OT81

THE TEXT IN THE INTERPRETIVE TRADITION

Other biblical texts (Ezek. 14:14, 20; James 5:11) emphasize the endurance of Job in his trials; many later interpretive traditions also emphasize aspects of the “patient” Job based on Job’s responses to suffering in the prologue. These themes fit nicely with questions and issues that would have been current at the time of the Maccabean revolt (165 BCE) and the destruction of the temple (70 CE) as well as the persecution of early Christian communities. In both the Septuagint and the apocryphal Testament of Job, the iconoclastic Job of the dialogues is intentionally softened in favor of an example of patient endurance and the development of a theology of resurrection. This tradition of Job the Patient is then carried forward by Eusebius, Augustine, Jerome, and Gregory the Great into medieval Christian interpretation, and beyond that into the Renaissance by influential figures such as Francis Bacon and John Donne. The Qur’an and Islamic traditions around Job (Ayyub, in Arabic) also develop this saintly view of Job as a long-suffering prophet of God, an example of patience, fortitude, and wisdom. In early Christian literature as well as art and architecture, Job is most often depicted as the patient sufferer, or alternatively as an athlete or warrior battling the satan, who is equated in early Christianity with the figure of the devil. The first interpretation makes endurance primarily a passive task, while the latter emphasizes the active nature of Job’s struggle, the idea of victory and a prize to be won (Ambrose). As we will see, these interpretations become problematic when compared to Job’s lengthy dialogue with his friends and, ultimately, with God.

Job’s wife and her enigmatic outburst in 2:9 are also a key focus in interpretive tradition. Rabbinic commentary, the Septuagint, the Targum, and the Testament of Job all seek to give a better explanation for her behavior than what we have in the Masoretic Text. In the biblical text, Job’s wife is never given a name, a history, or a place of origin and is consequently a secondary character. She is not mentioned as an agent in her children’s births or in mourning their deaths. Her outburst to Job in 2:9 is thus without explicit context, although the reception of her character in subsequent interpretive texts testifies to some common points of understanding. It is interesting that the only woman who speaks in Job is also the only person who speaks without a lengthy explanation. Her presence is implied in the epilogue, perhaps; many interpreters assume that she takes part in Job’s “having” ten more children, although birth is not explicitly mentioned. Rabbinic midrash assigns Job a new wife in the epilogue, namely Dinah, Jacob’s daughter. Job’s (first) wife is only mentioned twice more, as a literary device to illustrate Job’s suffering (19:17) or to support his oath of innocence (31:10). As we encounter her in Job 2:9, we are left to speculate about the cause of her enigmatic statement.

Her cryptic comments have invited exposition in the Qur’an and Islamic tradition as well as among interpreters from Augustine, Jerome, Gregory the Great, and Martin Luther to Ellen van Wolde, Sarojini Nadar, and F. Rachel Magdalene. It is interesting that both the Septuagint and the Testament of Job present a nuanced and mostly sympathetic picture of this woman and her involvement in Job’s suffering while the patristic tradition and medieval and Reformation Christian communities largely portray her as a foolish woman at best and as an agent of the satan at worst. In many Islamic and Christian interpretive traditions, she is portrayed as gullible rather than evil; this is often identified as a problem for women generally (Thomas Aquinas; Luther). Modern and postmodern interpretations have again picked up the ambiguity of her character and have demonstrated a keen interest in fleshing out Job’s wife, as we will see below.

The identity and function of the satan have also been issues in interpretive tradition. Second Temple Jewish tradition, and later Christian tradition, identified Satan as a proper name and an independent personality; in the text of Job, the satan seems to be an office, a function, a sort of prosecuting attorney (Hartley, 71–72) rather than a discrete character (Perdue, 84–85). Nevertheless, subsequent interpretations have often read the character of the satan in Job as synonymous with this later concept of Satan.

