The ‘scrapheap’ Job -- #20

Note the dramatic shift from the prologue’s description of Job as ‘hedged about’ (e.g., 1:10) to the ‘scrapheap’ Job’s feeling “hedged in” (3.21) – i.e., a shift from the image of being protected to the image of being trapped/cornered. How does the ‘scrapheap’ Job see ‘God’ blocking all the roads to meaning? Is the idea that ‘God’ blocks a person’s life from having meaning an idea endorsed within the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm?

Peterson’s “ . . . vomit my anguish” is more vivid than the RSV’s “my groanings are poured out like water” (3:24). The word is ‘roarings’ rather than ‘groanings’ (which implies greater pain). Peterson captures well the meaning/image. The ‘scrapheap’ Job’s roarings are like flowing water, perhaps like water flowing wildly down a wadi.

The ‘scrapheap’ Job ends his first comments to/before his three close friends with references to “the worst of my fears” and “what I’ve dreaded most” (3:25-26). These comments stand in sharp contrast to the prologue’s presentation of Job. The ‘scrapheap’ Job’s critique of conventional ‘wisdom’ has created his dread/fear (i.e., due to observing ‘life under the sun’ more radically/indiscriminately than has his three close friends). The ‘religious’ T/O paradigm did not create his dread/fear since such dread/fear would be considered evidence of faithlessness.

Word studies re ‘fear’ and ‘dread’ in the story/play are needed. Most of the references quickly or eventually lead to comments about fear/dread of ‘God’.

What might be the ‘scrapheap’ Job’s worst fear/s? Perhaps the loss of ease, quiet, and rest (3:26). If so, what would this say about Job? about the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm? about ‘God’? Another possibility might be his realizing, “I do not have life (and, therefore, ‘God’) figured out”, accentuated by his now being among those cast aside on the ‘scrapheap’ as cursed. The accumulating data anomalous to his ‘religious’ T/O paradigm are large in number/force and growing. His becoming a victim has enlarged the anomalous data pile to the point of overwhelming his ‘religious’ T/O paradigm.

For another angle, imagine Job and his three close friends having often discussed the subject of human suffering before his tragic circumstances occurred. Human suffering for the ‘scrapheap’ Job is now no longer abstract, no longer an idea, no longer a question. The ‘scrapheap’ Job can no longer distract himself or walk away from a discussion of the subject. He now embodies the subject. His admitting fear and dread (3:25-26) indicates he knows of others whose plights the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm cannot explain or protect. Is his fear and dread, then, that his life is a frightening anomaly to the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm? that -- being his own experience -- his plight has sufficient weight to discredit the understanding of ‘God’ in relation to human experience upon which he has based his life?

I suspect many individuals within the ‘religious’ sphere live with the ‘scrapheap’ Job’s fear and dread. They cling to explanations of life experiences offered within the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm, all the while being haunted by the sense that the paradigm has serious flaws. They are left with a fragile and self-deceiving approach to spirituality, ethics, theology. At one end of the spectrum are those deluded by accepted ‘religious’ T/O paradigm authorities. At the other end of the spectrum are those no longer deluded. Between these ends of the spectrum are those sufficiently aware of and uncomfortable with observable realities to (attempt to) delude or distract themselves.

Eliphaz (the first of the three close friends to respond) might hear the ‘scrapheap’ Job’s reference to his fear and dread as an admission of guilt. Do the three close friends think something not yet known to them must be going on? Do they see Job’s life before the calamities to have been too good to be true? Do they wonder if ‘God’ has been setting the arrogant Job up for an eventual and complete fall?

What is the place of fear and dread – very strong moods/assessments -- in the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm? By the point of admitting such, that which is feared and dreaded is already having deep effect. Think in terms of a continuum that moves from naiveté to wonder to awareness to nervousness to concern to fear and dread. The fear and dread the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm tolerates stem from guilt – i.e., waiting for the other ‘shoe to drop’. Is such fear and dread the ‘scrapheap’ Job’s fear and dread?

What is Eliphaz dreading (4:14)? the nearness of ‘God’? bad news for the ‘scrapheap’ Job?

One distinguishing trait of a ‘non-religious’ and ‘with the world face to face’ approach to spirituality is the absence of such fear and dread. There is no ‘God’ language in this approach to spirituality that leads to the fear and dread the ‘scrapheap’ Job is experiencing. Instead, an awareness or consciousness that does not press one to sift through human experience in order to stay safely at a distance from the depth/breadth of human suffering prompts awe and sober mindedness.

Is Peterson’s “death has invaded life” (3:26, RSV “but trouble comes”) an appropriate interpretation? Yes. The idea in antiquity was that death actively invaded life and dragged victims into the underworld. Illness and trouble were understood in antiquity to be results of death invading life.

The ‘scrapheap’ Job -- #19

The ‘scrapheap’ Job “cursed the day of his birth” (3:1). But he is not the only one born on that day. In cursing his day of birth, he curses their day of birth too. The consequences of such a cursing would have befallen them as well. This self-centeredness is noticeably parallel to the lack of regard or respect the prologue ‘God’ has for those damaged or destroyed around Job in the two cycles of calamities. Servants die and no doubt some of the marauding enemies die too. I would cast the prologue Job as near enough to offer aid to some of these sufferers, but safely distant -- existentially and theologically -- from the harsh realities of suffering until such came to him.

What concretely would the ‘scrapheap’ Job be expecting if indeed his day of birth is cursed? Perhaps he is wishing the day would somehow be skipped over in the calendar. Or perhaps he is wishing that everyone born on that day would be stillborn or die soon after birth.

The ‘scrapheap’ Job refers to “those who are good at cursing” (3:8). Who is he asking to curse the day of his birth? What skill do they have? The ‘scrapheap’ Job’s lament shifts from third-person to first-person (vs. 11). Is he addressing ‘God’ in part or all of his lament? Is he addressing anyone at all? Or is he saying he would “curse the day of his birth” if he could?

Is ‘the day’ to which the ‘scrapheap’ Job refers the day of his conception? Peterson has “the night of my conception” (3:6). Or is it the day of his delivery (e.g., 3:7, 11)? The Hebrew wording suggests both. Does the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm attribute stillbirths to the intentions and plans of ‘God’ (as 3:16 suggests)? Yes.

Re his date of birth, the ‘scrapheap’ Job longs -- “ . . . turn that night into pure nothingness” (3:7). The RSV has “let that night be barren”. The Hebrew word here is a rare word that has to do with absence of life (e.g., a barren woman, a barren desert).

Is there a link – philosophical or symbolic – between ‘barren’ and ‘nothingness’? Did Jewish thought in antiquity include the metaphysical concept of ‘nothingness’ (as in existential philosophy or as in Barth’s way of viewing ‘evil’ as nothingness)? Koheleth (the Ecclesiastes essay) and the ‘scrapheap’ Job sound ‘existential’ in many ways. Sheol was understood in antiquity to be a fading into nothingness, an eventual nothingness. However, ‘God’ was not thought to have created out of nothingness (ex nihilo creation being a later/Christian extrapolation). Not being inclined toward metaphysical reflection, Jewish thinkers in antiquity apparently did not feel disturbed by the implied dualism of ‘God’ and ‘matter’ as in potter and clay.

The ‘scrapheap’ Job agonizes, “Why didn’t I die at birth . . .” (3:11ff). It is important to track closely the perceptions of death and dying throughout the story/play. Does Job change his perceptions of death? of the dying process? of the dying experience? Yes. His perceptions change in significant ways as his experience suddenly shifts toward and remains disturbingly similar to the stories the caravan travelers are telling around campfires about the desperate aspects of the human condition. The ‘scrapheap’ Job experiences firsthand how tragic and ugly suffering/dying can be. On the other hand, according to Eliphaz (5:26), the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm promises a very different dying experience – i.e., a romanticized, idyllic death.

The ‘scrapheap’ Job presses -- “Why does God bother giving light to the miserable, . . .” (3:20-22). His statements make vivid how “his suffering was very great” (2:13) – especially his references to those “who want in the worst way to die” (RSV “who long for death”) and “who can’t imagine anything better than death” (RSV “who dig for it more than for hidden treasures”). Does the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm attribute the survival and continuing existence of every miserable individual directly and intentionally to ‘God’? I think this deduction cannot be avoided within the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm. There is obvious relevancy here for the assisted dying issues in the practice of medicine.

The ‘scrapheap’ Job laments -- “What’s the point of life when it doesn’t make sense, when God blocks all the roads to meaning?” (3:23). Peterson’s paraphrase is a bit loose. He does, however, capture the sense quite well. The RSV has “a man whose way is hid”. The Hebrew words for ‘hid’ in 3:21 and 3:23 are not the same. The RSV has “fenced in” (not the same verb as in 1:10). The ‘scrapheap’ Job’s idea/question is -- “Why does a person continue to live when the way is hidden or the person is fenced in? Why would God do such a cruel thing?”

This question (3:23) is dependent on/rooted in the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm. The ‘scrapheap’ Job still thinks at this point there is sense or meaning to his life, but it is hidden from him. Would disclosure of the prologue’s scenes in the courts of ‘God’ satisfy the ‘scrapheap’ Job’s search for sense or meaning to his plight? I think not. Not far ahead for him is the thought that in fact there is no longer any divinely intended/designed sense or meaning to his life. He then will face a radical (i.e., to the root) decision/threshold – whether or not to conclude that no one’s life has the purpose or the meaning proposed within the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm.

The ‘religious’ T/O paradigm works off the premise that life’s divinely intended/designed sense or meaning is sufficiently clear to establish confidence that the paradigm is reliable. The ‘scrapheap’ Job’s experience leads him to the opposite view. He sits on the ‘scrapheap’ frustrated and tortured, with the decision whether or not to reject the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm drawing nearer and nearer.

The ‘scrapheap’ Job -- #18

[The primary references to the text for the Job story/play come from Eugene Peterson’s translation -- The Message of Job. I have copied the section of the story/play to which the postings that follow the text relate – i.e., the first statements Job utters from the ‘scrapheap’ (3:1-26) and the first responses from his close friend Eliphaz (4:1-21). Postings #19-#24 follow.]

