Accompanying the Suffering: Illustrated with the case of Job’s Wife
Monica Jyotsna Melanchthon

Introduction:
I first heard of Gabriele Dietrich as a theological student in the Nineteen eighties, although I did not actually meet her until the late nineteen nineties after I joined the faculty of the Gurukul Lutheran Theological College, Chennai, when she came as part of a Commission sent by the Senate of Serampore College to evaluate our application to begin a Master’s program in Women’s Studies. Her reputation preceded her and I was struck by both the familiarity of this woman and her strangeness. We have since then worked together on the Board of Studies for Women’s Studies and on other tasks in relation to Research and Women’s concerns in theological education.
    Over these last few years I have gotten to know more and more of her, her life, her work at the Tamil Nadu Theological Seminary, her commitments and involvements at the grass roots, in the Narmada Bachao Andolan, and have been impressed with the simplicity of her life and the magnanimity of her dedication to women and men in rural India. Because of her German ancestry, she and her writing have often been received with some prudence, but her heart is in India and she has through her involvement declared her undying loyalty to the concerns and struggles of the poor and marginalized in India. Her growing years in post-war Germany have in many ways equipped her with the required ardor and compassion to be able to identify with the oppressed peoples in Tamil Nadu and elsewhere. There are few among us in Theological institutions who exemplify her dedication and determination in furthering the causes of rural women and men in India. Her emphasis on social analysis as a pre-requisite for doing theology is also derived from this experience and her determination is bearing fruit, seen in the many students and young people who have studied and been associated with her and her work.
    There is about Gabrielle a refreshing freedom, a dominance, a creative vigor, which is a wonder to me—although at times she could be very intimidating. But in such a human being, it is difficult to see how we could have had the blessings of that strength without sometimes the curses. I’ve come to the conclusion that God sanctifies bulldozers for the cause of the reign of God as well as “little flowers”. With Gabrielle, you quickly came to expect contradictions: realism and shrewdness one moment, fantasy the next; massive strength, energy, efficiency and competence coupled with surprising inacapacities; compassion and care for the individual. It is for Gabrielle to tell us her story but from my many conversations with her I have realized that she seems to know well, in her deep heart’s core, that her strength is real, but it is also a real façade, an outcome of the many challenges that she had to and still does confront in her life and the vulnerability of her current social location. Her weakness is as real as her strength.
    Here, through this article, I want publicly to be thankful for Gabrielle’s strength and weakness. In God’s use of her strength and weakness we have a sign of what God wills to do for us all—has done with us all—is doing with us all; and all this surely turns our hearts again to the Christ whose cross is the very sign of the weakness and of the strength of God, and of God’s strength which is made perfect in weakness.  Through her inculturation and commitment to liberation of the marginalized, which are her salient characteristics, she exemplifies a model of accompaniment, an expression of solidarity with the poor, a manner in which the church should carry out God’s mission in the world.

