In Good Company
When the days of feasting had completed their cycle, Job would send and consecrate them, rising up early in the morning and offering burnt offerings according to the number of them all; for Job said, “Perhaps my sons have sinned and cursed God in their hearts.” Thus Job did continually. Job 1:5 NASB
Perhaps – Sarah, Hagar, Jacob and Balak. An unusual collection, for sure. What do they have to do with Job? Hebrew connects them all with the word ʾûlay. “This adverb is often associated with personal or national crises. Sarah expressed hope that Hagar would produce a child for her (Gen 16:2), and Balak hoped to curse Israel through Balaam (Num 22:6, 11). Jacob feared that Isaac would discover his deceit (Gen 27:12), and Job wondered if perhaps his children had cursed God (1:5). ʾûlay also expresses mockery (Isa 47:12; I Kgs 18:27).”[1]
So there you have it. Job’s apparently off-hand temporal expression is actually laden with ominous concern. Not the way we use “perhaps,” is it? We think of “perhaps” as a kind of hypothetical conjecture, not a present reality. Therefore, whatever is connected with “perhaps” is really theoretical, imaginatively fallacious. But not for Job. ʾûlay is an adjective wringing its hands with trepidation, an attribute wailing in mortal dread for others. No theory this! Job is one father who desires above all else the favor of God on his children, and he is willing to do whatever it takes to ensure this, even when there is no evidence for retribution. It should be especially upsetting that Job’s children suffer death in order for God to gain an insignificant victory over the accuser. As far as we know, his children were innocent. Once more Job’s tale confronts us with the striking disparity between human faithfulness and divine indifference.
The fact that ʾûlay occurs in this story tells us about divinity in the ancient world. What it tells us is that the interaction between men and gods is violently uncertain. Even if ancient men sacrificed continually, even if they were radically obedient, even if they steadfastly turned from evil, they had no assurances of divine protection. The gods did what they wanted to do regardless of the consequences for men. Even death wasn’t off the table. Job might have been spared in this comic tragedy of divine egotism, but his children weren’t. Can a man suffer more than to witness the death of all of his children for no apparent reason whatsoever—except that God is untrustworthy? If ancient men feared the fickle power of the gods, Job is in good company again. He does everything right—and still suffers immeasurable harm. Theognis was correct: “Not to be born is the best of all things for those who live on earth, And not to gaze on the radiance of the keen-burning sun. Once born, however, it is best to pass with all possible speed through Hades’ gates And to lie beneath a great heap of earth.”[2] There is no ethical bleach for this one. In the ancient world, men feared the gods, not because they were more powerful but because they were totally unpredictable. Until YHVH gave His instructions at Sinai, no one knew exactly what to do to avoid the playful pain of the gods. Job seems to be no exception. Without Moses’ declaration of The Choice, life was the toss of the dice at best. It was the death of children at worst.
Maybe it still is. ʾûlay.
Topical Index: ʾûlay, perhaps, Theognis, Job 1:5
[1] Wolf, H. (1999). 46 אוּלַי. R. L. Harris, G. L. Archer Jr., & B. K. Waltke (Eds.), Theological Wordbook of the Old Testament (electronic ed., p. 23). Chicago: Moody Press.