3.1Then Job broke the silence. 2He spoke up and cursed his fate:

3“Obliterate the day I was born. Blank out the night I was conceived! 4Let it be a black hole in space. May God above forget it ever happened. Erase it from the books! 5May the day of my birth be buried in deep darkness, shrouded by the fog, swallowed by the night. 6And the night of my conception – the devil take it! Rip the date off the calendar, delete it from the almanac. 7Oh, turn that night into pure nothingness – no sounds of pleasure from that night, ever! 8May those who are good at cursing curse that day. Unleash the sea beast, Leviathan, on it. 9May its morning stars turn to black cinders, waiting for a daylight that never comes, never once seeing the first light of dawn. 10And why? Because it released me from my mother’s womb into a life with so much trouble. 11Why didn’t I die at birth, my first breath out of the womb my last? 12Why were there arms to rock me, and breasts for me to drink from? 13I could be resting in peace right now, asleep forever, feeling no pain, 14in the company of kings and statesmen in their royal ruins, 15or with princes resplendent in their gold and silver tombs. 16Why wasn’t I stillborn and buried with all the babies who never saw light, 17where the wicked no longer trouble anyone and bone-weary people get a long-deserved rest? 18Prisoners sleep undisturbed, never again to wake up to the bark of the guards. 19The small and the great are equals in that place, and slaves are free from their masters. 20Why does God bother giving light to the miserable, why bother keeping bitter people alive, 21those who want in the worst way to die, and can’t, who can’t imagine anything better than death, 22who count the day of their death and burial the happiest day of their life? 23What’s the point of life when it doesn’t make sense, when God blocks all the roads to meaning? 24Instead of bread I get groans for my supper, then leave the table and vomit my anguish. 25The worst of my fears has come true, what I’ve dreaded most has happened. 26My repose is shattered, my peace destroyed. No rest for me, ever – death has invaded life.”

4.1Then Eliphaz from Teman spoke up:

2Would you mind if I said something to you? Under the circumstances it’s hard to keep quiet. 3You yourself have done this plenty of times, spoken words that clarify, encouraged those who were about to quit. 4Your words have put stumbling people on their feet, put fresh hope in people about to collapse. 5But now you’re the one in trouble – you’re hurting! You’ve been hit hard and you’re reeling from the blow. 6But shouldn’t your devout life give you confidence now? Shouldn’t your exemplary life give you hope?

7Think! Has a truly innocent person ever ended up on the scrapheap? Do genuinely upright people ever lose out in the end? 8It’s my observation that those who plow evil and sow trouble reap evil and trouble. 9One breathe from God and they fall apart, one blast of his anger and there’s nothing left of them. 10The mighty lion, king of the beasts, roars mightily, 11but when he’s toothless he’s useless – no teeth, no prey – and the cubs wander off to fend for themselves.

12A word came to me in secret – a mere whisper of a word, but I heard it clearly. 13It came in a scary dream one night, after I had fallen into a deep, deep sleep. 14Dread stared me in the face, and terror. I was scared to death – I shook from head to foot. 15A spirit glided right in front of me – the hair on my head stood on end. 16I couldn’t tell what it was that appeared there – a blur . . . and then I heard a muffled voice:
17“How can mere mortals be more righteous than God? How can humans be purer than their creator? 18Why, God doesn’t even trust his own servants, doesn’t even cheer his angels. 19So how much less these bodies composed of mud, fragile as moths? 20These bodies of ours are here today and gone tomorrow, and no one even notices – gone without a trace. 21When the tent stakes are ripped up, the tent collapses – we die and are never the wiser for having lived.”

A Non-religious View of Dietrich Bonhoeffer’ -- #7

Reflections from Journal Entries

In May 1992 – having left a place/career as a history professor within the ‘religious’ sphere and moved from Memphis to Vermont in order to be directly/intimately ‘with the world face to face’ within the medical education/practice sphere, I began jotting down my descriptions and reflections in shirt-pocket size notepads. I did not begin adding a month and year notation to such journal entries until our move January 1995 from Vermont to New Orleans to fill an ethics educator position with the LSU School of Medicine’s Obstetrics and Gynecology Department. I have continued this journaling to the present.

When I began drafting journal entries in Vermont, I had passed a point of no return re the resolve to see ever more closely/clearly ‘from below’ and, associated with this resolve, to thoroughly explore/adopt a ‘non-religious’ way of being/thinking. In my journal entries, I did not mask the range of emotions – e.g., disappointment, fear, uncertainty, exhilaration, loneliness, wonder, gratitude, . . . -- I was experiencing as I moved away from the familiar shoreline and out into the uncharted sea. When beginning to swim or sail away from a coastal shoreline, the waves push back to the shore. Considerable energy and resolve are required to counter this push back to the shore. Some of the waves I had to counter surrounded me – e.g., the responsibilities as a spouse and parent, the concerns of extended family members, the expectations of friends, the inaccurate assumptions new acquaintances made about my training in theology, . . . . Many of these individuals – with no basis to understand the situation and with my limited ability to explain – called me back to the shoreline and, in some cases, tried to rescue me from the uncharted sea. Some of the waves I had to counter were inside me as I discovered more and more layers of ‘religious’ habit and instinct I had to unlearn.

This existential move necessitated a relentless critique/clarification of the meanings/nuances of the term ‘religion’. I had no other comparable counterpoint in this examination than the Letters and Papers from Prison Dietrich Bonhoeffer, an association profoundly intensified by my fortuitous 1993 meeting with and subsequent special friendship with Eberhard and Renate Bethge.

Here is a first set of ten reflections selected/adapted from my 1992-95 Vermont journal entries that illustrate a determination to achieve this critique/clarification of the term ‘religion’ as one new experience followed another.

1 The ‘religious’ sphere I have in mind (1) encourages adherents to expect providential protection from tragic/suffering experiences and (2) instructs adherents to view such experiences as only appearing to be (rather than as being in fact) tragic and/or innocent suffering.

[Note: At that time, I had in mind primarily the Christian ‘religion’ I had experienced from birth and had studied across its twenty centuries of history. I had become increasingly aware that experiencing and interpreting an approach to spirituality and ethics ‘with the world face to face’ required that I be very precise about my critique of ‘religion’. The term ‘sphere’ points to the dynamics – e.g., traditions, assumptions, language, liturgies, defining ideas, symbols, methodologies, values, distribution of authority, expectations, discipline, loyalty, . . . – within which the identity of those who seek/hold membership in the ‘sphere’ takes shape.]

2 ‘Religion’ -- according to Dietrich Bonhoeffer in Letters and Papers from Prison -- (1) follows the ‘inner line’ (rather than seriously engaging ‘the world’ as does the ‘outer line’ by which one remains ‘face to face with the world’), (2) associates ‘God’ partially, marginally, and in ‘the gaps’ re life experiences, (3) uses the word ‘God’ in ways analogous to the ancient theatre’s deus ex machina, (4) expects privileged treatment, (5) turns inward, (6) presumes to be society’s tutor, (7) capitalizes/builds on human weakness. My critique of ‘religion’ -- in addition to Bonhoeffer’s critique (with which I agree) in Letters and Papers from Prison – includes the proposals that ‘religion’ (1) expects adherents to be able to ‘get home by suppertime’ re interactions with ‘the world’, (2) presumes and requires some variation on a pre-modern world/life view, (3) expects adherents to treat their ‘religious’ experience as an end in itself, (4) is deeply self-conscious, (5) can permit no unconditional human relationships, (6) is idolatrous, (7) is immodest, (8) is a business, (9) is exclusive, (10) is compromised by financial investments, (11) insists on its vocabulary/discourse, (12) is overtly and/or eventually opposed to serious/radical inquiry, (13) is institutionalized, (14) is cultish, (15) offers false security. Does the presence of one such trait of ‘religion’ imply or necessitate the presence of all such traits of ‘religion’? I do not think so. However, analogous to a patient presenting symptoms to a physician, I have found that several of the traits tend to exist together. I do think the number and intensity of such traits increase as one looks toward the evangelical/fundamentalist expressions of the ‘religious’ sphere and diminish as one looks toward the unorthodox/heretical edge of the ‘religious’ sphere.

3 ‘Religion’ builds on human weakness in a way that leads to timidity, false pride/humility, and an unhealthy co-dependency on ‘God’ (analogous to children who remain childishly dependent on parents long past childhood age).

4 Jewish scripture and Christian scripture (minus Ecclesiastes and Job) were written from deeply ‘religious’ perspectives.

[Note: I had in mind the nuances for ‘religion’ discussed in the earlier entries. I have since come to exercise the same caution when entering writings in Jewish scripture or Christian scripture as when entering ‘religious’ gatherings. Without the ending paragraph to Ecclesiastes and without the prologue/epilogue to Job, I suspect both texts would not have gained canonical standing.]

5 ‘Religion’ presupposes a ‘scripture’ paradigm (with some adherents willing to admit exceptions to the paradigm on certain points, but in few enough instances not to be compelled to radically question or forfeit the paradigm).

[Note: I was raised in a denomination of Christianity that immersed me in an extreme example of a ‘scripture’ paradigm. ‘Scripture’ was treated as a flat, unified book with a single (divine) author. No consideration was given to historical or textual criticism. References to scripture texts were regarded as final, independently authoritative, and self-evidently understandable. For a time, I was not too disturbed by the growing number of flaws within ‘scripture’ paradigms I discovered as my graduate studies advanced. Eventually, the weight and number of the flaws raised my concern to the point I concluded academic and existential integrity necessitated discarding any ‘scripture’ paradigm prerequisite to the attempt to see, think, act.]

6 ‘Religious’ traits can be demonstrated (in a Tillichian way) to be present in ‘spheres’ other than the ‘religious sphere’. Therefore, to be(come) ‘religionless’ is not a matter of moving away from organized/institutionalized ‘religion’ while associations/memberships with other societal ‘spheres’ remain unexamined/unchanged. Instead, be(com)ing ‘religionless’ has to do with a spiritual death (if one is moving away from the ‘religious’ sphere) and with a way of being that is defined by (1) the ‘wilderness’ metaphor and (2) genuine/vulnerable ‘community’ with those who are by existential lot ‘religionless’ in the sense of being shunned by societal spheres (including the ‘religious’ sphere).

