Studying Job 8 1-10, 20-22

We are being asked to think about a conventional – and not only ancient – understanding of cosmic justice this week. We are studying Job 8:1-10 and 20-22 – so, really, Job 8 – for Sunday, February 20. This is Bildad’s first speech challenging Job’s lament over his innocent suffering. Spending time with it will remind us why the phrase “Job’s comforters” became a figure of speech. Here are a few notes on this text:

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BACKGROUND AND CONTEXT: The Book of Job is famous. It probably divides the world of readers into two groups: those who have read it, either in whole or in part, either on their own or because they had it assigned in a world literature or other class; and those who haven’t actually read it but think they probably should have by now. Then, among those who have read it, there are probably at least a couple of sub-groups: those who find it profound and powerful; and those who find it hard to read, hard to understand, and too much boring poetry. [My conclusion, based on my experience with college freshmen, is that contemporary culture doesn’t make it easy to appreciate the epic form.]

We all know who we are.

The plot line of the book is contained in the prose sections that frame the long poetic middle (Job 1-2, Job 42:7-17). Most of us probably know that in this story Job is a paragon of moral perfection, and is also healthy, wealthy, and wise. He has everything. Then God makes a bet with The Satan, the accuser, that Job’s pious regard for God is not nothing but a quid pro quo. The Satan goes to work, and Job loses everything. Then Job’s three friends show up: Eliphaz the Temanite, Bildad the Shuhite, and Zophar the Naamathite. The substance of the current book of Job is the set of poetic exchanges between Job and these three men, who try to answer his penetrating realism – I AM SUFFERING, and for what, precisely? – with their bags of proverbial tricks. The unequal and unsatisfactory character of these exchanges is as painfully obvious today as it must have been when it was written, 2500 years ago or so.

Then, out of nowhere, a young whippersnapper, Elihu, shows up and has his say: “I can’t believe you oldsters didn’t think of a few more arguments.” Hot on the heels of Elihu, God speaks out of the whirlwind, in effect announcing to the whole debate team that they are way out of their depth. Job bows out of the debate, and we’re back to prose. Job’s fortunes are restored, his wife evidently goes through childbirth 10 more times, offstage, and Job lives long enough to see his replacement children grow up and have children and grandchildren of their own. We might ask ourselves whether or not this qualifies as “a happy ending,” and if so, whether it satisfies us, either literarily or morally.

One of our contemporary difficulties reading the Book of Job is that we may not have a developed ear for the biting parody it contains. Robert Alter makes a beautiful comment in his notes on the speech we are considering, the one by Bildad:

Throughout the speeches of Job’s three critics, the poet performs a delicate balancing act in assigning them boilerplate poetry that reflects their conventional mindset (see the comment on verse 8) and giving them some striking lines in which his own extraordinary poetic powers are manifest. As instances of this second category, one might consider ‘we are but yesterday’ in verse 9 or the elaboration of the image of the spiderweb in verses 14 and 15.

Robert Alter, comment on Job, chapter 8

If we realize that Bildad articulates some “received wisdom” on the subject of suffering, we can then ask ourselves how satisfactory that received wisdom is, and why. We might want to see how much our own understanding of suffering fits that received wisdom, and how much it is responsive to the complaints about that received wisdom that Job raises.

These days bookstores sell The Chronological Bible, in more than one version, and there are chronological Bible reading plans. Those things slot the entire Book of Job in after Genesis 11, emphasizing that we think the story of Job is ancient, and that Job would probably have been a pre-Jewish, international wisdom figure. On the other hand, while the tale is ancient, the poetry, with its often pessimistic wisdom perspective, rings more post-exilic. If I had to make my own chronological order, I’d leave the Book of Job right where it is in the Tanakh, with the other Second Temple wisdom writings, waving at the Deuteronomist from the other side of the Later Prophets. Reminding us that there’s a lot in the Bible. And not all the authors see things from the same exact perspective. [And if God were Mom, She would definitely have sat the Deuteronomist and the Poet of the Book of Job on opposite sides of the back seat, with one of the other kids between them.]

Bildad the Shuhite, on the other hand, would probably not mind sitting next to the Deuteronomist on a long trip. Those two share the idea that God rewards the good and punishes the wicked.

We see that already in Bildad’s first speech. Job has bemoaned his suffering in chapter 3, Eliphaz has chided him at length in chapter 4-5, and Job has responded with further lament in chapters 6-7. Bildad’s speech is an immediate response to Job’s lament, which included the observation, probably mild to us, that the intensity of his suffering is out of all proportion to any evil he has done. Job’s refusal to accept the conventional wisdom seems to rile Bildad up. Indeed, the friends’ exchanges escalate and their opposition to Job’s positions harden and polarize as they go on discoursing.