THE TEXT IN THE INTERPRETIVE TRADITION

It is interesting that in rabbinic interpretation, where the Hebrew text would have been the primary source, the interpretive tradition is much more varied than traditions of the saintly Job found in Christian and Islamic interpretation, as we saw above. Rabbinic tradition is far more likely to emphasize the iconoclastic Job and to debate issues such as when he lived, whether he was a Jew or a gentile, what the reason was for his suffering, and whether he worshiped God out of love or fear. One explanation for the greater diversity of rabbinic interpretations is that rabbinic tradition lacked the rigid theological structures that dominated early Christian and Islamic communities (Vicchio 2006a). It is also interesting to note, however, that the grief-stricken, angry Job of the dialogues survived in medieval Christian liturgy, particularly in the Office for the Dead, where Job’s laments were quoted extensively for their pathos and the emotional catharsis they lent to the bereaved. The tradition of Job as an avenue for the expression of grief in the face of suffering, death, and persecution thus has an older, if less ubiquitous, history. The use of Job in laments over HIV/AIDS in South Africa is an example of the contemporary continuation of this tradition (West with Zengele; West).

Even in these darker interpretations, both ancient and contemporary, Job 19:23–27 is often included as a beacon of hope, a belief in the resurrection of the dead and a panacea for suffering. At several points in the text, Job seems to explicitly deny the possibility of resurrection (14:7–12; 16:18–22). This has not prevented generations of interpreters from seeing in 19:23–27 a theology of resurrection or even a prefiguration of Christ. For example, whereas the Hebrew text presents 14:14 as a seemingly rhetorical question (“If a man dies, will he live again?”), the Septuagint renders the same verse as a positive assertion (“For though a man die, he will live again”). The iconoclastic Job of the Hebrew text is intentionally softened in the Greek text and subsequent interpretations in Greek-speaking communities, providing an example of patient hope in the face of persecution by promising justice in the afterlife. Interpreters who carry forward this theme and find in Job a doctrine of resurrection, both the concept of bodily resurrection and the idea of a soul/body dualism and concomitant ideas of the afterlife of the soul, include Clement, Origen, Jerome, Gregory, Aquinas, and Luther as well as contemporary interpreters such as Janzen.

There are solid arguments against this interpretation, including the idea that the Redeemer (Wilson suggests that a less theologically loaded translation of the Hebrew go’el would be “Vindicator”; Clines [1989] suggests “Kinsman” or “Champion”) is a personification of Job’s plea, his affidavit in the legal case he wants to bring against God (Clines 1989); the idea that the Champion is God because God can be both judge and vindicator (Gordis; Hartley; see Isaiah 39); and the idea that the Champion is some other heavenly being, a personal god or an angel, a counterpart to the satan, who will vindicate Job in the heavenly council where the satan had condemned him (Terrien; Pope; Habel). A key question related to the identity of the Vindicator is when Job hopes this vindication will take place. The question hinges on how one interprets ’akharon (“later,” “finally,” “at the last”). Does this refer to the end of Job’s suffering? The end of Job’s life? Or does it have eschatological significance? Job’s statement in 19:26 offers little help, as the phrase “after my flesh has been thus destroyed” could refer to the current destruction of boils and skin disease or to the final destruction of death. Gerald Wilson argues convincingly that Job is expressing an impossible desire (conveyed repeatedly in the rhetorical Hebrew phrase mi yitten, or “who will give?”). The key point here is not who or when, but whether, and ultimately the answer is no (Wilson, 209). This is consistent with Job 16:19–20, in which Job laments the impossibility of any mediator between himself and God, and which provides a key by which we may also read 19:23–27 (Clines 1989, 465–66).

Furthermore, Job has been hoping for public vindication; the publicness of the affirmation of his righteousness is particularly important to him. He does not want to be thought of as a sinful man who deserved what he got, and the communal and social aspects of his suffering are particularly galling to him (as we will see in Job 29–31). Thus it seems more likely that Job is here referring to restoration and vindication in this life. This is partly an argument from context, because a theology of resurrection in Israel had not been developed by the time of the exile, and partly an argument from the text itself, because a belief in eventual restoration after death would undermine the fear of death, which Job expresses throughout the remainder of the book. If the solution to Job’s suffering is simply that he will be restored in the afterlife, then the discussion should end here, and Job should have no more cause for complaint (Saadiah 1988). The argument that Job is here referring to an individual resurrection or afterlife ignores the context of these verses in the overall trajectory of Job’s argument and the book as a whole. Thus Job desires intensely that God will vindicate him before his death, but he believes that in fact God is his enemy and will soon kill him. The focus is Job’s repeated demand for a face-to-face encounter with God in a legal dispute (Clines 1989, 455–56).

