5th Sunday in Ordinary Time – Sermon by Father Levine

Fr. Joseph Levine; Holy Family Catholic Church and Missions, Burns, Oregon; February 4, 2024

Is not man’s life on earth a battle [forced labor, ordeal]? Are not his days those of hirelings?

These words from the Book of Job do not sound like “good news”, they are certainly not very “optimistic”, they are rather something of a “downer” to say the least. They are, however, part of the word of God. To arrive at the hope that is hidden within them we need to apply our minds. To this end it will be good to set them in their context in the whole Book of Job.

The story of Job is the story of a truly just and upright man who suffers undeservedly. In this he foreshadows Christ himself.

The first part of the book gives us divine insight into Job’s trial, insight that Job himself is lacking. Satan, the accuser, challenges God claiming that Job only follows the way of justice because God has blessed him with great wealth and good health. First, God allows Satan to put Job to the test, stripping him of his wealth, including his children. Job responds, Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return; the Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord. (Job 1:21) Satan renews his challenge and God allows Satan to take away Job’s health, such that he is left covered with sores from head to toe and sitting in an ash heap. At this point his wife castigates him, taking the side of Satan, saying, Do you still hold fast your integrity? Curse God, and die. (Job 2:9) To which Job replies, You speak as one of the foolish women would speak. Shall we receive good at the hand of the God, and shall we not receive evil? (Job 2:10)

At the end of the book, Job will be restored to his prior condition, having learned the falsity of Satan’s accusation, having learned that he truly loves God. By allowing Satan to put him to the test, God gave Job an opportunity to grow closer to himself in love, in fidelity. Job discovers that his true reward is found in God himself.

That simple narrative is the framework for the larger part of the book, which is introduced by the arrival of Job’s three friends, who sit with him in silence, sharing his misery for seven days. His words before the arrival of his friends show where his mind and will are at; he sees his suffering as coming from the hand of God and wants to accept them as such, remaining faithful to God. The seven days of silence speak eloquently of the depth of his interior misery and trial, the difficulty he faces persevering in his purpose. After the seven days, Job opens his mouth and gives vent to his feelings. That introduces a lengthy argument back and forth between Job and his friends. The basic tenor of the argument is that while Job is expressing the greatness of his suffering and seeking for the meaning, asking God why he has allowed it, his friends condemn him for feeling that way, and accuse him of some hidden sin that he is refusing to admit.

In his commentary on the Book of Job, St. Thomas Aquinas gives us an important guiding principle when he introduces Job’s first discourse.

“Reason,” he writes, “does not take away the condition of nature. It is natural to sensible nature to rejoice and be pleased about fitting things and grieve and feel pain about harmful things. So reason does not take away this natural disposition, but so moderates it that reason is not deflected from its right course because of sorrow.” (Commentary on Job, Ch 3, Lect 1) Indeed, it is precisely the role of the virtue of patience to moderate sorrow that reason might stay on track. St. Thomas Aquinas comments on the expression Job opened his mouth, pointing out that it shows the rational deliberation with which Job began speaking, expressing his sorrow; he deliberately opened his mouth; he did not blurt out or rant; he was not carried away by feelings that he could not contain nor moderate.

St. Thomas also gives a good example that shows the difference between reason and emotion in the midst of suffering, the example of the bitter medicine. If someone were to give voice to the feeling he would say, “Yuck. That medicine tastes lousy.” He might even add, “I don’t really want to take it.” The sensible feeling cannot grasp the purpose of the medicine, only its unpleasant taste. Yet, with the mind the person grasps that the medicine is good and needful for his health and, despite the taste, takes the medicine.

A virtuous man will take the bitter medicine, knowing that it is necessary, but he will still experience and dislike the bitter taste. He doesn’t say, “But that medicine tastes so sweet!” Virtue does not deny the bitter aspect of the reality. The man who is lacking in virtue, however, acts like a young child and throws a tantrum, refusing to take the medicine.

Returning to Job, however, he is more in the condition of the child who must take the bitter medicine, who does take the bitter medicine because has been forced upon him; he does not throw a tantrum, but neither does he understand why. He believes in God and so realizes that the disaster that has befallen him did not happen without God’s permission, so he directs his question to God, sometimes in a rather challenging fashion, as he expresses what he feels.

In the end, God reveals his presence and his greatness. That is the only answer he gives to Job, yet that answer is enough. It is as though he gives Job a hug and the child Job is reassured by the love of his Father.

There is here, a very important lesson for prayer: we can and should be honest with God about how we feel, while at the same time we submit ourselves to his will and hold fast to the right path in our actions. This was the example that Jesus set for us in the garden of Gethsemani, when his soul was sorrowful to the point of death and he prayed, Abba, Father, all things are possible to thee; remove this cup from me; yet not what I will, but what thou wilt. (Mk 14:36) Significantly that is the only time the Gospels actually record Jesus using the intimate “Abba” in speaking to his Father. Strengthened by his prayer, he then goes out to meet his betrayer.

