WHY WE DON'T TALK ABOUT BRUNO. (Pt 1)
Depending on which version of the story you heard, you probably have your views about biblical Job. There is the African Saint Job; a polished version set on a pedestal. There is also the other Job which the Western world is more in tune with.
“Who was Job again?” you seem to be wondering
Job was this Middle-Eastern prominent business owner – one of the wealthiest in the land. He was so upright that the Almighty God dangled him as bait in front of Satan who was innocently minding his business. The bet was to test Job’s loyalty to God by stripping him of every prized possession including his health
Meanwhile, that African narrative has it that during this test he never uttered an out-of-place remark but simply sat stoically like a Maasai Moran during his coming-of-age rites. Another narrative says he barely enjoyed that phase of his life with continual prayers and belting out hymns from Sankey’s Sacred Songs and Solos. They have no record of him reacting to his situation except when he threatened his wife with divorce
For a highly religious society like that, if you dare stray outside the confines and attempt to make sense of your trials then you are quickly shut down with cliches like:
“God understands”
“If Allah has willed it”
“We cannot question God”
“God does not give you what you cannot carry” et al.
The above is rooted in the fatality of our beliefs, our dictatorial parenting style or our ageism culture where respect is primarily defined by not looking an elder in the eyes, questioning them or dare express a counter opinion. Simply because they are all-knowing.
Is it not laughable that people who claim to know all there is about God conveniently forget that he already extended an open invitation to:
“bring forth your strong reasons”
“ask of me and I will show you”
come let us reason together”
Like Job’s cerebral friends who lacked emotional intelligence, we quiver when faced with our frailties.
Do you know why those who have never dealt first-hand with death always seem to be the most eloquent in a house of mourning?
Ineptitude.
They find the environment awkward. The eerie silence stifling. Then presume they must fill it and proceed to, with their ignorance.
For them, companionable silence is terrifying.
There is something about sad situations which makes humans cringe. Our default is to run away from misfortunes of any form simply because it exposes our nakedness.
As we stand toe to toe with that illusory beauty named Life and stare at her fragility; we cower, tuck tail and do what we know to do best…..flee
Why?
For the mere reason that we are horrified at the reflection. Scared to discover that all our air could be deflated in an instant by a prick from a very tiny needle.
We pee our pants when faced with the realization of ‘that could have been me’. So unnerving is it that we quickly slam the lid back on and bury our heads back in the sand