Job’s closing soliloquy is absolutely wonderful. In a book full of well formed imagery it stands out, and I’m tempted to quote the entire thing as I discuss it. That feels like a bit of overkill, but I’ve never let that stop me before. The first part of chapter 29 is Job looking back at who he perceived himself to be. When I look back at past me, present me can’t help but interpret my actions with the understanding I now possess. This is the essence of regret and cringe comedy. Mike Birbiglia’s “What I should have said was nothing” is one of my favorite examples of this. Anyway, part of me wonders if Job’s retelling of his pre-disaster life isn’t somehow colored by a new perspective gained through a host of new experiences?
I think it’s worth noting subtle distinctions between his recollections in chapter 29 compared with his reflection coming in chapter 31. I think there are clues into not just his personal rectitude and good deeds, but perhaps to his motivations.
In the days when God watched over me… when God’s intimate friendship was experienced in my tent, when the Almighty was still with me and my children were around me; when my steps were bathed with butter and the rock poured out for me streams of olive oil! When I went out to the city gate and secured my seat in the public square, the young men would see me and step aside, and the old men would get up and remain standing; the chief men refrained from talking and covered their mouths with their hands; the voices of the nobles fell silent, and their tongues stuck to the roof of their mouths
There’s a reason his social ostracization has been so distressing, Job was The Man, and he enjoyed it. Who wouldn’t? People loved and respected him.
As soon as the ear heard these things, it blessed me… the blessing of the dying man descended on me…I put on righteousness and it clothed me…Then I thought, ‘I will die in my own home, my days as numerous as the grains of sand. My roots reach the water, and the dew lies on my branches all night long. My glory will always be fresh in me, and my bow ever new in my hand.
Way back in Job’s first speech, Job said “The very thing I feared has happened to me” and I speculated there may have been a transactional component to Job’s faith. I think this description of his prior stature and experience supports that thought. To be clear, doing good, and feeling good about the joy and relief you bring to others isn’t bad. Doing good, and hoping for good in return isn’t bad. I think there is danger in believing that doing good will necessarily bring good fortune and respect, or that it will protect you from calamity.
I believe there’s another noteworthy theme embedded in this description. The idea of our actions being the way in which the divine is manifested. This isn’t a radical concept. People often use the phrase, “doing The Lord’s work”, or “on The Lord’s errand”. It’s a way of recognizing that someone’s actions genuinely represent the best of what we claim to believe. It’s also used in the sense that human behavior can be a manifestation of the divine. Job uses many of the same idioms and images that were previously used to describe the justice, mercy, benevolence, and power of God to now describe his own behavior, and how he was respected. “I broke the fangs of the wicked, and made him drop his prey from his teeth”, recalls the image of The Lord breaking the lion’s teeth as described by Eliphaz in his first speech. When demanding his audience with God, Job expressed that he would likely be overcome should he actually experience such an event that he would be silenced, spoiler alert he will be, and this behavior is described in almost these exact words, “People listened to me and waited silently; they kept silent for my advice. After I had spoken, they did not respond, my words fell on them drop by drop”. Job wasn’t just The Man, he was doing God’s work, and kind of saw himself as being like God. I suppose there’s a discussion to be had here about pride, status, class, and potential theological implications of seeing one’s self as being like God, but that’s not where I’m going.
The thought that occurred to me in response to these chapters is the idea of broadening the idea that our actions reflect the nature and will of god. Our actions are a reflection of how we perceive and assess the world we live in. They manifest our beliefs, attitudes, and desires. What if we are doing our god’s work even when we are not at our best? What if every action we make, and every interaction with another human is examined as a manifestation of who, or what our god is? In Job’s culture God is perfectly just: therefore all misfortune represents divine punishment, and it reasonably follows that the guilty are easily identifiable as such. What do you do when someone has been judged and found guilty? You cast them out from polite society. That’s why we invented exile and prisons. Serious misfortune has befallen Job, and he has been cast out from his social station which appears to accurately reflect a social / cultural reaction to perceived divine judgment. His experience and treatment is a reflection of what those around him believe about their god. They are doing their god’s work. In an earlier chapter Job noted how this belief made his accusers feel confident and secure in their condemnation. Does the god of Job’s culture seem like a god you want to worship? This can be a troubling question. If you believe The Book of Job is not fiction then you might ask, Is Job’s god the same as mine? One way of reconciling the idea that Job’s god is the same as yours is to decide that Job and his friends had constructed a false understanding of God, or their image of God is in need of correction. What’s it called when humans construct an image and understanding of god after their own design? I think one unstated message of The Book of Job is that idol worship is pervasive, subtle, and destructive in ways we may not fully appreciate.