7 ‘Religion’ cannot avoid ‘partiality’ (as discussed by Bonhoeffer in his prison correspondence) in that life experiences that do not confirm the ‘religious’ paradigm/orthodoxy (1) are minimized, (2) are interpreted in a way that removes the offense, and/or (3) are ignored/avoided.

8 The ‘non-religious’ approach I am following focuses/centers ethics on the ‘outer line’ (Bonhoeffer’s Letters and Papers phrase). ‘Outer line’ is for me another way to say ‘with the world face to face’. Bonhoeffer saw the Confessing Church turn inward (i.e., the ‘inner line’) by 1938 after failing as a strategy of non-violent overt resistance against the Nazis. By remaining focused on the ‘outer line’, Bonhoeffer became increasingly marginal to the Confessing Church during the war years as he participated instead in the covert resistance cell embedded in the Abwehr.

9 Traits of a ‘non-religious’ experience of ‘community’ would include gratitude, vulnerability, hiddenness, penitence, humility, silence, absence of special privileges, open/unrestricted inquiry, trust that includes doubt, the ability/courage to conceive of not being perpetuated, . . . .

[Note: I now do not think ‘include’ is strong enough. ‘Is at its core’ or ‘is in essence’ or ‘is by definition’ would be more accurate. The point is that being ‘non-religious’ entails a communal experience clearly distinguishable from a ‘religious’ experience of ‘community’. The implication is that ‘religion’ lacks in essence the ‘community’ traits listed in #9 above.]

10 Being ‘non-religious’ correlates with being ‘post-suicidal’ (in the existential/spiritual sense discussed by Walker Percy who proposed that a writer is not prepared to write a novel until s/he is ‘post-suicidal’).

Image #14

Franklin, TN, home . . . 2004 . . . eye to eye . . . the excess bits falling . . . guilt . . . charm . . . from foe to friend for a birdlover . . .

Image #13

Nashville . . . 2004 . . . the lawn in front of the Parthenon replica . . . underneath the grass cover . . . brilliant . . . the beauty we walk on . . .

Image #12

#12 -- Harpeth Presbyterian (USA) Church . . . 2004 . . . a blade's complexity . . . the lines . . . the texture . . . the lure . . .

Image #11

Franklin, TN, home . . . 2003 . . . beauty below the mailbox . . . stretched out in the street to see . . . the life cycle in two inches . . . the angles . . . the impressionist leaf . . .

Seeing 'Jesus' from Below #4

The gift of friendship with Sheldon Korones, MD, radically (i.e., down into the root) altered my approach to spirituality and ethics in the mid-1980s and continues to anchor my attempt to be authentically ‘with the world face to face’ within the medical education/practice sphere. Dr. Korones was one of the first generation of academic physicians who in the 1960s pioneered the formation of the neonatology specialty. In 1968 he left a lucrative private pediatric practice to establish an intensive care unit for critically ill newborns at Memphis’ Charity Hospital.

I came to our first meeting expecting to be oriented to the ethical strains peculiar to the care of critically ill newborns. We quickly found our way to a much deeper and more profound place as we shared our stories. After a few meetings, Shelly invited me to spend a six-month sabbatical at his side. I discovered a physician seasoned in the struggle to be humane toward disadvantaged and vulnerable patients. As a wall-hanging reminds him and every person who enters his office --

“Some children may dance to the joyous music of the lyre, while elsewhere other children only cling to existence. They are all ours.”

After completing his pediatrics residency in 1954 at Boston General Hospital, Shelly and his wife Judy moved to Memphis where he joined a medical school friend in a private pediatric practice. He faced a severe social contrast. He spent his mornings at Charity Hospital; his afternoons at his private (“carriage”) practice. His morning patients – poor and/or black-skinned babies – were dying in infancy at twice the rate of his afternoon patients – privileged white-skinned babies. Memphians, as was true across the South, remained entrenched in discrimination and in injustices when he made the decision in 1967 to leave private practice in order to devote himself to his Charity Hospital patients.

An eight-year-old white-skinned boy, after noticing a black-skinned girl in an exam room, could question Shelly – his doctor -- innocently, “I didn’t know you treated animals here.”

Medical students and residents, while rounding with him at Charity Hospital, would repeatedly express disrespect for their indigent patients by asking Shelly, “How should we treat a private patient with this condition?”

White-skinned parents would tell Shelly, “I’d rather our baby die than be taken to that ‘nigger’ hospital.”

A fellow physician, from whom he expected support, could whisper to Shelly, “It’s too dark for me on this side of the restaurant.”

Philanthropists would tell Shelly, “You’ll never raise money from this city for those
babies.”

The contrast ate at Shelly’s conscience. As did a noble theme first planted in him by his grandfather -- Nachman Gogel -- in whose shadow he was raised on New York City’s Lower East Side.

Shelly’s instinct to respond to crushing oppression formed from this oft-repeated childhood scene. It’s 1930. Six-year-old Shelly is nestled in front of a Fada Radio, listening attentively to the day’s episodes of Jack Armstrong. The stubble-bearded Nachman locks the dark green doors of his nearby blacksmith shop. Walking around the corner, he climbs a flight of steps to the landing of a modest five-room ‘railroad flat’. Shelly eagerly meets his grandfather in front of the dining room buffet. With unequal strides, they make their way to the living room where Nachman settles into his chair. The stocky lad begins his nightly ritual. Pulling off the heavy work boots and socks, Shelly runs his fingers over each foot’s single chunk of nailless flesh that had once been separate toes. Shelly prods Nachman to repeat yet again the painful memories always just a thought away. Conversing in Yiddish, they reenact an old Russian proverb that says, “A child’s education begins with his grandfather’s education.”

“Papa, tell me again what happened to your toes.”
“My son, Cossacks chased me. I hid in the forest for a long time. My toes froze off in my shoes.”

With these few words, Nachman’s attention would drift to 1880s Czarist Russia, to the peasant village of Mogilyov. Jewish parents in the hundreds of villages like Mogilyov stopped at nothing to keep their boys from being snatched by the marauding Cossacks who enforced the Czar’s harsh conscription laws. Conscription for Jewish boys meant more than military service. It meant to be brutally stripped of their identity. In far away military schools, they were severely beaten, forced to violate dietary traditions, and even denied food. One freezing winter night, young Nachman Gogel suffered severe frostbite in the woods while hiding from the Cossacks.

The year 1968 is remembered more often for the death of noble themes than the birth of noble themes:

• January - The Tet Offensive shatters reassuring interpretations of the Vietnam conflict.
  
• February - The Turner Commission releases its warning that two separate and unequal societies -- one black and one white -- remain entrenched in the United States.
• March - President Johnson announces he will not seek reelection.
• April - Martin Luther King is fatally wounded on the balcony of the Lorraine Hotel in Memphis. Riots leave over 100 cities in flames.
• June - Robert Kennedy is fatally wounded on the night he wins the California primary.
• August - The processes of democracy virtually collapse at the Chicago Democratic convention.

Overshadowed by such disheartening headlines, Shelly announced 1 July 1968 to the medical school and to the city his intention to create at Memphis’ Charity Hospital an intensive care unit for critically ill newborns. The scenario still looks quixotic. A physician with an uneasy conscience who dared to dream. A city polarized and embarrassed. A medical school and city hospital with neither plan nor funds for newborn intensive care. Skeptical local philanthropists before whom Shelly peddled his vision in vain. And yet three years later -- with the support of the local media, a persistent reporter, some diligent nurses, an encouraging Pediatrics Department chairman, a new Charity Hospital board, a strategically placed Children’s Bureau official in Washington, a courageous rabbi, a few faithful friends, and an unwavering family -- The Newborn Center had been established.

The story unfolded under Shelly’s direction for thirty-six years. Critically ill babies received state-of-the-art care, regardless of socio-economic or ethnic distinctions. They were referred to by names or personal pronouns rather than by bed numbers, disorders, or illnesses. Even the sickest of the babies were given every plausible chance to defy the odds.

One night in 1979 Shelly was on call when a baby, asphyxiated at birth, needed to be transferred to The Newborn Center from a town in Mississippi for intensive respiratory therapy. In route the ambulance had an accident, killing the driver but leaving the baby unharmed. Another ambulance delivered the baby to The Newborn Center. Making his way through the nursery shortly after the baby had been stabilized, Shelly initiated conversation with the baby’s nervous rural southern grandmother standing beside the incubator.

Korones: “Somebody up there must like this baby.”

Grandmother: “Oh yes, wasn’t it lucky that a doctor came by when the accident happened?”

Korones: “No, the luck was that the baby didn’t need a doctor.”

Grandmother: “I guess you’re right. You’re such a fine Christian person.”

Korones: “No, I’m not a Christian.”

Grandmother: “You mean you take care of babies at all hours of the night and you’re not a Christian?”

Korones: “No, I’m Jewish. We love babies too.”

Embarrassed and confused by her innocent assumption, the slow speaking grandmother shuffled out of the unit.

Though not as unprepared as that grandmother, the approach to spirituality and ethics I brought to my friendship with Shelly had no well-defined place for the relationship that formed between us. Shelly and I have now spent hundreds of hours together – in the intensive care unit, in his office, or at his kitchen table -- reconstructing his professional biography . . . and sorting through my search for a healthy center. He has never flinched as I have chronicled my efforts to ‘see from below’. In the center of the inner circle of individuals who have comprised my most intimate ‘community’ stands a Jewish physician for whom I have utmost respect and appreciation. I quickly realized my approach to spirituality and ethics had to be thoroughly reconstructed in order to celebrate and nurture our friendship/fellowship without restraint or diminishment.

In my office hangs a photograph of a gentle hand cradling the tiny head of a prematurely born baby. The inscription on the back --

“Consummate comrade-in-arms, dear friend. Shelly.”

And so we remain.

