In these dialogues, Job's "friends" argue for the goodness and justice of God from authority, from the received wisdom of the generations, from what is "universally acknowledged to be true." Job, on the other hand, argues against it on the basis of his own experience. Authority is pitted against experience
So in reply to Bildad Job acknowledges that the Creator is indeed all-powerful—"he does great things beyond understanding, and marvelous things without number" (9:10). But the issue for Job is not the power and glory of God, which he acknowledges is manifest in creation, but rather his faithfulness and intelligibility. Can he be trusted? Can he be approached directly? Can he be called to task for what happens in the world.
Job longs to "contend" with God; he wants his day in court to defend his innocence. But he expresses uncertainty that he could get it, considering the overpowering might and majesty of his opponent. He is oppressed by the majesty of God. "Though I am innocent, I cannot answer him," Job says (9:15). "If I summoned him and he answered me, I do not believe that he would listen to my voice." Job wants plead his case against God to God, but he doubts he would get a fair hearing, considering the nature of his opponent—in fact he is sure that he would not.
But if he could meet God in court, Job would accuse the creator of manifesting his power not as justice and mercy, but as callous, wanton destructiveness—"he destroys both the blameless and the wicked" (9:22). His suffering has forced him to see the God of creation as arbitrary, even cruel. "When disaster brings sudden death, he mocks at the calamity of the innocent," Job says (9:23). Job desires to force God to take responsibility for his actions, aware of his own mortality and weakness, and he realizes that in a contest with God, there is "no umpire between us" (9:33), no mediator. The competition is too one-sided. He is utterly outclassed. But he remains God-haunted, God-obsessed.
He loves what he cannot find lovely. So Job dissolves into despair; speaking "in the bitterness of [his] soul" (10:1), he expresses hatred of his own life. And again, as always, he returns to the same problem—the ambiguity of his relationship to a God who can and does show goodness. He has given Job "life and steadfast love" (10:12). But the One who "fashioned and made" him, now turns on him and seeks to destroy (10:8). He blessed him, and then, "bold as a lion," he hunts him down (10:16).
I doubt than anyone ever expressed his anger with God more honestly than Job or discoursed more bleakly and eloquently about the futility of human life—"Let me alone," Job pleas, "that I may find a little comfort before I go, never to return, to the land of gloom and deep darkness, the land of gloom and chaos, where light is like darkness" (10:20-22).
Now Zophar, the third of Job's comforters, speaks very uncomfortably indeed. He bluntly condemns Job for the sins he must have committed. He doesn't suffer as much as he should by rights--"Know . . . that God exacts of you less than your guilt deserves" (11:6), Zophar tells him. How dare he criticize the One who is infinitely above criticism. God's knowledge is such that by comparison everything else is utter stupidity. But submission and obedience bring peace. "If your heart rightly directs," if "you stretch out your hands toward him" (11:13), Zophar tells his anguished friend, then you will be "secure and will not fear" (11:15). And if you do well you will forget this momentary suffering you are experiencing, "as waters that have passed away" (11:16). Surrender to the will of God, and you will be able to confront the changes of life with equanimity—"you will have confidence, because there is hope; you will be protected
and take your rest in safety" (11:18).
But Job bristles at the condescending attitude reflected in Zophar's speech—"I have understanding as well as you," he says hotly. "I am not inferior to you. Who does not know such things as these?" It is self-esteem that is wounded as well as his body—"I who called upon God, and he answered me, a just and blameless man, I am a laughingstock" (12:4). God has made a fool of one who was respected by all, and Zophar seeks to humiliate him further.
All talk about the power and wisdom of God are simple platitudes that everyone can mouth. Even the animals understand that their lives depend upon the LORD—"In his hand is the life of every living thing, and the breath of every human being" (12:10). Job does not argue against that. He concedes that with God is "wisdom and strength" (12:13). He has power over all, and he can and does make fools of everyone. "He deprives of speech those who are trusted, and takes away the discernment of the elders" (12:13), Job says. He has ultimate control of "counsel and understanding" (12:13), why then does he not act justly. Why do the good suffer with the wicked? Job's argument is not with the power and majesty of God; his problem is the character of God as it is revealed in human experience. Job's complaint is with God's apparent lack of trustworthiness, his undependability, his arbitrariness, which Job has himself experienced. He raises up
and then for no apparent reason he casts down. "He makes nations great, and then destroys them; he enlarges nations, and then leads them away. He strips understanding from the leaders of the earth, and makes them wander in a pathless waste" (12:23-24). God can be feared, he can be worshipped, he can be loved—Job the man does all those things, but he still asks-- can God be trusted?
Friday, November 5, 2010
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