The story of Job and his companions, as retold in Ginzberg's Legends of the Jews, offers a powerful, if sometimes strange, glimpse into that very question. It’s a tale filled with ancient wisdom and, surprisingly, a touch of magical realism.
So, let's dive in.
According to tradition, Job wasn't just some random guy. He was a righteous man of immense wealth and influence, a king among men. And, crucially, he had friends – not just acquaintances, but true companions who lived far apart, yet were bound by a deep connection.
The story goes that these friends – Eliphaz, Bildad, Zophar, and Elihu – lived three hundred miles apart. Now, how did they know when trouble befell one of their own? Well, each had a rather unique device: their crowns held portraits of each other. When one friend experienced hardship, it would visibly manifest in his picture within the others' crowns! Imagine that – an ancient, divinely-powered group chat!
As Ginzberg tells it, these weren't just any ordinary guys, either. They were all related to each other and to Job himself. Eliphaz, king of Teman, was a son of Esau. Bildad, Zophar, and Elihu were cousins, sons of Shuah, Naamat, and Barachel, who were sons of Buz. And Buz? He was Job's brother and Abraham's nephew! Talk about a tightly-knit network!
When Job was struck with his legendary misfortunes, his friends, alerted by their magical crowns, immediately set out to find him. But when they arrived at Job's city, they couldn't even recognize him! The townspeople pointed them towards a figure reclining on an ash heap some distance away. But they were skeptical: could this really be the great Job?
The stench emanating from Job was so overpowering that they couldn’t get close. It’s said they had to order their armies to scatter perfumes and aromatics for hours before they could even approach him. Can you imagine the scene? The sheer desperation and horror they must have felt?
Finally, Eliphaz managed to get close enough to speak. "Art thou indeed Job, a king equal in rank with ourselves?" he asked. And when Job confirmed, with a simple "Aye," their grief erupted. They wept bitterly and sang an elegy together, joined by the armies of the three kings.
Eliphaz began to lament Job's fate, contrasting his present misery with his former glory, repeating the refrain, "Whither hath departed the splendor of thy throne?" Job, after listening to their wailing for some time, responded with defiance, declaring that his true kingdom, the kingdom of his Father, would endure forever, unlike the fleeting glory of earthly rulers.
This response angered Eliphaz, who wanted to abandon Job to his fate. But Bildad, ever the voice of reason, calmed him down, reminding him to have compassion for someone suffering so greatly. He then began to question Job, trying to understand how God could inflict such suffering on a loyal servant. He even asked Job about the movements of the heavenly bodies!
Job, in turn, responded that human beings cannot comprehend Divine wisdom. As he put it, and I'm paraphrasing here, we can't understand God's plan whether it's revealed in nature or in human affairs. He even posed a riddle to Bildad: "Solid food and liquids combine inside of man, and they separate again when they leave his body. Who effects the separation?" When Bildad admitted he didn't know, Job retorted, "If thou canst not comprehend the changes in thy body, how canst thou hope to comprehend the movements of the planets?"
Zophar, convinced that Job was still of sound mind, offered him medical treatment from the kings' physicians. But Job refused, declaring that his healing would come from God alone.
Then, Job's wife, Zitidos, appeared, clad in rags. She threw herself at the feet of Job's friends, begging them to remember her former glory. Her plight moved them so deeply that they could only weep. Eliphaz, in a gesture of compassion, draped his royal mantle around her shoulders. Zitidos asked one favor: that they clear away the ruins of the building where her children were entombed, so she could give them a proper burial.
But Job, again seemingly detached from reality, told them not to bother, claiming that his children were safely with their Creator. This, of course, made his friends even more convinced that he had lost his mind.
However, Job then prayed to God and, upon finishing, instructed his friends to look eastward. There, they beheld Job's children, crowned with glory, alongside the Ruler of Heaven. Zitidos prostrated herself, declaring that her memorial resided with the Lord. She returned to her master’s house, where she had been forbidden to leave previously and soon died of exhaustion. The people mourned her greatly, and an elegy was written in her honor.
What are we to make of this story? It's a strange mix of profound suffering, unwavering faith, and, frankly, some bizarre elements like the magical crowns and the vision of Job's children in heaven.
Perhaps the most enduring message is the importance of presence, even when understanding fails. Job's friends, despite their initial bewilderment and their differing perspectives on his suffering, traveled great distances to be with him. They mourned with him, even when they couldn't comprehend his situation.
The story also highlights the limits of human understanding when faced with divine mysteries. Job's friends sought to explain his suffering through logic and reason, but Job insisted that God's ways are beyond human comprehension. Sometimes, all we can do is have faith and be present for those who are suffering.
And maybe, just maybe, there's a little bit of magic in true friendship, a connection that transcends distance and hardship, a bond that allows us to see each other's pain, even from afar.