Day 153 Job 39-42

Our reading for today picks up in the middle of God's answer to Job. Time and again the LORD demands whether Job can manage the universe in which he lives. And the answer is always "no." Job is mortal—he does not exercise lordship. He is himself a creature, not a creator. The LORD's concern extends to the whole universe, the world of wild animals and elements over which human beings have no control, over beasts that no man could tame. At the end of this long litany of questions the LORD demands of Job—"Shall the faultfinder contend with the Almighty? Anyone who argues with God must respond" (40:2). But Job cannot respond—at least not immediately. (His answer will come in 42:1-6.)
So God challenges Job, much in the way that Job has challenged God to justify himself. "Will you condemn me that you may be justified?" he asks (40:8)—and this is indeed what Job has attempted to do in summoning God to court to answer for his suffering. If you want justice, God says, then take on my attributes and assume my responsibilities and punish the wicked—"Look on all who are proud, and bring them low; tread down the wicked where they stand" (40:12), and if he can do this, then God will acknowledge that Job is more than just a mortal and answer his summons. Then he will let Job be God.
But in the meantime consider how mighty are the forces Job must master if will he wants to be God. "Look at Behemoth" (40:15) for an example of uncontrollable energy. This is a semi-mythical land animal of immense strength that lives near water--"It's bones," we are told, "are tubes of bronze, and it's limbs like bars of iron" (40:18). Behemoth may be related the hippopotamus, the terror of the riverbanks. The fiercest and most unpredictable of animals, God made it and only he can control it (40:19). Job cannot—no mortal can. Nor can Job "draw out Leviathan with a fishhook" (41:1). This mythological sea dragon is a symbol of chaos here and elsewhere in the Bible. Yet Leviathan too is a creature of God, and God glories in its savage power as a reflection of his own—"On earth it has no equal, a creature without fear" (41:33). Leviathan is "king" of creation, not human beings, who are piddling by comparison to its
awesome power and strength.
Now at last Job composes himself enough to answer God's challenge (40:1-2). He surrenders himself to the omnipotence of the LORD, and admits that he has overreached himself in calling God to account—"I have uttered what I did not understand," he says, "things too wonderful for me, which I did not know" (42:3). He was wrong to demand of God an accounting as if he were a mere human being—Job realizes that now, having been given a direct experience of God. He knew something of God before "by the hearing of the ear"—what wisdom teaches-- but "now my eye sees you" (42:5). And having seen God, he despises himself and repents of his presumption in asking God to justify himself—which God in fact never does do.
But in that by the strength of his persistence he moves the LORD to answer him, Job does have a sort of vindication. What Job does in directly addressing him, pleases the LORD, and God rebukes Job's three friends for not doing so."You have not spoken to me what is right, as my servant Job has," he says. This can also be translated—"You have not spoken to me rightly." And in all their long speeches none of Job's comforters ever approach God directly in prayer, as Job does repeatedly. They talk endlessly about him, but never to him. For his honesty, which at times approaches impertinence, Job is praised. And God instructs him to offer sacrifices and to pray for his friends, which Job does, "and the LORD [accepts] Job's prayer" (42:9). In a certain sense, Job has redefined what it means to be righteous. Righteousness is based upon establishing a right relationship to the LORD, and not on knowing the right answers.
So the story of Job is rounded out with a happy ending—sort of. Job's property is restored, and he is again rich. He has sons and daughters—the daughters are of extraordinary beauty. He lives to a hundred and forty years, seeing four generations of his children and dies. But are the questions Job asks about suffering and its meaning really answered "out of the whirlwind"? Is the happy ending happy enough? Do goats and sheep and sons and daughters—even very pretty—make up for what Job has lost? Is he in the end satisfied—or just bought off? It is up to each reader to decide for him/herself.