Obedience through suffering
Commentary
Four times a week, I drive my fourteen-year-old son to a gymnastics academy where for three hours he puts himself through a variety of grueling maneuvers intended to prepare him for feats of strength and skill. A poster hangs in the gym. It depicts the most recent USA Men's Olympic Team and is emblazoned with the logo, "If it were easy, everyone would do it." The point, I guess, is consistent with the old exercise motto, "No pain, no gain." Or, with the slogan adopted by the women in the movie Steel Magnolias, "What doesn't kill us makes us stronger."
Lots of proverbs seem to point to the beneficial aspects of suffering. We would very much like to believe that, somehow, it is all for the best. Is it? The theme is explored once again in the three lessons for this day. This marks the third week in a row that "suffering" has been an issue, and next week will bring but slight relief. People may be getting tired of hearing it, or they may be getting frustrated at hearing about it without even getting a really solid answer. Think how Job felt!
Job 38:1-7 (34-41)
This is now the third installment in the lectionary's synopsis of the Job drama. The texts chosen for reading avoid all the accusatory speeches of Job's "friends" to let the story unfold in these four parts: a) Job is a model of patience, refusing to curse God when calamity strikes (1:1; 2:1-10); b) Job complains that God is hidden from him and confesses that his suffering has brought him to despair (23:1-9, 16-17); c) God appears to Job, speaking to him out of a whirlwind (38:1-7, 34-41); d) Job responds to God, and his test is completed (42:1-7, 34-41).
This week, we are at stage three. The context is significant because, on their own, these words may seem to present God as angry with Job, as rebuking him for his ignorant posturing. Such is not the case. Eventually, we learn that God is angry with Job's "friends," not Job (42:7). Job, in fact, has spoken "what is right."
The point of God's appearance is not to rebuke Job but to respond to his complaint (see last week's lesson). God will not remain hidden, but allows Job to see God even in the midst of his suffering (42:5). God reminds Job that there are a great many things that he cannot understand. Suffering is but one of them. His finitude becomes a source of comfort, rather than frustration.
In the film The Hiding Place, a woman who has been tormented and interned by the Nazis explains why she no longer trusts God: "Either he is unable to help us, or he is able but doesn't care." This is a classic statement of the problem of theodicy. Logic dictates that a God who allows suffering cannot be both powerful and just. The book of Job does not solve this problem, but denies it. If logic dictates this, then, since God is both powerful and just, there must be something wrong with logic. Many people will shake their heads at this and say, "I don't get it." Exactly! Now you understand the book of Job.
Hebrews 5:1-10
Jesus is both similar and dissimilar to other high priests. This week's lesson emphasizes the similarities; next week's the differences. He is similar in function, insofar as he prays for us (v. 7) and offers a sacrifice for our sins. He is similar also in form, in that by becoming like us in every respect (2:17), he too is able to deal gently with us, knowing our weaknesses (5:2; 4:15). And, like other high priests, he too has been appointed by God to his office. He did not choose the office but, like Melchizedek (see Genesis 14:18; Psalm 110:4), accepted it in obedience to God's will.
This introduces the main theme in verse 8: "Jesus learned obedience through what he suffered." In Greek, the verbs rhyme (learned = emathen; suffered = epathen), leading us to believe the quotable phrase was probably a proverb (like "no pain, no gain"). For Jesus, then, suffering did have value. He learned from it! This is an incredible thought. What did Jesus need to learn?
The verse certainly does not mean that Jesus had previously been disobedient and had to learn how to obey. Rather, through suffering, he found out what radical obedience to God can mean. William Lane says, "He learned experientially what obedience entails."
Let's look at it this way: the author of Hebrews believes that Jesus is, essentially, God come to earth in human form. This would be the same God who questioned Job in our first lesson. There, Job was exposed as ignorant, unable to see things from God's point of view. But -- and I mean this reverently -- the ignorance was mutual. God did not know everything. Specifically, God did not know what it felt like to be Job, to render faithful obedience in the face of profound and seemingly unnecessary suffering.
This is what Jesus learns through suffering, what God learns through Jesus. Jesus learns obedience, and God learns what it means not to be God.
Mark 10:35-45
The Gospel text brings the theme full circle by emphasizing that what Jesus learned through suffering becomes our lesson, too.
We must note the immediate context for James and John's question, which makes it ludicrously inappropriate. Jesus has just told his disciples that he is facing terrible suffering and death (10:32-34). The Zebedee boys are in total denial with regard to this part of the plan, concerned only with the glory and honor they hope to receive.
