L. Wm. Countryman Good Shepherd, Berkeley CA

21st SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST, 10/13/2024

Proper 23B: Job 23:1-9, 16-17; Psalm 22:1-15; Hebrews 4:12-16; Mark 10:17-31

You might get the impression from this morning’s readings that God can be difficult to get along with. But you probably knew that anyway. We all know that bad things sometimes happen to good people, and Job is not the only person who’s ever experienced disastrous ruin and loss for no apparent reason. And, as Job found, complaining doesn’t help matters. 

It’s a very poignant passage. One’s heart aches for him. He still affirms his belief in God’s justice and compassion. He’s just sure that, if he could just get God’s ear and tell him the whole story, God would set things right. But he can’t get through to God: 

If I go forward, he is not there;

or backward, I cannot perceive him;

on the left he hides, and I cannot behold him;

I turn to the right, but I cannot see him.

It’s all to no avail!

It might almost be easier for Job if he could just believe in a world without God—a world where everything happens by chance and nothing will ever make any sense. But, like many of us, he resists that. He resists it because he has known God in his life. They have been friends and companions. And Job has the strength of purpose (or maybe just stubbornness) that he willnot give up either his friendship or his complaint.

What a quandary! For us as well as for him.

We also heard another troubling story from the Gospel of Mark. Why, exactly, did the rich young man come to Jesus in the first place? What did he want. He’s already performing all his religious duties. What is the “more” that he thinks he needs? Does he want special prayers to say? a new way to use some of his riches for good? He wants to add more religion to his life, somehow. He wants to “follow” Jesus in some vague sense. But he’s not there to reevaluate his life or get a radical change of perspective. If he did want to become a disciple, I suspect he was hoping for part-time work. But I think he was looking more for an add-on to his already great religious wealth. 

Peter the Brash seizes the moment for a little self-praise: “Look, we have left everything and followed you.” Jesus responds, “Yes, Peter, you’re doing fine.” But then he throws him a curve-ball. Peter has his own attachment to a kind of wealth: he so much likes being in the lead all the time, being the first to speak up. And Jesus says to him, “But many who are first will be last, and the last first.” discipleship is not a contest about who gives up the most. Accepting Jesus’ love and mercy as the center of one’s life is its own reward, not just a way to get an edge on the future.

So our rich young man has quandary. And Peter has one, too.

So God, it seems, can be tough and demanding. And yet God can also be loving and generous. And we human beings have a hard time holding all this together in our minds and hearts, not to mention our prayers and our theology. And, today, by sheer chance or by the secret maneuvering of divine providence, it turns out that the author of the Epistle to Hebrews is grappling with this problem, too. 

Now, you know, I love the letter to Hebrews, partly just for its author’s wonderful way with words. And I’ve been studying it for years. But, frankly, most of the time, I avoid preaching from it because it’s just too complex. But I’m going to give a try today.

There’s sharp contrast in this text–and, horror of horrors! it’s a contrast in the very reality of God. We meet God first here as the absolutely incorruptible judge—impossibly demanding—and there’s no hiding from God’s judgement. “Before him no creature is hidden, but all are naked and laid bare to the eyes of the one to whom we must render an account.” 

God can’t help being our judge, because God sees all—all that we are, all our failures, all our possibilities, all our floundering. And God can’t just “unsee” all that, God can’t just pretend that everything is okay, because God is truth. 

And yet, God is in a quandary, too. Because God doesn’t just love truth and goodness. God also loves God’s human creatures. And so Jesus, we’re told, “became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him. . .” It sounds almost like: “God is severe and unforgiving, but—it’s okay—Jesus will get us out of jail.” As if they were working against each other!

But no! In an earlier passage (chapter 2), our author had already explained it. Jesus is actually God’s own gracious way of becoming one of us and sharing our death. God’s purpose in Jesus was and is to “bring many children to glory.” God cannot compromise with evil. But God can sacrifice God’s own self to call us back from it. 

God, who sees all and knows all, can’t help being judge. But God, the great judge who sees all, does not want to destroy his beloved creation. And therefore God is determined to reclaim us—determined enough to share our life and our death. And this God who can’t help seeing and knowing our every fault also loves us enough to come and stand alongside us. 

God’s quandary has become something different. No longer a quandary, but a mystery. A mystery of love triumphing over betrayal, guilt, weakness, separation. We are still invited, in the words of the Letter to Hebrews, “to approach the throne of grace with boldness so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.” Our feet are already on the path. And we are journeying, together, toward the goal.