“Annul the day that I was born” – making sense of an ancient poet in the Book of Job

  Photo credit: Daniel Bezalel Richardsen

 

Having been rebuffed from his original trip from just outside of Boston to the fall 2012 edition of the Writers Fest by nothing short of Hurricane Sandy (cue Sean Wilson’s suggested “the tweet that wrote itself”: #whenbadweatherhappenstogoodrabbis), Ottawa was treated to Rabbi Kushner this spring. The author of numerous titles, but perhaps consigned to eternal recognition of his thoughtful treatise on suffering, ‘ When Bad Things Happen To Good People .’


After his introduction by CBC’s Laurence Wall, the good rabbi intoned that he didn’t suspect that the problem of suffering would have solved itself. A resident of a suburb in Boston for several decades, the audience still had very fresh shock from the Boston Marathon bombings by the Tsaernev brothers. And Rabbi Kushner had a grandson who was barely a mile away from the bomb site at the time of detonation. Horrible as it is, the Rabbi Kushner’s original witticism rings true; no matter when or where, we would hardly have to search far or in vain for a maddening, inexplicable atrocity. Having lost a young son to the disease of progeria (a rare disease that causes rapid aging), Rabbi Kushner confessed that suffering is a something that “continues to oppress me.”

 

This is what has led Rabbi Kushner to write a biography of the Book of Job for the excellent Jewish Encounters series of Schocken. A book elsewhere reviewed in fine form for the Writers Festival.

 

The book of Job in the Hebrew Bible is one of the oldest books in the scriptural canon, and indeed of literature, and according to Rabbi Kushner is “the only serious theological book on the nature of God [in Jewish scripture].” While this may perhaps be an overreach (the minor prophets of Hosea, Jonah, and Habakkuk all deal with the nature of God in a bold, heterodox way), there is great deal of truth in the special resonance of Job. He approaches the book in the manner of Rabbi Heschel, who wrote that “the Bible is not Man’s theology but God’s anthropology, less about who God is and more about who human beings ought to be.”

 

A great translator of the Hebrew scripture, Robert Alter, writes that

 

The Book of Job is in several ways the most mysterious book of the Hebrew Bible. Formally, as a sustained debate in poetry, it resembles no other text in the canon…Its astounding poetry eclipses all other…

 

Rabbi Kushner likened it to a hybrid of a serious work of philosophy and a Shakespearean tragedy. To get a sense of the unsettling verse, here is a small sample from Chapter 3 in Alter’s ringing translation:

 

3 Annul the day that I was born

                        and the night that said, “A man is conceived.”

4 That day let it be darkness.

                        Let God above not seek it out,

                                    nor brightness shine upon it.

9 Let its twilight stars go dark.

                        Let it hope for day in vain,

                                    And let it not see the eyelids of dawn.

 

Those are the forlorn words of Job, an innocent man whose is afflicted with suffering from a wager that God makes with Satan to test whether Job’s righteousness can remain steadfast when he suffers unbearable lost and torment.

 

Rabbi Kushner makes a fairly astonishing judgement on the Book of Job as a Conservative rabbi – he asks readers to completely discount the first two and the final chapters in Job. While scholars dispute the unity of the book, the difference in tone is evident even to the observant lay reader. The core of the book, Rabbi Kushner terms as “Poem” with the aforementioned jettisoned portions are called “Fable.”

 

Two forces present in the world are identified. One is Behemoth, and the other Leviathan.

 

Behemoth is said to be the “id” that consists of lust and desire, chiefly responsible for the misery in the world. Yet this is also seen as necessary. A selfless world would be a world without loyalty or interests or a choice to do good. Rabbit Kushner illustrates this idea succinctly with a Talmudic tale.

 

One day in a certain village, they captured the yetzer ha-ra (selfishness) and imprisoned it. They said, From now on, our world will be Paradise. No one will ever do anything wrong. The next day, we are told, no one opened his store for business, no one bought or sold anything, no marriages were arranged, and no babies were conceived. All those activities, it turns out, contain an element of selfishness, without which the world could not function. (pg. 75)

 

Leviathan on the other hand, is the “spirit of chaos” that acts in sync with the natural world. For according to Rabbi Kushner, “God is moral, Nature is not.” For all the dismissal of theology as mere “intellectual Sudoku,” there is still a yearning for God that is at the root of Rabbi Kushner’s message.

 

After Job hears God address/respond to him, he says

 

By the ear’s rumor I heard of You,

                        and now my eye has seen You.

Therefore do I recant,

                        And I repent in dust and ashes.

 

The reason why this is the key portion of this whole book is that it affirms the fact that in spite of all that ails us with and during our mortal coils, the presence of God alone suffices. Rabbi Kushner essentially paraphrases this passage to mean “Now mine eyes have seen You, and I withdraw my complaints. Vulnerable mortal that I am, I am comforted.”

 

Mark Noll, in reviewing Luhrmann’s ‘When God Talks Back’ in The New Republic , made the following observation:

 

And how can believers keep on believing when they pray to a supposedly generous God for children to be healed and yet they die, for marriages to survive and yet they fall apart, for careers to take shape and they never do? It is because for those who have come to practice the presence of God, it is not what the presence offers, but the presence itself, that has become most important.

 

There remained many questions – and how could there not be? – on the place of miracles, the interpretation of scriptural texts, and the reality that this is fundamentally a mystery. Rabbi Kushner mentions C.S. Lewis as a person who went through a transformation from his The Problem of Pain , a largely apologetic work, to A Grief Observed , when he is faced with the profound loss of a belated love barely held for a few happy years. That we will experience pain and be indelibly marked by it is certain. Rabbi Kushner reaffirms that there is a benevolent, transcendent God, who offers us Himself. Often no more, and just as often, no less.