Job and his associates are behaving in accordance with a very explicit belief in deity. You and I may disagree with their belief, but they were nothing if not consistent between claimed belief and behavior. I may claim the god I worship has a set of attributes when discussing belief in the abstract, when I sit and philosophize, when I construct a narrative and theology about that god, but do my actions reflect those claimed beliefs and attributes? Are discrepancies between claimed beliefs and actions simply a manifestation of imperfect human performance and practice? Could it be that our sincere beliefs, our gods, as manifested by our actions, are different from what we claim? Perhaps we’re not fully conscious of the discrepancies. Could it be that we’re “on the errand” of our true god at all times? Basically, I’m suggesting that idolatry is a widespread phenomenon. It’s nota thing of the past, nor is it something other people do. It’s a natural impulse and behavior. This, of course, is a central message of the Old Testament. I’ve sat through plenty of Sunday School classes where the decalogical prohibition on idolatry is discussed in a modern context. Those discussions have almost always centered on objects, desires, and ideas that explicitly or implicitly distract from the divine. The message is generally that humans are easily distracted away from the divine by modern idols of money, power, entertainment etc. I think The Book of Job has a far more specific indictment. We are prone to creating idols we genuinely believe to be divine. The construction of the Golden Calf makes no sense to modern readers who casually dismiss the ancient religions that have fallen out of favor as monotheism has largely dominated our cultures. But if you imagine idolatry as a sincere attempt to conceptualize, and epitomize what worshippers genuinely, whole heartedly believe about the divine, then its not some stupid, foolish act, but a behavior with which you might be capable of empathizing. Have you ever said, “the God I believe in wouldn’t…”, or “I think God….”? If you have, you’ve imbued the divine with your own understanding. You’ve constructed an idol. In my opinion it’s not really a question of if a person does this, but to what degree? Therefore, I don’t think this is a specific failing of Job, his friends, their culture, ancient peoples, you, or me, or anyone, but a general human behavior. One might reasonably argue that’s why three out of the ten commandments revolve around correctly worshiping Yahweh. The acceptance that this subtle form of idolatry is common, if not universal, leads to another question: what are we to do about it? Anyone accepting of Yahweh as the one true God knows exactly what to do. Root out those beliefs which are not correct. It is my perception and belief that this approach has led to an awful lot of arguments, pain, and bloodshed throughout human history, and my sincere, prolonged attempts to figure it out from the available resources were not particularly fruitful. I won’t step into questions of doctrine and authority to speak for god here. It’s far too complicated and distracting from where I wish to go. Alternatively, we can lean in to our humanity and harness what appears to me to be an innate inclination to fashion and worship a god, and do so consciously, examining not only our claimed beliefs, but our behaviors to see how some beliefs, attitudes, and assumptions that we may not be so proud to admit we hold are present in our decision making.
This feels like I’ve gone off the rails and into some uncomfortable territory, and I have, but I’m not trying to be scandalous or accusatory here. I think I’m addressing a commonly accepted belief in an oblique manner. This was intentional. Approached from a different angle, these questions of idolatry and revising one’s understanding and beliefs about the divine are actually questions of accountability and repentance. In the before times Job understood his god in a certain way, and he claims to have acted accordingly. He was celebrated for it. When his circumstances changed, Job discovered his own beliefs were unhelpful, and actually harmful, incongruous with reality, and in need of change. He had been worshiping his god “perfectly”, but Job learned his perception of god, and those doing his “god’s work” weren’t up to the task of giving genuine comfort and aid to those suffering from a variety of life’s circumstances. Job needed to change his beliefs. Job needed to repent. When I was a kid and was told about how important perfection was to passing the divine test of life I incorrectly adopted the idea that repentance was a bad thing to be avoided as much as possible through personal rectitude. Eventually, as a teenager, I learned that growth, change, humility, forgiveness, and reconciliation are great things that made my life better. Repentance is great and is for everyone. This changed my life. What if one way of conceptualizing repentance is to simply state the obvious: humans are universally idolaters and we’re gonna have to smash a few idols in our lives?
Quick aside. Recently I learned the word in Genesis chapter 1 that is translated as ”image” in the part about God creating man “in his likeness and image”, is used a lot in the Bible. Just about everywhere else the word is translated as “idol”. That is to say in this story we tell about our own creation, our own God crafts an idol: humans. Wild.
Anyway, one way to make this insight useful is to ask: how active am I at choosing my actions, or shaping my beliefs based on experience and reflection? If I behave in a way that I feel isn’t right, might there be insight to be gained by introspection about how my beliefs may have impacted that decision? Here in the autumn of 2022 I may not have a lot of certainty when it comes to questions about the spiritual, or religious realms, but I have a lot of certainty about accountability and repentance, or awakening, or mindfulness, or conscious change. Whatever nomenclature you’re most comfortable with. I think Job does some serious repenting in this story, he says as much in one of his final lines. He just happens to repent of ideas, and assumptions that he never thought he’d need to repent of. Based on narrow experience and dominant cultural influences he had crafted an idol that actually didn’t even serve his own or his community’s wider needs and interests. Shocking. We can probably all identify with that. I know I can.
