Sermon for March 1st, 2020
Job 3:1-26
1 After this Job opened his mouth and cursed the day of his birth. 2 Job said:
3 “Let the day perish in which I was born,
and the night that said,‘A man-child is conceived.’
4 Let that day be darkness!
May God above not seek it,
or light shine on it.
5 Let gloom and deep darkness claim it.
Let clouds settle upon it;
let the blackness of the day terrify it.
6 That night—let thick darkness seize it!
let it not rejoice among the days of the year;
let it not come into the number of the months.
7 Yes, let that night be barren;
let no joyful cry be heard in it.
8 Let those curse it who curse the Sea,
those who are skilled to rouse up Leviathan.
9 Let the stars of its dawn be dark;
let it hope for light, but have none;
may it not see the eyelids of the morning—
10 because it did not shut the doors of my mother’s womb,
and hide trouble from my eyes.
11 “Why did I not die at birth,
come forth from the womb and expire?
12 Why were there knees to receive me,
or breasts for me to suck?
13 Now I would be lying down and quiet;
I would be asleep; then I would be at rest
14 with kings and counselors of the earth
who rebuild ruins for themselves,
15 or with princes who have gold,
who fill their houses with silver.
16 Or why was I not buried like a stillborn child,
like an infant that never sees the light?
17 There the wicked cease from troubling,
and there the weary are at rest.
18 There the prisoners are at ease together;
they do not hear the voice of the taskmaster.
19 The small and the great are there,
and the slaves are free from their masters.
20 “Why is light given to one in misery,
and life to the bitter in soul,
21 who long for death, but it does not come,
and dig for it more than for hidden treasures;
22 who rejoice exceedingly,
and are glad when they find the grave?
23 Why is light given to one who cannot see the way,
whom God has fenced in?
24 For my sighing comes like my bread,
and my groanings are poured out like water.
25 Truly the thing that I fear comes upon me,
and what I dread befalls me.
26 I am not at ease, nor am I quiet;
I have no rest; but trouble comes.”
The Book of Job: (Un)Happy
A man is walking down the street when he sees a sign in the window of a travel agency that says CRUISES - as low as $100. He goes into the agency and hands the guy $100. The travel agent then whacks him over the head with a baseball bat and throws him in the river. Another man is walking down the street a half hour later, sees the sign and pays the guy $100. The travel agent then whacks him with the baseball bat and throws him in the river. Sometime later, the two men are floating down the river together and the first man asks, "Do you think they'll serve any food on this cruise?" The second man says, "I don't think so. At least, they didn't last year."
Reading the Book of Job can feel like that sometimes--getting hit over the head with a baseball bat. And I can hear some of you say, "then why, Pastor Neal, do we keep doing it every single year?"
For those of you who are new, I like to preach from the Book of Job every year during the season of Lent. Lent, in the church calendar, is a season of quiet introspection and reflection. It's not a season of joyful celebration, like Easter or Christmas. Lent is a reminder that sometimes Life hits you over the head with a baseball bat. And as people of faith, when tragedy or misfortune strikes, when life unravels and comes undone, we often look to God, saying "Why? How could you let this happen? Where are you in all this?"
The Book of Job is a book that tackles all these questions head on, in a brutally honest, and sometimes beautiful way. Job is also poetry, framed in a story. The story is told in the first two chapters, how a man named Job loses almost everything--his wealth and source of income, his home and all his property, all of his children, and his bodily health. In the last chapter of the book, Job's fortunes are restored, but these opening and closing chapters where the story takes place are small in comparison to the middle section of the book--the 39 chapters of poetry, where Job and his conversation partners explore the full extent of grief, anger, suffering--and what role God and faith play in all that.
This year, we're delving deep into that poetry, exploring parts of the Book of Job that we have not considered in the past seven years since we began this series. In particular, I'm interested in the contrasts that are often two sides of the same coin: Happiness and unhappiness; things answered and unanswered; the things we hinge our lives on and the things that make us come unhinged; being "friended" and being "unfriended"; feeling worthy and feeling unworthy; things that come to an end, and things that are unending.
We begin in chapter 3, the first poetic chapter, where Job finally speaks after seven days and nights of silence. To say that Job is "unhappy" would be a huge understatement.
He begins by opening his mouth to curse. The Hebrew word used here for curse (קָלַל - qalal) is usually used in the context of blasphemy. The NRSV translation puts it mildly, almost politely, "Let the day perish in which I was born." But think of the most vile word in your vocabulary (it probably starts with an F), put that one in Job's mouth instead, and you'll get a much better sense of what he's saying.
In the previous chapter, the "bet" between God and Satan was over whether or not Job would curse God to his face. So there's a little bit of relief when Job curses...his birthday...instead of God, directly. But don't worry, that part comes later.
The first 10 verses of this poem are a malediction, an extended curse that grows more intense with each line. Not only does Job curse the day he was born, but he also curses the night in which he was conceived. The language in these verses is a direct reference and throwback to the creation story in Genesis. Where God said, "Let there be light," Job is saying, "Let there be darkness." Where God brought order out of chaos, Job wants to raise up the monster Leviathan, which symbolizes chaos in Near Eastern mythology, and thereby plunge the created order back into chaos.
In other words, Job wants to undo all that God has done--on the surface, those things pertaining to his own birth and his own life, but on a deeper level, I think Job levels his opening shot at nothing less than all creation. Did I mention this is a poem with cosmic significance?
I had a conversation with a congregation member last week, who is walking through a difficult time in his life. He is an amazingly kind and gentle person, but because of things happening completely outside of his ability to control, he struggles with feelings of intense anger. I asked if he was angry with God, and he was quick to say, "No, I'm not angry at anyone in particular, I'm just angry."
- Rick's anger--not at God, just angry
- Communion