Jesus' question, "Can you drink the cup that I must drink?" points to Gethsemane, where he will grovel in a garden, begging God to take the cup away from him. This, above all, is where he learns "what obedience entails." And of his followers, he says, their time will come.
To be a servant, to be least, to live for the sake of others ... this is our calling. Can we obey without suffering? Absolutely not? Here, then, is the point: Most people -- not all, perhaps, but most -- really do want to be "good people." They don't want to be selfish. They want to be generous, kind, tolerant people who care about others and are always willing to lend a hand. They want to be this way, but then they discover how much it hurts. Are they willing to continue? If it were easy, (almost) everyone would do it.
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By James A. Nestingen
Job 38:1-7 (34-41)
Gerhard Frost, a sainted old Lutheran professor and poet who spent much of his life studying Job's conundrum, once remarked, "Job longs for Christ."
Of course, current exegetical fashions have made such a comment suspect. The Old Testament and the New have been historically divided, maybe the better word would be historicistically divided, in such a way that there can be no contact between them. Job would not have known anything of Jesus, by such consideration.
But after reading God's answer to Job, the logic of old Dr. Frost's observation may not look so merely orthodox or pious. For God did speak, addressing Job head-on, according to the text, but leaving all of his questions withstanding. The only assurance remaining is God's own speech, precious little if it doesn't take on flesh and blood.
The Book of Job's description, timeworn and dog-eared by the millions of tongues which have repeated it, has grown lean and understated. Having both heard and overheard Job's complaint and steadfast refusals to submit to the balanced righteousness of the sufferer's companions, God finally appears. He shows up out of a whirlwind, as naturally and common-sensically as in the conversation with Satan, at the heavenly council table.
Maybe after all of his demands to see God face-to-face, Job had some second thoughts. Edged with irritation, God's words break in on him like the thunder and lightnings they describe. "Gird up your loins like a man," God says -- pull up your pants and answer me.
Now the roles are reversed, and properly so. No longer the accuser standing on the soapbox of his own integrity, Job appears as the accused, with God asking all the questions, one after the other, until there's nothing left but pure transcendence. From the footings of the universe to the morning stars, God knows; Job does not. God's wholly and holy otherness moves beyond all else; Job's limits remain. God will be God, the great I AM; Job will be, until death intervenes, Job, neither knowing, learning, understanding or capable of reasoning beyond the mystery.
Yet God speaks. Breaking all the silence of the universe, God addresses Job. Even with the limits in place, Job knows -- literally -- something besides the emptiness. God has heard; God has spoken. It's a minimal hope, yet a hope nevertheless; one a-blossom with something more than another November. "The word became flesh and dwelt among us...."
Lots of proverbs seem to point to the beneficial aspects of suffering. We would very much like to believe that, somehow, it is all for the best. Is it? The theme is explored once again in the three lessons for this day. This marks the third week in a row that "suffering" has been an issue, and next week will bring but slight relief. People may be getting tired of hearing it, or they may be getting frustrated at hearing about it without even getting a really solid answer. Think how Job felt!
Job 38:1-7 (34-41)
This is now the third installment in the lectionary's synopsis of the Job drama. The texts chosen for reading avoid all the accusatory speeches of Job's "friends" to let the story unfold in these four parts: a) Job is a model of patience, refusing to curse God when calamity strikes (1:1; 2:1-10); b) Job complains that God is hidden from him and confesses that his suffering has brought him to despair (23:1-9, 16-17); c) God appears to Job, speaking to him out of a whirlwind (38:1-7, 34-41); d) Job responds to God, and his test is completed (42:1-7, 34-41).
This week, we are at stage three. The context is significant because, on their own, these words may seem to present God as angry with Job, as rebuking him for his ignorant posturing. Such is not the case. Eventually, we learn that God is angry with Job's "friends," not Job (42:7). Job, in fact, has spoken "what is right."
The point of God's appearance is not to rebuke Job but to respond to his complaint (see last week's lesson). God will not remain hidden, but allows Job to see God even in the midst of his suffering (42:5). God reminds Job that there are a great many things that he cannot understand. Suffering is but one of them. His finitude becomes a source of comfort, rather than frustration.
In the film The Hiding Place, a woman who has been tormented and interned by the Nazis explains why she no longer trusts God: "Either he is unable to help us, or he is able but doesn't care." This is a classic statement of the problem of theodicy. Logic dictates that a God who allows suffering cannot be both powerful and just. The book of Job does not solve this problem, but denies it. If logic dictates this, then, since God is both powerful and just, there must be something wrong with logic. Many people will shake their heads at this and say, "I don't get it." Exactly! Now you understand the book of Job.