A Non-Religious View of Dietrich Bonhoeffer #6

A ‘Non-religious’ Critique of ‘God’ Language - 3

6. If the Vanderbilt professor’s presentations matter, they must matter in the sanctuary. It seems to me the ‘God’ language heard in the sanctuaries of the congregations toward the liberal end of the theological spectrum (and, therefore, the congregations that would be most responsive in the classroom to presentations such as the Vanderbilt professor’s presentations) stops far short of building intentionally and consciously off a serious regard for the morphic nature of ‘God’ language. If the Vanderbilt professor’s proposals are taken into the sanctuary -- what happens to the manner of praying? to reading/hearing scripture? to the choice of and interpretation of hymns? to reasoning in sermons? to . . . ? I guess it is obvious why I am drawn toward the story of the ‘scrapheap’ Job and the Ecclesiastes essay, toward the ‘negative theology’ tradition, toward the Letters and Papers Bonhoeffer, toward Berdyaev, toward the silence of the Quaker tradition, toward . . . . To continue the comparison with ‘Santa Claus’ language I mentioned yesterday -- it seems to me that, even in the more liberal and thoughtful congregations, the most senior and adult members still for the most part ‘believe’.

7. I agree with your observation that explicitly prefacing every ‘God’ language statement in the sanctuary with a reminder about the morphic nature of the statement would not be practical and would sap the language of force/momentum. How, then, is the idolatrous use and hearing of ‘God’ language to be approached? ‘Idolatry’ is a very intense word/assessment (somewhat analogous to ‘epidemic’ in public health discourse) – i.e., ‘idolatry’ is one of those words better left unused unless one is prepared to follow through with the implications. If the use/hearing of ‘God’ language is in fact idolatrous, should these linguistic idols be allowed (much less, endorsed) as one among several ways to speak of and experience ‘God’? I think the answer should be ‘no’, except for young children who are not yet mature enough to think more abstractly (again, the ‘Santa Claus’ comparison). For them, crossing from a literal to a morphic understanding of ‘God’ language should be a necessary stage in theological and spiritual maturation. I asked you how the congregation’s leaders would respond to this proposal. You described their approach to such matters as ‘equal opportunity’ rather than ‘affirmative action’, meaning that the leaders would hesitate to be aggressive or to take a stand. I responded by pressing that ‘idolatrous’ necessitates ‘affirmative action’. I see at least three reasons there would be great risk in breaking down the linguistic idols in the sanctuary. (1) The weight of the Jewish and Christian canons, Christian theology, and Christian liturgy is on the side of protecting the linguistic idols. (2) Imagine a 1-to-10 spectrum with ‘1’ representing ‘uncritical thinking’ and ‘10’ representing ‘critical thinking’. ‘Moderate’ congregations would be in the 4-to-7 range. ‘Progressive’ congregations would be in the 8-to-10 range. ‘Moderate’ congregations (i.e., 4-to-7 on the spectrum) as well as ‘popular religion’/‘fundamentalist’ congregations (i.e., 1-to-3 on the spectrum) are ready to welcome the faint-hearted and unsettled from congregations (i.e., 8-to-9 on the spectrum) that might resolve to tear down the linguistic idols. (3) Not too many individuals seem to have the sense of urgency, the time, the energy, and/or the resources to follow through with tearing down the linguistic idols.

Re this spectrum -- I would argue (1) that the Jewish and Christian canons as well as orthodox Christian theology/liturgy well into the 19th century fell in the 1-to-4 range, (2) that the use and hearing of ‘God’ language as literally equivalent to the finite reference points were qualified when Platonic philosophy became the primary conceptual vehicle for expressing Christian thought in the patristic period, (3) that the separations along fundamentalist/modernist lines experienced throughout the ‘religious’ sphere by the early 20th century had in part to do with conflicting dispositions toward a methodological shift to a modern paradigm that accentuated the limitations on ‘God’ language, (4) that two communities of faith in which we have participated – i.e., a Congregational Church in Vermont and this Presbyterian Church USA in Nashville – fall in the 8-to-9 range on the spectrum and represent a very small number of congregations within the ‘religious’ sphere that are not a part of the orthodox coalition (again, to use a parliamentary analogy), and (5) that the ‘10’ end of the above spectrum (where I am) is not accepted/permitted within the ‘religious’ sphere.

My sense of urgency has for 25+ years now stemmed from the conclusion that the understanding of ‘God’ language heard within the ‘religious’ sphere (1) creates the painfully deep agony of the ‘scrapheap’ Jobs in life and (2) demands from those trying to be with the ‘scrapheap’ Jobs in life an allegiance to theological views and systems that discourage being truly/unconditionally present with the ‘scrapheap’ Jobs in life (e.g., the failure of every character as well as ‘God’ portrayed in the story of Job). Personal experience with and growing awareness of the depth/breadth of human misery/tragedy shattered the linguistic ‘idols’ common to the ‘religious’ sphere. This is a central reason the Letters and Papers Bonhoeffer remains so encouraging for me -- i.e., with the realization that the Nazi methods and successes had demonstrated the idolatrous nature of traditional ‘God’ language, Bonhoeffer in his secret prison correspondence with Eberhard Bethge was beginning to cross the threshold beyond which he had begun to see/k radically new approaches to ‘God’ language while surrounded by shattered linguistic ‘idols’ (analogous to the rubble to which Germany had been reduced).

Use (or do not use!) these thoughts as you will. Thank you for taking seriously my wanderings and searching. I look forward to our next opportunity to speak together.

Doug

A Non-Religious View of Dietrich Bonhoeffer #5

A ‘Non-religious’ Critique of ‘God’ Language - 2

3. After many years of careful observation/deliberation, I have come to the conclusion and, therefore, work off the premise that all ‘God’ language is morphic (e.g., anthopo-, socio-, cosmo-, . . .), though I remain open to and in search of exceptions. Nicolai Berdyaev (d. 1948) – an exiled Russian theologian whose writings I discovered in my early attempts to teach a current religious thought graduate course – added for me the ‘sociomorphic’ and ‘cosmomorphic’ categories to the more widely discussed ‘anthropomorphic’ category. ‘God’ language is morphic in that ‘God’ can only be conceptualized in terms of finite points of reference – i.e., human (e.g., “God said . . .” or “God saw . . .”), social (e.g., “God is king . . .” or “God shepherds . . .”), cosmological (e.g., “God looked down . . .” or “God caused the sun to stand still . . .”). A corollary to this premise is that ‘God’ language may have metaphorical, symbolic, parabolic, mythological, allegorical, existential, . . . meanings – but such meanings are clearly separate from making (or leaving unexamined) equivalent associations between ‘God’ and the finite point/s of reference. I think a statement such as “God is love” comes very near to being an exception to the premise that all ‘God’ language is morphic (‘near’ in that ‘is’ tugs even this statement back into the human sphere, unless “Love is God” is interchangeable with “God is love”).

But the following questions cannot be avoided except by discarding as insignificant the reminder about the limitations of ‘God’ language: Why “God is love” rather than hate? Why “God favors meekness” rather than power? Why “God favors peace” rather than war? Why “God is fair” rather than biased? Why “God is aligned with the vulnerable” rather than the strong? Why . . . ? A response to such questions that appeals to ‘revelation’ falls short (at least for me) because the phrase “God reveals/ed” is anthropomorphic. (Also, some parts of the Jewish and Christian canons speak of ‘God’ in terms of hate, power, war, bias, alignment with the strong, . . .) It seems to me that, re the above questions, individuals within the ‘religious’ sphere on the liberal end of the theological spectrum (with their emphasis on the consistent moral character of ‘God’) may struggle more than those on the fundamentalist end of the theological spectrum (with their emphasis on the sheer sovereignty of ‘God’, even if actions attributed to ‘God’ violate moral wisdom or conscience).

4. By regarding all ‘God’ language as morphic, I do not mean that such language is necessarily false or without force. Such language is (for me at least) false and without force if/when (1) the morphic nature of the language is disregarded and/or (2) the language would draw me back or away from the resolve to be the sort of person who can be truly present, without regard for theological or spiritual cost, with human beings who are experiencing the worst in life. This position raises a question as to the origin of the resolve. By committing to “for better or for worse” eighteen months before my first wife was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, I came to the test with this resolve in mind but with no sustained traumatic/extreme experience. As the months and then years passed (she died fourteen years later), any conditional (i.e., ‘if/since . . . , then . . .’) underpinnings to this resolve failed -- e.g., “be like ‘God’”, “imitate ‘Jesus’”, “apply the Golden Rule”, “mirror the Good Samaritan”, “be a good Boy Scout”, “please my parents”, . . . . But the resolve, instead of collapsing without the motivation of a mandate or an example, actually became clearer -- a consequence upon which I have reflected for many years now. Why did the resolve to remain truly present with my stricken wife not break down as/when the conditions upon which the resolve might have depended melted under the heat of indiscriminate inquiry combined with deep respect for those for whom life is tragic? I think it was because the day-to-day reality of chronic illness kept the decisions concrete. I had no time either to consider the decisions from an abstract/theoretical perspective or to experiment with other options. And the options were all variations on two themes – i.e., either to or not to remain fully present past the point of existential, spiritual, and theological risk/danger. Her illness – being ‘innocent’, random, and, therefore, not intentionally inflicted – made my finitude/vulnerability unavoidably clear. To have withdrawn to a safe distance from her would have been to adopt a way of being that would have imposed limits/conditions on every other human relationship. If I could not be unconditionally present with someone I had invited to trust me to be present “for better or for worse”, then I would not be so present with anyone else. The Ecclesiastes essay and the story of the ‘scrapheap’ Job were strategic for me at this point in making clear the profound damage to integrity that results when life is lived so as to remain at a safe distance from victims whose experience testifies to the breadth/depth of tragic suffering and discredits ‘God’ language that is used/heard as literally equivalent to the finite reference points.
5. I do not think or speak in terms of “knowing God” or “God answered my prayer” or “God led me” or “Jesus spoke to me” or . . . . The morphic nature of ‘God’ language keeps me from interpreting life experiences in these ways. (Having grown up within a fundamentalist thought-world that advocated a very non-experiential approach to spirituality, my reservations about the experiences claimed in these phrases do not represent a traumatic break with my upbringing on this point.) To/for me, experiencing intimacy or ‘oneness’ with another human being -- perhaps the greatest challenge in life -- is as profound or ultimate or sacred as experience is in this life and, therefore, as near as I come to experiencing ‘God’. I find something of this indirect and unintentional dynamic for experiencing ‘God’ in the surprised reaction of those commended in the Matthew 25:31-46 story. Among the several motivations to consider this experience of intimacy or ‘oneness’ with another human being as indirectly and, in a sense, indirectly or unconsciously experiencing ‘God’ is the need to protect those very special relationships from idolatry.