As Job continues to recall his journey he offers us more insight into how his experiences have changed him. In Chapter 30 Job describes his fall from grace. He opens describing a class of people he previously looked down upon and rejected
But now they mock me, those who are younger than I, whose fathers I disdained too much to put with my sheep dogs. Moreover, the strength of their hands— what use was it to me? Those whose strength had perished, gaunt with want and hunger, they would roam the parched land, by night a desolate waste… They were banished from the community— people shouted at them as they would shout at thieves— so that they had to live in the dry stream beds, in the holes of the ground, and among the rocks
I think it is not a coincidence that this passage is juxtaposed with the benevolent picture Job paints of himself. Was he helping people out of empathy and genuine concern for their well being? Or was he acting out of a sense of duty, social pressure, and a somewhat misguided belief that doing so was his insurance policy against adversity and punishment? The combination of these passages paints the picture of something like a vertical moral alignment. Job saw a direct vertical relationship between him and God. He also saw himself as elevated in a stratified social order. To people who he deemed worthy of his help and charity he describes himself in god-like terms, metaphorically placing himself above them, and those he deems unworthy are placed further below, and are worthy of rejection. I think this offers further evidence that Job really did see the world in the same stark terms his friends describe, but that he now rejects.
He follows this description of the lower social classes with his own descent to depths below them
And now I have become their taunt song; I have become a byword among them. They detest me and maintain their distance; they do not hesitate to spit in my face. Because God has untied my tent cord and afflicted me, people throw off all restraint in my presence
These passages underscore the danger of this vertical moral alignment. If there’s a ladder of righteousness that we’re climbing, becoming more like God as we move up, then it’s natural to look down on those we perceive to be on lower rungs. This positioning can be easily assessed by outward performance of faith, remaining separate from filth, and blessedness manifested by wealth and privilege. It matches the moral journey with observable attributes and social strata we encounter in life. It’s a very natural way of perceiving things. It’s comforting, provided you perceive yourself as upwardly mobile on the ladder. It’s dangerous in that it unnecessarily promotes division, contention, and unfounded judgment.
That final sentence, “Because God has untied my tent cord… people throw off all restraint in my presence”, Job explicitly makes the connection that the behavior of those around him mirror their perception of divine will and judgment. God has rejected Job, therefore they are free, or perhaps even obliged to do so as well. It seems incredibly cruel, but there’s a certain logic to it as well. Job describes it like this
They destroy my path; they succeed in destroying me
without anyone assisting them. They come in as through a wide breach; amid the crash they come rolling in. Terrors are turned loose on me; they drive away my honor like the wind, and as a cloud my deliverance has passed away.
Do we ever behave inhumanely because we feel logically justified by a belief we hold? Do we pass judgment that is objectively cruel or difficult to defend to our other moral senses, but are comforted or justified because we can cite divine precedent? Has my cruelty ever been doctrinally and scripturally sound? These are disturbing questions, but I think there’s plenty of historical precedent to justify asking them. It’s easy to adopt a “no true Scotsman” defense, but what if we take them at face value? What do our actions say about how we manifest our beliefs and the relationship we may claim with the divine in the world? There’s bound to be some dissonance there, but could we do better? I know I can.
[/begin rant] This morning (September 15 2022) I heard about a plane of migrants who were fleeing Venezuela, a failed state, and were flown from San Antonio, Texas to Martha’s Vineyard by the taxpayers of the state of Florida in an effort to prove a point to “liberal elites” that illegal immigration is a problem. The only response I can muster are incoherent strings of profanity laden incredulity. It seems completely disproportionate and cruel to treat people that way. That of course pales in comparison to separating families and locking children in cages. I get the idea of having control over people and goods crossing borders, but is the only solution to be blatantly cruel to children and families seeking a better life? I suppose if you believe their failed state is a judgment on them as people and they are therefore worthy of punishment by virtue of their destitute circumstances then maybe that all makes sense. That is some messed up logic and if that’s somehow a manifestation of divine justice or judgment, then I want nothing to do with your god. [/end rant]
Job follows this with a series of vivid images describing his personal experience. He’s done this before, but the rapid sequence from being The Man to what he describes here really brought it home to me
He has flung me into the mud, and I have come to resemble dust and ashes. I cry out to you, but you do not answer me; I stand up, and you only look at me. You have become cruel to me; with the strength of your hand you attack me. You pick me up on the wind and make me ride on it; you toss me about in the storm…. Surely one does not stretch out his hand against a broken man when he cries for help in his distress. Have I not wept for the unfortunate? Was not my soul grieved for the poor? But when I hoped for good, trouble came; when I expected light, then darkness came. My heart is in turmoil unceasingly; the days of my affliction confront me… My harp is used for mourning and my flute for the sound of weeping
Is Job just “playing victim” here? Do you feel more empathy for him than for illegal immigrants or the homeless of your city?
