16 November 2001
Although readers may have been and may continue to be inspired to new heights of faith “down through the ages to the present time” (Bergant 469) by the Book of Job and its story of one man’s piety, suffering, and redemption, many questions still remain about this tale, including what some might consider the odd behavior of God in the framing prose. For example, the God of modern Christianity is widely held to be a far superior figure to Satan, both in power and in knowledge. Job’s God, however, makes casual, almost friendly, conversation with the fallen angel, eventually entering into a contest of sorts in which the stakes, although never explicitly stated, seem to be only bragging rights. Satan is as likely to win as God, it appears, and the outcome of the wager rests on the reaction to suffering of an innocent, pious creature named Job.
Why, it is asked, would God — creator of everything, omnipotent, omniscient – lower himself to engage in such sport with the despicable Satan? Wouldn’t God know the outcome already? Doesn’t God know the quality of Job’s love? And, finally, what is the real point of this story; is Job’s reward, the new improved family, extended lifespan and restored wealth, enough to compensate him for all that he endured? Is this justice of God’s really all that it is touted to be? Is this justice at all?
Underlying the question of justice in the Book of Job is another, possibly more universal theme: man’s need for order. Although justice may be considered a form or part of order, order itself, as Alexander Pope wrote, “is Heaven’s first law.” Or at the least, “a certain amount of understanding seems essential for human stability” (Bergant 470). People are comfortable with that which they understand. The ability to equate a new situation with one already experienced is a technique of comfort precisely because it transforms the unknown – potential chaos – into the can-be-known – return to order. Anthropomorphism, the attributing of human qualities to non-human objects or events, is one way of making this equation. By applying the qualities we see in ourselves, projecting our own reasoning and motivation onto objects or natural phenomena, we can give ourselves an understanding, albeit not always a correct one, of the world around us. Such is the case with the Book of Job, in which the author endows God Himself with humanistic qualities, either simply as a device to create an impetus for Job’s trial, or, more probably, as part of a holdover from polytheistic beliefs which were prevalent at the origin of the oral tradition from which the tale is derived.
Human suffering at the hands of gods – bands of gods which were worshipped in ancient civilizations such as Sumeria and Babylonia, from which such a story as Job may have originated – is anything but rare. The gods of polytheism, according to ancient literature and visual art, wreaked havoc in the lives of mere mortals not only for malicious reasons, but in the name of love as well, and even incidentally, as seems to be the case with Job’s God, as a consequence of personal entertainment. These gods are often arrogant, competitive, nosy, and petty, like humans. They like their games, and bore easily, requiring fresh entertainment. The belief in a multitude of man-like gods provides an explanation for pain and affliction; “if there are many gods, then the troubles of life can be explained as the conflict between opposing deities…Humanity has simply the misfortune of standing between them” (“Wisdom Literature” sec. e.). Certainly, God and Satan in the Book of Job are more like rival or feuding gods in a Homeric epic than the God and Satan of modern belief. Their verbal exchange seems to be that of equals, rather than dominant/submissive, and the casual manner in which they interfere in Job’s life, without regard for Job’s impending pain, is reminiscent of classic Greek or Roman polytheism.
Although the identity of the author of the Book of Job is unknown, “scholars agree that neither the character Job nor the story about his misfortunes originated in Israel.” Newsome places the origin of the name “Job,” as well as the place identified in the story as “Uz” in the ancient Near East: “Job appears to have been an ancient non-Israelite or pre-Israelite whose story, originally developed in other parts of the ancient Near East, had been incorporated into Israelite religious culture by the sixth century BCE” (445-6). Newsome highlights the parallels between the Book of Job and another text, the Babylonian Theodicy, which does bear striking resemblance to it. Written in about 1000 BCE, this other text also contains dialog between a man in great anguish and his friend, who, like the friends of Job, criticizes the man’s actions as erroneous or blasphemous (447). Babylonian beliefs of the era would have included many gods and goddesses, and indeed the Babylonian Theodicy contains references to several different deities (448-9). If, as Newsome suggests, there is at least the possibility that the author of the biblical version of the Job story was familiar with the older traditions of a “righteous sufferer” and even with the Babylonian Theodicy itself, it seems therefore likely that the Book of Job is infused with the remnants of abandoned polytheism, namely anthropomorphic representations of deities, a deity, the Deity.
If it seems difficult to reconcile the God of the Book of Job with the God of other parts of the Bible, and with the God of popular Christian belief without the consideration of elements of polytheism, it becomes even messier with the addition of other, more humanoid gods. If the God represented here is actually a “singularization” of a plurality, what then becomes of the divine attributes of God, as we know Him? What do we make of the question of omniscience; does God know in advance what the outcome of his wager will be? Or is he, like Satan, watching with interest to see what Job will do with his agony?
Usually, in the Greek stories, when two deities have a contest using a human being as a pawn, both players participate in the game until it is won. In Homer’s Odyssey, the future of Odysseus, King of Ithaca, becomes a group sport, with Athena and Zeus working to help the hero on his journey home, while Poseidon and others take steps to undermine his progress. Each move is a response to another move, and deals with the immediate situational outcome; that is, none of the deities is able to affect the final outcome by supreme decree.
