
In recent weeks, Republican presidential hopeful and Catholic Rick Santorum suggested that any limits on exploiting the earth for energy, such as restricting arctic drilling or refusing the Keystone XL pipeline, as Obama has done, is a “phony theology” that puts the earth before “man” (Santorum’s anachronistic and sexist word for humanity). In Santorum’s words: “The Earth is not the objective, man is the objective, and I think that a lot of radical environmentalists have it upside down. . . . We’re not here to serve the earth. That is not the objective, man is the objective.” He went on to suggest that any view that differs from his is not based on the Bible. Unfortunately, Santorum’s thoughts just quoted represent a large portion of Christian theology in the U.S. when it comes to creation. But is this view really “the biblical view”? There are many places in the Bible to which we could turn to address this question, but the Book of Job is one of the most powerful because it contains one of the longest discourses on creation, and humanity’s part in it.
The human-centered view of Job, his friends, and Satan
At the outset, Job is depicted as a standard Old Testament patriarch who is blessed with family and domesticated animals as a sign of God’s favor. He is a man of virtue, being “blameless and upright,” who “feared God and turned from evil” (Job 1:1). He serves as the family’s priest, offering sacrifices in case any member of his family had sinned in their thoughts, and for actual sins any member of his household committed. Even after his children die, he still praises God. Yet no outsiders enter his little world. There are no wild animals; there is no wild creation. Job is master as God’s faithful steward. He is in control. Satan’s accusation is that God has placed a fence around Job, and he only prospers because the chaos of creation is kept out of Job’s protected circle.
Only after God allows Satan to test Job is anything wild allowed to enter the story. Fire and a “great wind coming from the wilderness,” killing his animals and children. Creation, then, is only allowed into the opening chapter of Job as a test.
Job laments these losses and his subsequent suffering beginning in chapter 3. In direct parallel to the creation account in Genesis 1, he invokes darkness, Leviathan, the rush of the waters, and his own unbirth. He is unable to make sense of the tragedies that have befallen him; so he wishes for an uncreation.
The same “fence” that Satan sees as Job’s protection, Job sees as a noose tightening around his neck. The fence does not keep creation out, but keeps Job in, and it menaces him: “While your eyes are upon me, I shall cease to be” (Job 7:8); “Am I the sea or the dragon that you place guard over me?” (Job 7:12). In a direct reversal of Psalm 8, where humanity is glorified as “a little lower than God” with all of creation below, Job does not view this exaltation as a gift. With this exaltation, God places severe restrictions on humanity, guarding us like prisoners in a tight cell, waiting to pounce on the smallest mistake: “What is humanity, that you magnify them, that you pay attention to them, that you visit them every morning, that you test them every moment? Will you not turn your gaze away from me? Will you not leave me alone until I swallow my spittle?” (Job 7:17–19). Satan sees the limits as protection, an orderly world in which creation plays no part; Job sees these limits as a prison, a Foucauldian panopticon, and in response he seeks to unleash the forces of chaos and undo any order at all.
Two different worldviews emerge in the early chapters of Job: in one a person can expect reward for pleasing God. In the other view humans are not stewards of God’s grace but the objects of God’s restrictions, which tighten into a death noose. The latter worldview is close to that of nihilism: order means death; morals mean power and restriction. We must break free and embrace death itself.
Job’s nihilistic lament provokes an extended discussion between himself and his three friends, who basically repeat Satan’s view that God protects the righteous from the outside creation. Job, for his part, continues to repeat his view that God punishes the righteous with an oppressive gaze. For Job and for Satan, humans have been given a special place. In Job’s view God has a sick obsession with humans that makes them vulnerable: God watches us too closely. If only God would leave Job alone, he could die in peace rather than suffering through life. But Job’s friends see this same mortality as evidence that humans are corruptible, and therefore deserve whatever God brings upon them. But both views hold in common that humanity is the center of God’s attention in creation.
In Job 28, Job describes humanity in godlike terms: Humanity brings down mountains, finds hidden things, and establishes limits. In chapter 28, only God has the transcendent wisdom to make sense of life, and only the righteous person can hope to acquire that wisdom. But in finding it, humans play a central role in creation.
One of the most striking examples of Job’s human-centered view occurs in chapter 29. Job describes his previous life as being, “eyes to the blind, and feet to the lame” (29:15). He compares his life to a powerful tree: “My roots spread out to the waters with the dew all night on my branches, my glory was fresh with me, and my bow ever new in my hand” (29:19–20). He plays God’s role in subduing the unrighteous like wild animals: “I broke the fangs of the unrighteous, and made them drop their prey from their teeth” (29:17). Even more poignant, Job saw himself as like life-giving water—“They waited for me as for the rain; they opened their mouths as for the spring rain” (29:23)—and vital sunshine: “I smiled upon them when they had no confidence; and the light of my countenance they did not extinguish” (29:24).