Later Christian interpretive traditions read the themes of the New Testament as presented in a coded form in the Old Testament; hence Job is often viewed as a prefiguration of Christ by the early church fathers, including Ambrose, Augustine, Jerome, and Gregory the Great. Job’s patience and humility in the face of the satan’s affliction is likened both to a retelling of the story of Adam and Eve, wherein this time the protagonist manages to resist the woman’s and the satan’s temptations (John Chrysostom), and to Jesus’ resistance of temptation in the desert (Gregory the Great). In all these cases, Job’s integrity and patient acceptance of undeserved suffering at the hand of God paves the way for a concept of innocent suffering that undergirds both the incarnation and the salvific function of Christ’s atonement (Hartley; Wilson).

Early Christian interpretation also emphasizes the issue of original sin as both an explanation for Job’s suffering and as a way of absolving God of responsibility. According to this theology, no human being is innocent; thus questions of innocent suffering become irrelevant. Clement of Rome saw in Job proof of this theology. Early church fathers, including Jerome and Augustine, as well as later Reformers, such as John Calvin, supported and developed this interpretation, based primarily on 9:1–2 and 14:4–5.

As we saw above, early traditions tend to polarize Job as either the saint or the iconoclast. In medieval Jewish interpretation, Saadiah is one of the first to merge these traditions. He takes the tension between these two portrayals seriously, as do Maimonides and Gershonides (see also Vicchio 2006b, 97–98). Saadiah also takes up the theme of innocent suffering, offering three possible resolutions for this dilemma: suffering builds character; suffering is purification; suffering is a test. Saadiah underlines God’s responsibility for Job’s suffering and refuses to ascribe to the idea of life after death as a solution. In Job’s case, death is final; Job himself does not believe in life after death. In Saadiah’s view, this proves Job’s uprightness. If Job had believed in an afterlife, his endurance of suffering could not have been disinterested; the very fact that he thinks death is the end proves his righteousness and disinterested service of God.

Scholars have been frustrated by the fact that the neat tripartite structure (three dialogue cycles, in the first two of which the friends speak in an established order and each receives an individual response from Job) breaks down in the third cycle, wherein Bildad’s speech is quite short, and Zophar does not speak at all. Many have tried to rearrange the text so that this structure is preserved. Verses in Job 24 are redistributed to Zophar (Clines 2006); verses in Job 27 are ascribed to Bildad (Hartley). Again, it seems to me that it is more interesting to address the themes of the text than to attempt to re-create a structure for the speeches based on a potentially anachronistic concept of “coherence,” which may have been significantly less important to the author(s) of Job than it appears to be to the book’s interpreters.

Job’s friends have sometimes been interpreted as corporate personalities representing distinct priestly and theological traditions whose theology in the exilic context is under serious strain (Hartley). Job has also been interpreted as a corporate personality, perhaps an alternative option to the traditional Israelite identification with the corporate personality of Jacob (van Wolde 2002) or the representative of a more abstract group, the poor and marginalized (Dussel). It seems clear that this text is not simply the story of extraordinary events in the life of a unique individual, although it is certainly that as well. Efforts to universalize the story by placing Job and his friends outside the nation of Israel, setting the story in the patriarchal period, and incorporating wisdom traditions from other ANE societies make it clear that this is not simply the history of one extraordinary individual and his encounter with God. Nevertheless, the themes of the text and the use of Israel’s personal name for God also create a close resonance with a particularly Israelite context.

The encounter with Job’s pain inspires fear rather than compassion in his friends; they have to malign his integrity in order to retreat into a comforting theological world where such visions do not trouble them (Wilson). This is an understandable reaction to the horrors of conquest and exile. Job is challenging the basis of an established theological understanding of the world; he does so because to him it seems horrible, but the friends find his viewpoint even more disconcerting (Gutiérrez). These differing perspectives are both understandable reactions to suffering. Integrity and experience are most important to Job; stability, security, authority, and intellectual understanding are primary for his friends. Both Job and his friends are willing to sacrifice Job himself to prove their respective points. Job’s repeated appeals to his friends for compassion, and his insistence that those who do not suffer cannot understand his plight except by falling back on retributive principles, is consistent with liberation theologies and their various interpretations of these dialogues as Job’s progress toward a more empathic and nuanced understanding of the poor and marginalized through his own experience of suffering (Job 24; see Tamez [1986, 2004]; Dussel; Gutiérrez).

