I feel like talking about the Book of Job again. This might be because a month ago I was asked to speak at Anchorage Unitarian Universalist Fellowship (AUUF) on June 26, which coincides with the end of Alaska PrideFest, on the “need for liberal religious people to reach out to the LGBTQ community,” and today I was asked for the name I wanted to give my talk so it could be printed in the AUUF’s bulletin.
I told Beatrice — that’s Beatrice Hitchcock, AAUF’s interim minister — to title my talk “Take it to Heart: Faith & LGBT Youth.” “The first half of that title,” I told her, “is based on a poem I wrote, called ‘Sermon,’ which I plan to begin my presentation with” — that’s a poem based on the Book of Job — and went on to explain,
I will probably continue the presentation after the poem with Job: the idea of holding on to one’s integrity, in line with the UU principle of “the inherent dignity and worth of every person” and how members of liberal faiths needs not only to teach that to “their own” but also to reach out to people who have been taught to internalize self-hate & give them new heart… as it were.
(Yes, I’ve been reading a bit about Unitarian Universalism. I’m not a member, stubborn non-joiner me — but I am in profound agreement with the Unitarian Universalist 7 principles, the first of which — “The inherent worth and dignity of every person” — I relate to all that I think about that so-important-to-me word, integrity.)
And then again, I might want to talk about the Book of Job because I’ve been delving deeply into my email-retentive archives. The archives, in particular, of an email discussion list I belonged to during the latter half of 1998, when I was reeling from the loss of a relationship & the betrayal I felt over it. As it happened, my partner & I later came back together — but in 1998 I didn’t know that would happen, & in 1998 I was hurting. Hurting like Hell. And anyone who was on that list knows just exactly the double-sense in which I mean that word.
(Parenthetical: The character Hell from my portion of the shared story I crafted on that list has been renamed Helvetti in the novel form of the story, which is called Mistress of Woodland. Which I am working on again. Which is why I’m delving into the email archive, because it holds much of the raw material of which Mistress of Woodland is made. Helvetti is Finnish for hell.)
In 1998, the Book of Job was already important to me. I had, after all, already written that poem “Sermon.” But now it took on new meanings, stemming from my visceral sense of being like Job: innocent, yet suffering. And, moreover, being told that my suffering was my own damn fault. Which false accusation, of course, added to my suffering.
I’d say that Job walked into my thinking when a demand was made of me, early in the breakup period, that I felt incapable of meeting, without utterly compromising & losing myself — even though not to meet the demand could possibly mean losing the one I loved out of my life altogether. Which at the time seemed a distinct possibility.
But what’s the choice, really? I wrote back to her, an email in which I quoted the Job poem — “Sermon” —
“I must abandon my integrity / or you abandon me.”
And then I said,
Well… I won’t abandon my integrity, not even for you. Not even if you abandon me.
And I cried. Long days of summer I cried. Because it goes like this: call it your Self, or call it your Integrity — either way, it’s like a pole at the center of you, that you can grab onto in a high wind; or it’s an axis like the Earth’s axis, around which you spin. If you keep a firm grip on that pole at the center of you, through even the worst storm, you’ll know where you are. You’ll know who you are. But it won’t keep the bad shit from hurting you.
But if you let go of it, you’re lost. You’ll go kiting off into that storm, & you’ll be a long time finding yourself again, if ever you do.
That hurts worse.
I’ll have more to say about the Book of Job, both the stuff I learned back then, & the stuff I keep learning now. But this is enough for tonight.
(I’m trying to learn how to write the reasonable-sized blog posts that other people write, instead of the long-winded posts that are my usual. How’d I do?)
Mel –
You’ve written about the book of Job a few times now and this morning I decided to dive into the conversation for I – was a Job’s Daughter.
The group isn’t so popular these days, but back in the 50’s – 60’s and 70’s it was one of the last vestibules parents had to feel they were properly bringing up their female offspring. Job’s Daughters was a cross between Emily Post, vaudeville and a convent. Girls between the ages of 13 and 20 came together to entertain people in nursing homes, collect and take toys to children in hospitals, fundraise for community projects and learn – of all things – the teachings of Job.
(A few times each year chaperoned dances were organized with the male counterpart – DeMolay – just so our parents could see us dressed up and behaving like civilized creatures. Boy did we fool them!)
We had a choir and a drill team that took part in city parades and competed with Jobbies in other cities and states. Each group was called a Bethel and given a number. I was a member of Bethel #94. There were bi-monthlyu meetings which took up an entire Saturday afternoon and evening. There were songs to practice and rituals to memorize and for the most part we all took it rather seriously. And the things we all walked away with are the things I want to share with you:
Job was by all accounts a wealthy man who happened to also have great faith in his God. He was respectful of other people, a loving husband and a good father. He even treated his animals well which evidently wasn’t always the case a couple thousand years ago. Then one day God decided to test his belief and began to systematically strip Job of everything he owned, every person he loved and after each loss would ask him if he still had faith. Each time he said he did. Each time he lost something else. No matter what God did to him or threw at him, Job remained steadfast. He trusted that God knew what he was doing. that there was a purpose.
What we – I – took away from this, stripping off the fairytale layers, is that at the end of the day you have to trust that whatever life throws at you, you’re going to survive. All the material crap means nothing. It’s just fluff you can enjoy or do without. People, as much as we love them, will come and go in our lives and losing someone – while sad – isn’t the end of the world. Strength comes from the inside. Like happiness. Believe in yourself – trust your inner god – and you’ll never be lost, alone or without purpose. And no matter how down you are, go out and do something nice for someone else. There’s always going to be someone who has more than you – but there’s also always someone who has less.
I have no idea if this fits into anything you’ve been reading about Job or not. But I thought you’d appreciate an outsider’s perspective 🙂