We’ve been through 28 chapters of exposition, lament, preaching, philosophizing, and debate. Job has just retold his story from before the disaster to the present moment. What has he learned? What does he want? Is there a point to any of this? In some very obvious respects Job’s position is unchanged. He still firmly proclaims that he is not guilty of any misdeed that justifies his situation, “If I have walked in falsehood and if my foot has hastened to deceit— let him weigh me with honest scales; then God will discover my integrity”. He goes to great lengths to catalog the ways in which he feels that has NOT violated covenants or commandments. He clearly hasn’t rejected his conception of personal righteousness. He still seeks an accounting or understanding for his situation, “If only I had someone to hear me! Here is my signature— let the Almighty answer me! If only I had an indictment that my accuser had written”. So, in some very concrete, undeniable senses Job is exactly the same place he was waaay back in Chapter 5. Well then, why did you drag us through that Mark? I thought you said there was something in here?
I think there is. First, I note the shift in tone as Job reflects upon his innocence. There’s a searching humility that may have always been a part of Job’s character, but has not been in evidence this far. We’ve seen Job despondent, angry, fearful, sarcastic, suicidal, anguished, curious, frustrated, and nostalgic, but we haven’t seen deeply reflective humility. The majority of chapter 31 is Job running through a mental checklist of ways he may have offended, frequently offering his willingness to be punished in some very creative ways should he be found guilty. At other moments you can almost see him pause mid question, and reply with conviction, that he had done right by his fellow man
If I have rejoiced over the misfortune of my enemy or exulted because calamity found him— I have not even permitted my mouth to sin by asking for his life through a curse— if the members of my household have never said, ‘If only there were someone who has not been satisfied from Job’s meat!’— but no stranger had to spend the night outside, for I opened my doors to the traveler
Non-stop proclamations of innocence may not be the most obvious manifestation of humility, and maybe this is just me seeing what I want to see, but the way he describes his righteous acts and relationship to those he has served seems very different from the description of him as “The Man” in chapter 29. The most telling difference is when Job reflects on his treatment of his servants
If I have disregarded the right of my male servants or my female servants when they disputed with me, then what will I do when God confronts me in judgment; when he intervenes, how will I respond to him? Did not the one who made me in the womb make them? Did not the same one form us in the womb?
Where he previously displayed a clear sense of superiority, he now recognizes shared humanity as justification for treating his subordinates with due respect. I don’t think this shift in tone is a coincidence.
Next, I think this is where we get a better sense of what constitutes “The Fear of The Lord”, the wisdom Job believes still rings true despite his recognition that the world is not actually ruled by retributive justice. Job runs through a mental checklist of offenses he considers worthy of punishment, what are they? I tried to categorize them and here’s what I got.
Verse 1 – Lust, adultery, abuse/assault,
Verse 5 – falsehood, deceit,
Verse 7 – Idolatry: covetousness,
9 – adultery,
13 – disregarding rights of servants,
16 – refused to give to poor and widows,
17 – failing to feed orphans,
19 – failing to clothe the naked,
21 – use of social and legal power against the weak,
25 – Idolatry: wealth,
26 – idolatry: other gods,
29 – rejoice in the misfortune of an enemy,
32 – failing in hospitality, notes giving food and shelter,
39 – failing to respect the land.
Job essentially runs down the 10 commandments, and social injunctions found throughout the Old Testament and all of scripture. Shocking, I know. Treating one’s fellow humans with appropriate respect, curbing desires with negative long-term consequences and externalities, and respecting the divine including all of physical creation are not groundbreaking moral philosophies. These very clearly fit within the multi-cultural parameters of “The Way”. How is this different from anything else? I think there’s a subtle, but profound shift that has taken place in Job’s understanding about why he should adopt these virtues. If Job’s suffering didn’t arise from punishment for his sins, and retributive justice is evidently not the operating principle human relationship with the divine as evidenced by Job’s unrefuted observations about the unfettered prosperity of the wicked, and the suffering of the innocent, why should we Fear The Lord?
I think Job has seen through a narrative offered many times and in many cultures in human history, even his own. A narrative commanding obedience driven by fear of punishment or withholding favor. Negative conditioning is powerful, but is less than ideal to inspire humans with agency and moral judgment.