Hebrews 5:1-10
Jesus is both similar and dissimilar to other high priests. This week's lesson emphasizes the similarities; next week's the differences. He is similar in function, insofar as he prays for us (v. 7) and offers a sacrifice for our sins. He is similar also in form, in that by becoming like us in every respect (2:17), he too is able to deal gently with us, knowing our weaknesses (5:2; 4:15). And, like other high priests, he too has been appointed by God to his office. He did not choose the office but, like Melchizedek (see Genesis 14:18; Psalm 110:4), accepted it in obedience to God's will.
This introduces the main theme in verse 8: "Jesus learned obedience through what he suffered." In Greek, the verbs rhyme (learned = emathen; suffered = epathen), leading us to believe the quotable phrase was probably a proverb (like "no pain, no gain"). For Jesus, then, suffering did have value. He learned from it! This is an incredible thought. What did Jesus need to learn?
The verse certainly does not mean that Jesus had previously been disobedient and had to learn how to obey. Rather, through suffering, he found out what radical obedience to God can mean. William Lane says, "He learned experientially what obedience entails."
Let's look at it this way: the author of Hebrews believes that Jesus is, essentially, God come to earth in human form. This would be the same God who questioned Job in our first lesson. There, Job was exposed as ignorant, unable to see things from God's point of view. But -- and I mean this reverently -- the ignorance was mutual. God did not know everything. Specifically, God did not know what it felt like to be Job, to render faithful obedience in the face of profound and seemingly unnecessary suffering.
This is what Jesus learns through suffering, what God learns through Jesus. Jesus learns obedience, and God learns what it means not to be God.
Mark 10:35-45
The Gospel text brings the theme full circle by emphasizing that what Jesus learned through suffering becomes our lesson, too.
We must note the immediate context for James and John's question, which makes it ludicrously inappropriate. Jesus has just told his disciples that he is facing terrible suffering and death (10:32-34). The Zebedee boys are in total denial with regard to this part of the plan, concerned only with the glory and honor they hope to receive.
Jesus' question, "Can you drink the cup that I must drink?" points to Gethsemane, where he will grovel in a garden, begging God to take the cup away from him. This, above all, is where he learns "what obedience entails." And of his followers, he says, their time will come.
To be a servant, to be least, to live for the sake of others ... this is our calling. Can we obey without suffering? Absolutely not? Here, then, is the point: Most people -- not all, perhaps, but most -- really do want to be "good people." They don't want to be selfish. They want to be generous, kind, tolerant people who care about others and are always willing to lend a hand. They want to be this way, but then they discover how much it hurts. Are they willing to continue? If it were easy, (almost) everyone would do it.
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By James A. Nestingen
Job 38:1-7 (34-41)
Gerhard Frost, a sainted old Lutheran professor and poet who spent much of his life studying Job's conundrum, once remarked, "Job longs for Christ."
Of course, current exegetical fashions have made such a comment suspect. The Old Testament and the New have been historically divided, maybe the better word would be historicistically divided, in such a way that there can be no contact between them. Job would not have known anything of Jesus, by such consideration.
But after reading God's answer to Job, the logic of old Dr. Frost's observation may not look so merely orthodox or pious. For God did speak, addressing Job head-on, according to the text, but leaving all of his questions withstanding. The only assurance remaining is God's own speech, precious little if it doesn't take on flesh and blood.
The Book of Job's description, timeworn and dog-eared by the millions of tongues which have repeated it, has grown lean and understated. Having both heard and overheard Job's complaint and steadfast refusals to submit to the balanced righteousness of the sufferer's companions, God finally appears. He shows up out of a whirlwind, as naturally and common-sensically as in the conversation with Satan, at the heavenly council table.
Maybe after all of his demands to see God face-to-face, Job had some second thoughts. Edged with irritation, God's words break in on him like the thunder and lightnings they describe. "Gird up your loins like a man," God says -- pull up your pants and answer me.
Now the roles are reversed, and properly so. No longer the accuser standing on the soapbox of his own integrity, Job appears as the accused, with God asking all the questions, one after the other, until there's nothing left but pure transcendence. From the footings of the universe to the morning stars, God knows; Job does not. God's wholly and holy otherness moves beyond all else; Job's limits remain. God will be God, the great I AM; Job will be, until death intervenes, Job, neither knowing, learning, understanding or capable of reasoning beyond the mystery.
Yet God speaks. Breaking all the silence of the universe, God addresses Job. Even with the limits in place, Job knows -- literally -- something besides the emptiness. God has heard; God has spoken. It's a minimal hope, yet a hope nevertheless; one a-blossom with something more than another November. "The word became flesh and dwelt among us...."
