26 Jun
Job: The Wounded Healer
The Human Origins of Job’s Suffering
Many commentators—both Christian and Jewish—often attributed Job’s suffering to all sorts of divine, satanic, karmic, and physical causes.[1] Most modern commentaries seldom attributed Job’s suffering to a human origin. However, an examination of his complaints will show that much of Job’s pain was directed at a community that did not show compassion to him when he needed it the most. Based on how we define the term “community,” we could say that Job did not have a community. He lived in a city where all its citizens practiced the rugged ethic of individualism—every person lived for himself. The people who inhabited Job’s world measured God’s blessings solely in terms of wealth and property.
This approach was first expressed by the most famous of medieval Jewish exegetes—Rashi (12th century).[2] A computerized search conducted on the text seemed to confirm Rashi’s observation. The word hesed (loving-kindness) appears only three times in the entire Jobian narrative and only when Job implores his friends for help. Likewise, the Hebrew word for comfort, nechama, appears only seven times in the entire book. Only twice does Job ever receive nechama from his friends-the first time was at the very beginning of Job 2:11. At this stage, Job’s friends expressed no verbal criticism of him. The second instance is at the very end of the Jobian narrative (42:11)—after Job is finally vindicated. Strangely, the entire book seems to be empty of metaphors depicting human and divine compassion. This would seem to substantiate Rashi’s view that the entire book is a parable about pastoral care.
As a parable about pastoral care, Rashi’s interpretation of Job stresses how empathy and tenderness are essential ingredients in healing the heart of the sufferer. Conversely, the story of Job shows how pious minded people often compound human suffering; in Job’s case, his community treated him like a pariah. Job’s community thought whatever happened to Job might also affect them. The general attitude espoused by Job’s friends was “Woe to the wicked, and woe to his neighbors!” Or, “Stay away from an evil person; otherwise you will end up like him.” This is precisely what happened to Job. Job’s life became full of loneliness and felt disconnected from God and those around him. Why does Job put up with such friends? The Talmud notes that human beings need friendship in order to live. Death itself is preferable to not having any friends at all—even if they are like the friends of Job.[3]
Job: The Wounded Healer
The epilogue states that, “After the LORD had said these things to Job, he said to Eliphaz the Temanite, ‘I am angry with you and your two friends, because you have not spoken of me what is right, as my servant Job has . . .’” (Job 42:7). Professor Marvin Pope raises an interesting question: “How could Job’s friends be condemned for such valiant defense of traditional dogma as they make in the Dialogue, and how could Job be commended for his vehement attacks on their doctrine and the God they presumed to defend?” [4]
Did something seriously wrong befall Job’s friends? The verse could suggest that they too experienced heavenly retribution for castigating Job. Yet, the real issue is not so much the friends’ dilemma, but Job’s reaction to their suffering.
Much is telescoped in these few words; it could be argued that something terrible unexpectedly befell Job’s three friends. Perhaps God simultaneously wanted to teach these men a valuable lesson for now they have become the victims hated by society. In effect, they are ironically having a Jobian-type of experience. Would Job sit and enjoy his restored fortune and slavishly adhere once more to a retributional theology—especially in light of the shabby way his friends tormented him? Would Job, perhaps, bask in the euphoria of his newly gained spiritual consciousness while being oblivious to the rest of the world? Would Job forget about his new religious experience and act as he did previously? Would he still remain emotionally aloof from those who suffer? Here is where real test now begins.
Job’s new theology finds its realization in showing compassion for those who grieve and suffer. It is not Job’s place to castigate, blame, or heap criticism upon his friends—even though he might feel justified for doing so. Instead, Job thus becomes a shepherd of hope. And, by doing so, he gives purpose and redemption to his own suffering by reaching out to those who had oppressed him. Whereas the old Job acted no differently from his friends, in adopting a “holier-than-thou” type of attitude, the “new” Job is different. The manner and alacrity he shows his friends is revealing. Job now brings comfort, mercy, healing, compassion, prayer—and most importantly—personal forgiveness. He does not offer pious platitudes as his friends did with him. Job becomes a wounded-healer who was sensitive and responsive to the pain of others. The suffering Job experienced made it impossible for him to go back to the way things once were. Like Jacob’s encounter with the angel, his life too is altered forever. Job’s woundedness thus becomes his own source of inner strength. Any person who has experienced and lived to survive suffering knows the Jobian odyssey all too well.
In addition, Job’s suffering sensitizes him to the suffering of all beings and as a result, he will not stand passively by when it comes to the suffering of others. Job’s firsthand experience of the “Dark Night of the Soul,” changes him into a new kind of human being, radically different than he was at the outset of our story. Suffering makes him all the more determined to counter its presence by shouldering the yoke of his neighbor’s pain. This biblical motif is not necessarily unique to the Book of Job; it is a reoccurring theme in much of the Tanakh—especially with respect to the role of the “Suffering Servant of God” mentioned in Isaiah 53. This is also one of paradoxical themes of the Psalm 23, for the journey with the Shepherd inevitably takes us through the valley of darkness, where we become transformed either into better or bitter people.
Job is determined to reveal the existence of a loving God to a world brushed by tragedy. The new Job is a man of hope, a Hasid, a bearer of Divine compassion. He continues on with living, bringing hope, comfort, and prayer to the sick and the oppressed. Transformed by his illness and afflictions, Job could not look at the suffering of any sentient being without feeling sympathy and compassion.
[1] According to some rabbinic legends, Job lived during the time the Jews were originally enslaved by the Egyptians. At that time, he served as an advisor to Pharaoh.
[2] Rashi explains that the book of Job teaches us two important things: (1) that we may learn from it a response to those who condemn God’s attribute of justice (2) Job also serves to instruct us that no person ought to be blamed for words that he utters because of personal pain (Rashi’s commentary to BT Bava Batra 15a) Elsewhere Rashi adds on the verse in Job 42:7: “For you did not comfort me with your ‘verbal defense’ as did my servant, Job.” His only sin consisted of saying ‘He destroys both the innocent with the wicked…’ (Job 9:23). And whatever else Job said came from his suffering which weighed heavily upon him and forced him to speak thusly. But you [the friends], on the other hand, were wrongful to accuse him of being wicked. In the end, it was you who were silent and defeated before him. Instead of attacking him, you should have comforted him as Elihu did. As if Job didn’t have enough suffering, you added guilt to your sins by angering him. “
[3] BT Taanit 23a; BT Bava Batra, 16a.
[4] M. H. Pope, Job: Introduction, translation, and notes (New Haven; London: Yale University Press), 308.
Posted by Yochanan Lavie on 26.06.12 at 6:55 am
In FM, I not too long ago had a running argument with a real Litvak type. I was saying that rabbis are too often religious technicians, such as Elyashiv, for example, and not often enough compassionate human beings. He kept on insisting that I was asking too much from rabbis, and I was setting myself up for disappointment.
The friends of Job are religious technicians. They ignore his suffering and focus on abstract theological issues instead. One could imagine them well versed in Yora Deah, if that was not an anachronism. In other religions, and denominations of Judaism, pastoral care is part of the curriculum. Whatever it was in the past, rabbis today are looked up to as role models and quasi-therapists. They must heed the lessons of the Book of Job.