A Non-Religious View of Dietrich Bonhoeffer #4

A ‘Non-religious’ Critique of ‘God’ Language - 1

I prepared the following set of reflections in February 2000 for the senior pastor (‘Steve’) of a theologically and socially progressive Presbyterian Church USA congregation in Nashville my family and I attended (as regular guests, not as members) for two years (1999-2001). I found Steve to be very thoughtful. He had mastered the art of writing sermons to be heard. He and I met twice monthly for conversations we found mutually beneficial for testing our core ideas re spirituality and ethics. I prepared this set of reflections after a conversation in which Steve asked for my reactions to four presentations a recently retired Vanderbilt Divinity School faculty member had delivered the previous month to an adult discussion group on successive Sunday mornings. I was not previously familiar with the professor’s work/thought. His presentations centered on the absence of critical thinking in ‘popular religion’ (with ‘fundamentalism’ being the more extreme and potentially violent form of ‘popular religion’). He did not limit the scope of his presentations to Christianity. He spent considerable time in one of the presentations developing the premise that human language, if taken literally, cannot be used in reference to ‘God’ without falling short of the subject and, therefore, without being a linguistic form of idolatry. I did not have an occasion to speak at length with the professor. However, the conversations with Steve that precipitated this set of reflections created a valuable opportunity to test/refine my ‘non-religious’ thoughts about ‘God’ language.
________________

Steve:

. . . here is a summary of the ideas/propositions I submitted yesterday for your consideration re the four presentations on critical thinking, the limitations of ‘God’ language, ‘popular religion’/‘fundamentalism’:

1. I did not anticipate the Vanderbilt professor’s observation that the presentations were new for him and not derived, at least to some degree, from his publications or his Divinity School course materials. He said something like, “I am thinking these presentations out week by week”. I do not have sufficient familiarity with his publications or course materials to determine whether this observation referred to all or to parts of the four presentations. I understood him to say that linking ‘linguistic idolatry’ with ‘popular religion’/‘fundamentalism’ was a part of this “week by week” development of the presentations.

2. Other than perhaps the Ecclesiastes essay (minus that essay’s last paragraph, which I view as an editorial attachment) and especially the story of Job (considered from the ‘scrapheap’ Job’s perspective), I do not think the writers of or authoritative personalities in the Jewish and Christian canons promote the caution regarding the limitations of ‘God’ language that the Vanderbilt professor proposed to be a “facet of faith”. I am not suggesting that the writers/speakers in the Jewish and Christian canons failed to recognize the distinctions of poetry, story, fable, or parable. I am suggesting that, other than the two exceptions of the Ecclesiastes essay and the story of Job (especially chapters 3-31), the writers/speakers in the Jewish and Christian canons used ‘God’ language in the idolatrous way the Vanderbilt professor discussed. Yes, they appealed to ‘mystery’ in reference to ‘God’. However, that appeal strikes me as most often either (1) a reaction to power perceived as limitless or (2) a description of ‘God’ as unpredictable (to human wisdom) and/or not accountable to any moral law/criticism. Such an appeal to ‘mystery’ does not necessitate or, in the case of these writers/speakers, does not point to a radical and thorough realization that all ‘God’ language is morphic. At the very most, those who were sanctioned as prophetic in the Jewish and Christian canons repeatedly made the point that physical/tangible objects are too limited to be regarded as essentially ‘God’. However, the idolatrous use of ‘God’ language that the Vanderbilt professor has addressed and warned against (i.e., using/hearing ‘God’ language as literally equivalent to the finite point/s of reference) seems to me to have occurred unchallenged throughout the Jewish and Christian canons. Is the ’God’ language attributed to ‘Jesus’ in the four Gospels idolatrous? Do the roots of the ‘negative theology’ tradition in the late patristic period reach into Jewish and Christian scripture? Is the proposition “Jesus was God” (or other variations on ‘high Christology’) idolatrous? I suspect that ‘Jesus’ spoke of ‘God’ and heard ‘God’ language minus a radical and thorough realization that all ‘God’ language is morphic. This conclusion is one of many reasons my ‘Christology’ is below ‘low’. In contrast, the ‘Christologies’ of the orthodox coalition in Christian thought/history (to use a parliamentary analogy) is ‘high’ (and apparently cannot be too ‘high’, even to the point of virtually dismissing the humanness of ‘Jesus’).

Image #10

Remote Palestinian village . . . 2005 . . . near the mobile maternity clinic . . . out of reach . . . a metaphor? . . .

Image #9

Remote Palestinian village . . . 2006 . . . Israelie authorities do not allow permanent roofs . . . inside the medical relief shelter . . . the children run to find shoes when we arrive . . . no school . . . he will soon be a migrant worker . . .

Image #8

Bethlehem . . . 2004 . . . walking down the main street into the city away from the security checkpoint . . . Palestinian girl looks at me to my left . . . her eyes . . .

The ‘scrapheap Job’ -- #17

What does it mean for the name ‘God’ to be blessed (1:21)? I see one answer in the story/play’s prologue with the messengers cycling through the royal court with reports that end with accolades. This ‘blessing’ – which I have found to be characteristic of liturgies (e.g., hymns, prayers, sermons) within the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm – reminds me of the conniving daughters in King Lear. Such honoring does not accurately or honestly reflect the depth and breadth of human suffering.

Where, in the development of Jewish thought, does the pre/nonscientific cosmology (1:6ff) assumed in the Job story/play – e.g., angels, ‘God’ enthroned, an Accuser, celestial beings ‘checking things out on the earth’, ‘God’ causing or permitting things to happen on earth, . . . – become presupposed or taken for granted? According to this cosmology, how does ‘God’ know of the tragedies described in the prologue? Does the wording in the prologue suggest any divine empathy for the victims?

I would cast the prologue’s celestial scene with ‘God’ surrounded by an angelic host similar to an ancient royal court. Anyone entering a monarch’s presence had to be introduced and had to have some valid reason to intrude. The prologue’s celestial scene should be cast as a monarch receiving reports of the outcome of battles or as a medical school dean/department chair or as politicians (especially federal) (or perhaps as a Wizard of Id!). The point – the monarch and, therefore, ‘God’ have no intimate or direct familiarity with what is happening ‘below’. From the ‘scrap heap’, Job most often seems to be thinking, “If I could only get his attention . . .” or “If I could only get through the bureaucracy . . .” -- suggesting a ‘God’ analogous to Queen Elizabeth behind the scenes as the English Puritans were systematically contained/crushed all the while thinking the Queen above the bureaucracy was their ally. The whirlwind ‘God’ enters the story/play minus a royal court entourage and appears to have more immediate knowledge of happenings on earth (though there is no suggestion of interest in or empathy toward human suffering).

Was the Accuser’s counter argument that “a human would do anything to save his life” (2:4) an accepted truism in antiquity? Is it now? This proposition invites yet another spectrum. I suspect that the distribution of individuals would be weighted heavily toward the ‘do anything’ end. Medical decision-making in life-threatening situations is but one illuminating place to look for evidence. A demonstration of the validity of the Accuser’s assessment can also be seen clearly at the foreign policy level.

How does the Accuser’s proposition fit with the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm? Would ‘religious’ T/O paradigm theologies – centered by the eventual reduction of all life circumstances to divine will -- justify/encourage attempts by adherents to save their lives? No. For such would finally be seen as defiance and weak faith.

The answers individuals give to “What is more important than saving my life?” reveal each one’s character/integrity. The person (nation) for whom saving one’s life trumps all other considerations is very self-centered, ready to manipulate/exploit all others to achieve his/her end.

What could Job do to save his life? The counsel/pressure the ‘scrap heap Job’ receives from his three close friends reinforces the Accuser’s proposition – even to the point of their knowingly counseling/pressuring him to violate his integrity. They press him to embrace the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm, to fall prostrate before ‘God’ begging for mercy (e.g., 8:5). Elihu presses him to respond to his plight as an opportunity for spiritual refinement intended by ‘God’. The whirlwind ‘God’ humiliates the ‘scrap heap Job’ without addressing his plight.

How should today’s medical/surgical interventions be written into the story/play?

What would the riddle of ‘Jesus’ – i.e., find your life by losing your life – add to the story/play?

Re the intent of Job’s three close friends, Peterson has -- “ . . . to keep company and comfort him” (2:11). Another possibility permitted by the Hebrew wording would be – “to show grief or mourn and to comfort or console”.

Later in the story/play, the ‘scrap heap Job’ speaks of ‘God’ as having no manners (e.g., ‘God’ “snatches”). The prologue makes it no surprise that the ‘scrap heap Job’ would draw this conclusion. I do not think the behavior of ‘God’ (all concepts of ‘God’ in the story/play) can be excused with -- “His ways are not our ways”.

The ‘scrapheap Job’ -- #16

Peterson uses ‘trouble’ where the RSV has ‘evil’ (2:11). Is Peterson’s interpretation appropriate? helpful? The Hebrew word brings to mind misery, distress, injury. The word can be used to refer to moral evil as well as to life troubles. Peterson’s ‘trouble’ may be too mild, more neutral than ‘evil’. The RSV’s ‘evil’ assesses Job’s experiences to be indeed tragic.

The word ‘suffering’ (2:13) also merits a word study. The Hebrew word is rooted in the experience of pain -- mental or physical. In the story/play, the ‘scrap heap Job’ (14:22, 16:6) and Eliphaz (2:13, 5:18) use the term.

A staging question -- Should the three close friends be staged as all present for all the heated exchanges with the ‘scrap heap Job’?

