tradition, the character Job, a man who is described as blameless and upright, is plagued by a terrible set of tragedies as a way of testing his faith.   In spite of his own moral goodness, he suffers the loss of children, the loss of his cattle and livestock, even the loss of his health.

In the aftermath of those calamities, a number of Job’s ‘friends’ -- named Eliphaz, Bildad, Zophar and Elihu -- come to visit him, and their conversations form the subject of the Book of Job.  They offer suggestions about the reasons for his troubles, and their assumptions and questions about the reasons for suffering present us, as readers, with a fascinating series of reflections on questions that have confronted us humanity since the beginning of human consciousness.  Why do good people sometimes suffer terrible calamities?  Is there any connection between immoral behavior and tragic consequences?  Is the reality of tragedy, in a person’s life evidence of an even unknown breach of morality, and should suffering be understood as a sign of divine punishment or retribution for unethical behavior?  How do we reconcile the seemingly irreconcilable paradox of believing in a sovereign God of compassion in the face of suffering?  And, in spite of all of these questions, is it the height of arrogance to imagine that humans can understand the mysterious ways of God?

Throughout those long and challenging conversations between Job and his friends, Job remains resolute in his declaration that he had done nothing to deserve such a terrible fate; and, finally, Job challenges God to provide an answer for why such suffering had been inflicted upon him.

In today’s reading from chapter 38, God appears.   Unfortunately, the conversation does not unfold quite as Job intended.  Job does not receive the answers that he had been expecting.  Rather, God responds to Job’s questions to God with a series of questions to Job himself.  

"Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge?  Gird up your loins like a man, I will question you, and you shall declare to me. "Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth? Tell me, if you have understanding.  Who determined its measurements--surely you know! Or who stretched the line upon it?  On what were its bases sunk, or who laid its cornerstone when the morning stars sang together and all the heavenly beings shouted for joy?   "Can you lift up your voice to the clouds, so that a flood of waters may cover you? 

God’s questions are breathtaking and unrelenting, and form one of the most fascinating passages in all of literature, as God asks Job questions that ultimately reveal that Job does not possess the capacity, the imagination, or the potential to even begin to comprehend the complexities of the universe, the mysteries of nature, the power of the galaxies, or the origins and diversity of life on earth.

By the end of this long series of divine questions, even we as readers feel humbled by the expansive vision which informs these texts – a vision of a God whose creative power, and whose understanding goes so far beyond human comprehension that we are simply left in a state of awe, a state of reverence, and a state of humility.  Who are any of us to ask such questions?  Who are any of us to darken counsel by words without knowledge? 

Job may never have received a simple or definitive answer to the question of suffering, but the vision that lies in these final chapters of Job is a vision that opens us to the great mystery of God – a mystery in whose being we find our existence, but whose presence and whose power are infinitely beyond our ability to comprehend.

Often when I read these passages from Job – which are some of my favourite chapters in the entire biblical canon – and almost always when I hear the self-righteous and arrogant prattling of that modern breed of bestselling authors who are convinced that they have cultivated the ability to out-think the existence of God, I find myself thinking that the great mystery of God may be compared to three small fish discussing the existence of the ocean. 

One fish has never been able to see the ocean in all of its immensity, so cannot believe that something that he cannot see can actually exist; and dismisses as mere fantasy any fish who claims that they live in an ocean.  The fish has recently decided to write a book entitled either “The Ocean is not Great” or “The Ocean Delusion”…

The second fish has always been told that there is an ocean, suspects that there may actually be an ocean, and has spoken with other creatures that have travelled to other parts of the ocean.  As a result of that confidence in his own experiences and the validity of other creatures’ claims, is therefore convinced that he has developed a fairly good grasp of all that is important to know about the ocean, including an ability to predict and understand all of the various dimensions of the ocean -- from the movements of the currents, to the effects of the winds and waves upon it, to the diversity of creatures that live within it.  The second fish is convinced that there is an ocean, that the ways of the ocean are really quite comprehensible, and perhaps even controllable.