Even Elihu’s speech, which points Job to consider the rest of creation, is human-centered. To be sure, Elihu’s speech in chapters 32–36 echoes many themes from God’s own speech. Yet animals are entirely lacking in Elihu’s speech, except as a foil for human greatness: “Where is God my Maker, who gives strength in the night, who teaches us more than the animals of the earth, and makes us wiser than the birds of the air?” (Job 35:10–11). Humans, thus, stand in an exalted place as an object of God’s special attention and are the most important creatures on the earth.
These claims of humanity’s exalted and god-like centrality stands in stark contrast to the divine speech that ends the Book of Job, where humans have no role at all.
God’s Creation Theology
After all the humans have had their say, “out of the whirlwind” God speaks (38:1). While Job wished for uncreation, God begins by describing the act of creation: “Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth?” (38:4). God established the earth, set the morning stars to give light, not darkness as Job wishes, and set limits to the sea (an ancient symbol of a threatening chaos). God does not act capriciously, but establishes order.
God not only creates and establishes order, but also acts providentially to sustain it. God sends rain “on a land where no one lives, on the desert, which is empty of human life” (38:26). This is the same place that Job had earlier despised, saying that people who he “disdained” and whom he would not want to allow even his dogs to associate lived in these “gullies” and “holes in the ground, and in the rocks, among the bushes” (30:1–8). Job despises these places and any person who associates with them, deriding them as people who “bray” like donkeys. But God affirms an ongoing providential care for even those places where no human lives. This is one of the few places where humans are even mentioned in the divine speech, and here only to note their absence. Yet God cares for the desolate places and the creatures there.
While in the human speeches animals are either derided or used as foils for human superiority, in the divine speech, God focuses on the animals as primarily in relation to God. From 38:39 to the end of chapter 39, God catalogs some of these animals. It is God who provides sustenance to the lions. It is God who observes the goats as they give birth and counts their days, helping them to grow strong. It is God who set the “wild ass” free and given it a land within which to roam free of human mastery (39:5–8). God challenges Job, asking, “Is the wild ox willing to serve you? Will it spend a night at your crib? Can you tie in the furrow with ropes, or will it harrow the valleys after you?” (39:9–10). The ostrich acts foolishly, leaving its eggs unattended and subject to predators. Yet “it laughs at the horse and its rider” who have “understanding” (39:18). The supposed wisdom in this rider and his horse is nothing compared to the providential care the ostrich receives. It does not need humans and their wisdom. God gives the horse its strength and causes the hawk to soar high in the skies. In these examples, God uses the creation to show human ignorance and powerlessness, and reaffirm God’s providential care. Human have no place, no role, no ability even, to create or sustain these creatures.
But the speech does not end there. God continues on with ever greater animals at divine beckoning and outside of human control. “Look at Behemoth, which I made just as I made you . . . It is the first of the great acts of God—only its Maker can approach it with the sword” (40:15, 19). God provides Behemoth with strength, with grass to eat, with shade, and with habitat. It is God’s first great act. Likewise, Leviathan, is out of human control and the watchful gaze of human dominion. Humans cannot understand it, cannot play or barter with it. They cannot even kill it. God delights in describing this creature: “I will not keep silence concerning its limbs, or its mighty strength, or its splendid frame. . . . On earth it has no equal, a creature without fear. It surveys everything that is lofty; it is king over all that are proud” (41:12, 33–34).
These are humbling descriptions for any human who thinks they are the center of God’s attention and the centerpiece of creation. Any person who says, like Rick Santorum, that “man is the objective” of creation, is brought low by God’s whirlwind. God’s repeated rhetorical questions put Job in his place. God is in control, not Job. Nonhuman creation is not a chaotic mess, but is cared for and ordered. Just because humans have no part in these spaces or creatures does not mean that God is unconcerned for us. More importantly, the vastness of God’s depiction is designed to show Job just how insignificant he really is in the grand scheme. Far from being “the objective,” humanity is just one other aspect of creation. But as an aspect of creation humanity also receives God’s providential care.
Conclusion
What is humanity in the midst of such a vast creation? In Psalm 104:14–15, humans are given a place between cattle and trees. In Job, humans do not even have that place. We are powerless and ignorant of God’s ways, but think ourselves central to God’s attention. Job sees himself as akin to life-giving rain and describes himself as one who smiles, mocks and laughs at those under him in an attempt to underscore the importance of humans in the scheme of creation. But God describes wild animals in such terms.
The idea that creation has humanity as its center-piece, is, in the Book of Job, a huge mistake; it is a proud, self-important view that God rebukes from out of the whirlwind. This idea that humanity is somehow allowed to set our own limits on our power so that we can exploit the earth is itself an unbiblical, prideful viewpoint. Indeed, to name creation as “resources” as so many Christians do, is already to undermine a biblical view of creation as good thing in itself, and to place humans at the center. The word “resource” is not in the biblical vocabulary of creation. Providence, care, gift, love: these are the words that describe creation, and they do so not by placing humans at the center, but by placing God at the center, and all of the vastness of creation at God’s beckoning. Humans are only one of those creatures.