%title The Elevation of Unknown Things

Something like "Seasons" except about growth through the death of the self and how Job fails in that.

1. [Framing devices](1-framing-devices.tex)
2. [Interpolations](3-interpolations.tex) NB: switched below
3. [Friends and "Friends"](2-friends.tex)
4. [Unknown things](4-unknown.tex) (theodicy)
5. [Should all things be known](5-known.tex) (what if the pals really did solve theodicy)

Pals quotes:

* Job and his quote-unquote friends
* Narrative/moral/commercial failure (~13 mins)
* Inverse Pascal's wager (impossible to distinguish between God's wrath and God's indifference) even if you believe, this could still happen (~14mins)
* (Hunt for Vanessa Zoltan's dad saying "If God is not dead, he is not welcome in my home") (~15mins)

Chesterton quote:

> Job puts forward a note of interrogation; God answers with a note of exclamation. Instead of proving to Job that it is an explicable world, He insists that it is a much stranger world than Job ever thought it was.

G. K. Chesterton https://www.chesterton.org/introduction-to-job/

On forgiving one's Elihu:

```
\footnote{I've heard said in the past that "forgiveness is releasing the hope for a better past" \parencite{wakefield} but it's more complicated than that, isn't it? That quote itself is more complicated than that:

\begin{verse}
There are ways around being the go-to person \\
even for ourselves \\
even when the answer is clear \\
clear like the holy water Gentiles would drink \\
before they realized \\
forgiveness is the release of all hope for a better past
\end{verse}

Primed as we are to take text out of context, wrap our own needs around it, and pretend that it is in all ways applicable to all situations (for did I not already bring up mistaking accidental, individual symbols for universal ones?), it's so easy to misremember that the better past we hope for is just some dream, some thing we cling to long after the us that lived that past has died.

Who knows if I was the go-to person, the punching bag for my Elihu, the object of their simple angers? Who knows if they remember me? They cut contact, without telling me, without telling me why, and who knows if they even know the reason?

Who cares, other then me?}
```