THE TEXT IN THE INTERPRETIVE TRADITION

Many commentators loathe Elihu (Terrien; Gordis; Newsom; Habel), while a few defend his appeal as a passionate young man who argues from emotion as well as intellect (McKay). Most interpreters agree that this section is a later addition to the text, although some argue that it adds nothing new and should be lifted out entirely. Some think that Elihu merely sets the stage for God’s arrival (Timmer); others think his function is more nuanced, an artistic development appropriate to the larger structure of the text (Saadiah; Wilson). They argue that this section heightens the drama of God’s appearance in the whirlwind, anticipates “the rather bombastic character of the divine appearance,” and prepares the reader for Job’s ultimate restoration by indicating that things are not hopeless (Wilson, 359). We might also see in Elihu a response to Job’s request in 31:35 that someone would hear him. Saadiah thinks Elihu’s advice is sound; the fact that Job does not respond to him indicates that Elihu has won his argument with Job. Alternatively, Thomas Aquinas sees the divine speeches as a rebuttal of Elihu who, like Job, suffers from a lack of wisdom. In any case, these chapters illuminate one more response to Job’s suffering, which can certainly be characterized as innovative but which does not fundamentally change either Job’s complaint or God’s response to it.

Several commentators use Elihu’s speeches as a means to resolve the tension in Job. Rashi argues that Job is indeed pious but not perfect; Job’s primary problem is hubris, and consequently his failure is an intellectual rather than a moral one. Elihu provides Job a way out of this dilemma by reminding him of the need for humility. Rashi argues that God’s speeches confirm Elihu’s advice to Job, and Job’s response in 42:6 indicates his adoption of perfect humility. Job’s suffering is caused by a lack of wisdom and is the price he must pay to acquire wisdom (Maimonides, Gershonides). Aquinas agrees that the major lesson of Job is the importance of acquiring wisdom and the concomitant importance of humility regarding one’s own opinions and status. He also sees Job’s lack of reverence as an issue that Elihu correctly identifies as problematic. Luther and Calvin pick up this theme. Luther argues that Job’s suffering causes him to complain too much and to fail to demonstrate appropriate reverence for God. Job’s friends accuse him of sinning before he suffered; Luther thinks Job sinned as a result of his suffering. Calvin takes this further. He is offended by Job’s impudence far more than by the content of his speeches. Calvin supports Elihu’s argument that suffering is instructive, but argues that Elihu’s response is not enough for the impudent Job, which is the reason God must eventually speak to Job directly. Calvin ultimately returns to the theology of the three friends; human beings must simply submit to God’s power.

According to Clines, Elihu goes beyond the theology of the other friends and has a more nuanced concept of the suffering of the righteous. God uses suffering to instruct the righteous, and they may choose to listen and experience restoration or they may resist and face death. Elihu challenges the polarization of the righteous and the wicked; one can fall into sin and still be righteous. Elihu also believes that God communicates through the workings of nature, an idea borne out in God’s speeches. Ultimately, Clines argues, Elihu doesn’t go far enough. He still views suffering as punishment for wrongdoing, even if the ultimate aim is different. Elihu is sympathetic to Job, and his view of the natural world is partly accurate but still implies that human beings are the center of everything. As we will see below, this anthropocentric view of creation proves to be particularly problematic.

With regard to the key passage in 33:23–28, Wilson suggests that Elihu considers himself the messenger; Habel sees this angel as a heavenly mediator, a counterpart to the satan in the prologue. According to Clines, we must assume that the angel is carrying out God’s bidding rather than acting in opposition to God, because Elihu argues that God uses suffering for communicative and redemptive purposes. This theme is also present in Job 5:1 and 16:20; Clines sees the mediator here as a prophetic voice whose duty is to convey God’s will to human beings, a task that is consistent with other angelic interventions in the Old Testament. Thus the mediator is not someone who intercedes for Job, but someone who proves to Job that God is in the right (Clines 2006). However, in 33:24, the angel does appear to ask God to spare the person from death; we cannot be sure what the ransom is, but the implication is that the word of the angel seems to provide some form of compensation for divine justice. The surprising thing is that deliverance appears to come before repentance; it is a divine act of pity. This is consistent with certain prophetic texts, wherein repentance is often depicted as an act of gratitude for forgiveness rather than a precondition for it. The notion that repentance precedes forgiveness is arguably a Christian anachronism. If we accept this premise, perhaps the ransom is not concrete at all but merely a poetic device (Clines 2006). Job 33:26 seems to imply a thanksgiving offering rather than an atoning sacrifice, which may also be an anticipation of Job’s own restoration prior to the sacrifice in Job 42.

