<p>At best guess, there are no two more hotly contested, more thoroughly discussed books in the Christian bible than those of Job and Revelation.<supid="fnref:1revelation"><aclass="footnote-ref"href="#fn:1revelation">1</a></sup></p>
<p>Perhaps it is the dire nature by which both approach the world. Job takes a look at the world, heaves a weary sigh, and says, “I suppose this is it. This is the lot we have been given in life.” While Revelation looks at the world and growls deep in its through, a sound coming from the belly, and says, “This must not be it. This cannot be the ways in which the world works.”<supid="fnref:1works"><aclass="footnote-ref"href="#fn:1works">2</a></sup></p>
<p>Or perhaps it is the way in which they view death. While Job looks on death almost fondly, Revelation reiterates the Christian sentiment that death has been defeated. It is no more, and while there is everlasting life beyond it, it is worth considering, worth focusing on.</p>
<p>While doubtless Jews may have a dim opinion of Revelation, given its relative irrelevance in their lives, Job has been the subject of both rabbinical teaching and Christian exegesis for centuries now. This, perhaps is where it outstrips Revelation in its interest.</p>
<p>And what interest! As Alter says, “The Book of Job is in several ways the most mysterious book of the Hebrew Bible.” \parencite[457]{alter} He then proceeds to discuss the book for eight pages before even getting to the translation (which, while not uncommon among the books in his translation, still stands out as rather a lot of introduction). The editors of the New Oxford Annotated Bible agree on this, saying, “Among the books of the Bible, Job is highly unusual, and, unsurprisingly, its force has often been misunderstood or evaded.” \parencite[735]{noab} This relative inaccessibility, opaqueness of prose (should one choose to ignore the poetic nature of the cental work), and the mixed dates of composition have doubtless played their role in it.</p>
<p>Chief among those is likely the mixed dates of composition. There appear to be four pieces involved in the book: the framing device, which is perhaps the oldest; the discourse between Job and his friends; the later addition of the Hymn to Wisdom, an interruption from Job in chapter 28; and the addition of the character of Elihu, written perhaps most recently.</p>
<p>In the Hebrew Bible, it is set in the <em>Ketuvim</em> (writings, the ‘kh’ in Tanakh) between Proverbs and The Song of Songs. In the Christian bible, it is set at the beginning of the poetic books, between the prophets and Psalms.</p>
<p>Job is a prosperous and pious man living in the land of <em>Uz</em>. He is wealthy in livestock and in family, with his 7,000 sheep, his 3,000 camels, his cattle and she-asses, his slaves and his seven sons and three daughters. His sons love and respect each other, and he loves them all in turn (though he does seem a tad suspicious of their piety, making sacrifices in their names on their appointed days).</p>
<p>God, holding court with the sons of God, greets the Adversary<supid="fnref:1satan"><aclass="footnote-ref"href="#fn:1satan">3</a></sup> and asks where they have been. They respond that they have been roaming the Earth, to which God replies, “Have you paid heed to My servant Job, for there is none like him on earth, a blameless and upright man, who fears God and shuns evil?” (Job 1:8, Alter)</p>
<p>And here is where we first run into trouble, for now is when the Adversary, the Accuser, shoots back, “Does Job fear God for nothing? Have You not hedged him about and his household and all that he has all around? The work of his hands You have blessed, and his flocks have spread over the land. And yet, reach out Your hand, pray, and strike all he has. Will he not curse You to Your face?”</p>
<p>And God does it. He does it! He gives Job up to the Adversary, and of course, all that Job has, all that he’s gained and all of his offspring, are destroyed. Cattle and she-asses? Felled by the Sabeans. Camels? Stolen by the Chaldaeans. Sheep? Burnt up by none other than the fire of God Himself. His men are dead. His sons and daughters are dead, crushed beneath the walls of a house torn by a sudden wind.</p>
<p>Job, pious as he is, does not curse God. He tears his clothes, bows down, and blesses Him.</p>