There’s a significant portion of the Old Testament devoted to a history of Israel from a specific perspective, there’s evidence that these texts were all consolidated at about the same time in post-exile Israel, I believe the term of art is “Deuteronomistic History”. Deuteronomy, Judges, Samuel, and Kings all tell the same extended story. They all share a very simple theme, when Israel neglected the worship of the true God, The LORD, they suffered and were oppressed, harassed, conquered, and exiled. When they returned to the worship of The Lord they prospered. Does this sound familiar? The Book of Mormon teaches these same principles very explicitly. Modern LDS doctrinal orthodoxy has a name for it: The Pride Cycle. In Chapters 2-3 of the Book of Genesis we learn that pain, death, misery, and labor were all punishments from God because of human transgression. In The Book of Mormon, King Mosiah teaches “the Natural Man is an enemy to God”. Page after page of scripture teaches that virtue is blessed while wickedness punished. Job and his friends aren’t some unenlightened Iron Age troglodytes, they were simply viewing events through a cultural lens that helped them make sense of their world. The idea that an all-powerful god is always watching and will deliver justice is not just fear inducing, but potentially very comforting. Especially when you see the bully get his comeuppance, when the cheater is caught, or when the powerful are humiliated. That sense of justice feels good, knowing that wrongs are made right. Similarly, when we are successful, it feels good to believe that we are receiving just rewards for behaving in accordance with the rules. The problem is that it’s not entirely true.
I don’t mean to dismiss the entire concept of the law of the harvest, or the law of karma. As someone who had to work hard and sacrifice a decade of my life just to be able to do my job, I’m not dismissing the idea that success is often built on hard work and determination. I think what Job is seeing is the fundamental attribution error running amok.
The fundamental attribution error, for those who don’t know or haven’t just googled it, is a cognitive bias where people have a tendency to see behaviors or outcomes as simple manifestations of a personality or character rather than acknowledging other circumstances and variables contributing to a situation when judging others, especially those perceived as members of an “out group”. We do this all the time. If you’ve ever used “well he’s just…” in responding to having the driver in front of you cut you off by saying, “well he’s just an inconsiderate jerk”, then you have probably employed the fundamental attribution error. Especially if you have a University of Utah license plate and the person who cut you off has a BYU plate and car flags. Insert other relevant cultural, tribal marker of your choice here. That driver may in fact be a jerk, he may also be running late to his first day at a new job because he slept poorly the night because of anxiety/excitement, and then just as he was heading out the door his adorable children gave him a heart felt “good luck dad” party and he couldn‘t leave them unacknowledged, and so he’s later than he would have been, and normally he’s the most patient, polite motorist on the highway, but today is an exception, and he’s just a little out of sorts. Maybe he’s the exact opposite of a jerk. However, when we want a simple story that satisfies our sense of righteousness, which is often, we employ the fundamental attribution error in any number of ways. However, when I’m the one who cuts the other guy off, I don’t think of myself as being a jerk, I am quick with a list of justifications: I’m running late because I couldn’t sleep because I’m anxious about this new job and the family had the great thing planned and I couldn’t just walk away…. you get the point. When you’re fifteen everyone is a hypocrite, but as we experience more of life, hopefully we begin to have a bit of grace, and give our fellow humans a bit more latitude.
I think Job was a righteous guy. He saw his success and knew his own struggles and deeds and attributed his blessings and privileges to his good character. I suspect he overlooked systemic factors, and the good fortune that helped him achieve and sustain that position. When he saw the lowlifes and rejects around him, he felt comfortable judging them. When he learned first hand that chaos and devastation can rain down and wipe away all the wealth and health we all too often attribute to our good character and righteous behavior (you gotta wonder what factors lead to the Sabeans and Chaldeans running amok in Job’s environs?) he was devastated. At first he felt alone, and then he looked around and realized he had been blind to the chaos and calamity striking those he thought of as his inferiors. Faced with this reality he reevaluated his perspective and he reconceived his notions of righteousness and justice.
If life isn’t a scale weighing our actions balanced by perfect divine retribution that we mirror in our own actions, perhaps we reflect our conception of divinity through acts focused on restoration and redemption from life’s inevitable calamities. Life isn’t fair. The scales aren’t balanced, and never will be. The “Fear of the Lord” is not driven out of fear of punishment, nor is it an insurance policy, but reflects a genuine recognition often stated as “There, but for the grace of God, go I”. Righteousness and good behavior aimed at self-preservation and avoidance of calamity is, as the author of Ecclesiates so succinctly put it, “vanity, chasing the wind”. It can’t be done. Externalities of events beyond our control, the forces of chaos and entropy, will come for us all. The inscription next to a colossal statue whose face is half-buried in desert sands of Egypt reads, “My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”. These are no longer abstract philosophical concepts for Job. When the rain falls on the righteous and wicked alike the only reasonable response after the flood is to get to work. The work goes faster and is more enjoyable when you pitch in and neighbor helps neighbor. I grew up along the gulf coast; I know whereof I speak. The images from Puerto Rico and Florida in the wake of recent hurricanes bear this out.