THE TEXT IN CONTEMPORARY DISCUSSION

Elihu is not only young; the word for young he uses in Job 32:6 also indicates a lack of social standing. He affirms an initial respect for age and the tradition of wisdom, but the words that follow do not reflect this in practice. One of Elihu’s innovations is to propose that the divine spirit gives life to human beings but also provides them with wisdom. In contrast to the idea that observation and experience are the source of wisdom, and therefore that greater age means more opportunities for observation and experience and hence more wisdom, Elihu says that the spirit of God can inspire anyone, including someone as young as he is. Thus Elihu underscores the challenge to authority, another recognized theme in the book.

In Job 33, Elihu seems to find Job’s protestations of innocence less problematic than his demands that God answer his complaints. Elihu argues that God does not need to answer Job, and moreover that God speaks to human beings in visions and through suffering, which is meant to correct their behavior. In other words, Job’s suffering is God’s communication, and Job should expect nothing further. However, God is merciful and does sometimes redeem sinners and extend their lives. Retribution need not be final; it is a teaching tool, designed to initiate turning or returning to God. Elihu believes that suffering comes to all people as a means of identifying sin, encouraging repentance, and ultimately restoring the person; suffering is instructive. This is a consistent theme in Job’s interpretive tradition, from patristic to medieval to Reformation Christian communities. It is also a theme in contemporary discussions about the reasons for suffering, from the parenting trope that “suffering builds character” to the Christian tradition that encourages the sufferer to identify the ways in which God uses suffering to instill spiritual principles or to test faith. The theology of divine providence becomes especially problematic in this aspect, that suffering must be explained as somehow beneficial to the sufferer. This concept certainly has precedence in the wisdom tradition, but is developed in Job with particular reference to exilic concerns.

Thus, in spite of a certain amount of innovation, Elihu is still basing his theology (if not his speech) on received wisdom rather than on experience. God is sovereign and cannot be swayed by human behavior; human initiative is limited to observation and response, and learning how best to do this constitutes the search for wisdom. The innovation of Job, and one of the great sources of Job’s continued relevance in contemporary religious and nonreligious contexts alike, is to undermine this foundation and to base his theology (or lack thereof) on lived experience.

THE TEXT IN ITS ANCIENT CONTEXT

This section begins as God answers Job out of the storm, which is a common setting for a theophany (2 Kgs. 2:1, 11; Pss. 18:7–15; 50:3; Ezek. 1:4; Nah. 1:3; Zech. 9:14) and also calls to mind God’s appearance to the Israelites on Mount Sinai at the time of the exodus (Exod. 19:16–20). This detail is particularly important at this juncture, as this is also the first time since the prologue (with the exception of Job 12:9) that the personal name YHWH rather than the generic term for God has been used. In the storm imagery and in the use of the name God revealed to Moses, readers are reminded that this is the God of the covenant, who initiated a special relationship with the Israelites. This lends another dimension of meaning to what follows, as God’s redefinition of justice resonates with a wider redefinition of the terms of the covenant as gratuitous rather than retributive.

The speeches of YHWH make use of the ANE genre of onomasticon—lists of items presented to illustrate and embody a particular category. In this case, the purpose seems to be to indicate by extension that there is no part of the created world outside of God’s authority; the lists cover wild and domesticated animals, wild and cultivated land, as well as the heights of the heavens, the depths of the sea, and even symbolic places such as Sheol and the “innermost parts” of human beings. The form of these chapters also develops the genre of disputation, demonstrating the knowledge of a wise master against that of a student.

The symbol of the waters, as well as the great beasts Behemoth and Leviathan, represent YHWH’s control over chaos. In other ANE texts (such as the Epic of Gilgamesh, the Enuma Elish, and the Atrahasis Epic), the waters threatened to overwhelm the gods who originally unleashed them; in the case of YHWH, readers are meant to infer that his strength and control are incontestable.