Peterson’s translation says Job “hated evil with a passion” (1:1-5). The Hebrew wording literally says that Job “turned away from evil”.

What does Job consider to be ‘evil’? The prologue references (1:1 and 2:10) involve the same term. Job might define ‘evil’ in several ways. He might think of breaking moral and/or ritual laws. (The Testament of Job – in circulation in the time of ‘Jesus’ and the beginning years of Christianity -- draws particular attention to the latter.) Or he might think of not being faithful in relationships (e.g., not caring for the oppressed). The ‘scrap heap Job’ and his three close friends should be cast as sifting through all such ideas of evil in their efforts to explain Job’s plight.

Does Job hate with a passion the consequences that befell the unnamed victims in the prologue tragedies? Are there indications scattered through the story/play that would make concrete what this passionate hatred of evil would lead Job to do? Does the ‘scrap heap Job’ vary the nuance for ‘evil’ in the course of the story/play?

Does ‘hate evil’ necessarily imply ‘love good’? The short version of the story/play (i.e., prologue plus epilogue) does not specifically present Job as compassionate or as loving good. The prologue does suggest an intense effort not to be in the presence of or dirtied by evil. The heated exchanges with his three close friends in the extended version of the story/play do suggest he confronted evil with good. The Accuser’s wager implies doubt that Job’s hating evil and his loving good are unconditional behaviors.

Would the wealth attributed to Job in the prologue have appeared exceptional in antiquity? Yes, unless Job is cast as a monarch. Five hundred yoke of oxen imply large fields. And the camels would be for show if the story/play is cast in a time when camels had not yet been domesticated. What would be an equivalent description in current United States terms? Perhaps a Bill Gates. Job is ‘filthy rich’. What should we deduce from this description and from hints scattered throughout the text re Job’s lifestyle? I would cast him as living a pampered life even excessive for (D)euteronomic promises of blessing, . . . beyond a gated community, more like a compound. I would cast him and his family as fenced in by servants and by the walls of a grand estate. Within the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm, the explanation/justification would be – “If Job is so incredibly blessed, then he must be incredibly good/righteous”.

The introduction of Job’s children creates cause for pause re Job and parenting. Hosting party after party is not what I want my or other’s first thought about my children to be. Some have suggested that Job’s children feasted only on each one’s birthday. But the text could easily refer to round after round of feasting, suggesting that they were quite spoiled and living off their father’s wealth.

The ‘scrapheap Job’ -- #15

“Curse God and die” exposes the fine print of the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm re ‘God’. By analogy Job’s wife appears to be saying, “Just give up and let the king finish the job”. Every other character with a speaking part in the story/play -- including ‘God’ and the Accuser -- thinks, speaks, and acts within the cosmological and theological assumptions/boundaries of the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm. The differences among the characters illustrate that the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm tolerates a limited range of variations on core themes. Job’s wife alone is so disgusted with viewing the tragedies as of/from ‘God’ that she is ready to reject both the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm and its ‘God’. She certainly no longer sees this ‘God’ as worthy of worship or service. It would be valuable to hear more from her in the story/play. Eliphaz tries to challenge the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm at times, but he quickly moves back to defending the paradigm. Bildad and Zophar do not go as near the edge as does Eliphaz.

Is the foolishness with which Job charges his wife (2:10) an echo of the wisdom recorded in Proverbs? Is Job’s response to his wife consistent with the wisdom promoted in Proverbs? with the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm? The wisdom recorded in Proverbs and the theologies of the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm were/are rooted in ‘the fear of the Lord’ or ‘the fear of the Almighty’. The risk in approaching a monarch as pictured in the story of Esther is analogous.

The (D)euteronomic theology then/now of the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm encouraged/s a contractual expectation that righteousness guaranteed/s blessing and unrighteousness guaranteed/s cursing. The wisdom proposed in Proverbs and affirmed within the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm taught/teaches that observation demonstrates the righteous have reason to expect preferential treatment in life situations. Both these perspectives – contractual agreement and preferential treatment -- are found in the prologue to the Job story/play. Throughout the heated exchanges, Job’s three close friends become increasingly strident in defending the contractual agreement model. The ‘scrap heap Job’ attacks both the contractual agreement model and the preferential treatment model. The whirlwind ‘God’ later in the story/play does not accept being held accountable as in the contractual agreement model. Nor does the whirlwind ‘God’ claim to have been preferentially attentive to Job.

Christian variations on the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm from the beginning have continued the contractual agreement and preferential treatment models. However, the proposition the Gospel of Matthew attributes to ‘Jesus’ (i.e., that “God causes the rain to fall on the just and the unjust”) introduces a perspective driven by neither of these models, suggesting that ‘Jesus’ – if distinguished from the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm – might bring the missing character into the Job story/play (i.e., a character who can be with Job without further harming him). What is the radical edge here? Is ‘Jesus’ offering one more variation on the whirlwind ‘God’ in the Job story/play? Or is ‘Jesus’ weaving together the Psalms’ “the steadfast love of the Lord never ceases” refrain with the inclusive/universal position in the debate re whether the ‘God’ of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob should be understood to be the ‘God’ of the nations?

Does Job’s response to his wife mean that he views the tragedies as ‘from God’? Yes. Is there any suggestion of an Accuser throughout the heated exchanges between the ‘scrap heap Job’ and his three close friends? No.

‘Friend’ is another key word in the story/play. The word occurs thirteen times (2:11, 6:14, 6:27, 12:4, 16:20, 16:21, 17:5, 19:21, 30:29, 31:9, 32:3, 35:4, 42:7, 42:10). The term is used only by the narrator (2:11, 42;7, 42:10), by Elihu (32:3, 35:4), or by the ‘scrap heap Job’ (all other occurrences). For the disappointed ‘scrap heap Job’, his three close friends are not friends ‘in the singular’ (i.e., the phrase used by Bonhoeffer and Bethge to describe the liberty and confidence essential to their special friendship) because they are not truly present with him as he thinks and speaks radically (i.e., to the root) about the reversals in his life’s fortune. For Elihu they are not true friends because they fail to defend the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm properly and forcefully in their responses to the ‘scrap heap Job’.

The ‘scrapheap Job’ -- #14

Does Job’s premise in the prologue that every experience (evil as well as good) comes from ‘the hand of God’ (2:9-10) stem from a fatal flaw/conflict at the core of the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm? Yes. The conclusion that ‘God’ is responsible for all human experiences (or that all human experiences – including the worst of human suffering/misery -- have inherently benevolent intent/value) seems unavoidable within the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm, given the language/views of divine sovereignty permitted/encouraged by the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm. As suggested in Job’s prologue comments, any essential distinction between good and evil disappears within the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm.

For the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm, what appears/feels evil must finally be considered in reality good because the ‘God’ behind the events must be exonerated as only doing good. From a ‘scrap heap’ or ‘non-religious’ perspective, these events and experiences are inherently evil in that the victims are disrespected and have their worth/dignity assaulted. I find no compelling argument in the story/play that Job’s suffering/misery is just. He is humiliated. So many others are victimized. If there is intent, it is a mean, cruel, sadistic intent. Shifting blame to the prologue’s Accuser finally breaks down within the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm, unless some form of metaphysical dualism is adopted. But that would contradict the core of the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm (i.e., the unlimited and unquestioned sovereignty of ‘God’).

The “did not charge God with wrong” and “did not sin with his lips” (2:10) references to Job’s restraint should be on the list of references in the prologue (along with the references to integrity, hedge, fear, whirlwind, curse, . . .) that are developed in surprising/intense directions in the heated exchanges between the ‘scrap heap Job’ and his three close friends.

Job worshiped ‘God’ (1:20). A word study re ‘worship’ is in order here. Is the term ‘worship’ linked in any way with fear? The Hebrew term for worship builds on the image of bowing. To worship is to bow down, to prostrate one’s self, to recognize the superiority of the one worshiped. From a ‘scrap heap’ or ‘non-religious’ perspective, this posture deteriorates into a dog’s rolling onto his/her back in submission analogy. Given Job’s nobility/aristocracy as well as his honesty, he predictably resists rolling onto his back like a submissive dog. What about those not so privileged?

The prologue has ‘God’ complain to the Accuser, “You tried to trick me into destroying him” (2:3). The RSV has “without cause”. Is the word ‘destroy’ to be taken literally? materially? spiritually? The Hebrew word means to swallow up. Is the statement -- “You tried to trick me into destroying him?” -- suggesting that ‘God’ had violated the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm in that there was, by the admission of ‘God’, no cause? Or again is this admission pointing to a fatal flaw/conflict at the core of that paradigm -- i.e., all that happens cannot be attributed to ‘the will of God’ without either attributing evil to ‘God’ or calling evil good?

Another option for ‘no cause’ might be that the Accuser’s plan failed (i.e., ‘no result’), somewhat analogous to World War One trench battles when the same ground was repeatedly taken, lost, and retaken. This interpretation does not seem to probe fully the anger attributed to ‘God’ in the prologue. Nor does this interpretation remove accountability from ‘God’.

What is it about ‘God’ and the Accuser that leads both characters to argue about whose hand had caused the calamities? Is Job a pawn in an authority contest between ‘God’ and the Accuser?

How should the statements of Job’s wife be expressed/interpreted on stage -- “Still holding on to your precious integrity, are you? Curse God and be done with it!” (2:9). It is important to trace the meanings, references, and nuances associated with ‘integrity’ in the story/play. The Hebrew root form for ‘integrity’ occurs five times in the story/play (more times in Job than in any other writing in Jewish scripture). In the story/play, the word is used by ‘God’ (2:3), Job’s wife (2:9), and the ‘scrap heap Job’ (26:11, 27:5, 31:6). Job’s three close friends do not use the term.

The story/play opens with ‘God’ attributing integrity to Job. The prologue references to Job’s integrity appear to be tied to his allegiance to the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm. In other words, integrity in the prologue means being faithful to and consistent with the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm. The prologue also implies confidence -- over against the Accuser’s charge -- that ‘God’ too has integrity. The Accuser turns the assessment of Job’s integrity toward Job’s motivations. Job’s wife questions the integrity of the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm’s reassurance that all experiences are from ‘God’ and therefore, are ultimately good. (Macleish, in his award-winning Broadway play J.B., takes this position re Job’s wife.) Job responds to his wife by attributing evil as well as good to ‘God’. He does not deviate from the view that either ‘God’ causes evil or does not care that evil exists.