Job’s Wife: A Model of Accompaniment
The information we have on Job’s wife is miserably scanty and a reconstruction of her character would require a great deal of imagination. Yet, from only two brief sentences—a rhetorical question and its answer it is amazing how much can and has been said regarding her. I have not really paid much attention to her in the past because like many I too have misunderstood her and have accepted the opinions of many others that have maligned her name. But the more I think about her, I am convinced that she in her own way embodies a ministry of accompaniment that we need to pay attention to.
    Job’s wife is a woman shrouded in demeaning anonymity because she has no name and is only referred to as “Job’s wife.” The biblical author never tells us her name, although the author makes an effort to identify Job’s daughters by name towards the end of the story when Job’s fortunes have been restored. But even at that point, Job’s wife’s name remains anonymous. Job was a man of obscene wealth. The author says that he was “the greatest of all people of the east.” He and his wife lived a contented life and enjoyed all the comforts that wealth could offer in their day. This probably meant that that they were owners of many acres of land, live stock, a complete retinue of servants, possibly of much gold and silver too. They had a large family, with seven sons and three daughters, a loving and close knit family. It was a happy family because the text tells us that the siblings got along so well that the sons would hold feasts in one another’s houses in turn, and would invite their sisters to join them.
    Job is also said to be a good man. He is identified as a person who was “blameless and upright,” fearing God and scrupulously avoiding evil. He was so careful and sensitive to the possibility of evil, in fact, that whenever his sons would have one of their feasts, he would rise early in the morning to offer burnt sacrifices on their behalf, just in case they might have done something wrong. His wealth, privilege and success seemed not to have in any way affected his relationship to God.
    This indirectly testifies to the fact that Job’s wife was enjoying a very comfortable way of life; She was wealthy, she had a wonderful family and a husband who must have had the respect of the community. She was a mother of ten children, a no small feat. This indicates that she too had her share of pain. But in a context where motherhood was revered and provided one with status and respect, where children were considered to be a part of God’s blessing, Job’s wife was indeed blessed and hence had a good and satisfying life.
    But soon misfortune struck. Not once, but again and again, with little time for recovery. When there is a gap between several untoward incidents, it might give the individual time and the opportunity for recovery. But this was not so in Job’s case. The enormous wealth of Job was wiped out in a series of dramatic misfortunes. First, his oxen and donkeys were carried away by the Sabeans, and the servants were killed (1: 14-15). Then fire destroyed the sheep and few more servants (1: 16). Then, the Chaldeans carried away the camels and killed another group of servants (1:17). Then, most devastatingly, his seven sons and three daughters were killed when a desert storm blew down the house in which they were celebrating together (1:18-19). Unfortunately, this time Job didn’t have opportunity to plead their case with a morning sacrifice.
    Job mourned over his immense loss and yet found no reason to avenge God. Immediately after this, Job himself suffered a distressing illness. God’s adversary attacked his body (2: 4-7). Job was covered in “loathsome sores…from the sole of his foot to the crown of his head (2:7). We are not sure what exactly was ailing Job, or the kind of skin disease he had. But the skin is known to erupt in strange rashes when the mind is not at ease. He must have been a pathetic, horrific and disgusting sight. All he could do in response was sit on a heap of garbage and scrape the discharge from his body with a broken potsherd (Job 2: 8). One wonders if this was virtually all he had left. Or was it perhaps that he found himself so distasteful that there was a kind of perverse pleasure in treating his wounds with an implement of “brokenness.”
    It is at this juncture that Job’s wife enters the story. She is mentioned here for the first time and never again. For only this brief moment, she enters the scene, in order to express her anguish. “Do you still persist in your integrity?” she asks (2:9). Knowing Job too well, she answers her own question, and says “Curse God and die” (NRSV, 2:9). The Hebrew term barak is ambivalent in its meaning as bless/curse. While some scholars believe that is used here as a euphemism for “curse” others think that the author intentionally leaves the meaning undecided. Those who suggest that it should be read as “bless” are probably trying to soften the impact of the phrase because cursing God is blasphemy and carried the death penalty. Job’s wife might have been saying “Curse God” because she considered Job was being ridiculous, holding on to a God who had already abandoned him. It was better that Job cursed God and die. Or she could be saying that since you are holding on, you might as well bless God and die God in peace.
    She does not mince her words. The speech is short and direct. She does not scream, shout and tear her hair in frustration, nor does she lay blame on any one. Whether she is saying bless or curse, inherent in her speech is a sense of impatience, the kind that one feels when having to deal with an individual who is “too good to be true,” one who shows immeasurable patience with whatever life offers. Her impatience comes out of not being able to discern the source of the strength of Job’s ability to cope with life’s misfortunes, his blameless piety. It is the voice of an individual frustrated with the quality of life that seems illogical. Job’s answer is equally brief. With anger and indignation he retorts: “You speak as any foolish woman would speak. Shall we receive the good at the hand of God, and not receive the bad” (2:10)?

