There’s a splendid chart I came across at some point in my
life that looks something like this...
It’s titled “Ring Theory.” There’s an inner circle, small, confined, and then several rings growing further and further out. In the inner circle is the aggrieved or afflicted. This is the person who is affected primarily by a loss. Then a step further out is significant others, parents, siblings and the like. Then a step further is true friends. A step further is colleagues. The last ring is lookie loos, which I think is Australian for people who slow down their cars to check out accidents or something like that. In this chart comfort goes in and on the bottom are the words dump OUT with arrows pointing away.
It’s titled “Ring Theory.” There’s an inner circle, small, confined, and then several rings growing further and further out. In the inner circle is the aggrieved or afflicted. This is the person who is affected primarily by a loss. Then a step further out is significant others, parents, siblings and the like. Then a step further is true friends. A step further is colleagues. The last ring is lookie loos, which I think is Australian for people who slow down their cars to check out accidents or something like that. In this chart comfort goes in and on the bottom are the words dump OUT with arrows pointing away.
The
purpose of this chart is to demonstrate the appropriate way that we are to deal
with grief in the case of any profound loss—maybe a death or maybe a personal
loss of some other kind. The appropriate way to address all grief is
inside-out, starting with those most closely affected and moving outward. This
might seem obvious, but in subtle ways people do not get this. The principle is
that those closest to the loss—a spouse, parents, maybe children—get to share
their grief with ALL those further out. And the next ring gets to share their
grief with friends and neighbors further out in the circle and so on. But
nobody gets to share their grief in the other direction. No true friend gets to
lay their emotional burdens on the family; no acquaintance or stranger gets to use
an event as an excuse to dump their own issues on friends or family members.
We’ve all seen this happen. If you haven’t it might be because you’re the
person who does it.
This is
why I’m always nervous opening up the mic at funerals to whomever may come up.
Most people who get up to talk at a funeral—90% at least—do a great job of
honoring the person who died and they express emotions appropriately without
laying their emotional burdens on those closer to the situation, but there’s
sometimes that person who stands up and who, for whatever reason, lacks the emotional
intelligence to understand on which ring they are standing. It’s a friend or
acquaintance who plays up their emotions over those closer to the loss, or it’s
even a close friend or extended family member who feels the need to tell the
family how they should be feeling.
The reason
I bring this up today is because Eliphaz the Temanite is a friend of Job’s
who does not understand his place on the rings of grief. Rather than sitting
with Job, listening in his anguish, and mourning alongside him, he reverts to
his stock answers to why there is suffering in the world and he’s ready to
share them with Job, like it or not, because that’s what he believes a good
friend should do. In that moment Eliphaz shows he lacks the emotional
intelligence to sit with Job in his grief. Instead, he searches for answers,
blaming, of course, Job himself. Even if he wasn’t blaming Job, this is
inappropriate behavior.
To
understand this another way, Eliphaz preaches the law in the moment
when Job needs the law the least because he’s already incredibly aware of the
ramifications of law. He’s lost everything; he has no more ground on which to
stand. If anyone understands the cost of living it is Job. Eliphaz reads the
situation as one where we reap what we sow, failing to understand that it is
precisely because of Job’s blamelessness that he finds himself in this position.
It is because he was a great man that Satan rips everything away from him. We
saw as much in the first chapter. There’s nothing hidden about the situation.
Satan, who had been wandering about the planet, decided that this man whom God
had lifted up as a truly good man is the kind of man that must be put to the
test.
Eliphaz
doesn’t understand this because he’s not willing to let anything question his
stock answers. Eliphaz is a man who claims a strong faith; he’s the guy with
all the answers; but he lacks the understanding of what faith really is. It’s
not answers. Faith is not certainty in your understanding of who God is or how
God works. Faith is actually demonstrated perfectly by Job when he loses
everything because he turns not to his theological assertions about God. He
turns to the real God, the living God, and he does it not with certainty but with
doubt. Doubting why?
In my work
I find myself somewhat regularly in those moments of profound sadness with
families and friends of loved ones, especially those who have died unexpectedly
or experienced some kind of traumatic loss, and I cringe at the need some of us
have to be fix-it people in those circumstances. People tell me all the time
that they don’t know what to say when somebody is desperately grieving, and so
they tell me that couldn’t do what I do. I’ve never said this but perhaps I should
start, because I’m often thinking it—thinking that “Yes, you can’t do what I do
because the trick is to say nothing… except maybe I love you and I care about
you… now let’s sit together in your pain.” Sitting with somebody that’s in pain
is the toughest and most necessary thing most of us will ever be called to do
as human beings.
In those moments we don’t need to
be completely silent. Rather none of us need to teach people how to grieve. Instead,
they get to direct us. Everybody grieves in their own way and their own time.
My job, as a pastor, is to help them figure out for themselves what healthy
grieving looks like, and I often do that by simply being a person representing
God-in-the-flesh for them. They can’t see Jesus, but maybe they’ll see me.
Of course,
any human being can do this. This is something all of you can do, and some of
you do it exceptionally well. When a person is grieving a loss you help them
reflect simply by being there. You don’t need to be wise; you just need to be. Helping people cope with grief is 90% showing
up and, to do my best Yogi Berra, the other half is shutting up.
The Job we
find in our reading today is a man in the earliest stages of immense grief. He
is processing out loud, which is usually quite a good thing to do, and he’s
doing it by questioning the God who created him and supposedly held his
security in his hands. Some people don’t like the idea of shouting at God, but
let me tell you: God is a lot more reliable in God’s reactions to being shouted
at then people are. Sometimes people don’t like that much, but God can usually
take it. At least for a little while.
Job is in
no place to hear what Eliphaz has to say for several reasons. 1. Eliphaz is on
the outside of his rings of grief, 2. Even if Eliphaz were right that the
reason Job has lost everything is because of his behavior there is no simple
fix; it’s not like being good from this point forward would bring his family
back from the dead, so this feels more like rubbing it in than meaningful help.
We don’t need people to lord over us their own righteousness in our moments of
loss. Nobody cares for that, least of all God. And 3. Eliphaz is not right. He
misreads the situation, probably because he’s projecting his own insecurities
on Job.
Don’t be
Eliphaz. Don’t let your faith in God turn you into such a well of certainty
that you must correct others’ alleged misgivings in a time when they need you
to be a reflection of God. Listen first. Reflect first. Sit with the Jobs of
the world. This is hard work, especially for fix-it people, because it means
going into a situation not to fix it but with the purpose of suffering
alongside. You can’t fix it. Eliphaz couldn’t fix it. All you can do is show
up.
The weird
thing is that that’s also the best thing you can do. Strangely, it’s enough. It’s
not going to fix it, but it is going to make it better, a little bit at a time.
Job has a long journey ahead of him at this point. More discernment is needed,
but he could have been aided by a friend who actually cared, who understood his
place. Understand yours. Be Jesus Christ to a hurting world. That’s a helluva
thing to be and you all have it in you. Be Job. Not Eliphaz. Neither path is
easy but one of them is good.
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