Gandhi coined a term “Satyagraha”, a compound Sanskrit word, which has two complementary meanings. Satya translates to “truth”, while agraha translates to both “to hold”, and “to insist”. Conceptually satyagraha is reasonably understood as once one holds the truth, one insists on it. We don’t treat the planet, the weak, and the marginalized with due respect to avoid punishment, or even in exchange for help when we fall, although that’s possibly a nice bonus, no we Fear The Lord, we walk in The Way, we recognize the ten thousand names of the Dao because we recognize the truth and insist on it in our lives. We hold the truths associated with the judgment and will of our god and insist they permeate our world by being the means by which righteousness and justice are manifested. We do our god’s work. In the end the only counterbalance on the scale, the love you take, is the love you make. If you believe in a benevolent god of deliverance, then be a benevolent force for deliverance. If you believe in a vengeful god of wrath and destruction, then maybe find a new god. Is that really the world you want to live in? Is that sort of being worthy of your worship and devotion? Is that who you want to be?
That’s what I think Job learns and tries to teach us. At least that’s what I wanted to learn from him. I don’t think this is just me seeing what I want to see. Time for the spoiler alerts to stop being spoiler alerts, Job is about to have a face to face encounter with the divine.
I’m going to skip to chapter 38. Elihu talks, uninterrupted in chapters 32-37. His speech is a modified version of everyone else’s, and even seems to have a justification for oppression and punishment doled out by divinely mandated autocrats. It seems to me to be added in after the remainder of the text was consolidated. Nobody else refers to him or his ideas. When the god of the whirlwind condemns Job’s friends he is not addressed. It doesn’t mean his arguments are not worth evaluation, but I think to do so here is not the logical next step, so I won’t.
I don’t think it is a coincidence that God manifests as a “whirlwind”. It is difficult to think of a more capricious form of calamity than a tornado. We are all familiar with the images of total devastation adjacent to untouched homes and cars as classic findings after a tornado has passed. Job, whose life has been devastated in a way reminiscent of a metaphoric tornado, and whose children were killed when a building was destroyed by wind, now faces God in that very form. As a piece of human drama nothing could be more fitting. If this is actually some historical representation of how the divine chooses to represent itself, perhaps there’s an even stronger message there.
The god of the whirlwind tells Job he is going to get exactly what he asked for, a chance to question him in person, but first Job is going to be asked a series of questions. What comes next felt like a non sequitur to me the first time I read it. Job’s behavior, or arguments aren’t examined directly. Job has spent who knows how long insisting that he has committed no sin. I think the easiest way to humble him would be to point out his sins through a series of direct questions. Perhaps that’s exactly what happens, perhaps the questions imply sins Job hadn’t considered, perhaps there’s a different lesson being taught.
What follows is a series of rhetorical questions about the natural world. God asks Job if he understands the size and scope of the Earth and the cosmos. The water cycle and meteorology feature prominently as Job is questioned about how bodies of water are limited and sustained, and how various forms of precipitation are formed. The cycle of light and dark, the mechanism of the rising and setting sun are mysteries posed to Job. A nod is given to the processes of geology and the formation of land features, and there are a series of examples of biology and behavior of animals for which Job cannot offer any explanation. It’s noteworthy that many of these exact examples, about the water cycle, the magnitude of the world, and some of the exact constellations mentioned earlier by Job and his friends are again cited as manifestations of the power and majesty of the Almighty.
Among all these questions about the natural world there are questions pointed directly at Job as a human
Have you considered the vast expanses of the earth? Tell me, if you know it all… Do you know the laws of the heavens, or can you set up their rule over the earth?… Who has put wisdom in the heart or has imparted understanding to the mind?
It’s interesting to me that some of these mysteries can in fact be answered by modern humans. Does that detract from the point or the majesty of a creator? That’s very much a matter of individual interpretation.
I think there are two points being made here. First, humans do not fully grasp the world we inhabit, we cannot even correctly answer what? or how?, so what gives us the impression we can firmly declare an answer for why? I mean, we really like those types of answers. Human curiosity and science are firmly pointed at providing answers to ”what”, “how” and “why”? Job has realistically displayed the distress we feel when we don’t understand why a thing is happening. Job and the interactions he’s had with his friends demonstrate the harm in believing we know a thing, when in fact we do not. False certainty is harmful. These questions are designed to humble Job. Right until his final speech he has insisted his circumstances are unjust because they don’t fit the paradigm in which he genuinely believes. The answer here seems to be that this paradigm is fundamentally incorrect. It’s a false understanding. The problem isn’t ignorance, it’s believing a thing that simply isn’t so. Job and his friends have been squabbling like children ignorant of the greater context in which they find themselves. How much of our conflict stems from false certainty? When you inherit a paradigm and operate wholly within it, can you even conceive of an alternative? How do you examine fundamental assumptions that underlie your view of the world? Is it wise to do so? These questions animate many modern and postmodern philosophical debates. The god of the whirlwind forces Job into this position.
