~~/*\~~ Mahala ~~/*\~~
Mahala had to admit, it was nice having the company of the young people again.
Job’s name held no authority anymore. But Salim had been able to convince people to come to the shrine with their problems. She knew Job would be furious if she became a Priestess to Baal-Uz, but she was deliberately not thinking about that. She hadn’t taken part in any of the rituals or prayers that Salim demonstrated at the Shrine.
At first, it was just a break. A place where she could sleep, and change clothes, and not be surrounded by memories of everyone she had lost. It was the first day in a lifetime where she wasn’t ostracized, safe in her rooms at Salim’s house. But after a few days, Salim had begun bringing in young people.
Etrizi was the first. She came in, looking haggard and hungry.
Having eaten and slept properly for the first time in weeks, Mahala went right to work, preparing her a bath and some food. While Etrizi rested, Mahala cleaned her clothing.
The next day, Etrizi told Mahala her story in the meeting room, over a morning meal. “My father arranged a marriage for me when I first came of age. He was a merchant. And he was good to me, but his work meant he was gone for much of the year. A few months ago, I received word that my husband had been killed by bandits on the road.”
Mahala gave her a hug. “I’m so sorry.”
Etrizi nodded, returning the hug. “Thank you. I don’t believe you were there, but when Bildad heard I was descended from Abraham too, he brought up my problem with the wise men in the City…
“Etrizi! Of course.” Mahala said in sudden recognition. “My husband Job mentioned your plight to me. I understand he was offering financial support until you found your footing-” Mahala’s mouth shut suddenly when she realized what that meant. With Job ruined, Etrizi was on her own again. “Oh.”
Etrizi looked up at her with huge, scared eyes. “The wisest men in town are convinced Job is being punished for something. What if it’s not him? What if it’s me? What if Job was struck because he helped me after-”
Mahala’s maternal instinct hadn’t been so powerful since the trials began, and she immediately shushed the young woman. “Nono, sweet girl.” She promised. “None of this is your fault. You have endured a terrible loss. Terrible enough that blaming yourself has no purpose, and no benefit.”
Etrizi withdrew into herself a bit, coiling her arms around her body. “I just don’t see how things can ever recover anymore.”
Mahala responded automatically. “Not today. Maybe tomorrow you will. You won’t know until you get there.”
“Doesn’t seem like much to hope for.” Etrizi looked down, unsure; and Mahala looked after her for the rest of the day; giving food and reassurance.
~~/*\~~
Anixar came in soon after. His arm was bandaged; blood seeping through.
Mahala went to work again, tending to his injuries. Fresh cloth and clean water was on hand, stocked by Salim and other acolytes. To keep him distracted while she washed out his wounds, she got him to tell his own story.
“My father and I were shepherds,” He explained. “But a storm spooked our flocks, and drove them into the mountains. My father and I had to hurry to find them. Most had fallen into crevasses, others had been trampled by each other, some had been set upon by predators.” He gestured at his bloody arm as she peeled the bandages away. “That’s how I got this. In less than a week, our flock was brought to almost nothing. My father supported us by providing meat and wool and stock to others, and it took everything we had left to pay their debts.”
“Where is your father now?” Mahala asked as she re-bandaged his arm.
“Trying to find someone who can restock what’s left.” Anixar sounded exhausted by the whole thing. “We had hoped to come to Job; for help restoring our flocks. He was well known for being generous, especially to those in need. But by the time we got here… Well, I’m sure you’ve heard what happened to him.”
“You could say that.” Mahala drawled, tying off the bandage. “I’m Job’s wife.”
Anixar’s eyes flashed. “Oh.” He sank into himself, embarrassed. “Sorry.”
Mahala was ashamed to admit she’d forgotten these people entirely. Job was the most prosperous man for hundreds of miles. He supported many people in need. “No, it’s alright. You’re having a terrible week. You can say whatever you want to, if it helps.”
“I just… can’t believe things could turn so bad, so fast.” Anixar sounded lost. “What did we do wrong?”
“Nothing.” Mahala assured him. “Life can be like that sometimes. Nothing is promised to us, good or bad. Life can send both things at you without warning. But the bad things don’t make the good things worse, and the good things don’t always protect you against the bad.”
“Well, I guess you would know.” Anixar commented wryly. “If it’s not too late to say it, I’m sorry for your losses as well.”
And Mahala almost forgot to breathe. For almost an entire day, she’d been helping people with their problems, offering comfort for their suffering. None of them had gone through anything half as terrible or extreme as her own household. But in their cases it was easy to see the reasoning. Life wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t easy. It was unreasonable to expect preferential treatment from random chance. She had been able to say so when it was someone else’s problem.
The realization that she could see other people’s problems more clearly than her own sent a wave of shame through her. Job had tried to tell her the same words about their own suffering, and she had lashed out.
And why shouldn’t you? A little voice said in her head. You’ve lost everything you ever loved. And because of Job, you can’t even rebuild...
And while she had been wallowing in such thoughts for weeks, this time she pushed it away. Having perspective on other people’s lives and problems so clearly had caught her off guard about her own.
“Can I ask you both something?” Mahala said suddenly. “Why are you here?”
Etrizi looked away from the shrine, which she’d been eyeing with suspicion. “What do you mean? We’ve both told you-”
“You both told me why you needed help. Why’d you come here?”
“The Acolyte.” Anixar said. “Salim told me that there was somewhere to turn when our own gods turned their back on us. He gave me enough money to purchase some food for my family, and told me to come here.”
“That’s more or less how it went for me, too.” Etrizi added. “He told me that the gods were trying to get my attention by demonstrating their power over my life.”
