Job Stands Tall and Holds His Ground

[Ed. Note: The following is the first in a series of pieces based on conversations between Peter and his dear friend, the famous Rev. Mel. It seems they love talking about the different ways in which people interpret the Bible. I thought it would be a nice change of pace from Trump! In this case, we have Rev. Mel's Evangelical/Wesleyanism and Peter's heretical, nobody gets it, Gnosticism. So, if you're in a religious/theological frame of mind...this is for you! If not, that's okay: The Golf Room will be back at the end of the week with one of Hall's more mundane pieces. We look forward to Rev. Mel’s response to Pete’s thoughts below. You are most welcome, and Enjoy! - Chow Magee, Editor-at-Large]

    It’s Sunday morning, kids! How about a Gnostic sermon! I know…you’ve been waiting on the edge of your seats for this! Relax. Remember; no paywall! Now, I understand that I have big shoes to fill, what with my ministerial family tree and all. That includes the wonderful, retired pastor and even better human being, and dear friend, Rev. Mel Norton. After 55+ years, we love catching up about family, as he has known me since I was a lad (you know, the adorable kid with the Dutch-boy haircut…pretty good, huh?), and he was an excited college/seminary student getting ready to embark on a Hall-of-Fame ministerial career! He’s the best. Anyway, the other day we discovered that we both had been reading the book of Job, as it is a favorite of of ours. And I thought I would share my side of the conversation and see what happens. 

    So what shall we make of this superb, book of Job, now in this crazy year of 2025? As an aesthetic glory, it is unique even in the Hebrew Bible, but what exactly is it? It is certainly not a theodicy. For somebody like me, it’s just another reminder that both Job and a reading like King Lear demonstrate that there is simply no language appropriate when we seek to confront the literary character of Yahweh. 

    I read a long time ago that Job’s name seems to derive from the Arabic awah, “he who returns to God,” but the Jewish Rabbis saw the name as antithetical, meaning both “just” and “the enemy of God.” In the prologue and epilogue Yahweh is named properly, but in the poem he is called El, Elosh, Elohim, and Shaddai. That leaves us with Ha-Satan, the accuser of sin, but certainly not the Satan of Milton’s Paradise Lost. The prologue centers on an extraordinary exchange between Yahweh and the Satan, who is here a kind of ‘heavenly board member’ and authorized accuser of sin.

    Now there was a day when the sons of God came to present themselves before the LORD, and Satan came also among them.

    And the LORD said unto Satan, Whence comest thou? Then Satan answered the LORD, and said, From going to and fro in the earth, and from walking up and down in it.

    And the LORD said unto Satan, Hast thou considered my servant Job, that there is none like him in the earth, a perfect and an upright man, one that feareth God, and escheweth evil?

    Then Satan answered the LORD, and said, Doth Job fear God for nought?

    Hast not thou made an hedge about him, and about his house, and about all that he hath on every side thou hast blessed the work of his hands, and his substance is increased in the land.

    But put forth thine hand now, and touch all that he hath, and he will curse thee to thy face.

    And the LORD said unto Satan, Behold, all that he hath is in thy power; only upon himself put not forth thine hand. So Satan went forth from the presence of the LORD.  

Job 1:6-12 

    A passage like this always reminds me that both Yahweh and the Satan are very unpleasant characters. Job has no faults. None, whatsoever. And as a troublemaker, the Satan is merely laboring in his vocation. Yahweh’s motives appear to be his usual bad temper. I mean, this guy has already kicked his children out of the Garden of Eden; murdered every inhabitant on Earth; blown up two cities (Sodom and Gomorrah), along with all, but a few, of the citizens; and generally proven to be dangerous, untrustworthy, and unworthy of anyone's worship. And we haven't even gotten to the heinous murdering of infants and other, older first-borns in Egypt. So, of course, there's that. To justify Yahweh here, you would need all the scandalous talents of Shakespeare's Iago. But let's move on.

    We do not know who the poet of the book of Job was. He may not even have been an Israelite. He does not seem to have written the prologue; he begins in the grand debate in chapters 3-31. And we do not to concern ourselves with the inept epilogue as it is just a pious absurdity. 

    For me, the greatness of Job centers upon chapter 41.

    Canst thou draw out leviathan with an hook? or his tongue with a cord which thou lettest down?

    Canst thou put an hook into his nose? or bore his jaw through with a thorn?

    Will he make many supplications unto thee? will he speak soft words unto thee?

    Will he make a covenant with thee? wilt thou take him for a servant for ever?

    Wilt thou play with him as with a bird? or wilt thou bind him for thy maidens?

    Shall the companions make a banquet of him? shall they part him among the merchants?

    Canst thou fill his skin with barbed irons? or his head with fish spears?

    Lay thine hand upon him, remember the battle, do no more.

    Behold, the hope of him is in vain: shall not one be cast down even at the sight of him?