Then, as the heated exchanges with his three close friends begin and escalate, the integrity to which the ‘scrap heap Job’ holds becomes more his consistency (even in pushing his pre-tragedy ‘religious’ T/O paradigm to its logical end -- i.e., questioning the integrity of ‘God’). The result – the ‘scrap heap Job’ claims to be ready to sacrifice the reputation and status available to him within the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm rather than to surrender his integrity.

It seems to me the Accuser ironically pushes the ‘scrap heap Job’ to nuance ‘integrity’ in the truest sense – i.e., an authentic integrity that is grounded and shaped by coping with and aggressively engaging the full range of life’s realities rather than the ‘hedged in’ integrity sanctioned by the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm.

The ‘scrapheap Job’ -- #13

The story/play assumes a cosmology in which ‘God’ is ‘out there’, in which the Accuser and other angelic messengers are viewed as coming in/out of a celestial chamber ‘out there’, . . . (cf.1:6ff and many similar places in the story/play). How critical is this pre/non-scientific cosmology to the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm? I would argue it is essential (a sine qua non) to the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm, a necessity that becomes increasingly evident as one scans the 17th-century forward theological spectrum from ‘liberal’ across to ‘fundamentalist’. The assumed pre/non-scientific cosmology in the story/play is absolutely critical re the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm’s perspective on divine sovereignty.

Within the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm, ‘God’ must remain unsullied from corruption, removed from the taint of his creation/creatures, and, therefore, contacted only through such worship media as sacrifice and prayer. Think in terms of the distance/barriers between a monarch and the population. A monarch does not tolerate being questioned. The spectrum for the population under a monarchy runs from bowing passively to confronting a corrupt monarch to rejecting royalty of any sort.

It seems a contradiction to adhere to and advocate a democratic political structure for society and yet to maintain an approach to spirituality and ethics that depends/draws on the language/imagery characteristic of a monarchical political structure. It also seems a contradiction to adhere to and live by a modern/scientific view of nature and yet to maintain an approach to spirituality and ethics that is inseparable from a pre/non-scientific view of nature.

Peterson has ‘friend’ where the RSV has ‘servant’ (1:8). Is there any sense of ‘friend’ in the Hebrew word translated ‘servant’ (RSV)? The Hebrew word can imply a special relationship (e.g., references in Jewish scripture to ‘my servants the prophets’, to Moses, to Joshua, to angels, to the patriarchs). The Hebrew word can refer to a friend, to a fellow-citizen, or simply to another person. Is this word the word for ‘friend’ throughout the story/play (e.g., 2:11, 6:14, . . .)?

‘Friend’ or ‘servant’ in the prologue description of Job should be thought of as ‘confidant with influence’. There is no sense of humility or of being ‘among the least of these’ or of ‘taking a lower seat’. Job should be cast in the story/play as aristocratic, as nobility. He has liberties and privileges, even before ‘God’, others do not have.

The frightening calamities (1:13-19) -- from the Sabeans’ violence to destructive lightning to the Chaldeans’ deadly aggression to the terrible storm -- are all attributed to ‘God’ in the story/play. The same explanation occurs re Job’s humiliating afflictions in the second cycle of calamities (2:1-10). Job, in his first lines in the prologue, accounts for the calamities with “the Lord gave” and “the Lord has taken away” (1:20-21). The narrator makes the point that the prologue Job “did not charge God with wrong” (1:22), apparently meaning Job does not accuse ‘God’ of injustice or malevolence when he attributes the calamities to ‘God’. In response to his humiliating afflictions, the prologue Job speaks of receiving good and evil from ‘God’ (revealing that he considers the wave of calamities as well as his personal afflictions to be ‘evil’). Yet the narrator repeats that Job “did not sin with his lips” (2:10). Are Job’s two responses in the prologue acceptable to/within the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm?

What, from the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm perspective, is evil about the violent events and devastating experiences recounted in the prologue? What criteria for distinguishing good from evil are common to the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm? What makes an event/experience evil? Koheleth (in the Ecclesiastes essay) uses blunt terms such as ‘offensive’, ‘tragic’, ‘grievously wrong’ in reference to human suffering/misery. The ‘scrap heap Job’ insists on similarly radical (i.e., to the root) interpretations of human suffering/misery. Are such interpretations of human suffering/misery found in other parts of Jewish scripture or in Christian scripture? Are such interpretations of human suffering/misery permitted within the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm? by ‘Jesus’?
A word study is in order re ‘evil’ in the story/play and in the larger context surrounding the story/play. Job does not point -- either in the prologue or in the heated exchanges with his three close friends -- to the prologue’s Accuser as an independent, separate, and/or primary source for evil. In the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm, ‘God’ is not just a monarch with unquestioned power. In the paradigm’s (D)euteronomic form trusted by Job and his three close friends, ‘God’ is expected to act/rule as a good/benevolent monarch who protects/rewards the righteous and who punishes/defeats the unrighteous. James in Christian scripture extended defense of the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm to the point of arguing that nothing from ‘God’ could be evil or stem from malevolent motives. All texts/writers in Jewish scripture and in Christian scripture are much nearer to James than to the ‘scrap heap’ perspective in the Job story/play or to the Ecclesiastes essay. The ‘scrap heap Job’ is being driven away from the confidence and security in divine providence promised by the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm. The heated exchanges with his three close friends leave him in the untenable position of concluding that ‘God’ (as he has to this point understood the term ‘God’) is capable of engaging in profoundly evil actions with sobering/frightening malevolent motives toward human beings. By untenable I mean that his thinking must keep moving because this position leaves him no way within the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm either to respect/honor ‘God’ or to lament before ‘God’ in anticipation of deliverance/relief.

The ‘scrapheap Job’ -- #12

Of his children, Job wonders anxiously, “Maybe one of them sinned by defying God inwardly” (1:5). Is Peterson’s ‘defy’ an appropriate rendering (‘curse’ in the RSV)? The Hebrew word translated ‘defy’/‘curse’ is an intensive form of the word for ‘bless’. Perhaps this choice is an example of a hesitation even to speak/write in any other way than to bless ‘God’. In other words, “Who would dare blaspheme ‘God’?” In a way, ‘curse’ is a stronger translation than ‘defy’ in that ‘curse’ more definitively connotes rejection. But in another way, ‘defy’ is a stronger translation than ‘curse’ in that ‘defy’ suggests the courage to stand up to and challenge ‘God’. The Hebrew word could also carry the idea of ‘to disown’.

Catching the word play that differentiates ‘defy’/‘curse’ from ‘bless’ requires an eye for irony. The idea of ‘defy’/‘curse’ then is to mutter “yeah, right” under one’s breath after saying “blessed”. Perhaps the play on the word for ‘bless’ (one of many subtle word plays that are developed through the heated exchanges between the ‘scrap heap Job’ and his three close friends that separate the prologue from the epilogue) is an illustration of the use of contrast to get the attention of the careful reader/audience.

Could/should the remarks of the ‘scrap heap Job’ in the heated exchanges with his three close friends be construed as a disclosure that he in fact does ‘defy God inwardly’? I think so if a unity between the prologue and the epilogue, over against the heated exchanges in the middle section of the story/play, is maintained.

To explore the various and surprising nuances for key terms such as ‘defy’ in the prologue, the Accuser (and, I would propose, the narrator) presents a clever, ironic, even sarcastic perspective. Does Job ever represent/express a similar perspective?

Job’s three close friends bless ‘God’ by maintaining the ‘religious’ theologically orthodox (T/O) paradigm, by following protocol, by ‘sucking up’. The ‘scrap heap Job’ seems to defy ‘God’ in the sense of ‘blessing God out’. Does he disown or reject ‘God’ (and the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm)? I think the story/play leaves the ‘scrap heap Job’ and the issue of his integrity at this very fork in his spiritual road. To maintain his integrity, I think he only has one option – i.e., to reject ‘God’ as understood within the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm to which he had long been loyal. Certainly from within the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm (to which his three close friends remain unwaveringly loyal), the ‘scrap heap Job’ must be seen as having moved across the theological spectrum to the threatening position of disowning or rejecting ‘God’. Once relief comes from his tragedies at the story/play’s end, how will the ‘scrap heap Job’ maintain his integrity? Can he return to his place as a teacher within the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm community without violating his integrity? How will he parent? How will he speak at the city gate? Will he sacrifice his aristocratic privileges in order to sustain a ‘scrap heap’ perspective? Will he add his ‘scrap heap’ voice to the caravan travelers’ stories?

What would ‘defying God inwardly’ have entailed if Job’s children (in the prologue) had done so as they were partying? And is ‘merry-making’ being criticized in the story/play?

In light of the surprise affirmation of Job’s ‘scrap heap’ thoughts (42:7-9) near the end, is the narrator encouraging the reader/audience to defy ‘God’? One trait of a ‘non-religious’ and ‘with the world face to face’ approach to ethics and spirituality (some variation of which would be an alternative for the ‘scrap heap Job’ should he choose to take the next steps away from the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm) is that individuals are encouraged to address ‘God’ bravely, in strength.

I find it thought provoking to associate the ‘scrap heap Job’ with the story of the prophet Nathan before King David, with Shostakovich before Stalin, with a concentration camp survivor. What would these associations imply re ‘God’ as understood within the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm?

The ‘scrapheap Job’ -- #11

In these and other postings, I often refer to the ‘T/O paradigm’. ‘T/O’ is short for ‘Traditional/Orthodox’. I first began referring to a ‘T/O paradigm’ in journal entries made in the mid-1990s. I created the phrase as a way to reference (1) the theological framework within which Job and his three close friends consider life experiences, (2) the theological framework that fails the ‘scrap heap Job’, and (3) my way of extending Bonhoeffer’s critique of ‘religion’ in his prison correspondence.