Empty words. Mahala thought automatically. The belief that you can get your way all the time if you do everything right. That doesn’t work. Not in real life.
Is that all it takes? She wondered. Empty words and a little money to the desperate?
“So, what brought you here?” Etrizi asked Mahala, guileless.
“Mahala is here for the same reason you all are.” A voice declared profoundly, and the three of them turned to see Salim at the door. The Acolyte to Baal walked in and bowed respectfully at the shrine, before turning to face them. “The gods do not give lightly of their bounty, my friends. They require our appreciation; as is their right as the source of harvests, and prosperity. All life, in fact. Have you thanked Baal for his generosity?”
Etrizi and Anixar both glanced at Mahala when he asked the question. Mahala said nothing, feeling something cold crawl up her spine.
Salim didn’t push, not directly. He turned to the Shrine, and bowed before it, lighting the incense candles, and beginning praying by rote. His voice was rolling with power and confidence in the ritual prayers to Baal. He was so certain about it that the others almost followed his lead instinctively. But both young ones, descended from Abraham, uncertain of the rules, wondering if he was right, turned to Mahala. She was older, and experienced, and married to one of the patriarchs of Uz, no matter that she had lost her children.
Because I lost them in fact. Mahala realized. If I bow to the statue, I’m telling them that Jehovah couldn’t save my children, and that I am turning to a new god for help instead.
And why shouldn’t you? That cunning, cold voice came to her from somewhere. Jehovah didn’t save your babies. That’s why you’re here. Does He deserve your faith now? Why shouldn’t you turn to another god?
Mahala looked down at the clothes Salim had left for her when he took her in a week before. She hadn’t even noticed it, but even without icons or images sewn into the cloth, they were the same colors that the Acolyte wore. She was essentially dressed as a servant of Baal.
Etrizi and Anixar were still, unconsciously swaying in time with Salim as he rocked, and sang praises to the statue; waiting for something to break the stalemate. Salim raised himself to his knees, and turned his head to look back at Mahala, holding out a hand to her with a warm, welcoming smile…
…And Mahala ran from the room, tearing at her new clothes hurriedly.
~~/*\~~
Dressed back in her old, dusty sackcloth, which was still torn from her mourning rituals, she almost ran through town, hurrying to the road that would take her back to Job, and their home.
If he’s still there. She thought desperately. He was in such dire health the last time I saw him. He might even be dead…
And then she saw Arit coming the other way along the road, and slowed to a fast walk, glad to see a familiar face. Arit’s face changed when he saw her; suddenly relieved as they came close enough to speak. “My lady! Are you alright? Job said it’s been almost a week since he’s seen you, and-”
“Is he alive?” Mahala asked immediately. “Has there been any change?”
“No, no change.” Arit admitted. “He was convinced you had left him too.”
Mahala covered her face with one hand. “Of course he was. I’m so ashamed. I… I had to get away from that house, but-”
Arit held up both hands immediately, not even asking. “It’s not my place to ask, Ma’am. Job will be happy to see you again, no question. I’ve only been able to make a few visits over the last several days. Some of his companions from the City spent a week in mourning nearby. They were still there this morning.” He gestured at his empty satchel. “I thought it would be wise to leave him in the care of his closest friends, while I made an extra food run.”
Mahala smiled a bit, despite herself. “You still consider yourself our attendant, don’t you, Arit? You haven’t worked for us in weeks, but you still keep coming back, even when your livelihood depends on you forgetting we exist.”
Arit was silent for a long moment, thinking back on the last words he had spoken with Elihu. “It’s like the whole world has forgotten who he is. This calamity has taken up a few weeks. A few weeks out of a lifetime. How has everyone forgotten so quickly? He is still the man who took me in when I needed a home and a job. He hasn’t suddenly become someone else just because he needs help now. Though all the world seems to have forgotten, he’s still the same man we loved a month ago.”
(Author’s Note: The 8/15 2001 Watchtower had a Questions From Readers article, asking ‘For How Long A Period of Time Did Job Suffer?’
The scriptures confirm that the loss of his family and wealth all happened in the same day. But the later trials would have taken longer. The scriptures don’t specify how long it took Job’s boils to spread from head to toe, or how long he had them. The article says ‘Job’s suffering and its resolution may have occurred within a few months, perhaps less than a year.’
The article reached this conclusion because if Bildad was in his own home territory, it could have taken months for word of Job’s plight to reach him, though he might already have been in Job’s vicinity when it started.
Since the Bible has no specific timeline on the matter, I chose to compress it down to a few weeks. In my story, the three false comforters were all close by, and Elihu was coming to town, unaware of all of this. The reason for this is that I wanted to underline how brutal a turn in fortune he experienced when under attack, and how rich his blessings were when the trial ended. Making it so sudden was part of the attack.
The 2001 WT article also says: ‘You may know from experience that difficult trials seem to last forever. Yet, we must not forget that they do end, as did Job’s.’)
Mahala nodded, as though that was the most profound thing she’d ever heard. “Yes.” She agreed emotionally. “Yes, he is.” She fished out the last of the money she had received at the Shrine and gave it all to him. “Get food for everyone. If we have guests, we should at least attempt to offer them some hospitality.”
He smiled, taking it. “So. You’re back?”
“I’m back.”
~~/*\~~
Job was sleeping fitfully. According to Eliphaz, this had been the way of it for days now. Job had tried to engage them in conversation, but had run out of strength quickly.
“From the state of him, it’s clear that he’s not having good meals, or restful sleep.” Bildad put in. “That alone can break a man’s spirit.”