In the Book of Job, however, only Satan actually intervenes directly in Job’s life, at first causing the loss of wealth and family, and later inflicting the bodily pain which threatens Job’s resolve. God participates only passively in Job’s tribulation, allowing Satan to take whatever action he deems necessary to make his point, except for taking Job’s life. This suggests that God does have foreknowledge that those lesser deities do not have. If God did not know at the outset what the result would be, would he make the wager in the first place? I think not. Here, God makes the bet because he already knows the outcome, which fact both supports and contradicts the argument for anthropomorphism in Job’s God character. Here is a character who is human enough to be enticed into a bet — the setup of which will cause a very good man extreme pain — but who is god enough to know he is already a winner. How human is it to bet on a “sure thing?” I’d say, very human.
So what is the point of this story? Is the restoration of Job’s health, wealth, and family really a fair trade for the life he lost? I believe there is a better payoff here.
God does know how Job will bear up under the strains of his suffering. And, God knows the quality of Job’s love for Him. I have argued that it is precisely because of this knowledge that God makes the arrangement with Satan. But one step further than that, I also believe that God is aware of a need in his faithful servant. He will give Job what he really needs, as a result of and as payment for his pain.
In the exposition, we are told that Job is a dutiful servant to God, making sacrifice even for his children’s sins, which they may or may not have even committed. Job believes in an all-powerful God, One whose rule brings order to his world. Job thinks, until his afflictions begin, that the good are rewarded according to their goodness, and the bad are punished in scale. Thus there is order in Job’s world, and Job needs the order he sees.
When his belief in divine justice is challenged, he becomes confused, despondent. He rues the day he was born. He cries out for action from God, even action which will end his life: “O that I might have my request, and that God would grant my desire; that it would please God to crush me, that he would let loose his hand and cut me off! This would be my consolation; I would even exult in pain unsparing; for I have not denied the words of the Holy One” (The Book of Job 415). Here, Job is asking for a sign from God; not necessarily relief from his suffering, just a kind of proof that God is there, and is the all-powerful One that Job has believed Him to be. Job needs to know whether God is, and whether God is God.
This is not the first hint at Job’s true issue, though. When Job breaks his silence in a curse on the day he was born, he ends his long rant with the lines, “For the thing that I fear comes upon me, and what I dread befalls me. / I am not at ease, nor am I quiet; I have no rest; but trouble comes” (413). Clearly, Job means that he sees a limit to his patience, but maybe he is also describing a shadow of doubt that is looming over him. Has he been wrong to believe in Order, to believe in a God of Order?
God’s real restitution for Job’s suffering is His manifestation before Job. It makes no difference at that point what God tells Job, or whether He answers any of Job’s questions at all. The appearance of God fills Job’s need for order in his world, for even if God will give no justification for His actions, His paternalistic authority is a fine substitute for the understanding which would restore order to Job’s life. In lieu of a reason or comprehension why something is the way it is, a child will rely upon his parent’s word that everything will be all right. As long as somebody understands and is in control, we can all breathe a little easier even in our confusion.
The Book of Job is at one time sad and hopeful, awe-inspiring and unfulfilling, true and false. For followers of God who need only the assurance the God is in control, the story is a reminder that any trial can be endured, and with intact faith. For more skeptical readers, the pettiness of God’s character in the framing narrative, along with God’s complete refusal to give any comfort to his long-suffering servant Job, leaves a hollow feeling. Could this be the God of our contemporary Christian belief? Is this our noble and omnipotent Lord? Actually, the answer is, “No.”
Job’s God is a manifestation of divinity, but not the One we envision now. This God is a holdover from the many gods of ancient polytheism. He acts with human motivation in taking the wager with Satan, who is represented not as a subordinate, but as a more equal player in the game. Truly, God’s omniscience in the text is the only quality he holds in common with the God of most other biblical writings. Today’s Christian ideal of God does not include such small-mindedness, such blatant disregard for the suffering of the children of His flock. Job’s God is another character altogether. Today’s Christian believes himself to be made in God’s image. The God of the Book of Job is clearly made in the image of man, instead.
Bergant writes that “at the heart of Job’s dilemma is the collapse of his world of meaning brought on by the incomprehensible events of his life” (470), and further, that “there is one thing that Job never doubts and that is his own integrity” (471). Through all his traumatic misfortunes, Job’s need for order, his desire to maintain the belief in his sanity, is greater even than his faith in God. A weaker man would sooner doubt his own perception of what is happening to him than to allow the questioning of his spiritual beliefs. Job is honest, but firm. Emotional stability must be maintained, and prior to the appearance of God, Job’s only source of level footing is the knowledge of his own righteousness. After God comes to Job, his faith is affirmed and he takes a comfort in the knowledge that a father figure is in control. A new understanding supplants the old ideas of order that Job had relied upon for strength. God is in His Heaven and Job is repaid.
Works Cited
Behrens, Laurence and Leonard Rosen, ed. Writing and Reading Across the Curriculum. 7th ed.
New York: Longman, 2000.
Bergant, Dianne. “Job: Implications for Today.” Behrens and Rosen 469-73.
The Book of Job. Revised Standard Version. Reprinted in Behrens and Rosen 411-33.
Newsom, Carol A. “The Book of Job and Ancient Near Eastern Tradition.” Behrens and Rosen
444-51.
“Wisdom Literature: The Book of Job.” Bible Survey. Quartz Hill School of Theology, Quartz
Hill, CA. 16 Nov. 2001. <http://www.theology.edu/biblesurvey/job.htm>.