Some commentators hypothesize that Behemoth may be a hippopotamus, and Leviathan either a whale or a crocodile. Behemoth and Leviathan may simply be ciphers for the strongest land and sea creatures imaginable, thus reinforcing YHWH’s dominion over the entire earth. Alternatively, it has been suggested that both beasts represent mythical chaos monsters. Various ancient texts (Herodotus, Hist. 2.68–71) and Egyptian hieroglyphs (ceiling of the Ramesseum) depict hippopotami and crocodiles in conjunction or succession; hence their association here is not without precedent. In ancient Egypt, only the pharaohs or the gods could hunt the hippopotamus, and such a hunt was considered a battle against evil. Defeat of the great beast also confirmed the hunter’s right to rule. The description of Leviathan is similar to that of Lotan in Ugaritic literature, a mythic sea creature that Baal defeats in order to prove his supremacy. In any case, the primary purpose here is to establish YHWH’s control over the forces of chaos and disorder and thus his authority over the created world.

In the wider context of Wisdom literature, the mysteries of the world illustrated in YHWH’s speeches are also the means by which human beings confront the mysteries of God. Whereas Job confronts YHWH directly in the whirlwind, Wisdom literature teaches that readers can also confront God in the world around them. Wisdom literature is itself a search for explanation(s) in the context of certain historical periods and events; in this case, it is a search for meaning after the wrenching events of exile. In Wisdom literature, knowledge is a function of relationship and trust; hence Job’s relationship with YHWH takes primacy over his ability to answer the questions YHWH poses in these speeches. Experiential reality, not rational speculation, is the foundation of wisdom in this context.

YHWH’s speeches shift the tenor of the book from dialogue to examination. YHWH questions Job and challenges Job to instruct him. The initial emphasis is on Job’s lack of wisdom. However, emphasis gradually shifts from Job’s ignorance to YHWH’s power; this is particularly evident in the shift from “who” questions to YHWH’s direct references to himself as “I,” and then the emphasis on “can you” questions directed at Job beginning in 38:31. Additionally, the focus gradually shifts from Job personally to humanity generally. These shifts in the series of apparently unanswerable questions that YHWH poses to Job seem to be an effort to reorient Job’s perspective to take in the wider purview of creation, to see his suffering as a small issue in the grand scheme of things.

The question remains: Are these speeches an effective response to Job’s complaint? The key point is that Job appears to accept them as such. While the reasons behind the lack of retributive organizing principles in YHWH’s created world are not clearly stated, the affirmation that they are in fact lacking is enough for Job to achieve one of his key goals, his own vindication in the eyes of his friends. It is an interesting compromise. Job still fears God for naught, since his righteousness has not yet been directly affirmed, thus confirming YHWH’s victory in the original wager with the satan; nevertheless, the possibility of Job’s righteousness exists, and Job appears to accept this as his answer. Job may in fact repent, or not; the ambiguity of Job’s response (which we will address in the next section) seems to indicate that YHWH’s confirmation of the bankruptcy of retributive theology, rather than Job’s response to this confirmation, is the central issue here.

THE TEXT IN THE INTERPRETIVE TRADITION

Job’s ultimate response to God in 42:6 has been the subject of much exegetical debate, with many interpreters concluding that the philological ambiguity of the verse is deliberate and so subverts the possibility of closure at the end of the dialogues because these issues cannot be simply resolved. William Morrow identifies three major interpretive possibilities in the meaning of Job’s final statement: “Wherefore I retract [or “I submit”] and I repent on [or “on account of”] dust and ashes”; “Wherefore I reject it [implied object in 42:5], and I am consoled for dust and ashes”; “Wherefore I reject and forswear dust and ashes” (Morrow, 211–12). Another possibility is presented by Leo Perdue (125–26), among others: “I protest, but feel sorry for dust and ashes.” Morrow identifies the major themes of Job’s response in accordance with each translation as repentance, consolation, and rejection, respectively. Perdue’s translation could be termed the “ironic” or “defiant” response. These basic themes accurately categorize the majority of interpretations of this verse.

Like many other issues in the book of Job, the choice of translation of this verse among interpreters rests primarily on thematic rather than philological grounds. The overall theme(s) identified by an interpreter of Job will affect her or his translation of this ambiguous verse, and her or his translation of this verse will deeply affect the identification of overarching themes in the book. Perhaps, as in the case of the use of barak, this ambiguity is a deliberate literary device designed to subvert simplistic resolution.