In the light of Job’s response, his wife comes across poorly, as a woman who expresses her lack of faith in God, in life and integrity. “Curse God and die” she says. It is a statement which seems to reek of resignation and exasperation. In traditional Indian manner, we would probably expect her to hold on to Job’s ulcerated body in her arms and comfort him, express patience and forbearance with the situation. We would probably expect her to express her resolve to stay on with Job, pray for him and to also in all probability perform rituals for the healing and continuance of the life of her husband. This is what women are expected to do while caring for an ailing husband or relative. Any expression of a lack of trust in God’s mercy and faithfulness is met with censure and reproach. There is no reason to doubt that she may have done all this too, at least initially. Now she advises him to “Curse/bless God and die.” But traditional reflection on Job’s wife’s statement has always rendered her as a woman with questionable faith when compared with that of Job’s.
    Could there be another way in which we might understand her statement? Could it be considered as a response of a sympathetic, compassionate and loving wife who can no longer bear to see her husband suffer? Could it be that she has come to the end of her tether so to speak and is therefore suggesting that even God in all of God’s graciousness and mercy cannot expect Job to suffer any longer? In her estimation, Job has suffered enough. Inherent in her statement I think, is a note of reproach against God, who she considers to be the source of her husband’s suffering. It is a reproach that stands in line with the tradition of the Psalmist, the lamenter who protests against God in response to unmitigated suffering. She seems to be exerting her covenantal right to question God’s action, the questioning of the unfairness that has been meted out to her husband who in her estimation has done nothing to deserve such suffering.
    This too is a response of faith, a faith in a God who does not allow the innocent to suffer, a faith that comes out the conviction that God brings suffering and healing, a faith that is borne out of watching her husband in pain of wanting and desiring relief for her husband. It is the faith of a woman fighting for her suffering spouse. It is therefore an unconditional protest against all the suffering that motivates this faith. This faith is a faith that moves mountains, that overcomes fear and hopelessness, a faith that is obligated to diminish suffering in the world. It is a faith that gives her the right to question and contradict the highest theological authorities, even God. It is a faith that seeks satisfaction from her hunger for justice for she sensed an inversion of justice and intervened with all the force of her particular human personality to right it.
    Much attention has been paid to Job’s losses, his wealth, and the deaths of his children and his physical illness. Few acknowledge that Job’s wife too experienced these losses. In fact, as a woman and a mother her sense of loss particularly of her children must have been far greater than that of Job’s. I am in no way suggesting that men do not experience grief when their children die, but that the grief of a mother who contains this child in her womb is different from that of a father’s. Her grief is both emotional and physical. She too must have experienced the pain of losing her children, compounded also by the loss of all their property. If Job was sitting among the ashes, she too must have done the same because that is all she had left. In a culture where a woman’s lot was determined by the status of her husband, the troubles and misfortunes of her husband also in every way affected her. His misfortunes were hers too.
    We are of course not told that she had bodily sores. This has sometimes been said to somehow impress us that Job’s suffering was greater. Possibly so. Here I would like to draw upon a personal experience of mine. A few months after I departed for my doctoral studies my father suffered a massive stroke far away from home. Immediate and adequate medical help was not available and hence he lost his ability to speak and was partially paralyzed, and bedridden for the final five and half years of his life. I came home for at least three months a year to help care for him and assist my mother and sister who were his primary care givers. As family we often wished there was something we could do to take away some of the physical and emotional pain that he suffered, particularly as we watched him struggling to express his thoughts, his attempts to walk and feed himself, but it was only my mother who often felt this so deeply that she gave it articulation.
    In any event, the person standing alongside has to cope with a desperate helpless feeling.  Many of us are aware of this back of the scenes pain of the people, the dear friend, the spouse or parent who stand alongside the sufferers. In certain immeasurable ways, this pain is sometimes far greater than that of the sufferer. I am therefore trying to say a word praise for those persons who watch at the bedside of the terminally ill, the long time sufferers and the many parents and spouses and children who have had to watch over the ill.
    I would like to extend this reflection to include also those individuals who have committed their lives to accompany those struggling for justice and freedom, those whose keen sense of justice has enabled them to discern the many inversions of justice in the world and who intervene with all the force of their human personality to right them in God’s name. These are people who also suffer alongside, whose faith and vision for the world is derived and based on an understanding of God as the God of life, who do not accept dust and ashes as the natural condition for any human being, who recognize the sacredness and infinite value of all human life. Such accompanying is not easy.

In Conclusion…
We, the church are called to accompany the poor in their suffering, in their just struggles for liberation. I speak here not of standing and watching as on lookers. I speak of the need to actually absorb the pain of the sufferer. What is important in the Job story are not the words of Job’s wife but what they represent, the agony, the hopelessness, the fear, the pain and anger of unmitigated suffering. I like to believe that God sees and understands, and that in the final judgment, when all the issues of life are made clear, God will see that proper credit is paid to those who accompany the poor in solidarity. Jesus the Christ felt very deeply the pain, the suffering and the injustice of the world that he literally absorbed some of the world’s pain. But even Jesus requested God if it was possible to remove this cup of suffering. It is not an easy task. It is not easy to be Job’s wife. At least she tried.
     There are many possibilities in an understanding of Christian ministry as accompaniment.  This accompaniment means walking with people rather than leading them. It is marked by an insertion into the life of the poor, a commitment to work with the poor, to walking with them in their struggle against oppression and their quest for a better life. This accompaniment implies defending, facilitating and encouraging the decision and capacity for mobilization and organization of the poor, in the formation of their own historic liberating project. Such an understanding of Christian witness and work may serve as a framework for a new understanding of mission.

Bibliography:

Guttiérrez, Gustavo. On Job: God-Talk and the Suffering of the Innocent. Translated by
Matthew J. O’Connell. Maryknoll, New York: Orbis, 1998.

Maier, Christl and Silvia Schroer. “What about Job? Questioning the Book of ‘The
Righteous Sufferer’” in Brenner, Athalya and Carole Fontaine (eds), Wisdom and
Psalms: A Feminist Companion to the Bible (Second Series), Sheffield Academic Press, (1998) 175-204.

Michel, Walter. Job in the Light of Northwest Semitic, Volume 1. Rome: Biblical
Institute Press, 1997.