We often think about the trials of Job – that righteous man tested beyond measure. But have you ever considered the perspective of those around him, even God Himself?
Even with Job’s moments of… let’s say, unconventional pronouncements during his suffering, the Holy One, blessed be He, wasn't exactly thrilled with Job’s friends. You see, they were a little too quick to judge. The sages teach that "a man may not be held responsible for what he does in his anguish." And Job, well, he was certainly in anguish!
There's a fascinating story about Job being asked what he thought the worst affliction could be. You might expect him to say boils, or losing his family. But no. He said it was "My enemies' joy in my misfortune." Think about that for a moment. It’s not just about the pain itself, but the added sting of others relishing in it.
And then there's the story of how God, after Satan's accusations, gave Job a choice: poverty or physical suffering. And Job chose… pain. Why? Because, as Ginzberg retells in Legends of the Jews, poverty seemed like the greater scourge. Before his trials, Job held a truly impressive position because of his immense wealth.
Job’s story, in some ways, is also a glimpse into the Messianic age. He was blessed with abundance – a taste of what's to come. His harvests were instantaneous: the moment he sowed, the seeds sprouted, grew, and ripened. His livestock prospered; his sheep even took down wolves! We're talking about one hundred and thirty thousand sheep, guarded by eight hundred dogs, plus two hundred more just for his house. And his herds? Three hundred and forty thousand asses and thirty-five hundred pairs of oxen!
But here’s the thing: Job didn't hoard his wealth. It wasn't about self-indulgence. It was about Zohar" target="_blank" rel="noopener" class="source-link">tikkun olam, repairing the world. It was for the good of the poor and the needy. He clothed them, fed them, and provided them with everything they needed. According to Legends of the Jews, he even had ships that carried supplies to all the cities and dwelling places of the destitute. Imagine the scale!
His house was designed for hospitality. Doors on all four sides, so the poor and wayfarers could enter from any direction. Thirty tables constantly laden with food, and another twelve just for widows. Everyone who came found what they desired.
And Job’s compassion went even deeper. He employed servants just to wait on the poor. Guests, so moved by his generosity, often offered to help, but Job insisted on paying them for their service. If someone needed a loan for business, and promised to give a portion of their profits to the poor, Job wouldn't even ask for collateral, just a signature. And if the borrower couldn't repay the debt? Job would return the note or tear it up in front of them.
It's a truly remarkable picture of generosity, far beyond just giving money. It’s about dignity, respect, and understanding the needs of others. It’s about creating a world where everyone has enough, where no one is forgotten. Job’s story, even amidst his suffering, reminds us that true wealth lies not in what we possess, but in what we give. It makes you wonder, doesn't it: what could we do to bring a little bit of that Messianic abundance into the world, right here and now?