Skin for Skin

Dearest Rachel –

You probably remember that I try to read a few Bible chapters each day – one from Proverbs (corresponding to the day of the month for easy reference, which allows me to skip yours as often as not), one Psalm (which is a little harder to keep track of), and three others consecutively on my way through the rest of the book. At the moment, I’ve just started up in Job for probably the third or fourth time since you had to leave; I’ll admit, I find myself feeling less and less like him each time I go through it, though. Maybe it’s that the pain of loss simply diminishes over time, maybe it’s that I’ve tried to busy myself with finding new things to fill my life with… I don’t really know.

But as I was reading, I was struck by the claim made by Satan after he was originally allowed to test Job. You’ll recall that Satan claimed that Job only behaved righteously toward God because of all the ways He had blessed him; his assertion was that if it were all stripped away from him, he would consequently blame God as much as he might have given Him credit previously, and turn away from him. In a way, this actually seems like a logical reaction, although there have been observations both in scripture and in the present day that riches don’t lead to righteousness…

If I ·have too much [am sated/satisfied], I might ·reject [deny] you and say, ‘·I don’t know the Lord [^LWho is the Lord?]’

Proverbs 30:9a, Expanded Bible

That aside, you know the story; God lets Satan take everything away from Job: his sheep, his goats, his camels, and even his children (curiously enough, the devil lets Job keep his wife; I’ve no idea what that says about her, or him for choosing her, for that matter). All manner of disasters happen one after another, with a conga line of messengers who all are “the only one to have escaped to tell” Job about each successive tragedy. And of course, Job, while reacting with grief, does not blame God, but rather acknowledges that he came into the world with nothing and will leave it with nothing, praising God for what He has allowed him to have for the all-too brief time he did.

Needless to say, God is almost smug when Satan shows up in His presence the next time – and yes, doesn’t it seem weird that the devil is still able to do this? – and points out that Satan’s hypothesis about Job what quite incorrect. Satan, however, is unfazed, dismissing Job’s seeming equanimity with a simple proverb, “Skin for skin! A man will give all he has to save his own life.” He then doubles down on his wager with God by suggesting that injuring Job directly will cause him to falter; that if Job thought he was going to die (and that God was his executioner, for reasons that were to him utterly opaque) he would let God know how he really felt about Him. I won’t belabor the story; you know how it goes, and that God wins in the end, as He always does, and Job gets everything back (including just as many children as before, who the biblical narrative seems to treat as rather replaceable, which seems strange to our sensibilities today, where we look at every individual soul as unique and precious). It doesn’t say what Satan is forced to do for losing the wager; I’d certainly like to know.

But his assertion that if the alleged ‘sufferer’ isn’t exactly suffering, he’s not truly being tested, strikes a chord with me. For all that I find myself having to deal with your absence in my life, honey, and that I’m not – and will never quite be – over that loss, I’ve done what I can to get on with my life. And quite honestly, thanks to what you and your family have left behind, my life is actually somewhat beyond comfortable. It’s not as if I have to shove my grief back into a deep corner of my mind while I wake up every morning and soldier through another day in the work farce. I don’t have to plaster on a fake smile and greet customer after customer in order to make ends meet.

And I know I keep giving credit to you and your family for accumulating (and refusing to spend) the wealth that grants me that freedom, when I should be offering that to God. If nothing else, the fact that He persuaded me to ask for your hand (and more importantly, that you said “yes,” for some reason) ought to be taken into consideration.

However I look at it, I find myself wondering if my own acceptance of my situation lies in the fact that I’ve escaped personal harm. From all outward appearances, I’m doing well; I’ve even taken the chance to improve both the house and myself in the intervening time. But is that more out of the fact that I can? If you hadn’t left so much behind for me (and Daniel) to use and enjoy, would I be left trying to miserably grind my way through life without you? Would we be left to deal with a home (and lives) frozen in time as of the moment of your departure, a shrine to your memory, with us unable to escape? Would we be cursing – or at least questioning – God for what He caused to happen to us?

I don’t know, honey… and I must admit, I wouldn’t want to have the opportunity to find out.

On the other hand, it seems almost inappropriate to use those resources to try to set your memory aside – and make no mistake, it often feels like every step I take forward (whether aided by those resources or not) is a step away from you and my memory of you. Many of the ‘improvements’ I make to my life are done out of a desire to appeal to someone who might be persuaded to take your place in my life. Even the things I do for no one’s benefit but my own (like travelling) literally put that much more distance between me and your memory, adding layers of my own memories that you can only share with me through these letters. And I find myself wondering whether I’m simply self-medicating with these resources, and if that’s the right thing to do?

I’ve got to think about this, and get back to you on it soon. But in the meantime, honey, keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.