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Sunday October 8, 2006 - Proper 22, Year B

It's a tragedy, the story of Job. There's no other word for it. There he is, an ordinary man, perhaps a little wealthier, a little more pious than most, but ordinary all the same, a farmer with a wife, and the land subdivided to provide for his children and grandchildren. Job
is respected in the community
he known as upright and God-fearing. Life has been good to him,
and he has been good
in return.

And then
along comes God.
And he looks around, and sees Job,
and thinks,
what a great guy.
And he points him out
to the other beings in heaven,
angels and archangels and the like, points him out with pride in his voice:
"See that guy over there, Job? Isn't he great? He's a good man: he worships me, he lives a good life, he's good to others. He's exactly what I'd hoped for
when I created
humankind."

"Hmmm," thinks one of the heavenly beings. "I wonder. It only took a piece of fruit
to lure Adam and Eve
away from their garden of Eden, away from their God. I wonder how much it would take
for Job?"

And so he says to God,
"You're right, you know, Job is a good man. Or at least, he seems to be. But are you sure
he really is? Are you sure
that it's not just
because he's had
an easy life?"

"I'm sure," says God. "I'm sure."

"So, prove it," says the heavenly being, who by now we know as Satan. "Prove that Job's goodness
isn't just skin deep. Let me at him,
and see if after a bit of suffering
he won't just give up his goodness
and curse you."

"Okay, I guess. Just don't hurt Job himself." says God.
And so the heavenly being
goes for Job. He arranges it
so that some marauding tribesmen come
attack Job's farms and steal the livestock and kill the servants. And then a tornado hits the house where Job's children are gathered for a feast
and all Job's children are killed.

And what does Job do? Well, like any father, he is devastated. But he continues to trust in God.

"See," says God. "Job is a good man."

"But," says the heavenly being, "but, you know, this has all been at a distance. None of this has really affected Job directly. But threaten him directly, and I'll bet that he'll soon change his tune."

"Well, okay," says God. "But I still think you're wrong. Job is a good man. He won't turn against me."

And so the heavenly being sneaks down, and covers Job with sores and boils all over his body. It hurts even to move. And it itches, it itches so bad. And because of the rules of his faith, Job isn't allowed to go to worship any more. His skin disease
makes him unclean. And he can't live in town any more either. No one wants him near them. Even his wife
will only shout at him
from a distance.
And as far as she's concerned, it's over. She's lost her livelihood, her children, and now her husband is as good as dead.
"What's with this goodness, you silly old fool? Be done with it. Put us all out of your misery. Curse God
and die."

But Job refuses to curse God. He refuses to abandon the faith
that has been at the core of his life. He continues as he has always been,
a faithful and righteous man,
even now
that he is living
in the dump.

It's a pretty nasty story, these first couple of chapters of the book of Job. And God doesn't come off
smelling too sweet.
He's betrayed Job, it seems,
for the sake of a bet.

But I think that this is one of the few stories of the bible
where God
is not the focus. The point of the story — and as far as we can tell, it was intended to be a story, an extended parable of sorts, rather than an empirical record of history — the point of the story
is what Job does. The point of the story
is to show us what faith looks like
even at
the worst of times
Job has done nothing to deserve this. But evil happens,
it's an ugly reality in this world of ours.
This story is about
how we respond.

This week
we saw an incredible example
of how faith
can lead people
to respond to evil.
On Monday
Charles Carl Roberts IV dropped his children off at the bus stop for school.
He hugged them
and said that he loved them.
Then he went home,
gathered together a bunch of guns and ammunition and tape
and drove to a small
one room schoolhouse.
He went inside, with his guns,
sent the teachers and boys outside,
and held ten girls hostage.
Five of those girls are dead, and five are in hospital, one of them barely alive.

It's a devastating, an unthinkable
tragedy.
Those girls, those families
had done nothing, nothing at all,
except be in the wrong place
in the wrong time,
to be people whose religion
made them easy to identify
and easy to target.

But what is astounding,
what reminds me of Job
is their response.
The response of Marian Fisher, aged 13,
the oldest of the girls in that classroom,
who said to the gunman.
"Kill me, and let the others go free."

When I was a teenager,
we used to talk in youth group
about whether we would be prepared
to die for our faith.
If someone came into our church with a gun and said, "Christians stand up and be killed for your faith."
Would we stand up, and lose our lives?
Or would we deny our faith
and save our lives?
I always liked to think
I would have the courage to stand up.

Marian did it. She was willing
to give up her life
for her friends. And she was willing
because she trusted in the God who had created her
and who would bring her home to safety, even in death.

And the response of her family, and of the wider community
is equally astounding. We expect grief, sadness, horror. But we also expect anger, hatred, a desire for revenge. All that
would be understandable.
Instead
what we hear
is love, compassion, forgiveness.

Time and time again reporters have asked members of that small Amish community
what they feel about the man who did this to their daughters. Time and time again they speak
forgiveness.
Yesterday
they showed up at his funeral
to support his wife and children.
They have set up a fund
not only for their own families
but for that family,
who has also lost a loved one.
This was not some monster.
This was a man
that these Amish families had known.
He was their milkman, the one who came every couple of days
to pick up the milk their cows produced
and take it for processing.
They knew him;
and they have welcomed his family
into their embrace.
They have opened their arms
with love and compassion.

It's hard to imagine.
Forgiving the man
who had killed your daughters.
And not only forgiving him,
but beginning a fund
to help to support his widow and children.
His children
who are alive
when yours
are dead.

Those girls died
as much as anything
because of their faith.
And yet it is that faith
that is determining the response
of their families and community.
A response of love and compassion and forgiveness.
And it is that faith that will sustain them
in the days and months and years ahead.

When we go over to the Amish Market in Mullica Hill,
we tend to stare at the storekeepers.
The men with their bowl cut hair and strangely trimmed beards;
the women with plain dresses and hair pulled back tightly beneath white prayer caps.
Their clothing sets them apart.
But what sets them apart even more
is their faith.
They live their lives differently
because of their faith.
Their faith informs everything they do — how they dress,
and what they own,
but more importantly, far more importantly
how they live.
They believe in a God of peace.
They believe in a God of compassion.
They believe in a God of forgiveness.
And what they believe,
they live.

It's only the beginning for them, the beginning of their grief and mourning. But they have already made the decision
to respond according to their faith, according to their God.
A God of peace and compassion and forgiveness.

And we heard only the beginning of the story of Job.
We have no idea as yet
of how it will all end.
Will everything continue to get worse? Will Job's life continue to come crashing down around him?
Or will it somehow, just like a fairy tale
end happily
ever after?
We don't know.
All we have
is Job' first response to suffering.
He will not curse God.
The faith
that has been at the center of his life till now,
the faith that led him to give thanks to God
for all the blessings he had been given,
that faith
sustains him
in this time of trouble.
That faith
determines his response.
And he turns to God
for comfort.

The question Job invites us to ask ourselves,
the question the response of the Amish community asks us,
is do we really live what we believe?
We talk about peace and forgiveness,
compassion and love,
but are we willing to make the choices, even sacrifices,
that living according to those values, those beliefs, would mean?
Are we willing
to live out
our faith.

This week
a small, close knit Christian community
buried five of its dearly beloved daughters.
Marian Fisher, Anna Mae Stoltzfus, Naomi Rose Ebersol, Mary Liz Miller, and Lena Miller.
The best memorial to them
will be for us to follow that community's example,
to choose, day by day,
to live out our faith,
to practice the peace and forgiveness
compassion and love
of our God.

 

Sermon ©Raewynne J. Whiteley 2006