The harshest words often come from those closest to us, and this sentiment is on full display in the book of Job. Job finds himself an unwitting participant in a divine experiment to see if “a blameless and upright man” (Job 1:8) will curse God if all his good fortune is taken away. While Job is doing his best to follow God faithfully, he suddenly loses much of his family, property, and health. Three of his friends show up and proceed to spend the majority of the book repetitively telling Job he has done something wrong.
To understand the underlying motivations, it is important to note that in this era, the Israelites lived by God’s given commandments and laws. Consequently, they understood anyone who broke them to be deserving of God’s punishment. Though Job is not an Israelite himself, the story is clearly framed and written for that audience. So why are Job’s “friends” so intent on getting him to confess his guilt for sins he has not committed? Job’s proclamations of innocence and attempts to defend himself are met with condemnation. His friends proclaim that surely he is lying, or maybe he is in deep denial. This isn’t just harsh criticism; it’s gaslighting.
Queer people are no stranger to gaslighting in faith communities. For decades, our identities have been questioned, erased, or denounced by people who proclaim to have a better understanding of God. Thus, a queer reading of this text demands the naming of this unfortunate legacy that winds through history. When placed within the sociocultural context of the time, Job’s friends start with decent intentions: as is often true. The prevailing notion is good things happen to good people, and people who do bad (or evil, or sinful) things will be punished. Those who repent may be spared God’s wrath. If the friends’ intentions are true, they want Job to repent of sins he must have committed so he will face a lesser penalty. Originally, the desire to protect loved ones from getting further into trouble is understandable, perhaps even admirable. It is when Job refuses to confess that frustration takes over. Good intentions are quickly subsumed by the painful impact.
In this chapter, Zophar the Naamathite is responding to Job’s lament, for he has decided it cannot go without a response. “Should a multitude of words go unanswered, and should one full of talk be vindicated? Should your babble put others to silence, and when you mock, shall no one shame you?” (11:1-2). What’s clear from his opening spiel is Zophar feels he is the person to offer a rebuttal, and his assessment is Job’s lamentation has already taken up too much time.
So instead of leading with compassion for Job’s loss of property, family, and health, Zophar launches into a harsh rebuke. He hears when Job says, “My conduct is pure, and I am clean in God’s sight” (v. 4). However, his lecture is a clear sign of disbelief: “O that God would speak and open his lips to you…Know then that God exacts of you less than your guilt deserves” (v. 5-6). In other words, if only God would speak, Job would quickly learn exactly how guilty he is. Zophar’s rhetorical questions about the magnitude of God are pointed: Job will not get away with anything that God doesn’t notice. Job has done something wrong, he is deserving of punishment, and he’s stupid to even try to hide it from God or others.
The deep conflict is located in the tension of people drawing very different conclusions about the role of the ultimately unknowable God in this situation. This is perhaps the worst part of Zophar’s diatribe. He does not answer Job’s pain with empathy or concern. Rather than prayerfully interceding on Job’s behalf or remaining in supportive silence, he attempts to weaponize God. “Can you find out the deep things of God? Can you find out the limit of the Almighty?… What can you know?” (11:7-8) He puts down not just Job, but Job’s understanding of God. By belittling Job, Zophar positions himself as the one who knows better; the one with true insight; the one who speaks on behalf of God. This is a dangerous line of thought.
Of course, nothing in this text suggests Zophar actually has any greater access or insight into God than Job; it is actually the opposite. Looking ahead to when God finally speaks to Zophar and friends in the final chapter, it is to say, “My wrath is kindled against you and against your two friends; for you have not spoken of me what is right, as my servant Job has” (42:7). God’s strongest rebuke is for Job’s friends.
However, Job has to figure out how to hang on in the meantime. Much of his family is dead, the friends who came to console him have become adversaries, and he is suffering deeply. Job knows his own innocence, but he is being constantly confronted with others’ assertions that he is guilty. A significant dimension of Job’s struggle that cannot be overlooked is the theological conflict. The theology of that time declares if Job is suffering, he has done something to deserve it. Yet he knows his truth in that moment: he is facing retribution and has done nothing to deserve it. The cognitive dissonance between systems of belief and personal experience is overwhelming.
The moment of hope shines through in the first verses of the next chapter. In 12:3, Job responds to Zophar: “But I have understanding as well as you; I am not inferior to you. Who does not know such things as these?” Though it is not a joyful moment, this is an encouraging one. Despite having every reason to crumble in the face of confrontation, Job pushes back.
To read Job 11 (and the first few verses of chapter 12) through a queer lens is to honor the lived resistance against oppressive assumptions. Job will not be lectured about a God he himself talks to and knows. Job will not be told that he is lesser than or inferior to the people around him. Though he is in both physical and existential pain, Job is emboldened by the truth he carries. Queer theology leads us to break open the reigning narrow understanding of justice into a prophetic witness to the expansive nature of God. Job’s experience with suffering is not to be reduced to an unbalanced equation; rather, it points to the seemingly paradoxical nature of God’s justice and mercy.
In many ways, this is a harsh text. Zophar and friends try to gaslight Job with words of condemnation and arrogance. They try to make him believe that other people have a better window into Job’s situation than Job himself. This argument remains today, directed at anyone who does not fit within and/or refuses to bow to the social norms. Queer and trans people are sometimes wrongfully told they must be confused, or in denial, or they ignore the ways of God. However, we can draw courage from Job: a man who faces down hateful rhetoric while holding onto his identity, faith, and truth.
Anyone hoping Job will end with a direct explanation for why there is suffering in the world will be sorely disappointed. Nonetheless, through bearing witness to Job’s story, we discover a deeply human lesson: there is power in telling the truth when others will not name it. There is power in claiming your truth even when others will not accept it. To embrace the queerness in this passage is to recognize the space Job occupies and refuses to relinquish, no matter the hatred directed his way. To encounter faith in this passage is to acknowledge that against all odds, Job advocates for who he is and what he knows to be true about God. I hope the queer and trans communities are emboldened to do the same.
Watch the Queering Job Writer Interview with Rev. Erin Tolar here.
Rev. Erin Tolar (she/her) is a Resident Pastor at Myers Park Presbyterian Church. She holds a Master of Divinity and a Master of Arts in Practical Theology (Educational Ministries concentration) from Columbia Theological Seminary in Decatur, Georgia. In her free time, she enjoys rock climbing, playing the piano, and keeping in touch with friends and family all over the country.
Unbound Social