Amid the comforting hum of our theological machinery, it is easy to talk about evil and suffering; academics see it as a logical problem and work toward an intelligent explanation. Yet a world stricken by violence, poverty, and oppression does not seek after lofty philosophical solutions to its real and ever-present anguish; it cries out in bitterness, grievingly demanding an answer from God himself. Certainly, if Christians profess faith in such a God, one all-powerful and wholly good, they ought to have an answer for those in pain. However, it would be foolish to pursue theodicy apart from the goal of comforting those who are hurting, and sometimes, the most appropriate answer to the sufferer is not one well-suited for the diligent philosopher.

With that being said, the book of Job is perhaps a commentary on this very difficulty; while there may be many theodicies found within its pages, it seems to have far more to say about how the problem of evil and suffering is dealt with than it does about the problem itself. To be sure, one can inspect Job’s example and conclude that justice prevailed in the end; God not only made restitution to Job, but Job found himself more abundantly blessed than he had been prior to his suffering. Likewise, we can demonstrate how Job’s affliction served as discipline and worked to transform him into a more righteous man; pain, in this situation, led to greater good.  Yet even the most well-reasoned explanation of his suffering would have been quite insufficient to Job amid his agony; a real, concrete problem of evil demands more than an abstract, philosophical answer. For this reason, in spite of the counsel of his three “friends,” Job cries out to God himself for a suitable explanation (31:35). 

In fact, the book of Job perhaps serves more as a critique of theodicy than a source of theodicy; Eliphaz, Bildad and Zophar defended God’s justice, often with very logical arguments and sensible reasoning, and yet God said of them in the end, “you have not spoken of me what is right, as my servant Job has” (42:7 ESV). How can it be that the one with no answer to his own suffering is commended, while those with the best theodicies are under wrath?  Let the arguments of Job’s three friends first be considered.  

Eliphaz, the first to speak, offers a very simple hypothesis; “who that was innocent ever perished?” (4:7). Because Job is suffering, Eliphaz suggests, he must have sinned; thus Job himself is responsible for his own pain. This argument treats suffering as punishment and blames human freewill (as opposed to God) for evil; it would likely have resonated well with a Hebrew audience. However, not only does Eliphaz oversimplify the problem, but he becomes increasingly arrogant in arguing. He begins gently and obliquely, only indirectly referring to Job, but by his third speech, he does not hesitate to hurl insults and directly accuses him of specific sins.  Moreover, Eliphaz implies that he is somehow a prophet who has heard God’s voice and now speaks on his behalf (cf. 15:8, 22:22). Therefore, while Eliphaz offers what may seem like a decent theodicy, his ignorance is clear by the end of the book, and even worse, he does nothing to comfort his friend in need.

Bildad also offers a theodicy: “does God pervert justice?” (8:3). His argument is very pragmatic, insisting that if Job repents, God will restore his fortune; he even uses examples of history to demonstrate his point (cf. 8:8-19). However, as Job maintains his integrity, Bildad’s language intensifies. Certainly the idea that suffering may serve as a “wake up call” is valid; even Jesus uses examples of suffering to call people to repentance (cf. Luke 13:1-5). However, Bildad commits a logical fallacy by assuming that this is necessarily the case with Job, and again, the limits of his theodicy become evident.

Zophar does not offer nearly as complex an argument as the first two friends; in fact, one might wonder whether or not he gives any argument at all! Instead, he merely asserts himself (rather arrogantly, at that) and expects Job to change his mind. Like the others, he assumes that Job has sinned and thus is quick to clear God of any wrongdoing, yet he is perhaps the least compassionate of the three friends, verbally assaulting Job and even refusing to speak when his third opportunity arises. Therefore, whether he has offered an adequate theodicy or not is irrelevant; he is among the “miserable comforters” (16:2) who completely fail to listen to Job.

Certainly, the arguments of the three friends were flawed; assuming Job had sinned on the basis of his suffering is problematic. After all, if suffering always indicates sin, what might one say about Jesus? Perhaps the inclusion of Job in the Hebrew canon was to caution against this type of thinking. But is the book of Job critiquing only these three failed theodicies?  Or could it be that it demonstrates the limitations and weaknesses of theodicies in general? 

The Lord’s answer to Job out of the whirlwind could possibly be called autotheodicy. “Who is this that darkens counsel,” he asks, “by words without knowledge?” (38:2 ESV). As God begins to question Job, he reveals Job’s ignorance and limitations of understanding; “where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?” (38:4 ESV). In fact, the entirety of God’s answer to Job is designed to emphasize man’s utter weakness and inability to comprehend the things of God. At the end of the day, Job recognizes that he lacks the wisdom to make sense of his suffering but finds comfort in the fact that the Lord’s ways are above his own understanding. If one is to use this lens, then, to examine the earlier speeches of Eliphaz, Bildad and Zophar, it becomes evident why the Lord accuses them of speaking falsely; they boast of knowledge and understanding, yet they do not truly know. Furthermore, they hide behind their arguments as a means of avoiding the true responsibility of a friend: comforting the one who suffers.

Surely, the Lord’s speech to Job could be used to construct a theodicy based upon the sovereignty of God; the clay has no right to question its potter, one might remark (cf. Romans 9:20-21). Yet it would be foolish to take this argument and use it to escape the command to “weep with those who weep” (Romans 12:15 ESV).  It was the three friends’ obsession with theodicy that rendered them “miserable comforters” to Job (16:2). This tendency to reduce evil and suffering to a purely rational problem—especially a problem to which one claims to possess the solution—is exactly that which the book of Job criticizes.

Of course, apologetics have a place in the academic world; to some doubters of Christian theism, a philosophical answer to the problem of evil in suffering may remove certain intellectual barriers to accepting the gospel. Yet no matter how strong the evidence may be, notwithstanding the most sound reasoning and logical argumentation, and despite  the most thorough and laborious philosophizing, one must realize that all theodicies are ultimately insufficient solutions to a problem that is far more concrete than anyone would like to admit. It is possible to have confidence in God’s goodness and justice, to be sure, but when it comes down to comforting those in pain—those who have truly, as Job, lost everything—sometimes the best answer one can give is simply, “I don’t know.”