Job 19:25: ” I know that my Redeemer lives, and that in the end he will stand upon the earth.”
This Sunday is Remembrance Sunday, when we celebrate the courage and bravery of those who risked and gave their lives protecting our country and freedom. It is also a time to remember the horrors of war, which helps to encourage us to do all we can to avoid war breaking out in the future.
Remembrance Sunday (Job 19:23-27a / 2 Thess 2:1-8)
There are some things that are impossible to explain or to understand. On the afternoon of Sunday 19 March 1916, at the height of the First World War, bombs landed near the junction of St Luke’s Avenue and Dumpton Park Road, as part of an air raid. Five children who were on their way to Sunday school class at St Luke’s Church were killed: Ernest Philpott, aged 12, Herbert Gibbens, aged 9, Francis Hardwick, aged 7, Gladys Saxby, aged 6, and James Saxby, aged 4. The bombs also killed a 49 year old man driving his car down the road, Henry Divers, and mortally wounded a 23 year old woman, Gertrude Bishop. Several other children were injured in the attack. Funerals took place here at St Luke’s Church four days later. The building was packed to capacity, and crowds silently lined the streets from the church to the cemetery. There are some things which are impossible to explain or to understand. The preacher at the funeral simply said that ‘Creation never groaned and travailed in pain so much as it does today’.
The Bible readings we have heard this morning highlight two issues that are impossible to explain or understand, not just in terms of logic and philosophy, but also in terms of emotion and experience. Both of these issues are part and parcel of the story of the St Luke’s Avenue bombing. They are part and parcel of any thoughtful remembrance of war, and they continue to confront us today. The first issue, which is treated in the Old Testament book of Job, and which we will consider first, is the issue of the meaningless suffering of the innocent. The second issue, which is at stake in our reading from the apostle Paul’s second letter to the Thessalonians, and which I will speak about later, is the issue of purposeful, personal evil. We cannot explain or understand these issues, either from a philosophical or emotional point of view, and yet we are forced to live with them as realities of this world. These Bible readings certainly do not provide explanations for the existence of suffering or evil, but they do indicate how Christians may live in a world in which they exist, which is the only world we have ever known thus far.
So first of all, let us turn back to the book of Job, chapter 19, verses 23 to 27, to consider this problem of the meaningless suffering of the innocent. It’s worth noting at the outset that we are reading from the middle of the book of Job, in which the words of Job and his companions are set out at length. When we think of the book of Job, we often think of the narrative prologue of the first two chapters, and the epilogue of the last chapter, and just the events that are recorded in those chapters. However, the guts of the book is not in the prologue or epilogue, but really it is in the back-and-forth of the arguments between Job and his companions, a conversation in which “they cannot all be right, but neither [are any of them completely and totally] wrong”.1 Finally, the guts of the book is in the intervention of God and the response of Job recorded in the penultimate chapters. The book of Job has been described as ‘a pure marvel of truth and authenticity from beginning to end’,2 but relatively few people have had the patience to read it from the beginning right through to the end. Yet it is in the middle of the book that we engage with the issue of innocent suffering at the deepest level.
If we only had the prologue to go by, we might be tempted to resolve the issue of innocent suffering by simply attributing it to the action of the devil and evil spirits, inspired perhaps by the story of the permission given by God for the sincerity of Job’s faith to be tested by Satan. But by no means would this be a complete or satisfactory explanation for the problem of suffering. Try telling the parents of the children killed in St Luke’s Avenue that their tragedy, while in itself evil, must have been permitted by God as a test of faith. Such a suggestion would be callous as well as mistaken. It is noteworthy that such an explanation is never offered to Job himself. From the beginning to the end of the book that bears his name, he remains altogether unaware of, and uninformed about, events in the courts of heaven, and he cannot look for answers there.
If we only had the monologues of Job’s three companions Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar, to go by, we might try to find a way to account for his suffering in terms of his previous choices, harbouring the suspicion that Job must have done something wrong to deserve all the misfortune that befell him.
Or, if we only had the monologues of Elihu to go by, who appears as a newcomer to the conversation in chapter 32, we might favour an explanation of suffering that asserts that what we regard as suffering, might in fact be an essential building block of some greater good of which we are ignorant because of the limitations of our human knowledge. But these explanations are likewise unsatisfactory. Imagine the bereaved parents of St Luke’s Avenue being told that their children must have somehow been at fault, or that what happened was somehow for the greater good! Mercifully, they weren’t told that. Instead, the preacher at the funeral simply said that ‘Creation never groaned in pain so much as it does today’. To his credit, he did not propose any explanation for the dark shadow that enveloped Ramsgate on that day.
