The problem with most Western readers is that, lacking an education in Ancient Near Eastern thought, they tend to agree fundamentally with Job’s friends. When Job turns to address himself to God, Westerners see him making false accusations, as if this could not be the loving and kind Father of Jesus. Yet in those ancient times, God revealed Himself as a grand Sheikh of Heaven. As such, the inscrutable God acting in ways sometimes appearing capricious is simply making note of how God revealed Himself. From our distance as modern readers, we see the cause of Job’s sorrows without understanding that Satan was actually God’s faithful servant, albeit no friend of mankind. Thus, for Job to suggest his sorrows were from God is not a sin. To suggest they were impossible to account for on a human level is not a sin. For Job to be perplexed and plaintive is also not a sin. The text itself says Job did not sin.
The lot of fallen mankind is hard. It compares well with an ordinary peasant hired by some important figure for seasonal work. It was from earliest light until dusk, and by custom this was day labor, paid daily. He lived day to day. This is common ancient wisdom about life itself, and echoes in Solomon’s comments about human vanity in Ecclesiastes. This life isn’t something we hold as great treasure; other things are far more important. Job feels every bit the fallen man of futility. Instead of the sweet sleep of the laborer, his nights are restless. He is denied even this one refuge from sorrow.
We need not take his description literally, but he is not in good physical shape. His skin is festering with sores. The hours of life are meaningless when every part of you hurts. Having thus lived this long, he has little hope of recovery before he dies. His condition was hopeless. People can see him today if they want, but perhaps not tomorrow. Soon enough these medical problems would be fatal. Job speaks in terms of the limited view of the afterlife common in those days. Just thinking about him would be to visit an empty house.
With apparently so little time left, it’s only right that Job be allowed his last words. In this case, he insists he be allowed to complain that things are not going well for him. Who would deprive a man of his final emotional release, since words are all he has? Even God has no problem with that. So Job asks rhetorically what danger he represents. Is he like the restless sea, or the legendary chaos monster who would destroy the world? Was he such a threat God needed to set boundaries for him? Job can’t even sleep for the nightmares. He would prefer to die and get it over with. He begs God to let him expire.
Why would the Sheikh of Heaven even notice someone so insignificant as Job? The question about swallowing his own saliva is an Eastern figure of speech equivalent to catching one’s breath. Can Job get a break? How has he sinned against God? He confesses freely that he is a sinner by nature. Can there be no pardon? If God intends to do Job any last bit of good, let it be soon before it’s too late. Again, nothing here is amiss. These are common figures of speech and rhetorical devices one would expect of someone in sorrow. It’s a normal part of the grieving process for those people. Job has not sinned because there is no insult to God in these cultural traditions.
