(Job 42:1-6, 10-17; 2 Cor 12:6-10; Mk 10:46-52) J G White

10:30 am, Sunday, Oct 27, 2024, FBC Amherst

Is the Bible realistic, or unrealistic? Is Christianity down-to- earth, or idealistic?

One problem is a bit of a thorn in my side: all the happy endings in Bible stories. Because they don’t jive with all the tragedies of real life. Did all that really happen then? Well, why not now?

When we were finalizing our Identity Statement a month or so ago, one of our wise Deacons suggested we add to our list of diverse peoples who are all welcome in this fellowship of Jesus. That we add ability to colour, ethnicity, creed, economic background and so forth. People of any ability are welcome into the Church and all our work. This in itself may recognize the fact that we don’t expect every hurt, limited, injured or ill person to be healed by some miracle or other.

But, some days, it seems like all the Bible stories are about miracles of healing and freedom from evil forces and even resurrection from being dead. Do our sacred stories have far too many happy endings?

Such as the finale of the book of Job? Today is Sunday four of four, skimming through this long, ancient book. We saw the profound response of this suffering man, Job, after God comes near. Job repents - makes a turn around - with dust and ashes: a very old, traditional way of expressing grief and humility.

Then, then the ‘happy ending.’ His long-winded friends are told they were all wrong (and they must make sacrificial offerings to help Job pray for them). And then: Job ends up healed in body, gains a whole new family, and great riches in domestic animals. More than he’d had at first, in chapter one.

Many people - from Bible scholars to folks like you and me - have wondered about this ending. And even wondered if it was not original: was it added on later? There is such power if it ends with Job humble and still faithful, in a heap before God. Why make it all sunshine and lollipops in the last eight verses?

I like the comments of Bible teacher Matt Skinner, a Presbyterian at Luther Seminary in Minnesota. Skinner made the point that he sees in the last paragraph of Job the message that people who suffer devastation can find happiness again. People who lost spouses or children can find happiness again with others, even new families. Not to discount the grief and trauma that is real and remains, and so on. So Skinner says that Job’s ending does not have to be either/or - an idealistic happy, happy ending, or a poor addition to the story of the book that dulls its impact. It is an ambiguous ending; it does give hope for new beginnings.

For me, there are two details in the finale that catch my attention. First, where we read that ‘the LORD restored the fortunes of Job when he had prayed for his friends; and the LORD gave Job twice as much as he had before.’ (J42:10) When all the sermons were over, and Job got to meet Almighty God, Job was blessed as he prayed for his friends who were no help to him at all. This is like what Jesus would teach, many centuries later: pray for those who persecute you.

The second detail is in the next verse. (J42:11) ‘Then there came to him all his brothers and sisters and all who had known him before, and they ate bread with him in his house; they showed him sympathy and comforted him for all the evil that the Lord had brought upon him; and each of them gave him a piece of money and a gold ring.’ Job’s truest friends appeared, and this was the start of the blessings. Perhaps it is true that many a miracle begins with some friends doing some good things for the person in trouble. That sounds real to me.

The Gospel lesson today is, once more, from Mark 10. Blind Bartimaeus is healed by Jesus. This is but one case among the many in these Jesus stories that sees a hurting person healed or freed from their trouble. Just skim through Mark and you can read of a man with an unclean spirit (1), Simon’s mother-in-in law with a fever (1), a leper in Galilee (1), a paralysed man (2), a man with a withered hand (3), and many others who were all healed. And this is just in the first three chapters of Mark!

There are occasional exceptions - moments when Jesus does not heal an ill person or help someone with some other trouble. Such as the story of the rich young fellow, looking for the path to eternal life, who went away sad. We just read this a couple weeks ago here. The end of that man’s story is unknown. We have to go to another Gospel writer, John, for the story we see in our scarecrow at the front doors here: the death of John the Baptist. Here is a terrible horror that Jesus did not prevent, and later, Christ did not resurrect John, as He did with a few other people, such as His friend Lazarus.

