Our Living and Perfect Redeemer — 9 November 2025

Our Living and Perfect Redeemer

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Job 19:23-27a

O that my words were written down! O that they were inscribed in a book! O that with an iron pen and with lead they were engraved on a rock forever! For I know that my vindicator lives and that in the end he will stand upon the earth; and after my skin has been destroyed, then in my flesh I shall see God, whom I shall see on my side, and my eyes shall behold, and not another.

Luke 20:27-38

Some Sadducees, those who say there is no resurrection, came to him and asked Jesus a question: “Teacher, Moses wrote for us that if a man’s brother dies leaving a wife but no children, the man shall marry the widow and raise up children for his brother. Now there were seven brothers; the first married a woman and died childless; then the second and the third married her, and so in the same way all seven died childless. Finally the woman also died. In the resurrection, therefore, whose wife will the woman be? For the seven had married her.”

Jesus said to them, “Those who belong to this age marry and are given in marriage, but those who are considered worthy of a place in that age and in the resurrection from the dead neither marry nor are given in marriage. Indeed, they cannot die anymore, because they are like angels and are children of God, being children of the resurrection. And the fact that the dead are raised Moses himself showed, in the story about the bush, where he speaks of the Lord as the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob. Now he is God not of the dead but of the living, for to God all of them are alive.”

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Like most elementary age kids, I had an overactive sense of justice. As the youngest of three, I was constantly complaining, “That’s not fair!” It wasn’t fair that my siblings got to stay up later. It wasn’t fair that they could go places, do things I couldn’t do. Forget that they were several years older than me, and it probably wasn’t “fair” all the ways they had to help their little sister.

My parents tried very hard to make everything as fair as possible. Under the Christmas tree, they tried to have not just the same number of gifts, but also the same value. We had an allowance scheme where we were paid proportional to the grade we were in. There was meticulous record-keeping when it came time for college so that my parents would know that they could provide the same opportunities for me when my turn finally came. 

No matter how hard they tried, the fact still remains – life isn’t fair. We simply have to look around to see the truth of that. Some start out with more power or privilege simply based on the family they were born into. We know that children’s success is correlated to the zip code in which they live —and therefore parents’ income level—more than how good their teachers are, how much they care or how hard they work. People can work hard to build a life, to get ahead, and have it all wiped out in a single storm, by a predatory lender, through a government shut down. 

Life is not fair. 

Job knew that even more than most. Job had done all the right things. He had worked hard and became wealthy and secure. He had a wife and family—ten kids. He was respected, fearing God and teaching his children to do so also. And somehow, he got caught up in the power struggle between those far above him, causing Job to lose everything. In a single day, his wealth was carried off by enemies and his children were destroyed in a natural disaster. His health was gone, overtaken by painful sores from head to foot. All he had left was his faith—and his friends.

Job’s three friends gathered with him, first sitting with him in silence. As his friends spoke, we hear what else Job had lost. His “friends” heaped insults upon him saying, “surely you have brought this upon yourself.” “If only you had been better, done better, lived better, worshiped better, none of this would have ever happened.” 

I hear echoes of this today, as people are told explicitly or implicitly, 

“You shouldn’t have come here.”

“You shouldn’t have wanted more from life.”

“Who are you to think you deserve better?”

“Your existence is a burden we don’t want to bear.”

Job wasn’t ready to accept this from his friends. Job’s faith—and maybe even his famous patience—demanded answers from his friends and from God. Job didn’t know about this bet between God and hassatan, but he knew that life is not supposed to be this way. Life isn’t fair, but he did all the right things. How did it fall apart so badly? 

Job expected God to punish those who have done wrong, to abandon those who turn from God. He expected God’s accusation when he fell short, yet he was blameless, he was righteous. 

Job wrestled with the world and with God, demanding answers to his questions, demanding to know what happened. Where is God in all of this?

And somehow he landed on this proclamation of hope—“I know that my vindicator lives.” When you heard this read earlier from the NRSVUE, this verse may have struck your ear differently today—“I know that my vindicator lives.” Many of us are familiar with how it is rendered in Handel’s Messiah or the Easter hymn—“I know that my redeemer lives.”

This Hebrew word for vindicator, גָּאַל gō’ēl, can be translated in different ways—redeemer, avenger, liberator, kinsman. This gō’ēl is who Ruth was looking for in Boaz. This gō’ēl is the one who will keep the family from ruin, ransoming—redeeming—land that was sold when a family fell into poverty. This gō’ēl will ensure the continuation of the family line and security for a widow by marrying a brother’s childless wife when he died. 

By claiming that he indeed had a vindicator, a redeemer, Job proclaimed the hope that when the world around him fell apart, he would not be left in the rubble. As liberation theologian Gustavo Gutiérrez wrote, “In this decisive hour of his life, he sees this God at his side as he faces the judgment that his life has merited from the same God.” [See Note 1] It is as if Job says, “Whatever be the cause I must defend before God… I myself have a defender: God.” Life may not be fair, but he would not be left to face it alone. Liberation would indeed come, even if it is from an unlikely source. 

As Jesus was in the temple nearing the time of his execution, dodging the traps laid by the temple authorities, the Sadducees came to ask him a question about a gō’ēl, namely what happens when a widow experiences a string of them and is never truly redeemed. This practice of levirate marriage, one expectation of the gō’ēl, was no longer practiced by Jews living in the Roman Empire. 

And yet, I hear something in this question beyond a trap. This imperfect safety net of marrying a brother’s widow perfectly illustrates how just unfair life can be, how dramatically safety nets can fail. In asking about a resurrection which they don’t believe in, it’s as if these Sadducees dare to hope for something more.

And in Jesus, that is exactly what they receive – what we receive. The one who could accuse will also become the one who redeems. It is a joyous exchange. 

Jesus answered these questions about the resurrection by rising from the dead, so that we too will be resurrected from the dead—both at the end time and in the midst of our lives when we are dead in sin, weighed down by our sin and the sin of the world. 

Martin Luther wrote, “By this fortunate exchange with us [Christ] took upon himself our sinful person and granted us his innocent and victorious person. Clothed and dressed in this, we are freed from the curse of the Law, because Christ himself voluntarily became a curse for us.” [See Note 2]

Christ becomes our ultimate gō’ēl, the perfect redeemer, when he takes on our brokenness and exchanges it for his righteousness, again and again throughout our whole life in Christ. Christ exchanges our fears for confidence, our anger for peace, our brokenness for wholeness, our sin for righteousness. All that sin does to us is transferred to Christ, who brings these burdens to the cross, where they are conquered and covered forever by his righteousness. Thus freed by faith in Christ, we are empowered to serve the neighbor freely as Christ served us, and we thereby belong to Christ.

Freed by Christ, belonging to Christ, yet still living in a world that is not fair, we embrace our baptismal calling to work for peace and justice in all the earth. We give and we live so that all people may echo Job’s hope, “I know that my vindicator lives.” Amen.

Notes

Note 1: On Job by Gustavo Gutiérrez, 65

Note 2: LW 26:284 qtd in By Heart: Conversations with Martin Luther’s Small Catechism, 91