Job 21:34
How then will you comfort me with empty nothings? There is nothing left of your answers but falsehood. –Job, responding to Zophar
I’m sure I’ve never selected a passage from Job for these Advent devotions, but 2020 seems like the year to do so.
Job’s so-called friend has just responded to Job’s relentless suffering by implying (or outright claiming!) that he’s deserving of what has happened to him. God sends his fierce anger into the wicked, Zophar boldly asserts, and rains it upon them as their food.
Job has lost absolutely everything–his oxen and donkeys, his servants, his sheep, his camels, his health, and even his children. And his friends–the ones who have supposedly come to console and comfort him–cannot bear his lament. They comfort themselves by believing that Job has done something to deserve this punishment from God. They meet Job’s deep grief with judgment.
It makes me wonder how well we’ve responded to one another this year. It makes me wonder how well we’ve responded to ourselves.
When Job’s friends first arrived they simply sat in silence with him. Their instinct was spot on. But then they grew uncomfortable. Then they felt compelled to say something. And it all went downhill from there.
I wonder if we didn’t do a pretty good job sitting with the grief of our friends and family members, neighbors and co-workers at the start of this pandemic. I wonder if we didn’t do a pretty good job being gentle with our own lament. But somewhere along the way did we grow weary? Somewhere along the way did we feel compelled to offer answers? To render judgment? As these long pandemic days have gone on, do we compare our situation to that of others and judge ourselves for taking things so hard? Do we look for comfort in all the wrong places?
Earlier this year, I had the great joy of working on a project alongside women in ministry throughout the Northeastern Iowa Synod of the ELCA. The video we produced both celebrated significant anniversaries in our church (50 years of Lutheran women being ordained in the United States, 40 years of women of color being ordained, and 10 years of LGBTQIA+ individuals being able to serve freely) and lifted up the office of ordained ministry.
[If you’d like a taste of Easter in the midst of Advent, you may wish to watch our video here.]
Pastor Beth Olson shares the charge we make to pastors when they’re ordained. And for as many times as I’ve watched this video, these words get to me every single time.
Care for God’s people, bear their burdens, and do not betray their confidence. So discipline yourselves in life and teaching that you preserve the truth, giving no occasion for false security or illusory hope. Witness faithfully in word and deed to all people. Give and receive comfort as you serve within the church. And be of good courage, for God has called you, and your labor in the Lord is not in vain.
Hope that depends on understanding someone else’s suffering as God’s judgment…is no hope at all. Hope that can’t bear to sit with sorrow…is no hope at all. Hope that insists on speaking when silence is what is most needed…is not the hope we’re called to claim.
We give and receive comfort when we steer away from either toxic positivity in the one ditch or insistent judgment in the other ditch. We give and receive comfort when we allow ourselves to feel the pain of another and when we’re gentle with our own grief. We give and receive comfort as we learn to cry…so that in time we can sing.
Come, Jesus, come. Comfort us in our grief. Sit with us in silence. Assure us of your presence. Amen.
Today’s accompanying song is How Can You Sing by Front Country. Its question, how can you sing if you can’t cry, stopped me in my tracks and played in my head as I wrote this post.
A thought and heart-provoking post followed by a beautifully melancholy song. I loved reading the charge made to pastors as well, thanks for sharing. I grew up Methodist, but moved to Chicago and became part of a church that was more “rah rah” with the power of the Spirit for many years. This year has arrested us on many fronts, bringing face to face with the deeper and more complex realities of humanity too. Jesus was a great example. Funny how many Christians bypass his humility, life of service and pursuit of the outcasts. Loved how you pulled in the story of Job, your insights on his friends doing the right thing at first, but growing uncomfortable and making things up on behalf of God was spot on.
Thank you so much, Jen. I really appreciate you sharing your perspective and wisdom. Peace be yours…
“We give and receive comfort as we learn to cry…so that in time we can sing.” This went straight to my heart. Thank you, my dear friend. You are such a gift.
Thank you so much, Beth. I’ve edited the post to try to give credit where credit is due. That line was completely inspired by today’s accompanying song, which asks: “How can you sing if you can’t cry?”