The third fish, in contrast to the other two, does not question the existence of the ocean, but actually has the humility to admit that their confidence in the existence of the ocean does not extend so far as to assume that they can actually comprehend all of its workings.  The fish may come to understand certain dimensions of the ocean’s movements, but the fish rests in the knowledge that the ocean is the ocean, and he is a fish.

It is the example of that third fish that might come closest to the true experience of faith.  This powerful presence that we refer to as ‘God’ is as far beyond our full comprehension as is the full comprehension of the enormity of the ocean to a fish within its waters; but though faith invites us to hold to the reality of God’s existence, true faith leads us, like that third fish, to come to the place of humility in acknowledging that our comprehension of God does not allow us to fully understand, let alone control, the fullness of that great mystery.  God is God; and we are not.

Today’s passage reminds us, in a powerful way, that God is a mystery, beyond our ability to comprehend.  And though we may, from time to time, find ourselves asking the very questions that Job asked – questions such as why do the good suffer, or is suffering a form of punishment for some moral breach, or is the way of wisdom a safeguard against tragedy – we must have the humility to realize what Job realized.  That is, we must come to the place of realizing that we do not have the intellectual capacity or the spiritual vision that is truly necessary to comprehend the mysterious ways of God.  The call of faith does not provide us with the comfort of certainty, but rather with the offer of a refuge rooted in trust.

But this acknowledgement of our inability to fully comprehend the mystery of God is not intended to leave us in a state of spiritual or intellectual paralysis.  Our inability to fully understand the workings of God should not lead us to some level of agnostic indifference to this great mystery.

And the reason why we are not free to embrace such a level of indifference is, in many ways, because of our baptism into, and our participation in the ministry and mission of the Body of Christ in this world.  God may be a mystery, but as Christians, we dare to proclaim that the fullest revelation of that great mystery is to be found in the person of a humble Jewish teacher, a carpenter from Nazareth.

Our calling, as Christians, is to dedicate our lives to the work of Christ in this world.  Even though we cannot completely comprehend the enormity of that great work, nor can we fully conceptualize the enormity of the mystery of God, our calling, as people of faith, is join in the work that he began.  Our calling is to become partners with his great task of seeking to build a kingdom whose purpose is to transform the world through the power of love.  Our calling, as followers of Jesus, is not to fool ourselves into thinking that we can comprehend all of the mysteries of God, but rather to trust that God’s ways, though grounded in mystery, are nonetheless working towards the redemption and salvation of the world.

To be baptized into Christ, and to offer ourselves as partners in the ministry of a community of faith  – which is what church membership actually means – are actions that are rooted in our response to God’s call to us to join in this great endeavour of transforming the world by love.  None of us ever completely understand how our skills, our abilities and our love might be used in the service of God; but our response to the call of Christ is not dependent upon the certainty of our full comprehension.  Rather, our response is rooted in our desire to move into the unknown, propelled only by his call to us, and to journey beyond certainty to faith, beyond control to trust, and beyond our inadequate levels of human comprehension towards a state of reverent humility in the presence of the incomprehensible but awe-inspiring mystery of God.

Such is the nature of faith; and such is, in a very special way, the nature of faith in Christ.  After all, the One to whom we owe our allegiance did not always seem to completely understand the ways of God, either – from his anguished prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane hoping that the cup of suffering might be lifted from him, to his agonizing cry of God-forsaken despair on the cross, to his words to his disciples suggesting that even he did not know when the Son of Man would return and the end of the world would arrive, there seems to have been times, in Jesus’ life, when the full nature of God’s intentions seemed beyond his comprehension.  And yet, he persisted, in trust and in obedience, even into death itself.

And in and through that horrific experience of the cross, the mysterious power of God was revealed, as a power that transcends and triumphs over that other great and powerful mystery – the mystery of death.  In that journey from the cross to the empty tomb, we are offered the life-altering good news that there is nothing, in life or in death, that will ever be able to separate us from the love God, revealed to us in Jesus Christ.

And so, we continue to gather together, in reverence, in worship and in awe, as we contemplate the mystery who is ever beyond our comprehension, who has been revealed to us in Jesus Christ, who continues to dwell among us in the experience of a Spirit of holiness, and who invites us – each and every one of us – to join together as partners in the task of reconciling all things, in heaven and on earth, through the power of love.