So now we turn to today’s passage: Is not man’s life on earth a battle [forced labor, ordeal]? Are not his days those of hirelings? This is what life felt like to Job in the midst of his suffering. At times we might feel the same way; indeed, if we are honest, at times we do feel the same way. Even those who enjoy their work and have a happy marriage and family life will have their moments. Moreover, if we never get beyond mere feeling, the weight of the “battle” or “ordeal” will continually wear upon us and drag us down.

Now life is good and when our body is healthy, we are full of energy, and our mind is clear, we move along easily and joyfully in whatever activity is at hand; we don’t need to think much about it. Those who are young and healthy are filled with this natural energy and joy of life. That was Job in his prosperity. Yet, we will grow older and even without the sort of misfortune that Job suffered, and apart from the normal ups and downs of life, our strength will wane, and our health will no longer be what it once was.

When the energy wanes and the feeling wears off, hard thinking becomes necessary. Are not his days those of a hireling? He is a slave who longs for the shade, a hireling who waits for his wages.

That is indeed what life will be like for someone who lives on the level of feeling and emotion. He can find no good, no meaning, except in the good feeling. Work becomes a harsh necessity, to be endured because he needs money for food; he spends the week at work, longing for the shade of the weekend recreation; the work has no meaning except “drudgery”. Then he finds himself subject to someone else, a “boss” or a “government”, or to the “law of God”, and that stronger “will” can only be experienced as oppression, tyranny. Like the elder son in the parable of the prodigal son, he slaves for someone else, longing for his private pleasure on the side, his kid goat to feast on with his friends. (cf. Lk 15:29) Yet, the opportunity for the private pleasure is always the smaller part of life, gained at great cost, continuing to shrink, and in the end disappoints.

The words of Job, in the midst of suffering, find an echo in the words of Ecclesiastes, in the midst of prosperity: Vanity of vanity, all things are vanity. (Eccl 1:2)

We need to return to the lesson St. Paul taught us two weeks ago: The world in its present form is passing away. (1 Cor 7:31) So long as we are filled with the natural vigor and joy of life we can evade this truth. The time will come though when we are faced with the emptiness of all our toil; then emotions will no longer be able to carry us along; then our mind will need to be lifted up to some good that surpasses this world and that good is God himself.

We must discover the meaning and purpose in the very work, toil, and suffering of life. Instead of working for the weekend, working for the fleeting pleasure, working for the moments of celebration, those fleeting pleasures and celebratory moments must rather feed back into path of toil and suffering, which derive their meaning from something higher, from some true, solid, and well-founded hope.

Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer. (Rm 12:12) Notice the connection between hope, tribulation, and prayer. Prayer keeps us fixed on the goal of our hope and so gives us the strength and joy we need to be patient in the midst of tribulation.

In this hope we are saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience. (Rm 8:24-25)

What is the goal of our hope? Eternal life, which is life in God, and the resurrection of the body. We, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we await the redemption of our bodies. (Rm 8:23) To this the sufferings of the present world cannot compare. (cf. Rm 8:18)

Consider, now, the Gospel. Peter’s mother-in-law has been lying sick in bed with a fever; she has been inactive, suffering and no more. Jesus cures her and then she gets up, becomes active again, and begins to serve the others. Our life, our energy, our gifts from God, in this life, have been given to us not for our recreation and pleasure, but to serve others, to serve each other in the name of Christ. That is where we will taste the first fruits of the Spirit and find true joy in this life – in the labor of love. Then we will be able to find joy in our work even when we meet with frustration, then we will be able to find joy even in the midst of sorrow and suffering. And even if we are laid on our backs with some illness, we can still serve by offering our prayers and sufferings in reparation for sins and the conversion of sinners.

Now we can understand also the real battle of life. It is the battle that Job experienced, experiencing the sorrow and suffering, but not yielding in the mind, not giving way to discouragement, not losing hope, but keeping his gaze fixed upon God and upon the goal of eternal life.  It is the hard labor of taking up our Cross and following after Christ.

It is a struggle filled with the hope expressed in the Job’s greatest, most famous words: Oh that my words were written! Oh that they were inscribed in a book! Oh that with an iron pen and lead they were graven in rock forever! For I know that my Redeemer lives, and at last he shall stand upon the earth; and after my skin has been destroyed, then from my flesh I shall see God, who I shall see on my side, and my eyes will behold, and not another. (Job 19:23-27)

And when the Redeemer himself, the very Son of God made man, Jesus Christ, our great High Priest, did stand upon this earth, he went before us and showed us the way: for the joy that was set before him he endured the Cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God. (He 12:2)