The Opening Arguments Begin (Job 3-5)

Last time we left Job, he was in a bad state from losing all his possessions, having all his children die and being afflicted with boils. Now for the main part of the book. His friends come to console him and each have a turn at speaking (largely trying to come up with a solution to Job’s Problem of Evil). Job replies to each in turn. The whole thing happens three times and goes all the way to chapter 31 — so I’ll have to enter fast-forward mode, pointing out interesting tidbits. But before his friends dare speak, Job has his opening lament.

In the BloggingHeads talk mentioned in the last post, the theist spoke of Job’s laments as showing the most sublime poetry from the Bible. The atheist responded that Lord of the Rings has some great poetry too, but if people went around with a figurine of Frodo around their necks, you’d think them strange. I tend to agree: a lot of believers don’t know much about the Bible so when they praise it (including for good poetry) it’s at times misplaced.

The standard Hebrew poetic construct is to repeat the same thing twice in different words, giving a slight reflection. We find this in Job’s first lament: “Why did I not die at birth, Expire as I came forth from the womb?” (3:11). The second part is redundant. But it echoes the first, at times quite nicely (as it does here). A lot nicer in the original tongue, from what I know. Still, even this gets old when it’s done endlessly. Job spends 10 verses cursing the day he was born, wishing it was dark, desolate, forgotten etc. Sounds nice if you’re already predisposed to thinking the Bible is divinely inspired. Without that commitment, it’s by a poet who never found an editor. Has great potential but doesn’t deserve top literary ranks on “intrinsic” merit.

In the Hebrew Bible, the afterlife (Sheol) is largely a place of rest without any explicit plans/actions/rewards/punishments. Job wishes he died at birth because “there the wicked cease from troubling [others], there rest those whose strength is spent” (3:17). This seems to clearly go against the Christian afterlife. Nice.

Job’s friend Eliphaz begins the first speech. He sets up the idea that Job must have done something to deserve his punishment. “Think now, what innocent man ever perished? Where have the upright been destroyed?” (4:7). Of course we know that Job was innocent. So the author doesn’t seem to agree with Eliphaz but makes him sound ridiculous. Where have the upright been destroyed? Why, here! In Job’s very case! I guess this is where the literary quality of Job (over the other books of the bible) comes in. The author is giving the strongest version of argument from evil possible, with a nice flourish. We’ll see how the book resolves it…

There are further problems with Eliphaz’s speech. He sows the seeds of the awful Christian canard that we’re all inherently sinful. “Evil does not grow out of the soil, Nor does mischief spring from the ground; For man is born to [do] mischief, Just as sparks fly upward” (5:6-7). Of course this leads to horrors like a devout mother telling her 4 year old daughter she’s wretched. Eliphaz also says of God that “He injures, but He binds up; He wounds, but His hands heal” (5:18). To a religious person this might seem beautiful. But I see God here as the classic abusive husband (with the cycles of violence, blaming the victim, remorse, trying to undo the damage and reconciliation). Or a mob boss. The problem of evil is so strong that even hymns of God’s praise only cast doubt on his character…