My judgment is that what I call the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm was systematized and institutionalized first in the northern kingdom of Israel after the Assyrian invasion/exile and later in the southern kingdom of Judah after the Babylonian invasion/exile. The cornerstone for this theological paradigm was a proposed covenant that linked being blessed with being righteous and being cursed with being unrighteous. The paradigm promised that ‘God’ could be trusted as the source of blessing or cursing. The paradigm’s proposed covenant clarified who the people were to be. Postexilic social/political reformers called for a rallying around this covenant or ‘law’ when rallying around a monarch such as David or Solomon was no longer an alternative (at least for the foreseeable future). Stories of the patriarchs (e.g., the stories now recorded in Genesis) and stories of national heroes (e.g., the stories now recorded in Exodus, Joshua, Judges) continued to be told as vehicles for communicating the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm (analogous to Greek playwrights and philosophers continuing to use the Homeric stories of the gods). Since those stories circulated in oral forms for many generations prior to the formalization of the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm, they had to be edited/reconstructed in order to serve as aids in communicating the paradigm. The abbreviated Job story/play (i.e., limited to the full story/play’s prologue plus the epilogue) would have had advantages in this regard because – in contrast to the stories of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, et al – Job was presented in the abbreviated story/play as virtually flawless.

My judgment is that several lines of thought gradually evolved rather loosely in oral forms before the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm was systematized and institutionalized. The ‘J’ and ‘E’ lines of thought (which have been discussed in critical scholarship since the 19th century) were the oldest of these lines of thought, being stories minus systematization that predated the earliest idea of ‘Israel’ as a gathered people. Those stories (which, since being absorbed within the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm, are only available in forms reconstructed favorably toward the Deuteronomic covenant) retained hints of a ‘God’ thought to be emotional, near, attentive to human conditions. That ‘God’ could be erratic, illogical, playful, dangerous. That ‘God’ was not considered accountable to a moral code. Human response to that ‘God’ was uncertain, confused, fearful. The earliest stages of the formation of the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm into a systematic and institutionalized theology developed during Israel’s pre-exilic monarchies (especially David and Solomon). The ‘P(riestly)’ line of thought (which -- as with ‘J’, ‘E’, and ‘D’euteronomist lines of thought – has been discussed in critical scholarship since the 19th century) also predated the earliest sense of ‘Israel’ as a gathered people, but did not become institutionalized until after the Babylonian invasion/exile.

And then there was a ‘W(isdom)’ line of thought. My judgment is that this line of thought was the most ancient of the lines of thought feeding into the formation of the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm in ancient Israel. The earliest forms would likely have been folklore (i.e., ‘how to survive/succeed in life’ advice analogous to Foxfire counsel or the ‘all you need to know you learn by kindergarten’ guidance). I see the ‘W’ tradition as having matured sufficiently by the time of the establishment of Israel’s monarchy to supply the ambassadors needed to represent Israel in other royal courts. Teachers in the ‘W’ tradition offered generalizations re practical decision-making that were compatible with the theological deductions that would become characteristic of the Deuteronomic/covenant-based ‘religious’ T/O paradigm.

My judgment is that the added sections (chapters 3.1-42.9) in the expanded Job story/play emerged from the ‘W’ line of thought with at least three challenges to the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm. The first challenge argued that the confidence implicit in the Deuteronomic covenant and the wisdom of the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm (represented without reservation by Job’s three close friends) had crumbled. The second challenge argued that -- given the cultural sophistication and the commitment to common sense, ethical responsibility, and keen observation characteristic of the ‘W’ line of thought -- recasting the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm with only stories of patriarchs and heroes was no more a possibility than returning to the monarchies of Saul, David, and Solomon. The third challenge demonstrated the consequences of inflating the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm into the sheer (i.e., beyond question/challenge) sovereignty of ‘God’, into an emperor concept of ‘God’ (as in the whirlwind section of the Job story/play) that trivialized both the glory days of Israel’s monarchy and the worth of human beings.

It seems to me that variations on the ‘religious’ T/O paradigm through the centuries have taken one of two paths – i.e., either (1) to maintain the Deuteronomic ‘religious’ T/O paradigm as did Job’s three friends at the expense of being unconditionally aligned with innocent/tragic sufferers or (2) to revert to a ‘J’/‘E’ only fundamentalist-driven ‘religious’ T/O paradigm as represented in the prologue to the Job story/play. I find neither of these paths compelling.

The ‘scrapheap Job’ -- #10

The phrase ‘from the scrap heap’ (the defining perspective for me in the Job story/play), the phrase ‘life under the sun’ (the defining perspective for me in the Ecclesiastes essay), and the phrases ‘from below’/‘with the world face to face’/‘non-religious’ (the defining perspectives for me from Bonhoeffer’s last years) lead to the center/heart of the perspective on spirituality and ethics I have been pursuing over the past 3+ decades. The next several ‘scrapheap Job’ postings illustrate ways my understanding and use of the Job story/play and the Ecclesiastes essay matured through the opportunity -- in twice-monthly discussions 1999-2006 with a Hebrew language/literature specialist friend -- to present/test the results from my sustained/intense meditation (analogous to attending the same Broadway play several times each week year after year) on the Job story/play and the Ecclesiastes essay. I kept detailed notes from these discussions. Each discussion was conducted in tutorial fashion, with specific attention to my specialist friend’s judgment whether the Hebrew text permits/tolerates my appropriation of the Job story/play and the Ecclesiastes essay as I have attempted to stay on a ‘scrapheap’/‘life under the sun’/‘from below’/‘with the world face to face’/‘non-religious’ path. He freely shared his expertise with the Hebrew language and Wisdom Literature. I disciplined myself not to press him to agree with my conclusions or with the associated approach to spirituality and ethics. I accept full responsibility and accountability for the ideas put to the test in this crucible.

The primary references to the text for the Job story/play come from Eugene Peterson’s translation -- The Message of Job. I have copied the section of the story/play to which the postings that follow the text relate. Here is the text for postings #11-#17.

Prologue to the story/play

1.1Job was a man who lived in Uz. He was honest inside and out, a man of his word, who was totally devoted to God and hated evil with a passion. 2He had seven sons and three daughters. 3He was also very wealthy – seven thousand head of sheep, three thousand camels, five hundred teams of oxen, five hundred donkeys, and a huge staff of servants – the most influential man in all the East! 4His sons used to take turns hosting parties in their homes, always inviting their three sisters to join them in their merrymaking. 5When the parties were over, Job would get up early in the morning and sacrifice a burnt offering for each of his children, thinking, “Maybe one of them sinned by defying God inwardly.” Job made a habit of this sacrificial atonement, just in case they’d sinned.

6One day when the angels came to report to God, Satan, who was the designated accuser, came along with them. 7God singled out Satan and said, “What have you been up to?” Satan answered God, “Going here and there, checking things out on earth.” 8God said to Satan, “Have you noticed my friend Job? There’s no one quite like him – honest and true to his word, totally devoted to God and hating evil.” 9Satan retorted, “So do you think Job does all that out of the sheer goodness of his heart? 10Why, no one ever had it so good! You pamper him like a pet, make sure nothing bad ever happens to him or his family or his possessions, bless everything he does – he can’t lose! 11But what do you think would happen if you reached down and took away everything that is his? He’d curse you right to your face, that’s what.” 12God replied, “we’ll see. Go ahead – do what you want with all that is his. Just don’t hurt him.” Then Satan left the presence of God.

13Sometime later, while Job’s children were having one of their parties at the home of the oldest son, 14a messenger came to Job and said, “The oxen were plowing and the donkeys grazing in the field next to us 15when Sabeans attacked. They stole the animals and killed the field hands. I’m the only one to get out alive and tell you what happened.” 16While he was still talking, another messenger arrived and said, “Bolts of lightning struck the sheep and the shepherds and fried them – burned them to a crisp. I’m the only one to get out alive and tell you what happened.” 17While he was still talking, another messenger arrived and said, “Chaldeans coming from three directions raided the camels and massacred the camel drivers. I’m the only one to get
out alive and tell you what happened.” 18While he was still talking, another messenger arrived and said, “Your children were having a party at the home of the oldest brother 19when a tornado swept in off the desert and struck the house. It collapsed on the your people and they died. I’m the only one to get out alive and tell you what happened.”

20Job got to his feet, ripped his robe, shaved his head, then fell to the ground and
worshiped: 21“Naked I came from my mother’s womb, naked I’ll return to the womb of the earth. God gives, God takes, God’s name be ever blessed.”

22Not once through all this did Job sin; not once did he blame God.

2.1One day when the angels came to report to God, Satan also showed up. 2God singled out Satan, saying, “And what have you been up to?” Satan answered God, “Oh, going here and there, checking things out.” 3Then God said to Satan, “Have you noticed my friend Job? There’s no one quite like him, is there – honest and true to his word, totally devoted to God and hating evil? He still has a firm grip on his integrity! You tried to trick me into destroying him, but it didn’t work.” 4Satan answered, “A human would do anything to save his life. 5But what do you think would happen if you reached down and took away his health? He’d curse you to your face, that’s what.” 6God said, “All right. Go ahead – you can do what you like with him. But mind you, don’t kill him.”

7Satan left God and struck Job with terrible sores. Job was ulcers and scabs from head to foot. They itched and oozed so badly that 8he took a piece of broken pottery to scrape himself, then went and sat on a trash heap, among the ashes. 9His wife said, “Still holding on to your precious integrity, are you? Curse God and
be done with it.” 10He told her, “You’re talking like an empty-headed fool. We take the good days from God – why not also the bad days?” Not once through all this did Job sin. He said nothing against God.

11Three of Job’s friends heard of all the trouble that had fallen on him. Each traveled from his own country – Eliphaz from Teman, Bildad from Shuah, Zophar from Naamath – and went together to Job to keep him company and comfort him. 12When they first caught sight of him, they couldn’t believe what they saw – they hardly recognized him! They cried out in lament, ripped their robes, and dumped dirt on their heads as a sign of their grief. 13Then they sat with him on the ground. Seven days and nights they sat there without saying a word. They could see how rotten he felt, how deeply he was suffering.