Some interpretations argue that the message of YHWH’s speeches and Job’s responses is that YHWH’s justice is greater than human justice (Gutiérrez; von Rad 1972); others argue that the beauty of creation is itself consolation for suffering (Gordis); still others argue that the problem is not innocent suffering but proper conduct in the face of suffering (Clines 2006). While commentators disagree on the overall purpose behind the speeches as well as whether they are an effective response to Job, most agree that the speeches contain both confirmation of YHWH’s control over creation and disavowal of retribution as the organizing principle behind YHWH’s created world.

None of these interpreters is able to definitively overcome the challenges posed by the opposite perspective, but the very existence of these counterchallenges is what makes the book itself, and particularly the concluding sections, so endlessly compelling. If, as Clines argues, the book of Job was intended to subvert closure, then we are in agreement with von Rad that “truth can be opposed to truth” and that this dissonant opposition can be a positive rather than a negative factor in biblical interpretation (Clines 1990; von Rad 1972, 312).

THE TEXT IN THE INTERPRETIVE TRADITION

Interpretive tradition raises two primary issues in the epilogue: What is it that Job has spoken which God identifies as “right,” and does Job’s material restoration undermine the idea that it is possible to serve God gratuitously?

On the first question, Daniel Timmer (302–3) argues that Job and the friends are praised and chastised respectively for speaking to God, not of God. The subject of God’s approval is Job’s repentance or turning, and the subject of his disapproval is the friends’ apparent failure to respond in this way to God’s appearance; this is illustrated by Job’s sin offering on their behalf, as Job facilitates their repentance. He sees the book as an example of wisdom pedagogy, both in form and content. Speaking to God not only involves pious submission but also allows for willful rebellion as a means to achieving the ultimate end of reverence for and “attachment to” God, which both undergirds and surpasses the wisdom enterprise (Timmer, 305).

Other interpreters argue that these verses provide the context in which we learn what was really at stake in Job’s struggle: not the understanding or accomplishment of justice, but the understanding and accomplishment of undeserved generosity, as manifested in Job’s prayer for his friends, as well as the acknowledgment of undeserved suffering, in that God does not accuse Job of sin. In this sense, Job has spoken of God what is right (Merkur). Still others see in this affirmation a legitimation of anger and lament as responses to suffering that do not undermine integrity or continued relationship with God (West).

Nam translates Job 42:7 as an argument that Job has spoken of God “constructively.” The issue for him is one of efficacy rather than one of truth. Job’s speeches have afforded God the opportunity to speak in return, and it is this situation rather than the content of Job’s speeches that God affirms.

On the second question, some interpreters evade the issue by arguing that the epilogue was originally a separate story, together with the prologue, and so is not meant to address the issues raised in the dialogues and God’s subsequent speeches. This assumes, unfairly I think, that the author or editor who put the two stories together was not capable of integrating them properly. Other interpreters have proposed more interesting theories. Gutiérrez interprets Job’s restoration as the author(s)’s desire “to give human and material expression of the deep spiritual joy that Job has experienced in his final encounter with God” (12). Clines (2011) argues that it may be the case that Job’s restoration is contingent on his willingness to make the required offering on behalf of his friends. This selfless act is confirmation of Job’s reorientation, and it is that which is the prerequisite of Job’s restoration. Van Wolde (1997, 2002) thinks that Job’s restoration is an argument for a type of righteous hedonism, learning to enjoy the blessings of God rather than being bound by legal structures that attempt to delimit and earn such blessings.

Dan Mathewson argues that the epilogue is evidence of Job’s struggle with “desymbolization” and “resymbolization.” Thus the epilogue is not as simple as it seems; we cannot interpret it in the same symbolic world Job previously inhabited, because the poetic dialogues have intervened between the two. A goal of the survivor of trauma is “symbolic wholeness” or, in Job’s case, “resymbolization,” yet the divine speeches indicate that there can be no stasis in a world where chaos is limited but not eliminated. Perhaps the book of Job indicates that symbolic wholeness itself is impossible; it is not simply the previous symbolic wholeness of Job’s world that is rejected, but any symbolic wholeness at all. Like suffering itself, the book of Job can never be fully synthesized.

It is also significant that this restoration of Job’s wealth and family would have been understood among his friends and detractors as evidence of God’s favor. This public vindication is something that Job has been longing for since the third chapter, and perhaps this is less a material reward for Job than a confirmation of the “rightness” of his behavior, and consequently of the possibility that a sufferer can be righteous and that a mortal can contend with God.