“Then we should feed him.” Elihu put in.
Bildad didn’t seem to hear him. “He still insists he is blameless, or so I hear. I understand why. Refusing all responsibility for your sins is to absolve yourself. But it isn’t real. Only cowards do that, and God wouldn’t tolerate such things.”
“Job isn’t cowardly.” Elihu said, but his voice had dropped. Nobody was listening to him anyway. It wasn’t the first time Elihu had experienced this. The wisdom of the elders usually took precedence over anything the young had to offer.
Elihu didn’t like it, but he couldn’t say anything. Not until they had spoken their piece.
Eliphaz sighed. “It’s been a week, as tradition demands. Are we putting him straight, or not?”
“We are.” Bildad said. “We have to. It’s the act of a friend, to tell a man when he’s going to kill himself. Why else would God have spared him this long, if not to see if he’d listen to us?”
Elihu felt his jaw drop, just a little.
~~/*\~~ Cory ~~/*\~~
Cory was looking through his refrigerator, trying to decide if he had anything worth preparing for lunch. Saturday Night Dinner was at his house this week, and that meant he had to prepare the best dinner he could, for his parents to inevitably disapprove of.
While he did so, he spoke on the phone with Bud. They spoke often, offering each other support during difficult times, when addictions and disquieting, intrusive thoughts roared a little louder than usual.
“How’s your religion thing going?” Bud asked over the speakerphone.
“Not sure, to be honest.” Cory sighed, chopping vegetables. “I’m learning things I never expected, and I haven’t been able to fault the lessons yet. The people who are teaching me are… kind. They’re a little pushy, but they’re not hypocritical.”
“These days, that’s more than you usually find in a church.” Bud commented wryly. “I’m glad it helps. One of the twelve steps is admitting we don’t have the power over our vices, and looking for a higher power to restore you to sanity. Except a lot of people don’t believe in higher powers anymore. The thing about overcoming your weaknesses is that sometimes you need something stronger and more important than yourself to motivate you.”
Cory hesitated, knife pausing. “All the talk about ‘God’s Love’? I just… I can’t help but think ‘since when’?”
Bud smirked. “A lot of that kinda feeling in the twelve step programs too. I know. I’m in three of them.”
“And all three of them don’t mind that you’re a devout atheist.” Cory observed. “You think it’s possible for mortal men such as us to be loved by a perfect, all-powerful God?”
Bud took the question seriously. “My wife still loves me, even after all the $&#!$% I’ve put her and the kids through. I’ve heard an earful from you every time you have to bail your brother out of a jam. You still love him?”
“I do.” Cory admitted.
“I don’t claim to be very religious. In fact, when I was your age, I never believed in much of anything I couldn’t drink, shoot-up, or smoke.” Bud said, world-weary. “But I figure if humans can love you anyway, then maybe someone better than us can.”
“If errors were what you watch, then who could stand?”
Bud paused. “I know that quote. Worded a little differently, but it’s biblical, right?”
“Psalms. One of them, anyway.”
“So, you’re paying attention in class then.” Bud teased lightly.
“I don’t know.” Cory sighed. “They’re definitely… preparing me. All the studies are geared towards asking personal questions. Confronting ones, sometimes.”
“The nerve.” Bud drawled. “Is blind faith that doesn’t require thought or effort so much to ask for?”
Cory gave a bitter smile, searching though his vegetable crisper. “Something I’ve noticed about this particular group? They don’t look the other way. When I was a kid, I stayed with my neighbor when things got tense at home. The neighbors' family had kids my age, so we pretended it was a playdate.”
“Pretended?”
“It’s not like anyone in the street didn’t know when my dad was drinking.” Cory excused. “The kids in that house didn’t like me, but they were under orders from their own parents to pity me, so I got to play videogames with them for a while.” He almost smiled, telling the story. “One day, while we were playing games, their father threw a poker game with his friends. Their family pastor, believe it or not, was a regular. Wore his ‘lucky collar’ when he was dealing the cards.”
Bud laughed.
“I was a kid at the time, so I didn’t think much of it. But looking back… Isn’t gambling a sin? The guys around that table were talking about their girlfriends, and how to avoid ‘getting hooked’ when they wanted to get married… The pastor was laughing at all the dirty jokes with the rest of them. Isn’t that frowned upon?”
“I’ve heard stories about churches holding monster truck rallies, rock concerts, church groups sponsoring trips to Reno for the bingo ladies…” Bud shook his head. “It’s a business, like any other. They gotta get butts in the pews somehow.”
Cory laughed, and pulled out his kitchen scales, measuring ingredients. “Can’t really picture Jesus doing stuff like that.”
“I dunno, the Romans were all about Gladiator fights and Orgies. Who knows which parts they left out of the Gospels?” Bud moved on, not really interested in talking about religion. “You wanna hang out tonight? We could always head up to the lake, do some fishing, and make a weekend of it.”
“Believe me, I’d love to.” Cory groaned. “There’s truly nothing I want to do more than get in a car and leave the city as fast as possible for the next 48 hours.”
“Oh, that’s right. It’s Family Dinner night.” Bud suddenly remembered. “Any chance you can beg off?”
“Bud, I would truly love to have that particular superpower.” Cory drawled. “But I already used my ‘pass’ when I threw my back out. They’re not going to let me skip two dinners in a row.”
“Right.” Bud huffed a little into the phone, breathing heavier. “I’ll… I’ll find someone.”
~~/*\~~
Saturday Night Dinner was never a relaxed affair. Peyton usually didn’t notice. He had begun a speech about something when he walked in, and the topic had shifted from the economy, to the next election, to the state of the roads during the drive.
