Homily

Job 1.1, 2.1-10
Psalm 26
Hebrews 1.1-4, 2.5-12
Mark 10.2-16

“Curse God and die”. The words of Job’s wife seem out of place. They call for resignation. They are a call to simply give up. In effect, they ask Job to commit suicide. This suggestion is never mentioned again in the book. It doesn’t feature in the long drawn-out conversations between Job and his friends. In fact, this one line from Job’s wife stands alone in the Bible itself. This suggestion did not feature before and will not do so after the Book of Job.

The response “Curse God and die” to the question of inexplicable suffering, appears as a modern response. It is ‘ahead of its time’. It seems more in tune with the anti-heroes and corrupt characters of 19th century Russian literature who see suicide as the answer to their spiritual alienation. The response of Job’s wife resonates with aspects of 1940s French philosophy as well. In his work, The Myth of Sisyphus, Albert Camus reduces the entirety of Western thought to a single question: “There is but one truly philosophical question, and that is suicide”. His answer is in human activity – we are simply too busy doing stuff to think about these problems.

In view of this, I would like to claim that despite being an out of place and stand alone statement in the Book of Job the words of Job’s wife are some of the most relevant in the text. They offer an ancient insight into the modern cultural condition – out “post-Christian” world where spiritual alienation is all pervasive.

If there is a positive from the words of Job’s wife it is in the fact that they provide further example of the enduring connections the Bible holds. After reading the Book of Job you cannot say that the Bible is irrelevant and those who do say this would need to read it a little more deeply – and probably brush up on the Dostoevsky and Camus as well.

In the opening chapters of the Book of Job, Job’s suffering appears as a multi-layered alienation. His sickness means he can no longer rely on his body. His poverty means he can no longer rely on his wealth. The death of his children and attitude of his wife mean he can no longer rely on his family. We find him “among the ashes”. Sick and poor, Job has lost his value as a human being. He’s socially excluded and left to live on the rubbish heap at the physical edge of society, only visited by 3 friends who are there for an argument. We can imagine that in his days of prosperity Job would have attracted countless so-called friends to attend to him. But with the loss of health and wealth Job finds himself alienated from society. Alienation is a weighty word, but it provides an important description of what is happening to Job. It is part of Satan’s tactic: if he can alienate Job from his family, if he can alienate Job from his wealth, if he can alienate Job from his own body, then certainly he can cut Job off from God.

We could say that on every level Satan failed. For instance, some theologians argue that Job’s poverty doesn’t alienate him from his wealth, but rather connects him to the poor. Job experiences the suffering of being disconnected from the material possibilities of society. The liberation theologian, Gutierrez, couches this in Marxist terms where the majority workers have lost their sense of meaning as the no longer have attachment to what they produce and can be sacked or hired according to profit margins. So, for instance, the person who made this shirt never saw it beyond being a sleeve on their sewing machine and certainly who have know claim to it once it is labelled TM Lewin or Primark own brand. We could expand this to the alienation of consumer culture where there is a constant barrage of advertising for barely attainable products. And no sooner than buying one, it’s already replaced by something more fashionable. Advertising often presents an unattainable image of the human being. If we buy this product we can look better, although never as perfect as the billboard shows. We are left unfulfilled and alienated by a culture that constantly tells us what we are not.

Perhaps that is all a detour from the central issue here. But it does show that Job’s experience of poverty and social alienation can have resonance with aspects of everyday experience.

And this goes back to Satan’s tactic: to systematically remove Job from all his support structures, his body, his wealth, his family, his friends and from society. When these support structures are withdrawn it is very possible for negativity to flood in. The ultimate aim, however, is to separate Job from God. It is to create spiritual alienation. And this is recognised at the very opening of the text and encouraged by Job’s wife. For Job to “curse God and die” is the goal of Satan. Job, as we know, never does so. He immediately rejects these words. He is steadfast. He shares the conviction of the Psalmist who writes: “I have trusted in the Lord without wavering” (Psalm 26:1).

But this doesn’t mean that Job’s relation to God isn’t put into question. This is the book where we find an innocent man suffering and under intolerable stress. His relation to God, in the midst of suffering, is put under the microscope.

By in the midst of suffering we mean that he is wrapped up in terrible moments of pain where no sense can be made and no sense can be given. There is no end in sight for Job. He experienced suffering “without reason or cause” (2:3) and there is no visible resolution, there is no rational outcome presented and no way out. He is suffering in the moment and it continues through the length of the book.

Although things are returned to Job and resolved at the end of the book, this is not to say Job knew about this in the midst of his suffering. This is the pivotal point of Job’s suffering. It is incomprehensible, confusing and ongoing. This is a terrible moment that I’m sure many have face, or have seen others face, and it doesn’t have to be grounded in poverty, it doesn’t have to be grounded in sickness or loneliness. In fact, I would suggest that it’s entirely possible to have support structures in such as friends family and wealth about you and still find yourself in the midst of suffering. It is possible to feel in these moments that these support structures are irrelevant and lack value. This would lead to the difficult ground of depression and even mental illness, and perhaps there need to be more connections made between this subject and the Book of Job.

The other week I was walking past the university and thinking about this when I passed a Rabbi who had a chair and table set out with a sign saying: “Ask the Rabbi”. So I did.
“Why do the innocent suffer?”
“It’s about potentiality. Look at the trials Abraham had to go through”.
In this sense, potentiality is the equivalent of the old saying “what doesn’t destroy me makes me stronger”. In the case of Abraham, it made him a spiritual giant, a father of faith.

