Perish the day on which I was born,
the night when they said, “The child is a boy!”
Why did I not perish at birth,
come forth from the womb and expire?
Or why was I not buried away like an untimely birth, like babes that have never seen the light?
The Church today offers us two very different reflections upon death. First we hear Job's complaint as his successful career and comfortable, privileged life have suddenly disappeared. Despite his lifelong and exemplary fidelity, he has suffered catastrophic loss of wealth, children, health, and social standing. He's left only with his unsympathetic wife.
Everyone knows goodness is supposed to be rewarded and wickedness should be punished. God is creator and ruler of the universe, and nothing happens which is not God's will. So why is Job suffering devastating losses for no apparent reason? Given everything that has happened to him, he wishes he were dead. He wishes he had never been born.
Today's gospel tells of Jesus's resolution to travel to Jerusalem. He has only recently come down from the mountain of transfiguration where he conferred with Moses and Elijah. They "appeared in glory and spoke of his exodus that he was going to accomplish in Jerusalem."
During his brief thirty-some years Jesus had never been as prosperous as Job; but, as the only begotten Son of the Most High God, the humiliation of crucifixion would be infinitely worse. And yet he seems to treat his divine status as not worth the bother, as "so much rubbish." His trip to Jerusalem is like the prodigal son's trip "to a distant country where he squandered his wealth on a life of dissipation.
The Church offers the Gospel of Jesus as an answer to Job. His losses were real; his humiliation is beyond comprehension. We are not surprised by Job's shock, grief, and anger; we would feel the same way.
Most of the time, humans know life in a stable world of sufficient housing and food with a predictable future. We have built innumerable barriers and shock absorbers to shield us from famine, drought, and war. Only an act of God coming from left field might disturb our tranquility. And when such things occur to friends and loved ones, we are like Job's companions who remained silent for several days. We can find no words to console him. And then we might blame him for bringing the disaster upon himself.
Addressing these real catastrophes, which are not as uncommon as they should be, is the equally convincing story of Jesus's resurrection and ascension into glory. This really happened! Here is God's promise that all things will be well, and all things will be well, and all manner of things will be well.
If that promise of reconciliation, atonement, harmony, and final integrity -- the Kingdom of God -- seems beyond comprehension, we have our own occasional moments of consolation in faith to assure us. The Day of Lord will come.
For the vision is a witness for the appointed time,
a testimony to the end; it will not disappoint.
If it delays, wait for it,
it will surely come, it will not be late.
See, the rash have no integrity;
but the just one who is righteous because of faith shall live (Habakkuk 2:3-4)
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I love to write. This blog helps me to meditate on the Word of God, and I hope to make some contribution to our contemplations of God's Mighty Works.
Ordinarily, I write these reflections two or three weeks in advance of their publication. I do not intend to comment on current events.
I understand many people prefer gender-neutral references to "God." I don't disagree with them but find that language impersonal, unappealing and tasteless. When I refer to "God" I think of the One whom Jesus called "Abba" and "Father", and I would not attempt to improve on Jesus' language.
You're welcome to add a thought or raise a question.