The story is set in “the land of Uz.” There are different ideas about where that might have been geographically; maybe Edom (per Carol Newsom, who has a clear, helpful summary article on Job at Bible Odyssey); maybe Aram (per Rashi); maybe “a land far away.”

There is a bit more here on the Book of Job as larger context.

Several texts from the Book of Job appear in the lectionary, including Job 14:1-14 every year on Holy Saturday. But this speech of Bildad the Shuhite does not, making it another one of those things you wouldn’t know was in the Bible if all you knew were the lectionary. Bible Content Examinees be warned.

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CLOSER READING: In v2, Bildad calls Job’s words a strong wind; that might remind us of Genesis 1:2, where a wind from God swept over the waters – of chaos. If so, it’s a particularly pregnant, as well as ironic, reminder – what with the chaos of Job’s suffering, on one hand, and the chaos of the comforters’ thoughtless “wisdom” on the other.

In v3, Bildad refers to God as El (a generic name for God), and as Shaddai, usually translated in English Bibles as “the Almighty.” Both are old, even generic, names for the deity. [The significance of the names for God that appear in the Book of Job makes an interesting study in its own right. See this, for instance.]

Verse 3 poses a rhetorical question, and then verses 4-6 read to me like an exercise in denial of what we, as readers, know to be true – namely, that Job is a righteous man. Bildad’s diagnosis is based on the premise advanced in v3: God doesn’t twist justice. So: Job, your children must have sinned, and you yourself must not be pure and upright.

V7 has in the past seemed like more denial of the obvious to me, because Job’s beginning is precisely NOT small; he is extravagantly wealthy. However, Alter translates more sympathetically to Bildad: your beginning will seem small in comparison with how great your end will grow to be.

Verses 8-10 are an exhortation to look to the wisdom of the ancients – which presumably will support Bildad’s diagnosis. Verses 11-19 go on to develop a set of observations from nature: The wicked are like papyrus growing in a dry spot; they can’t flourish. Their homes are as insecurely founded as cobwebs. [This is probably meant as a straightforward statement, but it might seem ironic to us, if we happen to have read somewhere that spider silk is one of the toughest materials known to modern science.] The NRSV translates “the wicked” for “he” in v16. But verses 16-19 seem, really, to be talking about a righteous “he,” who can thrive anywhere – drawing on the trope of the “two ways” that is a staple of the wisdom literature. And acting as a kind of “in your face, Job” retort to Job’s assumption that he himself is one of those righteous ones.

V20 is another example of proverbial wisdom that denies Job’s experience.

V21-22, then, predicts Job’s happy future based on that denial. Doubtless, somewhat less than comforting for Job. Especially since v22 refers to Job’s foes or enemies being clothed with shame. Unfortunately for Job, and as Job will make explicit further on, God seems to be the one acting like Job’s enemy here. The chances of God’s being clothed with shame seem small. Job will make this point explicitly in chapter 9.

[Noticing this might excite some Christian imaginations, though, and set folks looking up Hebrews 12:2 for instance, and thinking about the Trinity. Recognizing that the Poet of the Book of Job would not have been intentionally thinking along those same lines, of course.]

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Alter, Robert. The Hebrew Bible. Volume 3: Writings. A Translation with Commentary. W.W. Norton & Company, 2019.

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abstract image painging of suffering Job

Image: “Job,” Andreas Neumann-Nochten, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

3 responses to “Studying Job 8 1-10, 20-22”

  1. Great read! As usual. Thanx for talking about this. It took me three sittings (baby interruptions) to finish, and another to comment.

    There are a few books/Bible characters I expect are … let’s say non-historical, as in not “real.” Sort of fiction, but maybe that’s not accurate either.

    I think of Jesus’s parables for instance. “A sower went out to sow…” I don’t doubt there are many sowers who went out to sow, and in that sense not fiction. But this particular one… I expect not a historical person despite being a historical figure in a fictional sense.

    Anyway, I put Job and Jonah in that category in my mind. You said it sounds post exilic. Ha! Yes, I get that. Job is sort of the Clint Eastwood “stranger with no name” in a sense, except of course he has a name.

    I think of comic book heroes. They are fiction. Not historical people, but Superman has a history. He is REAL in some important respects. Why can’t Job be that? Daniel too. Jonah.

    Jesus, I believe, is a real historical person who actually lived in the space-time universe I currently live in too. Job, I am not sure.

    Why mention this?

    Not sure really. For me it changes nothing he teaches. However, it gives more breathing room for questions of origin and dates etc. And as far as I can tell is plausible too.

    I also think of Job as a “Christ figure” – a prototype in a sense. I have a Bible scholar friend who treats the whole Bible this way based on the text from Luke 24 where Jesus begins with Moses and the prophets and teaches the Emmaus disciples to find himself in the Bible all through.

    I respect that. He also currently champions allegorical readings in ways I was taught not to value, partly because of this lens he now champions. I respect that too.

