Job and His Friends

Our Bible in 365 reading has brought us to Job. In an off hand sort of way, Job reminds me of an old Mel Brooks movie The Twelve Chairs. Set a few years after the Communist Revolution in Russia, it pits a former nobleman against an Orthodox priest. Both men are scouring the Russian countryside looking for a chair, into the lining of which has been sewn a fortune in jewels hidden from the new government. At one point the priest, played by Dom Deluise, thinks he has the right chair, smashes it and paws his way through the cushion’s stuffing. When he finally acknowledges it is the wrong chair, he looks up to the heavens and voices a prayer of defeat, “Oh God, you’re so strict.”

There are different streams of wisdom writings in the Old Testament. A cursory reading of Proverbs leaves one with the idea that good will result in blessing and evil will be answered with curses. A reading of Job, on the other hand, refutes such immature thinking. One can almost hear Job sobbing from the loss of his children, his riches, and his good health: “This isn’t supposed to happen to me; I read Proverbs.” And then there is Ecclesiastes, which leaves the impression that being good or evil doesn’t matter—everyone dies.

Deuteronomy 30:11-20 is the famous passage where Moses, in his farewell address to Israel, charges them to “choose life.” It seems so clear cut. Do right and you will be blessed. Do wrong and you will be cursed. This is the basic message of deuteronomic retribution theology. This is the same kind of thinking that fills the pages of Proverbs.

Job makes it clear that the problem of evil has no easy answers. It’s easy to ask, “If God is good and at the same time all-powerful, why does he allow evil?” The implication is that a truly good God would not allow evil if he was strong enough to thwart it, so either God isn’t good or he isn’t all-powerful. According to this thinking he cannot be both.

How brave of the biblical writers to pose the question through the story of Job.

Let’s talk about Job’s friends. His friends saw his suffering and came to be there for him. They sat there for seven days and nights without saying a word, so aware were they of his emotional, physical and spiritual suffering. Then Job speaks, sharing his pain and confusion. That might have been a good time for his friends to continue their silence, but that was not to be.

Eliphaz spouts off the age-old retribution wisdom. If you’re suffering, it must be because you sinned. God is correcting you. Humble yourself and be restored.

But Job could not humble himself. He had nothing to confess. To feign guilt just to gain relief would not have been right. Job was not about to let God off the hook just to ease his own discomfort.

What’s the lesson here for us? How often do we fall on our own sword, when we know we are not in the wrong, just to make peace? If Job is a theodicy, a defense of God’s justice in the face of seemingly contradictory evidence, then it is also a study in the ethics of conflict.

How many times have I taken one for the team? While that sounds noble, it may be no better than a prizefighter taking a dive. Even though it might be easier to avoid conflict by falling on my own sword, is that the ethical thing to do? Am I really doing my opponent a favor by throwing the fight? What will he/she learn? Where is the opportunity for that one to bow before God’s convicting power, and experience God’s healing presence? Standing our ground may be more Christian than retreat. Winning a battle for my own glory certainly does not display a proper Christian attitude, but falling to the mat just to avoid the unpleasantness of a conflict doesn’t either.