Out of the Storm

Job 38: 1-7 and 34-41 page 380
Then the Lord answered Job out of the storm. The Lord said, “Who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge? Brace yourself like a man; I will question you, and you shall answer me.
“Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation? Tell me, if you understand. Who marked off its dimensions? Surely you know!
Who stretched a measuring line across it? On what were its footings set, or who laid its cornerstone – while the morning stars sang together and all the angels shouted for joy?”
34-41
“Can you raise your voice to the clouds and cover yourself with a flood of water? Do you send the lightning bolts on their way? Do they report to you, ‘Here we are’?
Who endowed the heart with wisdom and gave understanding to the mind?
Who has the wisdom to count the clouds? Who can tip over the water jars of the heavens when the dust becomes hard and the clods of earth stick together?
Do you hunt the prey for the lioness and satisfy the hunger of the lions when they crouch in their dens or lie in wait in a thicket?
Who provides food for the raven when it’s young cry out to God and wander about for lack of food?"
Sermon
Words have a way at getting to the heart of matters, especially when they are formed into questions.
I still remember my childhood Sunday school teacher’s face the day we read about baby Jesus getting circumcised. “Um, Mrs. Smith, what exactly is circumcision?”
“That’s one you’ll have to ask your father when you get home.”
I didn’t really understand why she wouldn’t answer my question, but now I know this technique as an important tactic for deflecting questions it would be better not to answer.
It’s a technique employed by politicians all the time – so if you, like me, are wondering why Senators Saxby Chambliss and Harry Reid, along with Representative Charlie Rangel spent a total of over two hundred thousand dollars on golf, an inauguration party, and a self-portrait when their constituents are struggling to make ends meet…well, just don’t expect an answer anytime soon.[1]
But who would expect the same behavior from God?
God’s response to Job: “Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation? Who marked off its dimensions?” doesn’t answer Job’s question. Job finally meets God face to face after all his suffering, all his affliction, to question God and the fairness of the punishment he has undergone, and God deflects Job’s question, his question that gets at the timeless issue of, “Why do bad things happen to good people.”
Job hasn’t lost his faith. Job has been faithful, and all he wants is an answer.
In some ways silence would have been easier to understand – it would have shown Job that all his faith was in vain - but at least it would have been an answer he could have understood – that the world just isn’t fair, there’s no order to it, and there’s no point in trying to do what is right because there isn’t anyone watching – that there’s no one up there punishing the sinful and rewarding the faithful – as there isn’t really anyone up there at all.
Such is the conclusion many reach in the wake of tragedy – as asking why is the kind of question that rarely leads to resolution – so many people give up asking and give up believing at the same time.
When we consider the great tragedies of human history – the many examples of undeserved suffering – the slaughter of the southern Sudanese by the north, the murder of the Tutsi’s in Rwanda, how the dictator Pol-Pot imprisoned and tortured thousands of his own people in Cambodia; many Jews today who consider the Holocaust know either a God too weak to act or a God who was never really there at all.
The book I’m reading now, a work of fiction called The Book Thief takes place during this time period in a little town in Germany. The hero is a little girl named Liesel, an orphan taken in by an older couple after her father is murdered for being a communist and her mother just disappears all together. She is haunted by the memory of her brother’s death – every night taking her back to the dark day when he died in her arms.
Every night she sees into his empty eyes; it’s the sight of those eyes that scares her awake to find her foster father Hans Hubermann, who Liesel calls Papa, standing over her, stroking her hair or just sitting at her bedside.
On the day Liesel is old enough to connect the dots between the murder of her father, the disappearance of her mother, and the death of her brother, she shouts out to her foster father Hans, “I hate Hitler!”
Her Papa looks down at the ground, then meets his daughter’s gaze again without expression, and --- slaps this girl who he loves more than anything across the face.
In some ways, just about as cruel as a response as there could possibly be.
But how could Hans ever explain to a child the evil complexities of living in Nazi Germany?
A world where mothers disappear into the night, where brothers die in sisters’ arms, and hatred-fueled propaganda applauded while books burn.
Helping her understand was not the point. Keeping her safe was the point.
But this cold refusal, more than anything else is an apology, an apology from a man who would have changed the world for this little girl whom he loved, but only had the power to keep her lips sealed in a world where silence was safety.
You know it’s an apology and not the embodiment of anger, as his hand, once used to strike a silent fear, is back that night, and the next, and the night after that to comfort this young girl when her nightmares finally wake her up from a restless sleep. And we know that if the hands of her Papa could change the world, build up a safe place free from Hitler and his evil, they would.
But Job doesn’t want to be silent – and there’s nothing that God has done to keep him safe – what Job wants is an answer to the question he poses. God, however, knows that there comes a time when the answer to “why” can’t provide the healing that the afflicted really needs.
We want to know why – why is there suffering – why is there bloodshed – why do marriages end – why do children die before their parents – why is there war – why is there disease – why do hearts stop beating – why – why – why?
A God who hears these questions, then responds with more questions, is either a God too busy to mess with the trivial matter of a disgruntled human being – or a God dedicated to getting the faithful back to the business of living.
Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation? No – and the reason the world is ordered this way is not for you to know.
Where were you when the sun was shining, and a little girl was pulling at your sleeve to go outside? This is your question to answer. Not where was God – where were you?
Were you still in bed while the world passed you by?
Were you still mourning what you lost, wishing it would have been different?
Were you so full of regret that you forgot to live?
Your place is not to ask why – your place is to live. Leave the rest to one who may not answer your question – but who will always be there, stroking your hair, sitting by your bedside, with you as the dawn breaks into a new day.
-Amen.

[1] Bob Keefe, “Leadership PACs keep cash flowing,” Atlanta Journal-Constitution (Tuesday, October 13, 2009) A1.