Dwight and Cory tuned him out. Their father didn’t actually require other people for conversation.
Once the meal was served, their father paused long enough to chew, and their mother asked the boys about their own lives. “Are you still on sick leave?”
“Actually, it’s mandated.” Cory admitted. “I had to file some paperwork with Human Resources about the job, and the kind of work I was doing. When they found out I was helping out in a lot of other places, they mandated some physical therapy, and more time off.”
“Worried about lawsuits.” Peyton drawled. “They found out you were doing more work than they paid you for, and they suddenly realized it could cost them if you hurt your back doing it.”
Cory twitched. “I got a call from the boss, actually. He mentioned that he hadn’t realized how often I was filling in. He said I was more ‘indispensable’ than he thought.” He felt a smile tugging futile at the memory of praise. “Honest. That’s what he said.”
Peyton rolled his eyes. “Well, congratulations.”
Cory tensed. He was waiting for it. Waiting for the lecture. Waiting for the reminder that he was in a terrible job. The reminder that it was all his fault, because he hadn’t listened.
Dwight knew it was coming too, and he jumped in. “Oh, did I mention? I heard from Bruce the other day.”
Sabrina responded quickly, also expecting an argument. “Bruce? Remind me.”
“My old college roomie.” Dwight explained. “He’s back in town, and wanted to get all the old friends together to catch up, have a guys night out.”
“And you told him ‘no’, of course.” His father scoffed, as though the idea was laughable.
Sabrina saw it coming too, and tried to move the subject along. “What kind of night did you have planned?”
“There’s a boxing match at the casino. Our friend Ash managed to snag a few tickets. Prime Rib, blackjack.” He grinned. “It’ll be fun.”
“You did tell him ‘no’, didn’t you?” Peyton repeated, frowning.
Dwight was surprised at the reaction. “...why would I?”
No! Wrong answer! Cory thought swiftly.
“Are you serious? I remember what your old friends consider a ‘fun night out’.” His father scorned. “I remember bailing you out of jail on DUI charges. I remember-”
“Bruce was driving.” Dwight said over him. “I wasn’t charged-”
“Not then. But when you were in college-”
“Yes, I drank beer in college.” Dwight snapped back, getting worked up. “So did everyone else.”
“With your family history, it’s out of the question.” Peyton was settling into ‘lecture’ mode. “I’ve warned you over and over again about ‘relapse triggers’. Places and people that have always led to drinking in the past is the first and foremost one.”
“You call them ‘relapse triggers’, I call them ‘friends’.” Dwight said heatedly. “If memory serves, you weren’t all that ‘responsible’ back then either, but I managed to pass my exams. Yes, we went out to mixers and parties. You know what else we did? We helped each other graduate. We had all night study sessions. We went to ball games. Saw bad movies. Went on road trips. Had double dates.” Dwight spread his hands wide. “Those people were my life, even after we graduated. Those people were my world for almost six years.” Dwight shook his head. “I’m not going to cut them out. We’ve drifted apart enough already, just from normal life. They know I don’t drink anymore. None of them are going to make a hassle out of it. None of them will even offer.”
“No, they won’t. Because you won’t be there.” Peyton said again, matter of fact, as if they were discussing the weather.
“You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?” Dwight sighed, deflating into himself, defeated.
“I heard every word.” His father told him. “But it makes no difference. I know those guys. I know the type. Teenagers who drink together become young men who drink together, and when they see each other, they know that the night starts with beer, and ends with more beer. It happened to me, and it’ll happen to you. You’ve worked hard to get out of that cycle, and you’re not going back into it.”
“Dad, these aren’t college kids. They’re grown men with families and jobs and lives. Men who happened to have gone to college. Just like me.” Dwight’s voice was flat. “And by the way, I’m in my 30’s, dad. You don’t get to pick my friends for me.”
“I see my son driving towards a cliff, I’m going to take the wheel before he hurts himself.” Peyton said firmly. “Boys, I know you’re both sick of hearing the speech, but I’ll stop giving it when you learn.”
Dwight and Cory traded a look. Settle in. He’s just getting started.
“I know it’s a hard ask. I know, because I’ve done it. Believe me, I was in a far worse state than both of you put together, and now I can say I’ve achieved what I needed to.” Peyton proclaimed. “I can say that, because I put in the work, and I cut all the ‘undesirable elements’ out of my life. If you boys can do the same, then you’ll know what a good choice it is. You’ll be able to face yourselves in the mirror, and make me and your mother proud. You want to know when I’ll treat you like men? Follow my lead. Live clean, upright lives. I wasn’t really a father to you until I made that change. Follow my example, and you won’t have to make my mistakes.”
Dwight and Cory kept eating. They’d heard this speech so many times they could recite it from memory.
~~/*\~~
By chance, his father’s speech was echoing in Cory’s thoughts the next day, when he was studying with Marco. They met during their lunch break, eating at a nearby diner. They were hardly the only ones eating with one hand, and holding a tablet or phone with the other.
At first, Cory had wondered if it was a crazy idea, holding a Bible Study over lunch. It was sure to draw scorn from the rest of the Diner. Someone had come over to laugh at them on their first study, and Marco had smiled broadly, and begun preaching earnestly to the heckler right away. Their visitor had backed away quickly, and those that watched giggled at the whole thing, but nobody bothered them again.
And in a case of the worst kind of timing, Marco was leading him through a study on the subject of ‘following good examples’.