<p>Once more, God says to the Adversary that there is none more pious than Job, and once more the Adversary jeers, “Skin for skin! A man will give all he has for his own life. Yet, reach out, pray, Your hand and strike his bone and his flesh. Will he not curse You to Your face?” (Job 2:5, Alter)</p>
<p>Yet again, God gives Job up to the Adversary —“Only preserve his life”— who strikes Job with a rash from head to toe, leaving him to sit among the ashes and scrape at his flesh.</p>
<p>His friends, Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar commiserate with him, sitting silent with him for seven days and nights. Even Job’s wife seems to sigh: “Do you still cling to your innocence? Curse God and die.”<supid="fnref:1die"><aclass="footnote-ref"href="#fn:1die">6</a></sup> (Job 2:9, Alter)</p>
<p>And now we skip all the way to the last chapter of the book for the conclusion of the framing device. God commands that Job’s friends offer up sacrifices on his behalf, and when they do, all of Job’s wealth is restored twice over. 14,000 sheep, 6,000 camels and so on, down to seven more sons and three more daughters (which he gives the delightful names Dove, Cinnamon, and Horn of Eyeshade). Job lives another hundred and forty years, long enough to see four generations of offspring, until he dies “aged and sated in years.” (Job 42:17, Alter)</p>
<p>Of all of the book of Job, it is this framing device which seems to cause the most controversy. Even the Apocrypals podcast, whose tagline is “Where two non-believers read the bible and try not to be jerks about it”, drops the ‘and try not to be jerks about it’ for this episode, host Chris Sims explaining, “Unfortunately, this week we are reading the book of Job.” \parencite{apocrypals}</p>
<p>Sims’s argument boils down to the fact that this framing device leads to Job being a narrative, moral, and commercial failure: a narrative failure for not resolving any of its plot points, a moral failure because it fails to explain why bad things happen to good people, and a commercial failure because “it is the most cogent argument against religion that I have ever heard.”</p>
<p>It’s a compelling argument, too. He goes on to explain that it is almost the inverse of Pascal’s wager, in that it “presents a world where it is impossible to distinguish between God’s wrath and God’s indifference.” Whereas Pascal would have it that there is no downside to believing in God as there is the possibility of infinite salvation if you do and you’re right and infinite damnation if you don’t and you’re wrong. Here, we are presented with the fact that, whether or not you believe in God, you’re equally liable to suffer.</p>
<p>This, however, is an argument presented from a contemporary Christian perspective (Sims mentions earlier in the episode that reading the Book of Job is one of the reasons he is no longer a Christian, but he still speaks from the perspective of an ex-Christian). The interpretations of the same text a hundred years ago, a thousand years ago, twenty-four hundred years ago were all different. For instance, Cereno explains that the historical context of the book, written in the fourth century BCE, does not include the same context of the afterlife. The pre-biblical Jewish audience of Job when it was first penned would have had the concept of <em>Sheol</em>— that place of of stillness and darkness where both the righteous and unrighteous wind up — rather than than the contemporary understanding of an afterlife. This was written before the concept of the messiah, before heaven and hell and life after death.</p>
<p>In this context, Job’s life being torn to shreds means that his brief time here on Earth, the only time he has with nothing after it, is one that divides ones life into fractions, into a before, a during, and an after. Job is struck for, what, two weeks? We may only guess, as the Adversary’s second visit to the sons of God and the Lord. And yet those are two weeks out of a finite number.</p>
<p>Job having a new family (some of them even have names!) and twice the wealth before does not replace the life that he had before, does not make up for lost children, but it does at least bring some joy for those next century and a half.</p>