At one point the god of the whirlwind implies that Job, who has recently developed a better appreciation of externalities having unanticipated effects in life, hasn’t deeply considered what dispensing immediate, comprehensive, retributive justice would be like.
Get ready for a difficult task like a man. I will question you, and you will inform me. Would you indeed annul my justice? Would you declare me guilty so that you might be right? Do you have an arm as powerful as God’s, and can you thunder with a voice like his? Adorn yourself, then, with majesty and excellency, and clothe yourself with glory and honor. Scatter abroad the abundance of your anger. Look at every proud man and bring him low. Look at every proud man and abase him; crush the wicked on the spot. Hide them in the dust together; imprison them in the grave.
A fairly consistent lesson from myths about those granted enormous power is that they are often overwhelmed and undone by that power. Think: King Midas, any story involving a genie, or Wonder Woman 1984. Nuclear weapons. Uncle Ben, or Aunt May, depending on the spiderverse you inhabit, telling Peter Parker that with great power comes great responsibility. A tale as old as time. Imagine dispensing immediate, and unyielding justice, what would that be like? We, as humans, don’t fully grasp the nature and complexity of existence. Maybe we’re constitutionally incapable?
The second point is more subversive. Perhaps humanity doesn’t occupy the central focus of creation. This contradicts the primary assumption of religion and narrative of scripture, so it seems like I may be reaching here, but I don’t think I’m inventing this from nowhere. In the midst of all these questions about the natural world there are several examples given of animals who defy utility to humans, the wild donkey and the wild ox:
Who let the wild donkey go free? Who released the bonds of the donkey, to whom I appointed the arid rift valley for its home, the salt wastes as its dwelling place? It scorns the tumult in the town; it does not hear the shouts of a driver. It ranges the hills as its pasture and searches after every green plant. Is the wild ox willing to be your servant? Will it spend the night at your feeding trough? Can you bind the wild ox to a furrow with its rope; will it till the valleys, following after you? Will you rely on it because its strength is great? Will you commit your labor to it? Can you count on it to bring in your grain and gather the grain to your threshing floor?
These seem to be two specific examples of divine creation which are not there for the benefit of humankind. Maybe we aren’t as important as we think?
This thought is given further credence as the god of the whirlwind discusses two creatures that are superior to humans in their physical attributes. Behemoth and Leviathan. The fact that these are mythical beasts might undercut this argument, but if we are to take the god of the whirlwind seriously we must reckon with this pretty explicit statement about the Behemoth
It ranks first among the works of God; the One who made it
According to The Book of Job humans do not rank first among divine creation.
The idea here seems to be that not only are we wrong-headed to assume we know and understand the will of the divine regarding human life and delivering justice and punishment, but perhaps we overestimate the value and purpose of our lives within the context of divine creation. That seems genuinely subversive. Taken seriously, it might even induce despair. How are we to make sense or find meaning if we accept that we do not and cannot fully understand the nature and purpose of our lives within the context of a chaotic swirling cosmos? If we are untethered from the certainty of ageless wisdom about our place in the world, where do we turn? What’s the point of righteousness if we’re uncertain of the reason or outcome? This is uncomfortable. I think it’s supposed to be. If we couldn’t identify with or empathize with Job before, perhaps we can now.
I think openly and honestly confronting these types of questions is rewarding. They’re very intimidating. If you struggle with them, you’re in good company. It is my sincere hope that we all have better friends and counselors than Job if and when we choose to engage concerns like these. I am grateful I have fantastic friends I don’t deserve.
Getting back to Job. As he suspected, when confronted by the god of the whirlwind he is silenced and has no rebuttal. The first time he’s given a chance to speak Job has nothing to say:
Then the Lord answered Job: “Will the one who contends with the Almighty correct him? Let the person who accuses God give him an answer!” Then Job answered the Lord: “Indeed, I am completely unworthy—how could I reply to you?
I put my hand over my mouth to silence myself. I have spoken once, but I cannot answer; twice, but I will say no more
After another round of unanswerable questions Job’s final reply
Then Job answered the Lord: “I know that you can do all things; no purpose of yours can be thwarted; you asked, ‘Who is this who darkens counsel without knowledge?’ But I have declared without understanding things too wonderful for me to know. You said, ‘Pay attention, and I will speak; I will question you, and you will answer me.’ I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye has seen you. Therefore I despise myself, and I repent in dust and ashes!”