“As 1 Peter 2:21 says: ‘In fact, to this course you were called, because even Christ suffered for you, leaving a model for you to follow his steps closely’.” Marco said, turning his Bible to show Cory the verse. “Following in someone’s footsteps is a pretty clear image. My wife once described the world as a minefield. As long as you’re following someone’s footsteps closely, you’re safe. Following the right person means you’re safer than any other way you can go.”
Cory considered that for a moment, eating his salad absently. “Yeah, but isn’t that the slogan for every campaign, every election? ‘Follow me, but not anyone else’?”
Marco grinned. “And what could men do, but hope to imitate leadership that good?” He reasoned. “When I started researching this afternoon’s study, I looked up terms like ‘follow the example’. I found hundreds of references to Jesus in our literature. One or two warnings about getting involved with bad examples-”
Just then, the waitress came by to collect their empty glasses. The two of them fell silent until they were alone again. “The Bible isn’t a book of platitudes. It’s a lot of things. For one, it’s a history book.” Marco continued, tapping at his screen. “All that history is recorded for a reason. As it says in Romans 15:4: ‘For all the things that were written beforehand were written for our instruction, so that through our endurance and through the comfort from the Scriptures we might have hope’.”
Cory’s first instinct was to reject that, but he hid it behind a bite of food. He’d come to suspect that this was why they studied on their lunch break, over food. It was a way to break up the conversation without forcing anything, or any awkwardness.
“No offense, Marco...” He settled on finally. “But I don’t think the best example to follow in life are a bunch of people who lived thousands of years ago. The world has changed somewhat?”
“Has it?” Marco challenged. “Culture’s changed, but people haven’t. You’ve been studying the Bible with me for a while now. You’ve heard stories of Kings who turned away from doing right, fishermen called away to follow their spiritual need rather than financial security, people who lost everything and still survived… Are these not the stories we see today?” He tapped the verse he’d just read. “‘All things written’ doesn’t just apply to the good examples, you know.”
There was another short silence as Cory returned to his meal for a minute, processing that. “How many people actually follow good examples first?” He asked finally, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “I’ve learned that you have to hit bottom before you can ‘become good’.”
“You don’t have to. Many do. But some see the warning signs and don’t ignore them. If you see a ‘Wet Paint’ sign, you might learn better if you touch it, but you don’t have to do so automatically, just to be contrary, do you?” Marco offered. “Something I’ve always loved about Jehovah God was that He still brought people back, no matter how far off the road they usually went.”
“I don’t buy that.” Cory said quietly. “I don’t like the idea that you never have to face the consequences.”
“It’s not about getting away with things. It’s about how God sees you.” Marco assured him. “If God was watching our sins, nobody could measure up. But God sees what we could be, if we came back to Him.”
Cory looked unconvinced.
“I’ll give you an example.” He tapped at his screen. “I told you about how most of the ‘Christian’ half of the Bible is made up of letters to the early congregations? Well, those letters were almost uniformly written by a man named Paul, who was considered the 13th Apostle by a lot of people. He went international, and was instrumental in making Christianity open to everyone. Not just Israel. He taught the story of the Ransom to people who had never heard of it before.” He opened up the verse. “One of his more popular quotes in the literature was 1 Corinthians 11:1: “Become imitators of me, just as I am of Christ.”
“...Okay.” Cory said, unsure of where this was going.
“But his name was originally Saul.” Marco said with a grin. “And before he became a believer in Christ, he was the Pharisee most responsible for shutting down the early Christians. He led the charge in arresting and tormenting the Brothers. But Jesus looked at him, and saw a Witness to ‘The Nations’.
“He was running the inquisition, and God decided to put him in charge?” Cory couldn’t believe that. “And he goes and tells the whole lot of them that he was the ‘example’ of holiness to follow for all the new immature ones?”
“He was telling people to follow his example, because he’d completely changed his life. That change was incredibly positive for himself, and for the world.” Marco explained. “Remember the very next words: ‘As I am of Christ’. The great part about warning examples from the ‘reformed sinners’ is that you won’t have to-”
“-won’t have to make his mistakes.” Cory finished for him.
“Right.” Marco noticed Cory’s plate. “You want your olives?”
Marco didn’t know it, but Cory had been flashing back to his father’s ‘holier-than-thou’ speech from the night before, reliving it for almost half the study. A moment later he was reliving every put-down, every cruel or cutting remark from his parents…
...and something that had been simmering the whole weekend finally boiled over. “Y’know what, $%&! this!”
The noise in the Diner dropped dramatically at the eruption, but it only lasted for a moment before everyone went on with their eating.
Marco blinked, nonplussed. “Fine. Keep the olives.”
“The Bible is two words long: ‘Do not’.” Cory hissed, embarrassed at making a scene in public, but he felt it all come pouring out anyway. “Do not fight. Do not drink. Do not cuss. Do not lie. Do not smoke. Do not lust. Do not look. Do not touch. Don’t even think. Just don’t. Don’t. Don’t.”
Marco was silent for a moment, trying to understand the transformation, and the fury behind it. “Cory...”
Cory shook his head. “No. I’m done with this. I’m done with this whole study.” He complained, feeling the rage simmering. “It’s got nothing to do with ‘right and wrong’. It’s just another way for rotten old people to make themselves feel like they’re holier than everyone else. God’s a kid with an ant farm, and there’s no way to know one ant from another. Not really.”
Marco looked stunned at the sudden shift, and heartbroken at his viewpoint. “Cory-”
Cory stood, getting ready to leave. “I never feared God’s judgment, until you came along and told me there was going to be a judgment against the whole world. All the things God must have seen the human race do? I’m pretty sure I’m nothing in comparison. And I’ll stand before God Himself, if He never bothers to notice me, and say the same.”