Neither did Job propose an explanation for his own suffering in chapter 19, verses 23 to 27. Instead, he made three statements: one about his words, one about his Redeemer, and one about his own self.
In verses 23 and 24, Job says: “Oh, that my words were recorded, that they were written on a scroll, that they were inscribed with an iron tool on lead, or engraved in rock forever!” This is a deeply poignant statement, in light of the fact that we are reading it now, thousands of years later, as part of a collection of books that orthodox Christians as well as Jews regard as a sacred vehicle of communication from God himself. The wish expressed in these verses has come true: Job’s words have indeed stood the test of time.
Then verse 25, Job says: “I know that my Redeemer lives, and that in the end he will stand upon the earth”. A lot of ink has been split by biblical scholars on the precise meaning of the word translated here as ‘Redeemer’, or as ‘Defender’ in the footnotes. Was Job actually describing a prophetic vision of the risen Jesus Christ standing at the apex of human history? Or did Job’s words simply help form the background for the New Testament concept of redemption and forgiveness of sins through the cross of Christ? Either way, it is clear that Job is looking forward to a vindication to be brought about by God at the end of time.
This idea continues in Job’s third statement in verses 26 and 27, one about himself: “After my skin has been destroyed, yet in my flesh I will see God; I myself will see him with my own eyes”. When put alongside ‘I know that my Redeemer lives, and that in the end he will stand upon the earth’, these words form a prelude to the Christian doctrine of the resurrection of the body, and the idea that Christ’s resurrection is the guarantee of ours.
A final vindication, in fact a final resurrection, does not serve in any way as an explanation for the meaningless suffering of the innocent, but it does function as a meaningful response to it. It does do something to offer comfort and hope, and to lessen doubt – if not anguish – in the face of that suffering. Of all the characters in the Old Testament, Job is of course the absolute icon of meaningless, innocent suffering. And the pinnacle of meaningless suffering was reached in the New Testament by Jesus Christ himself, who went not up to joy but first he suffered pain, who entered not into glory before he was crucified, and whose suffering was vicarious. He suffered, the Bible tells us, in our place.
Have you ever thought about the difference it makes that Jesus was scourged, mocked, shamed, and brutally tortured by crucifixion before he died? It makes a difference, I think, to anyone who has had to face situations themselves, or helplessly stand by and watch situations involving others, of senseless cruelty, unnecessary pain, suffering, humiliation or degradation. At the foot of the cross, we learn that suffering is not a problem to be solved, but actually it is an aspect of God’s very being, and it is his means of identifying with and redeeming or defending the human race. God is love, and love always involves suffering. We may pray that fellowship in Christ’s suffering made a difference in 1916 to the parents of the children of St Luke’s Avenue. We may pray that it has made a difference to all who have been exposed to the horrors of the wars that we remember today, whether soldiers or civilians, combatants or bystanders. We may pray that the fellowship of Christ’s suffering makes a difference to us in the face of suffering in whatever form it comes across our path, and across the paths of those who know and love.
So the issue at stake in our first reading was that of innocent suffering, and albeit that there can be no satisfactory explanation of it, there is a meaningful response to it in the vicarious suffering of Christ.
The presenting issue is the second letter to the Thessalonians is, as I have said, the issue of purposeful, personal evil. Like the suffering of the innocents, this evil is impossible to explain or understand. It is a dark mystery why despots and tyrants should ever have been permitted by the Lord to prosper, given that we know the Lord to be entirely loving, and all-powerful. At the same time, it is undeniable that tyrants and despots stalk the pages of the Bible from beginning to end. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. From Exodus, we know that Pharaoh decreed the murder of all male Hebrew infants. From Matthew, we know that Herod ordered the slaughter of all boys in Bethlehem aged two and under. These are horrors, but no kind of surprise. This is just how tyrants roll. From the Bible, we learn of the cruelty of the Babylonians, the Assyrians, and the Romans. And from history, we learn of cruelty in every age. What we learn is that this cruelty is purposeful, and it is personal. Behind the attack on St Luke’s Avenue in 1916, stood a deadly military-industrial complex involving thousands of identifiable human agents, and with one man at its apex. This was no natural disaster, it was the result of careful and malicious human planning. The First World War was one of the first of many twentieth-century conflicts in which civilian populations were deliberately and routinely targeted, something which had previously been commonly recognised to be contrary to all the conventions of warfare.
In the hundred years since, it has proved impossible to put that genie back in the bottle. Like it or not, as the result of deliberate human choices, innocent civilians are now fair game in any total war. And in the century or so since the end of the so-called ‘War to end all Wars’, there have been and there continue to be a dizzying number of total wars and genocides. Likewise, over the last century there has been, and there continues to be, a lengthy procession of dictators and demagogues standing behind these ferocious wars and genocides. I don’t have time to name them, and I don’t think I need to name them. A moment’s thought is all that is required for half a dozen names to spring to mind. Think a little longer, and we would be able to come up with even more names. They all stand in a ghastly line of succession that started with Pharaoh and Herod.
