Memorial of Saint Thérèse of the Child Jesus, Virgin and Doctor of the Church

Lectionary: 458

But as for me, I know that my Vindicator lives,
and that he will at last stand forth upon the dust;
Whom I myself shall see:
my own eyes, not another’s, shall behold him,
And from my flesh I shall see God;
my inmost being is consumed with longing.

 

We know little about the origins of The Book of Job: who wrote it, where it was written, when, or for what purpose. We assume it was written by a Jewish scribe because we find it in the Hebrew scriptures, but there are few references to prove that. Its majesty, dignity, and depth command respect beyond the Abrahamic religions; it is widely read today by secular and atheist philosophers.

Today’s passage seems like a bolt of lightning on a cloudless, quiet summer day. The protagonist's hope of seeing his "vindicator" in this world, and with his own natural eyes, appears nowhere else in the text. Nor was life after death a widely held Jewish belief. Who is the vindicator? Is he God or another champion? Job, the protagonist, wants and expects more than a post-mortem declaration of his innocence. He knows he will see both vindication and the Vindicator with his own mortal eyes. 

The Christian tradition claims these verses as a prophecy concerning the “resurrection of the body.” But critics might dismiss the passage for that very reason, “Since it belongs to Christian doctrine, we need not take it seriously. It is pie in the sky; a poor response to the perennial question of theodicy." 

I am not compelled to answer that objection. The Holy Spirit drives our faith in Jesus and our belief in his resurrection despite the persistent criticism of non-believers. 

But I hear in this passage a different appeal which does challenge many Christians. It concerns reality and illusion. Job, an innocent man who believes he has been unjustly treated by an all-powerful and very distant God, demands justice and declares he will not be content with anything less than seeing his vindicator with his own eyes. He doesn't want to hear vague promises of a happy-ever-after. 

His Jewish faith in God's fidelity doesn't believe in ideas or ideals. He believes in the real world -- its facticity and haeceity. As I meet with Veterans in recovery from substance abuse I often ask them to "Tell me a story." I don't want to hear a theory about how things might be or should be. I want to hear a true story of something you did or said or was done to you. 

Many Christian Americans believe in fantasy religion. They ascribe to Mark Twain's idea of belief: "Faith is believing in something you know ain't true." 

At one time many Protestants accepted the Bible as the Word of God but did not ask who wrote it, when, where, or why. It seemed to be just there. They accepted the King James Version as "the Bible" even as they saw on the title page that it had been translated from the original languages, Hebrew and Greek. It had no history and required no interpretation. 

When Joseph Smith claimed to find an alternate bible under a rock -- the Book of Mormon -- with stories that he claimed were history although he had no corroborating evidence to validate his claims, many Americans accepted it. His sincerity was enough for them. Muhammed had made a similar claim about the Koran in the seventh century. 

Unfortunately, after almost two centuries of modern research on the Old and New Testaments, many people remain profoundly ignorant of its sources. Historians have shown us how the Bible, which might be called a library, came to be. It didn't just happen. There was no scribe listening to and furiously writing the words of an angel. Each book, psalm, proverb, and epistle has roots in historical human experience. The faith emerged through centuries of prayer and devotion, out of controversies and contemplation. 

The Bible is a human document as Jesus was a human being. It is the Word of God as Jesus is the Word made flesh. The Bible is the Word of God but it does not contain the Word of God, because the Word can no more be contained than a man can be contained. 

In the forty-second chapter of Job, the Lord appears to the sage and his critics. He vindicates Job as just, innocent, and wise even as he demands that Eliphaz from Teman, Bildad from Shuh, and Zophar from Naamath atone for their sins against Job. The holy man is satisfied with God's appearance and God's justice. 

But his challenge remains for us. Is our faith built on ideas and ideals, fantasies and vague notions of the way things should be? Or do we believe in the Revelation God has given to us, beginning with Abraham and continuing today? Have we eaten the Body of Christ and drank his blood, or did we suppose these were merely symbols of grace and communion? Have we been willing to follow the Truth wherever it takes us, or supposed that truth is only my current set of opinions? 

Is my faith in God anchored in real human experience, including the Bible, the Liturgy, the lives of the saints, the history of the Church, daily prayer, and my personal encounter with God?