~~/*\~~ Job ~~/*\~~
“Have I ever been in fear of the multitudes?!” Job raged at the three people he’d once called his friends. “Have I ever had a reason to be? You come here and accuse me?! Let God judge me with His accurate scales. He will recognize my integrity.”
Zophar drew himself straight as Job kept ranting. “I had hoped we could reason about this as civilized men.” He drawled. “But I fear the ‘civilization’ has been driven out of you.”
The implication was clear. Job was less than an animal compared to them now. Sitting in the dust, scratching at his sores with a shard of broken pottery, it was hard not to see him as sub-human. Even so, Job snarled with biting scorn. “Well, I’d hate to think I might have offended you.”
“Think about what we’ve said.” Eliphaz said, also offended by Job’s attack. “After all, we’re not in the wrong here, are we? God hasn’t taken anything from us. We haven’t done anything to deserve it.”
“Neither. Have. I.” Job raged, frustration making him ready to weep. He had no tears left. He’d finally run out. “Why won’t anyone listen to me?! I would sign my name to every word I have said. Let the Almighty answer me! Write these charges against me, and I’ll fashion them into a crown. I would give God an accounting for every step, with the confidence of a Prince-”
(Author’s Note: I’m paraphrasing. All their speeches went on for several bible chapters. While I make it a point never to change the Bible in these stories, I have limited some of the words of Job and his accusers to make them easier to read. The complete text is available in the Bible.)
“ENOUGH!”
Job actually jumped, looking back to see Elihu was still there, sitting discreetly on the fence. The younger man had clearly been doing a slow boil. “I’ve been sitting here quietly, because as my elders, it’s inappropriate for me to speak above you. But after listening to the four of you tear into each other for the last half hour, I’m sorry: I must speak.” He made the pronouncement like he was speaking directly on behalf of God. “You’re all wrong.” He stared down the three wise men of Uz. “I’ve listened to you tearing this man down for his sins, but I’ve not heard even one of you refute his arguments. The fact that you claim to be speaking on behalf of God doesn’t make you right. It makes you arrogant, for you also insist that God’s justice is beyond all human power.”
Job was about to say something, when Elihu rounded on him, not finished. “And you. I’m prepared to listen to any arguments you can find against what I say, but I’ve been listening to you proclaim your self-righteousness; and I know you’d have no patience for that from anyone else. You think that God has declared Himself to be your enemy for no reason? Job, you know that God, of all people, understands what it’s like when nobody will hear His words. And if one person in a thousand stands up for Him, Jehovah will reward and remember that one.” Elihu spread his hands open. “I learned that from you!”
Job winced, pulling back a bit.
~~/*\~~
“This is turning into a war.” Mahala observed from the window, rapt.
Having returned with more food, Arit nodded. “I’d love to stay and watch, but I can’t. Vede has said, in no uncertain terms, that if I’m ever spotted back here, I’m finished in town. Those three have seen me already. Best I get back before they think it’s worth remarking on later.”
Mahala nodded. “Go out the other door. I’ll… draw their attention, at just the right moment.” At his look, she explained. “As the woman of the household, my job is to support my husband when he’s surrounded by polite enemies, and I’ve been lax in that duty for a week. I’m needed now more than ever, it seems. It’s all a matter of timing. I go out there, and I either get drawn into their argument, or I cut it off. The trick is figuring out when they’ve finished their main thought, without starting another. It reins them in. A good wife is a master of this tactic.”
Amused, Arit wished her luck and slipped out the back of the house.
~~/*\~~
Elihu had no idea where the words were coming from. He’d been going for longer than he thought possible. “Understanding the Almighty is beyond our reach. He is great in power, and He never violates His justice and abundant righteousness. Therefore, people should fear Him. Jehovah does not favor any who think that they are wise.”
In the wake of this speech, everyone suddenly went silent, unsure of what to do next.
Mahala stepped out of the house as though she’d been there the whole time, and stepped up next to her husband. “Honored sirs.” She said evenly, ignoring the way Job jumped at her presence. “I was going to ask if you had been planning to stay, but given what I’ve been hearing, I’m sure you wouldn’t want to risk it. After all, you have your own positions to consider. I’d be a poor host if I demanded you stay and enjoy what little hospitality I could still offer to the most noble, and righteous men in town.”
Her tone was slight enough that nobody could accuse her of sarcasm, but the choice of words made it clear where she stood, and she was still their hostess.
The three elders, men that Job had once called his friends, all turned to begin their return walk to the city. Job glared after them as they went, but deflated immediately. There was no help coming. Not from anyone. Instead, he turned back to Mahala. “You’re back?”
“I’m back.” She nodded, breath shaking a little. “I never should have left. It just got to be too much. I’m ashamed of how I was with you a week ago, my love. Please forgive me?”
“I forgave you the minute we were done barking at each other, Mahala.” Job hissed, adjusting his posture to try and soothe the pain. “When you left, I thought you’d given up on me completely. I would have come after you, but I kept falling down again every time I tried to stand up.”
Mahala teared up. “When you lose your children, you aren’t a mother anymore.” She whispered. “I went somewhere where nobody accused me of bringing a curse on my own babies. But even if it helped to get away, I couldn’t outrun that. I left because I was suddenly in a house without our children, and it felt so desperately lonely in our own room.” There was nowhere on his face that her hands could settle without causing pain, but she took his swollen, wretched face between her hands and looked deep in his eyes. Even dulled with pain, those were the eyes she knew so well. “Except I was there, but you weren’t; and I felt even lonelier. I’ve lost everyone I love, except for you.”
