​Many sternly ordered him to be quiet, but he cried out even more loudly, “Son of David, have mercy on me!”
~Mark 10:46
 
In the center of the story in Mark for this week, right after Bartimaeus raises his voice to call out for mercy, Mark tells us that Jesus stands still. It is a striking image, especially amidst the frenzy of the scene, Jesus stopping. Standing still. Listening. Bartimaeus calling out. The crowd shouting him down, seemingly everything and everyone against him. And then, Jesus calls him to the still, quiet center and lifts his voice for all to hear.
 
Our last of four encounters with the book of Job is striking for its similarities. Job, after finally receiving a response from God, lifts his voice and is restored. But what does he say? It is not as clear as we might hope. We need the voice of suffering to be raised for truth to be present, even if it undoes us a little bit in order to remake us all.
 
Such is the cycle of faith. Death leads to rebirth. Confusion leads to understanding. Unsettledness leads to new forms of life-giving order.
 
Enter into worship.
 
Readings: Job 42:1–6, 10–17 † Psalm 34:1-22 † Hebrews 7:23-28 † Mark 10:46-52
 
 
About the Art: Picasso, Pablo, 1881-1973. The Blind Man's Meal (detail), from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. https://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=54229 [retrieved October 14, 2024]. Original source: http://www.flickr.com/photos/clairity/2232804348/
 
Misery, old age, privation, and destitution permeate the canvases of Picasso's Blue Period (1902-4). By enveloping these dire subjects in a palette of blues, the artist moved the wretchedness to a picturesque and even sentimental sphere, one whose mood corresponds to contemporary angst-filled Spanish literature.
 
The Blind Man's Meal is one of the bluest of the Blue Period paintings. By highlighting the blind man's ear and emphasizing his slender hands, Picasso poignantly expressed that touch and sound are the man's only means of perceiving the world around him.

Then the Lord answered Job out of the whirlwind…
~Job 38:1
 
We are in something of a storm ourselves these days—whether we choose to acknowledge and address it meaningfully or not. Catastrophic weather events signal a climate crisis that is not going to go away by itself. We know these are not, as we used to call them, “acts of God” but weather patterns that have worsened as a result of human action. And there are consequences. We are already experiencing profound stress around immigration patterns, but these will only get worse with an explosion of climate refugees. And these will only be further exploited for politically manipulative ends. Our future is in question and wisdom seems scarce.
 
It seems that God has waited patiently while Job and his friends have waxed eloquent about his own past, present, and future, considering, reasoning, arguing about the problem of pain. Finally, out of the torrent, God speaks: “Who is this [speaking] words without knowledge? … Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?” What ever gave you the idea that this is all about you? Likewise, in Mark 10, James and John are ready to center themselves as they demand of Jesus that he make them his right and left-hand men as if that’s what’s needed in the present moment.
 
Perhaps these ancient texts from another time and place have something to teach us not only about suffering, but about our own time and place, about our relationship to all that is holy and good, and about priorities and investments we must make as we seek to join God in mending the world.
 
And to that mending, this Sunday we will take a little time to put these stories in context of our own, and of our mending and (hopefully) faithful response to what we see happening around us. We will take a more conversational tack this Sunday. Join us!
 
Enter into worship.
 
Readings:  Job 38:1-7, 34-41 † Psalm 104:1–9, 24, 35c † Hebrews 5:1-10 † Mark 10:35-45
 
About the Art: Idaho Squall, Scott Anderson, 2021.

As he was setting out on a journey, a man ran up and knelt before him, and asked him, “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” Jesus said to him, “Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone.
~Mark 10:17-19
 
Do you ever find yourself in conversations in which you feel you are talking past each other? The rich man walks up to Jesus and asks him a question about salvation…or about self-justification. And Jesus seems to fixate on a single word: Why do you call me good? Who is good, but God?
 
Job seems to be good. At least he is blameless. He sticks to his claim that his suffering is not justified. It has not been earned. He is, to use the biblical sense of the word, “righteous.”.It is not the result of some sin or failure on his part. And, according to the story, he appears to be right, or, to use a biblical word, “righteous.” Mark’s rich man may be as well. And it appears—at least for Job, and the rich man too—not really to matter or, at least, not to be the main point. Job laments. “[His] complaint is bitter” (Job 23:2).The rich man, when confronted with a life-shifting challenge “went away grieving.”
 
Maybe Jesus has a point. Maybe our (relative) goodness—as hard as we try to maintain it—isn’t the main thing, in suffering or in salvation. There is a turn to be made here, a discovery or recovery that holds out hope for our ultimate well-being and wholeness. Can we find it together in these times?
 
Enter into worship.
 
Readings: Job 23:1-9, 16-17 † Psalm 22:1-15 † Hebrews 4:12-16 † Mark 10:17-31
 
 
About the Art: Repin, Ilʹi︠a︡ Efimovich, 1844-1930. Job and His Friends, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. https://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=57620 [retrieved October 8, 2024]. Original source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Job_and_his_friends.jpg.

​Let the little children come to me; do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs.
~Mark 10:14
 
Mark notes that Jesus is “indignant” when he says this because the disciples seme to have no time for these children and are running them off. Indeed, the culture of their day did not center kids in the same way our culture does.
 
And yet, it is clear that being a child in our own time is a treacherous reality. The ubiquity of school shootings is perhaps the first thing that captures our attention, but self-harm with guns is a much larger problem and a further indication of the trauma that so often accompanies the uncertain experience of our youth and their future on a warming planet. What are we to do with such an unsettling reality and Jesus’ commandment?
 
Of course we are never promised all will go well. The accompanying story of Job certainly reminds us of this. It begins like a fairytale: Once there was a man in the country of Uz named Job…
 
It may start that way, but it takes us in very different directions. If we read all of chapter 1–why not do that before Sunday?—we would find he was the greatest man in all the East. And then in chapter two God even ups the ante by boasting that Job is not just the greatest in the East, but in all the earth.
 
Despite his goodness, there is no fairytale (middle or) ending for Job. We may find ourselves asking “why” questions: Why do the innocent suffer? Why are things as they are? But it never really answers them, inviting us instead to deeper and more productive questions that scrape against our real life experiences and invite us to consider the ways in which God births goodness from evil, blessing out of testing, and peace out of chaos in our homes and in our communities for the sake of our children and our future.
 
Enter into worship.
 
Readings: Job 1:1, 2:1-10 † Psalm 26 † Hebrews 1:1-4, 2:5-12 † Mark 10:2-16
 
 
About the Art: Johnson, William H., 1901-1970. Come Unto Me, Little Children, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. https://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=56876 [retrieved September 30, 2024]. Original source: https://americanart.si.edu/artwork/come-unto-me-little-children-11621.