As terrifying as the thought of this unending procession of dictators and demagogues is, none of it should actually surprise us. The Lord himself told his disciples: “When you hear of wars and rumours of wars, do not be alarmed. Such things must happen, but the end is yet to come. Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. … Brother will betray brother to death, and a father his child. Children will rebel against their parents and have them put to death. … When you see ‘the abomination that causes desolation’ standing where it does not belong, then let those who are in Judea flee to the mountains … At that time if anyone says to you, ‘Look here is the Christ!’, or ‘Look, there he is!’, do not believe it. For false Christs and false prophets will appear and perform sign and miracles to deceive the elect – if that were possible.” (Mark 13:7-8, 12,14, 21-22). Likewise, John warned his readers: “as you have heard that the antichrist is coming, even now many antichrists have come” (1 John 2:18).
“Throughout history, [many] have been [found willing to do] Satan’s evil work”, and “from time to time we must expect that outstandingly evil men will appear”.3 The apostle Paul’s concern in 2 Thessalonians chapter 2, “however, is not with them, but with the most infamous of all, who will appear in the last days”.4 Until that time, we live in an era in which “the secret power of lawlessness is already at work” – not only in the existence of suffering in the world, but actually in purposeful, personal evil – but in our own time the Lord restrains that power of lawlessness within certain bounds, according to Paul (cf. 2 Thessalonians 2:7). The Lord holds lawlessness back, so that even when things are at their very worst, they are never quite as bad as they could imaginably be.
Paul assures the Thessalonians that the day of the Lord had not yet come, and likewise we can be assured that it has not yet come. All the wars and all the warmongers, all the terrorism and all the terrorists, are signs not that it has come, but that it will come one day. Why things should be this way, we cannot say. We cannot fully explain or understand this purposeful, personal evil. The fact that things actually are this way is, however, undeniable, and what we may yearn for and expect from the Lord, more than a philosophically satisfying explanation, is a response. The Lord’s response is to restrain evil within certain bounds for the time being, and later, when the time is right, his response will be in his coming, and in us being gathered to him. At that time, the Lord will overthrow the lawless one with the breath of his mouth and destroy him by the splendour of his coming, according to 2 Thessalonians chapter 2, verse 8. In other words, just him turning up, and blowing a single puff of air from his lungs, will be sufficient for him to overcome his greatest opponent. No wonder the worst tyrant in all of history is described in verse 3 as already “doomed to destruction”.
If we ask the question, ‘how did God obtain this power over evil?’, the answer lies in the fact that we are talking in verses 1 and 8, not about just any generic God, but about the Lord Jesus Christ, who, in rising from the grave, conquered death, which is the last and greatest enemy of humankind.
The issue at stake in this second reading is that of purposeful, personal, fearful evil, for whose existence there can be no satisfactory explanation, but to which there is a meaningful response in the resurrection power of Christ, and in the assurance of his return to set right all that is wrong with the world as we know it. In 1916, the children and adults of Ramsgate were in head-on confrontation with that evil. Today we remember that creation never groaned in pain more than it did at that time. The knowledge of the power of Christ, the literally death-defying resurrection power of Christ, made a difference to all those who gathered in this building one hundred and nine years ago. In hot and cold wars since there have been a series of face-to-face encounters with that evil. We may pray that the knowledge of the power of Christ made a difference to all those, soldiers or civilians, combatants or non-combatants, whose task it was to make a stand against that evil. And purposeful, personal evil still crouches near today, ready to strike us or our loved ones at a time when we are least prepared for it.
Suffering and evil cannot be explained or understood. Yet we have already noted that the issue of innocent suffering could nevertheless be met by and absorbed within the loving, sympathetic suffering of Christ. And when the problem we face is actually the mystery of iniquity, it is given us to know not only the fellowship of sharing in Christ’s sufferings, becoming like him in his death, but also the power of his resurrection, so as to ourselves attain to the resurrection of the dead (cf. Philippians 3:10). And this makes all the difference in the world to us. This is the true comfort and glorious hope of the gospel for the children of God, in the face of all war, hardship, ill-fortune, trouble, loss, and danger.
1 David Ford, Christian Wisdom: Desiring God and the Book of Job, Kindle loc. 1993.
2 Ibid., Kindle loc. 2212.
3 Leon Morris, The Epistles of Paul to the Thessalonians, p. 127.
4 Ibid.
St. George's Church Ramsgate 