It was the first time anyone had made physical contact with him since his illness started, and he rocked a little on his aching feet. “You asked me once, what I was holding on for-” He caught her hands as she winced in shame. “Nono, it’s okay. I was angry when I lashed out, but I never answered you. I’m holding on because I still hope things can get better.”
“...how?” Mahala couldn’t help but ask. “What are you waiting for?”
“Well. Until half an hour ago, I was hoping that my wife still loved me.” Job admitted. “Then you came back, and that hope came true. So things are better already.”
Mahala let the tears fall. “It broke me.” She confessed. “Whatever this is, you didn’t break. I did. I let myself forget that there was something other than suffering and loss in our life. How could I forget that? After a life with you, how could I do that?”
“My love, you’ve survived so much pain it’s amazing you’re still upright, let alone still here with me.” Job promised. “That’s my ultimate hope. That whatever good is broken, it can still be mended.”
“Amen.” A younger voice said gently.
They both jumped, and turned to see Elihu was still there, waiting discreetly by the fence. “I’m sorry to interrupt.” The younger man said quietly. “I hope you don’t mind, but I thought I’d stay behind. At least for a few minutes.”
“I wouldn’t want to walk all the way back to town with those three either.” Job commented, but he looked away; still a little embarrassed by his earlier outburst, given the mild tone he was being offered now.
Elihu smiled a bit, and reached out to clasp Job’s hands, bowing their heads closer together in an embrace. Despite himself, Job let out a whimper. It was the most personal gesture anyone had made since the boils had appeared.
“Don’t ever forget the battles you’ve fought and won, my brother.” Elihu said gently. “This is the fight of your life. But I have faith in you.”
“Still?” Job asked, a little plaintive.
“Always.” Elihu said sincerely. “And if you have no faith in yourself, take courage! Because you still have faith in Jehovah. In your lowest moment, you find the true strength of people. In your lowest moment, your friends had only…”
“‘Windy words’.” Job murmured, smiling a bit, despite himself.
“Yeah.” Elihu chuckled a bit. “But that reveals more about them, does it not?”
“You’re right, of course.” Job sighed. “Those men were my friends. We spoke almost every day on almost every subject, but it seems I’ve only truly met them now.”
“Useful information to have. For the future.” Elihu murmured.
“If I may say, Elihu; I’ve learned a few things about your character as well.” Job told him, letting him step back. “I think knowing who has the spirit of God in their hearts, and His word on their lips, even when speaking truth to authority? That’s important to know too. You honored yourself today, even if only I seem to think so.”
Elihu bowed deeply, and they made their goodbyes.
~~/*\~~
Elihu didn’t ride back to town. He walked, leading his horse by hand. On his way back to town, he prayed, when he heard someone calling softly. Shaken from his thoughts, he looked left and right, seeing Arit, hiding off the road, out of sight. “What are you doing?”
“Hiding.” Arit said. “It’s not a good idea to be seen making this trip too many times. I didn’t realize you’d all be finished with Job already, so when I saw the other three coming, I hid.” He smothered a smile. “Based on what I heard them saying to each other, it must have been quite a conversation.”
Elihu nodded, still feeling shaky from the intensity of it himself. “It was indeed. How much did you hear?”
“Not enough. I had to get back before my absence was noticed.”
Elihu summarized the speeches given by the other men. “Eliphaz began by reminding Job that the innocent don’t suffer like he does, so he must be guilty of something terrible. And when Job defended himself, Eliphaz accused him of putting his own judgment over that of God. He even accused Job of extortion, withholding food and water from those in need.”
Arit scoffed. “What Job does in secret, I cannot say, but I’ve been his servant for most of my life, and I personally handed out his charity to those in need.”
“I know. I couldn’t believe he was saying it.” Elihu nodded. “Back in town, they say Bildad agrees with whatever Eliphaz says, and sure enough, whenever Eliphaz paused for breath, Bildad chimed in with the same accusations. But he also thought it could be something the children did.”
“Job’s children?” Arit’s voice went flat. If he started in on Parisha while I was there, I’d have attacked him.
“Yeah. Job reacted the same way.” Elihu agreed. “I thought he was going to take a swing at one of them at some point. Probably would have if he could have lifted his arms past the boils.”
Arit shuddered. “And Zophar?”
“Followed the same path. Said less, but was more insulting about it. I shan’t repeat his words.”
“And you, Elihu?” Arit asked gently. “What did you say?”
Elihu let out a hard breath. “Ohh, if I’d known what I was walking into, I would have prepared differently. I never made a claim to being an eloquent speaker, or trained in giving counsel. I thought they were all going to try and build Job back up, but they seemed determined to cause further depression to his soul. And it was working. Job kept insisting on his own righteousness.”
“Job insists on his own integrity because it’s the only thing he has left.” Arit commented. “I can’t blame him for being aggressive in defending it.”
“Nor can I.” Elihu nodded. “But it was Job who taught me that our own righteousness is nothing, because we are all men made of dust. It is Jehovah’s sovereignty, and our service to Him that makes a life worthy or not. In the end, all I could say were the words that Job already knew. What he would have said to me, in fact, if our positions were reversed.”
“If there’s one thing I’ve learned from this, it’s that the steadiest, most secure of lives can be upended in a day.” Arit nodded. “But what righteous service can Job offer now? He can’t make a sacrifice. If he had a rat in reach, he’d be more inclined to eat it, and I wouldn’t blame him.”
“There is a service that doesn’t involve action at all. It’s one that’s available to everyone.” Elihu said. “It’s gratitude.”
“For what?” Arit asked reflexively, though he quickly regretted it.