Job recognizes his faulty assumptions, and his ignorance, and is a changed man.
So what have we learned? Have the god of the whirlwind’s questions refuted all moral arguments? If we don’t understand the world and our place in it how are we to adopt any moral position? Are we relegated to relativism and the cult of moral grayness?
I stand by my take on redemptive and restorative justice and making the world into the place where we want to live. I think there’s a nod to this in the epilogue. The god of the whirlwind calls out Job’s friends
After the Lord had spoken these things to Job, he said to Eliphaz the Temanite, “My anger is stirred up against you and your two friends because you have not spoken about me what is right, as my servant Job has. So now take seven bulls and seven rams and go to my servant Job and offer a burnt offering for yourselves. And my servant Job will intercede for you, and I will respect him, so that I do not deal with you according to your folly, because you have not spoken about me what is right, as my servant Job has.” So they went, Eliphaz the Temanite, Bildad the Shuhite, and Zophar the Naamathite, and did just as the Lord had told them; and the Lord had respect for Job
Their folly was not punished, the god of the whirlwind did not enact retribution, but they were redeemed through sacrifice and Job’s intercession.
Someone with a knowledge of the Bible, especially the New Testament is familiar with the idea of intercessory, redemptive sacrifice in place of retribution. Over the last decade I’ve wondered about the unintended effects of the idea of a universal atonement. When I accept the idea that a sacrifice has been performed that intercedes for all sin and offers restoration and redemption from all suffering, do I feel less compulsion to be the means of restoration and atonement for others? I’m ashamed to admit for a long time I probably fell into this trap. It is comforting to look out on all the misfortune and calamity in the world and think, “it’s ok God has got this”. Does that also create a bit of complacency in anyone else? I’m probably the only one guilty of this deficiency. There is so much injustice and the efforts of a single person, or even group can seem so small and inadequate in comparison. Perhaps it’s not callous disregard, but a defense against an unimaginable burden to be borne? Is attempting to add to an “infinite atonement” through human effort even possible? Is it blasphemous? I think the resounding answer of scripture, moral philosophy, history, and our own lives is that to not engage in acts of restorative righteousness is to depart from the way, it is to allow the maggots and worms theory of human suffering to reign. I hope we can all agree that would be unacceptable. Returning to the tension between purity through rectitude vs engagement. In LDS theology the sacrament of baptism is taught to serve several purposes. Is the primary purpose the business of absolution of sin and transgression or the covenant to serve others in redemption and restorative righteousness? In renewing these covenants which promise comes first? Reflecting the will of God in our lives or obedience? Is there even a difference?
In many senses The Book of Job fits neatly within a traditional understanding of God and religion. It repeatedly hits themes of faith, obedience, rectitude, compassion, and offers a compelling rationale for maintaining a healthy Fear of The Lord. It’s compatible with a variety of theological developments that come centuries after its consolidation and therefore can be seen to conform to the prevailing message of much of what is taken as inspired scripture. If you’re a person of faith I genuinely hope these essays have deepened your appreciation of the text and strengthened your relationship with the divine.
In some ways The Book of Job offers a profound critique of several deeply entrenched beliefs and behaviors that are not unique to religion. Human perception, judgment, and analysis are all deeply flawed in ways that we may overlook or of which we may be completely unaware. Cognitive bias and logical fallacies abound in our daily lives and frequently influence our decisions. The human emotions and interactions described in the text ring true to me, and empathizing with Job and his friends reminds me of many ways I have and will continue to fail to live up to the best of what I believe as I collide with friends, family, and strangers on my journey through life. The wisdom of 3000 years ago feels relevant and fresh regardless of your relationship, or total lack thereof, with deity.
As someone who has lived the majority of my life as a person of faith and now find myself exploring existential questions that once felt like a yawning abyss I have found the process of revisiting texts that I previously held as sacred to be invigorating. Part of my journey away from faith was the fact that I felt a burden of having to either reconcile or compartmentalize dissonant ideas. I felt trapped and confused by the contradictions I observed, and felt obliged to fit everything within a received narrative. Seeing Job confront similar feelings turned what I had previously understood as a monolithic paragon of faith with whom I couldn’t identify, into a very relatable protagonist with what I suspect is nearly universal appeal. Even if you’ve never questioned your faith or entertained doubts about the wisdom that guides your life I suspect you’ve had to confront incongruities in your own behavior, and contradictions between what is and what should be. It would make me incredibly happy to learn that spending time with Job, his friends, and I on the ash heap has helped someone.
Ultimately all these words were a vanity project to help me organize my own thoughts and I will be flattered to learn if anyone was able to get through it with me and felt like it wasn’t an enormous waste of their time.
MaximumKungFu 