    Here’s where I am – but please bear with me. I never read a scholar who taught this to me, and I do not know a name for this approach either. But for me, I sat a long time with the text about Lot and his family saved from Sodom and the events leading up to that with the men of the city coming to “greet” Lot’s visitors. I couldn’t help but notice the closing chapter of Judges recounts a story so similar that is surely means to bounce sparks off it.

    How could the writer of Judges not have Lot’s story in mind?

    The stories are so similar, yet very much NOT the same. The similarities are important. The differences are too. Just how to quantify, measure, evaluate the import and meaning of both of those observations is more than I can do. (I was not trained to read Hebrew… just one limitation among others.)

    But, in my mind, I see that the two stories move in a circular fashion around one another. However, not in a simple circle where you end up at the same place you started but more of a spiral where you move in a completely other direction while covering the same curvatures. The two stories mimic one another, but the differences teach us something MORE about the general story they both tell.

    Here’s what I came to:

    The kind of behavior (or something like this) exhibited in Genesis 19 warrants the kind of destruction found there. However, when Israel, God’s chosen people, exhibit the same or similar enough behavior, this puts a bind on God’s justice.

    In comparison, the sins of both stories are so close to the same, we may as well put them in the same category (after a fashion), but the judgment against Israel is obviously far more gracious – despite being quite severe.


    None of that makes me right. But it does demonstrate a methodology of my approach to the Bible. Over time, I find more and MORE and M O R E of these spirals between stories. And, the notion goes hand in hand with my friend’s work in finding Jesus crucifixion and resurrection in the Bible starting with Moses and the prophets.

    It’s a variation on “finding Jesus in the OT.”

    Job, to me, looks like Joseph sold into slavery, who also looks like Jesus. Now, I have three spirals intertwining and bouncing sparks.

    I grew up in church. Job to me as a kid and young adult was a free floating figure. To read his story was to “identify with” the protagonist, which gets very hard with Job on a number of fronts. But, in the end, he taught me to trust God. I know my redeemer lives.

    Not a bad lesson, but not likely the totality of wisdom and of Job.

    And if my approach is on target, Job needs Jesus to complete the story, though Job enhances the Jesus story too. No doubt JEsus is a protagonist too hard to identify with on several fronts as well.

    (Well, I have been interrupted three times now just commenting, and I realize my comment is long and meandering. I don’t mean to drag you into my rabbit hole, but if there is discussion to be had… this is my contribution.)

    Thanx for this.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Hi, Agent X, and thanks for your comment – there’s a lot in there! Best wishes with the baby, btw. “They grow up so fast.”

      Idk whether people really do have much discussion on these things … this is kind of an aside … very rarely does anyone ever comment on one of these posts. And I just read someone else’s article about why we should never comment on WordPress blog posts because of privacy concerns. Alas. I suppose lots of people have my private email now.

      Anyhow – here are a couple of responses to points you’re making, I think more or less in order:

      For some reason, there is a lot of resistance in some quarters in labeling anything in the Bible as “fiction.” And yet, we learn true things from “fiction” all the time. If you ask any English teacher whether Shakespeare’s plays, or The Great Gatsby, or “The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas” (just to name a few HS English staples) can teach us profound truths, she will say something like “Well of course.”

      Part of the trick is finding language to describe what we think about some of these characters. I’m with you, I doubt Job was a “historical person.” The profundity of the book of Job doesn’t really depend on his being one.

      Unless, perhaps, you are one of those readers who is willing to say “but, it SAYS in chapter 1 that … and THE BIBLE DOES NOT LIE.” Not enough space here to try to address that readerly attitude. But I am not one of those readers.

      But I think that is separate from the “origins and dates” question. For instance, I don’t doubt that Joshua was a historical person. But we’d expect a text about Joshua the historical person written in … idk, 1200 BCE, say … to be written with different motives, concerns, ideas, purposes than one about that same historical person written in … idk, 722 BCE, just to pull out a non-random number, or again one written in 585 BCE. And the same could be said for texts written about a non-historical person. We can see this very clearly in other kinds of literature. Think about Romeo and Juliet, and then about West Side Story, and think about the difference a few hundred years, and some geography and world history, has made in their treatment of the common central plot. Not knowing a text’s context in time and space doesn’t make us unable to read and understand it, but we have to know there are things we are missing by not being familiar with its full context. So I would say.

      Just a start … thanks for reading and thinking with me!

      Liked by 1 person

      • Thanx for responding. I know I kinda hit ya with a lot before I was done. Internet weirdo, I reckon. But yours is one of the blogs where I generally learn new things, and you definitely have a lot to teach. And Job is one of those that mystifies me far more than I will ever grasp, I am sure. Life is too short and fast to cover it all.

        Thanx! Thanx again.


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