Have you ever read a book that you can’t quite articulate what it’s about? Over the last two weeks, I have been listening to an audiobook called Underland by Robert Macfarlane. To be honest, I went into the book without any kind of knowledge about what it was. The author has recently collaborated with one of my favorite songwriters on an album. I enjoyed the album, and I decided to read his most recent work sight unseen. As I started listening to the book as part of my commute, I realized I didn’t really know much of what it’s about, and as I was explaining it to Clay, I found myself saying things like “well, I think it’s about…geology and cultural geography and definitely anthropology and history…and I guess it’s really a memoir.” He looked at me blankly and said, “Well, do you like it?” To which I thoughtfully responded, “Honestly, I’m not really sure what it is, but it’s interesting, and I want to keep reading it.” In fact, I ran out of time listening to the audiobook; I had 52 minutes left in it when it was abruptly returned to the library. And, you know what? I have no idea how Macfarlane is possibly going to land the plane with the ending. But I still want to keep reading

I could answer with a similar response if someone asked me whether or not I enjoyed reading the book of Job. It’s certainly compelling, but it’s a compelling story because it’s about suffering and loss and adult friendships and difficult conversations and challenges and intimate relationships. To give you a brief synopsis of the book of Job: Job was a righteous man, blessed with a generous share of wealth (think thousands of animals) along with a large family. He was known to be a pious man, always avoiding evil actions. He even threw great parties, Job 1 says. Later in chapter 1, someone or something referred to as the adversary challenges God, asserting that the only reason Job praises God is because of the great fortune Job experiences. As a seeming answer to this challenge through a series of disasters, Job loses all his fortunes and his children, but he never curses God.[1] Job experiences great physical pain and illness to add to his emotional suffering, and his wife goads him, but still Job never curses God.[2] Then Job laments his own suffering in raw honesty, and his friends show up. I use the term friends rather lightly because by all accounts, Job’s friends are the worst. They offer him empty explanations for his suffering – an example: maybe his children were terrible, and he was being punished for their sins. Surely Job himself must have sinned to experience such great punishment, and then they sort of just sit around waiting for Job to die. I wish I could tell Job, so I will clearly offer you some unpastoral advice, if you have friends who are anything like these jokers…get rid of them. Immediately.

Then Job begins to ask questions about justice. Why is it, exactly, that he would experience such suffering when his life has been filled with piety and devotion to God? What kind of God could rule over a creation that was filled with such unfairness, such injustice. Job decides that he would like to challenge God for the injustices being placed upon himself. Dr. Brennan Breed, Associate Professor of Old Testament at Columbia Theological Seminary explains: “After denying his friends’ accusations, he wonders about taking God to court—because in a courtroom, a judge might listen carefully to the testimony of each witness and attempt to reach an impartial verdict (Job 23:1-12). Job hopes that God might be found guilty of cosmic injustice and disorder.”[3] Eventually, God does choose to meet Job face-to-face – or rather – face-to-whirlwind, and thus begins our text today.

This summer, we have been journeying through pieces of wisdom literature – books that include the Psalms, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, the Song of Song, Ecclesiastes and Job. Wisdom literature is a genre of writings that were common in the ancient Near East, and the book of Job include