The power, and the purpose, of all the healing stories must be pondered. The main point might not always be about miraculous healing. In the case of Bartimaeus, in Mark 10, we might see that those who said ‘be quiet!’ to the disabled man were wrong. Jesus called Bartimaeus to Him. When it is all said and done, we discover that Jesus calls others who suffer and are disabled to Him, and to follow, be they healed or not.

Such as the Apostle Paul. I picked out this reading from 2 Cor 12 today, in which Paul famously writes about his thorn in the flesh. At last! Here is an un-healed, un-erased problem.

Much ink has been spilled by great thinkers about just what was Paul’s problem? Many illnesses have been suggested, not to mention other problems (some enemy who dogged him?) that could have been his thorn in the flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment him. Sounds quite serious! Paul saw some purpose in his mysterious problem: it kept him humble, amid some profound spiritual experiences he enjoyed. He mentions praying three times for it to be removed, but no. The grace of God had to be enough for Paul.

I dare say most people on earth will endure some pains and limitations that come their way. And which won’t go away. And, amazing things, gracious things, can germinate and grow from a rugged seed planted in the dark, damp earth (and crap) of life. God’s grace is sufficient, in the face of difficulties and even evil forces.

Henri Nouwen was a priest and a brilliant teacher at places like Harvard and Yale. Feeling led by God, he spent the last decade of his life living in a community of people with severe emotional, mental, and physical disabilities. Henri tells a story about Trevor, a man with severe mental and emotional challenges who was sent by Henri's community to a psychiatric facility for evaluation. Henri wanted to see him, so he called the hospital to arrange a visit. When those in authority found out that Henri Nouwen was coming, they asked if they could have a lunch with him in the Golden Room—a special meeting room at the facility. They would also invite doctors and clergy people to the special luncheon. Henri agreed.

When Henri arrived, they took him to the Golden Room, but Trevor was nowhere to be seen. Troubled, Henri asked about Trevor's whereabouts. "Trevor cannot come to lunch," he was told. "Patients and staff are not allowed to have lunch together. Plus, no patient has ever had lunch in the Golden Room."

Henri was not a confrontational person. But, knowing that community is about inclusion, Henri thought, Trevor ought to be here. So Henri turned to the person in authority and said, "But the whole purpose of my coming was to have lunch with Trevor. If Trevor is not allowed to attend the lunch, I will not attend either."

The thought of missing an opportunity for lunch with Henri Nouwen was too much. They soon found a way for Trevor to attend.

When they all gathered together, something interesting happened. At one point during the lunch, Henri was talking to the person on his right and didn't notice that Trevor had stood up and lifted his glass of Coca-Cola. "A toast. I will now offer a toast," Trevor said to the group.

Everybody in the room got nervous. What was he going to do?

Then Trevor, this deeply challenged man in a room full of PhDs, started to sing, "If you're happy and you know it, raise your glass. If you're happy and you know it, raise your glass…"

Nobody was sure what to do. It was awkward. Here was this man with a level of challenge and brokenness they could not begin to understand, yet he was beaming. He was thrilled to be there. So they started to sing. Softly at first, and then louder and louder until doctors and clergymen and Henri Nouwen were all practically shouting, "If you're happy and you know it, raise your glass."

Henri went on to give a talk at the luncheon, but the moment everybody remembered—the moment God spoke most clearly—was through the person they all would have said was the least likely person to speak for God.

A person ‘with limitations’ is still a person. A person can thrive with a thorn in their side. Trevor did. Henri Nouwen did. The Apostle Paul did. This is also some of what shines from our sacred scriptures, and what shines from our own lives today.

We used a nice, new prayer book earlier today, and the title says it all, I think: ‘The Lives We Actually Have.’ Our conversations with God, and with one another, must be real, actual, down-to-earth. It is here we will survive many things, and thrive through many challenges. Thanks be to God, in Jesus Christ, our Lord.