“The world.” Elihu said. “I understand ‘love’ is the most fundamental part of the Creator, because even the newborn baby animals know how to love. Same goes for happiness, and play. Watch them sometime. I know that beauty is a natural desire of our Creator, because creation is beautiful. A star, a flower, a canyon. All of them are so different, but all beautiful. I know our Creator is powerful, because his Creation is awe-inspiring by itself. Anyone who’s seen a thunderstorm knows that.”
“This is what you said to Job?” Arit murmured.
“Honestly, I have no idea where it came from.” Elihu almost laughed. “It just came pouring out of me. I never seemed to run out of words. I had come here planning to stay silent, in the face of three honored elders. But then I just… felt something in me demand to speak, and it didn’t stop until I was done.”
“Elihu, may I ask you something?” Arit asked finally. “If the three Elders were obsessed with assigning blame, or exposing some dreaded secret… They are the most honored men in town. After what we talked about on the way here, have your opinions changed at all?”
“No. I do not know why this has happened to Job. But servants of Jehovah are rarely given reasons for their trials. Besides, if I had any thoughts in common with what those three fools said today, I would take them all back, just from listening to them fill the air with pointless abuse.” Elihu commented archly, before searching Arit’s features. “You aren’t descended from Abraham, are you, Arit?”
“No sir.” Arit admitted. “I was trained and taught as a servant of Jehovah by Job. My brother too, though in all honesty, we were children at the time, and it started because we wished our master would think well of us.”
“I imagine most of Job’s attendants and servants could say the same.” Elihu commented, not dwelling on that. “It’s a fine thing to grieve for what's been lost, my brother. But too much of it is self-pity. It’s also a fine thing to be proud of your good deeds and integrity, but too much of it is self-righteousness.”
“How do I know when I’ve hit that point?” Arit asked wryly.
“That’s the hard part. If you’re lucky, you never get close.” Elihu admitted. “Servants of Jah have never had a life of ease. Did Job teach you the story of Joseph, son of Jacob?”
“He did.” Arit nodded. “Joseph was the favorite son, and his brothers were jealous, so they sold him into slavery. While enslaved, he was falsely accused of a crime, and put into prison.”
“Joseph endured years, and years of injustice.” Elihu nodded. “He no doubt wondered why. Did he blame Jehovah for the sins of his brothers? God made it right eventually. He always does.”
“Is… that what you told Job?”
“Essentially.” Elihu nodded. “We’re all waiting for the day when Jah makes it right. After all, when Joseph was freed from his time of trial, he was elevated beyond anything that anyone could have predicted. The rewards go far beyond anything the suffering can take away.”
~~/*\~~
“He’s right about that.” The Boy commented. “As I recall, you expected Joseph to be vengeful upon his brothers. You underestimated humans before. You clearly have again.”
The Boy and the Merchant sat, beyond the range of human sight and hearing, observing all this. They weren’t the only spirit beings to do so. The Original Enemy of God had made this challenge over Job when all the sons of heaven were in attendance with Jehovah. All of them wanted to see how it would turn out.
“Everyone breaks.” The Merchant said plainly.
“Don’t say that like it’s something Job did wrong.” The Boy returned heatedly. “Suffering of any kind was never meant to be part of human life. Job has done exceptionally well.”
“I’ll admit he lasted longer than I wagered, but he’s breaking.” The Merchant was pleased. “Your God bet His whole reputation on one man, and He’s going to lose. Job’s name is a hushed curse now that people barely dare speak of, except in pity and suspicion. The name of Jehovah is worth even less.”
The Boy’s fists bunched. “Don’t push me.”
The Merchant grinned winningly. “What? You want to execute a little righteous vengeance on me yourself, right here and now? When you don’t have the facts, or the truth on your side, you resort to violent action?”
The Boy forced himself to settle. “You haven’t had the Truth on your side since before the Flood. Incidentally, you thought the worst of humanity then, too. You thought He would never save His faithful servants. He proved you wrong.”
“You think so?” The Merchant returned. “Job is craving death.”
“God never denied that your kind could make a human miserable.” The Boy returned. “We’ve seen you inflicting misery for generations. The point is, Job hasn’t given up. He hasn’t cursed God to His very face. He hasn’t taken his own precious life.”
“He was close. And we’re not finished yet.”
“Yes, you are.” The Boy said with certainty. “As I said, we’ve been watching as you master the art of inflicting misery. There’s a point where people’s hearts are fully entrenched against pain. Job has reached that point. Even his wife came out the other side more determined to stay faithful and loyal.”
“Maybe.” The Merchant didn’t even blink, still grinning. “But everyone in Uz knows that Jehovah’s most loyal servant is praying for death, and his closest friends are telling him it’s either his fault or Jehovah’s.”
The Boy said nothing.
“By the numbers, we’ve won decisively. It’s been that way since the first family. It’s a ratio that works for us.” The Merchant grinned. “The whole city, the whole land of Uz is convinced that all Job’s problems are his own fault. His closest friends, even his wife, are just waiting for him to die. And none of them can point to Job and say they’re superior to him in faith or in deed. None of them will consider themselves righteous either.”
“You make this as complicated as you want.” The Boy didn’t blink. “You still lost. God will find a way to make sure the world knows that, long after the doubters in town have been forgotten.”
“How? This is Job’s legacy as a servant of Jehovah.” The Merchant said. “The whole world knows, forever: This is what comes from serving Jehovah God. You get His approval by being abjectly miserable and alone for your entire life.”
It wasn’t true, but The Boy didn’t argue the point; because it was exactly what was being said in the city.
~/*\~~/*\~~/*\~
No comments:
Post a Comment