<p>This centers God’s response as the sticking point. He spends four chapters responding to Job the conversations that have taken place between him and his friends. While these conversations make up the majority of the book,<supid="fnref:1conversations"><aclass="footnote-ref"href="#fn:1conversations">7</a></sup> His response solely in the context of this framing device (which, we must remember, is an older folktale which has been re-cast as a framing device for the rest of the book) gives us a particular flavor of ‘God works in mysterious ways’ with more nuance than one commonly finds when that phrase is employed.</p>
<p>God appears to Job and his friends and expounds on the fact that none of them do — nor indeed can — possibly understand the ways in which he works. They’re not just mysterious, they’re vast and incomprehensible. If He is outside time, then, from our point of view, those ways stretch both forwards and back. If they envelop and pervade all things tangible and intangible, then they are </p>
<p>I don’t care about the book itself, I should add. There is much that falls out of its existence that I care very much about, of course. I care about the way it is used, and while I care about the way that Job is used, I also care about the text, which is not something I can say about Revelation. <aclass="footnote-backref"href="#fnref:1revelation"title="Jump back to footnote 1 in the text">↩</a></p>
<p>A simplification, of course, but perhaps a good starting point. <aclass="footnote-backref"href="#fnref:1works"title="Jump back to footnote 2 in the text">↩</a></p>
<p>This is the translation of the phrase in Hebrew, <em>ha-satan</em>. Alter notes that it wasn’t until much more recently that this was refigured as specifically Satan: “The word <em>satan</em> is a person, thing, or set of circumstances that constitutes an obstacle or frustrates one’s purposes.”<supid="fnref:1makyo"><aclass="footnote-ref"href="#fn:1makyo">4</a></sup> \parencite[466]{alter} The Jewish Publication Society concurs. (Job 1:6, JPS via Sefaria) It is job title more than it is identity. In fact, the transition from the Adversary to Satan himself is fraught.[^1ally] <aclass="footnote-backref"href="#fnref:1satan"title="Jump back to footnote 3 in the text">↩</a></p>
<p>Shortly after I started to realize just how ill-suited I was to music education, I went through a change of identity online. While before I had gone by the name ‘Ranna’, cribbed from Garth Nix’s excellent Old Kingdom series, I now began to go by the name Makyo, a zen Buddhist term which bears a similar meaning. Something about just how focused many of the general teacher education classes were on things other than education filled me with a sense that I might not actually be in any way helping students, but simply standing in their way. I was <em>makyō</em>. I was <em>satan</em>. <aclass="footnote-backref"href="#fnref:1makyo"title="Jump back to footnote 4 in the text">↩</a></p>
<p>I, at one point, was overtaken by the need to tell my story through the frame of a conversation with an ally. I described them — or perhaps they described themselves; the boundary between framing device and reality blurs — as “an ally, not a friend.” Towards the end of the project, we had a ‘conversation’ wherein I attempt to describe their inverse. Their response: “Not your enemy, but your adversary.” \parencite[25]{ally-making-of} <aclass="footnote-backref"href="#fnref:ally"title="Jump back to footnote 5 in the text">↩</a></p>
<p>There is a difference in interpretation, here. On the one hand, Alter suggests that Job’s wife is being sardonic here, saying, “Job’s wife assumes either that cursing God will immediately lead to Job’s death, which might be just as well, or that, given his ghastly state, he will soon die anyway” \parencite[469]{alter}. Might as well curse anyway, eh?</p>
<p>The editors of the NOAB take a more sympathetic view of the exchange. Job’s wife is seen as far more sympathetic: “The outcome of all Job’s piety has beento rob his wife of her ten children, her social standing, and her livelihood.” \parencite[737]{noab} Curse God, then. Who else could be responsible? How can you continue to praise after our ten (admittedly unnamed) children have died? <aclass="footnote-backref"href="#fnref:1die"title="Jump back to footnote 6 in the text">↩</a></p>
<p>Which will no doubt take up the majority of this essay. <aclass="footnote-backref"href="#fnref:1conversations"title="Jump back to footnote 7 in the text">↩</a></p>
