God's Problem (25 page)

In graphic and powerful images Job insists that despite his innocence, God has lashed out at him and attacked him and ripped into his body like a savage warrior on the attack:

I was at ease, and he broke me in

two;

he seized me by the neck and

dashed me to pieces;

he set me up as his target;

his archers surround me.

He slashes open my kidneys, and

shows no mercy;

he pours out my gall on the

ground.

He bursts upon me again and

again;

he rushes at me like a warrior….

My face is red with weeping,

and deep darkness is on my

eyelids,

though there is no violence in my

hands,

and my prayer is pure. (Job 16:12–14, 16–17)

With violence he seizes my

garment;

he grasps me by the collar of

my tunic.

He has cast me into the mire,

and I have become like dust and

ashes.

I cry to you and you do not

answer me;

I stand, and you merely look at

me.

You have turned cruel to me;

with the might of your hand

you persecute me. (Job 30:18–21)

Job constantly feels God’s terrifying presence, which he cannot escape even through sleep at night. He pleads with God to relieve his torment, to leave him in peace just long enough to allow him to swallow:

When I say, “My bed will comfort

me,

my couch will ease my

complaint,”

then you scare me with dreams

and terrify me with visions,

so that I would choose strangling

and death rather than this body.

I loathe my life; I would not live

forever.

Let me alone, for my days are a

breath….

Will you not look away from me

for a while,

let me alone until I swallow my

spittle? (Job 7:13–16, 19)

In contrast, those who are wicked prosper, with nothing to fear from God:

Why do the wicked live on,

reach old age, and grow mighty

in power?

Their children are established in

their presence,

and their offspring before their

eyes.

Their houses are safe from fear,

and no rod of God is upon

them….

They sing to the tambourine and

the lyre,

and rejoice to the sound of the

pipe.

They spend their days in

prosperity,

and in peace they go down to

Sheol. (Job 21:7–9, 12–13)

This kind of injustice might be considered less unfair if there were some kind of afterlife in which the innocent were finally rewarded and the wicked punished, but for Job (as for most of the Hebrew Bible’s authors) there is no justice after death either:

As waters fail from a lake,

and a river wastes away and

dries up,

so mortals lie down and do not

rise again;

until the heavens are no more,

they will not awake

or be roused out of their sleep. (Job 14:11–12)

Job realizes that if he tried to present his case before the Almighty, he would not have a chance: God is simply too powerful. But that doesn’t change the situation. Job is in fact innocent, and he knows it:

God will not turn back his anger….

How then can I answer him,

choosing my words with him?

Though I am innocent, I cannot

answer him;

I must appeal for mercy to my

accuser.

If I summoned him and he

answered me,

I do not believe that he would

listen to my voice.

For he crushes me with a tempest,

and multiplies my wounds

without cause…

If it is a contest of strength, he is

the strong one!

If it is a matter of justice, who

can summon him?

Though I am innocent, my own

mouth would condemn me;

though I am blameless, he

would prove me perverse. (Job 9:13–20)

In this, Job is prescient. For at the end of the poetic dialogues God does appear before Job—who is innocent and blameless—and cows him into submission by his fearful presence as the Almighty Creator of all. Still, though, Job insists on presenting his case before God, insisting on his own righteousness and his right to declare his innocence: “[M]y lips will not speak falsehood;…until I die I will not put away my integrity from me” (Job 27:3–4). He is sure that God must agree, if only he could find him to present his case: