My experiences of loss draw me into the mystery of suffering. In such times, including the recent loss of my mother, I find myself adrift in what I don’t know rather than tethered to what I do know. Even so, some fundamental truths hold firm even amid the disorientation of grief. This might be why I like the book of Job so much. I can understand his firm hold on his fundamental truth in relationship to God, and I share his bewilderment in the face of mystery. It reminds me that faithful people have always struggled with questions of suffering, and that people of faith and goodwill come to different, sometimes contradictory, conclusions as we search to make sense of our experience.
The dominant theology of suffering throughout the Old Testament suggests that the righteous flourish, and that suffering is for the sinful. That would be a simple, clear explanation. If true, it would provide a modicum of safety and control. If I can be righteous enough, good enough, holy enough, God will protect me. It doesn’t take much observation of the world, however, to realize it isn’t so clear-cut.
Job, along with some other books and passages (notably the “suffering servant” theme in Isaiah), shows us a different take, one rooted in experiential wisdom: sometimes bad things happen to good people, and we don’t understand why. This is scary because it means no matter how righteous, holy, or good I am, I can’t insulate myself against suffering and loss. But the text reveals something else to temper this truth: God is with us (with me!) in all things.
The book of Job doesn’t explain or justify suffering, but the story does reveal something—we are not alone in it. The book ends with Job conversing with God. CONVERSING WITH GOD. In this astonishing encounter, Job accepts that there are things he cannot understand, and that God is with him even in the murkiness. This is resonant with my own prayer amid loss. I don’t hold God responsible for my losses, but I do surrender to a reality beyond my comprehension. No explanation or justification makes sense, but relationship does.
For me, this story of Job is tied closely to the paschal mystery. Like the voice of God in Job, Jesus does not explain or justify suffering (though he does challenge the idea that it is connected directly to sin). In a drastic upping of the stakes, God incarnate climbs right into it with us. He doesn’t redeem suffering and death, but he redeems us in the midst of it. I don’t have to understand; I just have to know, in the face of mystery, that I’m not alone.
Sara Schulte-Bukowinski
Originally from central Nebraska, where my home diocese of Grand Island nurtured vocations to lay ministry, I pursued Divinity studies and completed my M.Div. at the Jesuit School of Theology at Berkeley in 2007. After 12 years of providing formation and education in Catholic schools, I spent 7 years as a lay pastoral minister (Parish Life Director) at St. John’s, Omaha’s Jesuit Parish. Most recently I took on another new role, now as Director of the Deglman Center for Ignatian Spirituality here at Creighton University. I live in Omaha with my husband Adam, our dog Lilly, and as of 2022 my parents-in-law Ann and George.
In graduate school I was fortunate to take a course from the illustrious theologian and Johannine scholar, Saundra Schneiders. I still remember her talking about the location where ongoing scriptural revelation occurs—in the space between the page and the eyes of the reader. This is where the Divine meets the realities of our lives, in our time and place. I look forward to sharing this encounter together as part of this reflection team.