    None is so fierce that dare stir him up: who then is able to stand before me?

    Who hath prevented me, that I should repay him? whatsoever is under the whole heaven is mine.

    I will not conceal his parts, nor his power, nor his comely proportion.

    Who can discover the face of his garment? or who can come to him with his double bridle?

    Who can open the doors of his face? his teeth are terrible round about.

    His scales are his pride, shut up together as with a close seal.

    One is so near to another, that no air can come between them.

    They are joined one to another, they stick together, that they cannot be sundered.

    By his neesings a light doth shine, and his eyes are like the eyelids of the morning.

    Out of his mouth go burning lamps, and sparks of fire leap out.

    Out of his nostrils goeth smoke, as out of a seething pot or caldron.

    His breath kindleth coals, and a flame goeth out of his mouth.

    In his neck remaineth strength, and sorrow is turned into joy before him.

    The flakes of his flesh are joined together: they are firm in themselves; they cannot be moved.

    His heart is as firm as a stone; yea, as hard as a piece of the nether millstone.

    When he raiseth up himself, the mighty are afraid: by reason of breakings they purify themselves.

    The sword of him that layeth at him cannot hold: the spear, the dart, nor the habergeon.

    He esteemeth iron as straw, and brass as rotten wood.

    The arrow cannot make him flee: slingstones are turned with him into stubble.

    Darts are counted as stubble: he laugheth at the shaking of a spear.

    Sharp stones are under him: he spreadeth sharp pointed things upon the mire.

    He maketh the deep to boil like a pot: he maketh the sea like a pot of ointment.

    He maketh a path to shine after him; one would think the deep to be hoary.

    Upon earth there is not his like, who is made without fear.

    He beholdeth all high things: he is a king over all the children of pride.

    In this unnerving soliloquy, Yahweh places them above and sanctifies Behemoth and Leviathan, who are the tyranny of nature over humankind. Yahweh is nastily proud of them, and his pride taunts us. What I hear in this is brutal wisdom. It is powerful and sublime. But it is also dark and frightening. Will he make a covenant with thee? I mean, who could trust him if he did? Even as a young preacher’s son/grandson/nephew, I found this divine sarcasm unbearable; but as a bombardment of “Look at me, Look at me” it substitutes power for justification. Is this Yahweh really still interested in covenant, or worthy of worship?

    If the book of Job does offer wisdom, it is beyond anything that I can apprehend. But then, we find ourselves confronted with the incredible and beautiful poem of chapter 28:12-28, where we have no choice except to yield to its eloquence. And on a personal note, this wonderful poem has my favorite opening line...ever.

    But where shall wisdom be found? and where is the place of understanding?

    Man knoweth not the price thereof; neither is it found in the land of the living.

    The depth saith, It is not in me: and the sea saith, It is not with me.

    It cannot be gotten for gold, neither shall silver be weighed for the price thereof.

    It cannot be valued with the gold of Ophir, with the precious onyx, or the sapphire.

    The gold and the crystal cannot equal it: and the exchange of it shall not be for jewels of fine gold.

    No mention shall be made of coral, or of pearls: for the price of wisdom is above rubies.

    The topaz of Ethiopia shall not equal it, neither shall it be valued with pure gold.

    Whence then cometh wisdom? and where is the place of understanding?

    Seeing it is hid from the eyes of all living, and kept close from the fowls of the air.

    Destruction and death say, We have heard the fame thereof with our ears.

    God understandeth the way thereof, and he knoweth the place thereof.

    For he looketh to the ends of the earth, and seeth under the whole heaven;

    To make the weight for the winds; and he weigheth the waters by measure.

    When he made a decree for the rain, and a way for the lightning of the thunder:

    Then did he see it, and declare it; he prepared it, yea, and searched it out.

    And unto man he said, Behold, the fear of the Lord, that is wisdom; and to depart from evil is understanding.

    Poetry is defeated here by wisdom. Yahweh does not bother to defend his justice. His goal is devastation by language just as Moby-Dick destroys Ahab, the Pequod, and all the crew except Ishmael, who in the accents of Job escapes alone to report the carnage. No one could possibly undervalue the literary power of the book of Job, but can there be a wisdom literature if it gives up being wise? From childhood on, I have insisted upon reading the book of Job as a fury against the injustice of Yahweh, and like Shakespeare’s Iago and Edmund, to remember that he can never be trusted. 

    Wherefore I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes. 

Job 42:6 

    The wonderful literary critic, Herbert Marks, points out that the verb “abhor” lacks any object in the Hebrew. I believe scholars mistranslate this as “I recant.” If you want to, you can see Job as penitent, but I side with Marks and the great Harold Bloom. Job proudly holds his ground. He does not recant. He casts aside his own humility, and he pities all mortals (“dust and ashes”) for being subject to so dreadful a Yahweh.

Write to Peter: magtour@icloud.com