Yet, there is a problem with potentiality. How can you see potential in the midst of suffering? How can potential be communicated to the sufferer? As Job suffered without reason or cause, there isn’t a clear or rational way out of his pain. And certainly not one that could suddenly be made clear through talk and argument as his friends tried. In fact, it is near impossible and reading the Book of Job leaves me with the gut feeling that there is no point to even talk about suffering. The only certainty here is that there is no easy answer. There is no quick way out. Job’s suffering, and that experienced by many, isn’t going to solved with a dose of paracetomal. We have to look deeper than talking our way out, clarifying the potentials, thinking it through or expecting our advice to solve the problem.

There is potential, no doubt, but it will be something lived out. With no resolution in sight we have to live in the midst of suffering, to live it even in confusion and affliction. Job does this, as does Abraham. Under the microscope Job has an indescribable solidarity with God and God reveals his solidarity with him.

This solidarity with God and from God is expressed in different ways in the scriptures we have read today. It is, in an overall sense, the solidarity between the Creator and the created. God’s response to Job at the end of the Book is grounded in God as creator. To condense it, God speaks from the whirlwind saying: “I am. I am the Creator”. God evokes the Behemoth and Leviathan, representations of all that is untameable and outside human control on land and in the sea. This isn’t a systematic response. There is no direct account as to why Job lost his family, his friends, his health and prosperity. Job still lived in the midst of suffering and affliction. But God the Creator was there. The ineffable presence of God who has power over the most chaotic elements of his creation. At the end of the Book of Job, God reveals his solidarity with Job.

This is interesting when compared to the opening of Hebrews 2. Aspects of God’s dominion over creation are passed on to humanity. God’s power is reflected in humanity’s control over nature. “You have crowned them with glory and honour”, Hebrews states, “subjecting all things under his feet”. We are made in the image of God and it is here that a ‘special relationship’ is found that frames this solidarity.

What is more, there is the Gospel message, that God became man and lived among us. This is the highest experience of this solidarity, where there is a deep and profound connection between the saviour God and the saved. As it says in Hebrews: “For the one who sanctifies and those who are sanctified all have one father. For this reason Jesus is not ashamed to call them brothers and sisters”.

We have then, not the arbitrary gods of the Greek world, who are corrupted by power and show contempt for human beings, and who are essentially an upward reflection of ourselves. We have Jesus Christ who is God become man to express solidarity with humanity.

We don’t always see the full scope of this, just as the disciples of Christ thought it was better to keep the children away from Jesus, as if he couldn’t be bothered by trivial things. As if he would be distracted or shamed by trivial things. When, in fact, this turns into one of the core expressions of his love for humanity.
All this doesn’t alleviate the suffering of Job. It doesn’t prevent the suffering we will experience in our lives. It may not help to even talk about it with those in the midst of suffering. It still has to be lived through, just as Job lived it through. However, we can respond with the realisation that there is a deep love and bond between God and humanity. A solidarity in the midst of suffering. And from this, at the very least, we will never utter the words of Job’s wife.

Towards a Psychogeography of the Long Haul Flight Part VII

The relationship between control and consumerism in the modern airport is more specifically seen seen in airport furniture. Airport furniture is designed to affect behaviour and in this respect is not so different from modern public seating in cities. The latter utilises arm rests, unconfortable shaping and cold metallic frames to prevent activities deemed to be anti-social, such as loitering, skateboarding and sleeping. However, as the airport is a tightly secure environment, these anti-social issues are less likely to arise. Airport furniture, therefore, has a very specific task - to keep the waiting passenger on the move.

The seating may appear aethetically fitting, but the use of arm rests to prevent sleeping and uncomfortable designs to prevent long periods of sitting, render rest a misery. Their function is to ensure that the traveller remains on the move because a restless traveller is more likely to venture into a shop or buy a drink. The furniture design in an airport terminal is directed towards consumer activity. Consumerism is in the very fabric of the airport terminal.

Towards a Psychogeography of the Long-haul Flight: Part V

Entering the departure lounge of Terminal 2 in Manchester airport, I was immediately surrounded by the racks, stands and shevles of the duty free shop. There had been an interior redesign of the terminal and there was now no direct path to the departure gates. Rather, I had to weave my way through the shop space. The duty-free store had become an inescapable part of my passage to the departure gate. It was there to navigate even before I could see the departure screen.

Retail space is embedded in the airport terminal and its inescapability is connected to the heightened security of the airport. There is no conspiracy here. But retail takes the opportunities that tight security provide. Currently there is a liquid restriction on all British flights, with liquids confiscated if over 100 ml. However, the exact same product can be purchased once passed the security check.

However, perhaps more importantly for retailers is that once a passenger passes through the security check, they cannot turn back. The passengers present a captive audience and new airport terminals have taken this on board in their design. Terminal 5 of Heathrow expects 30 million passengers to pass through every year, but only 700 seats have been provided. A tired, weary, passenger will, almost by necessity, have to enter a shop, restaurant, cafe or bar to find a seat. With Heathrow Terminal 5 as an example, the modern transport hub is designed for pimpin' cash out of passengers. As Mark Riches, Managing Director of World Duty Free, stated, "If we can't sell to people who can't leave the building, then there is something wrong with us". ('30 million passengers, 23,00 square metres of shops . . . and just 700 seats' in The Guardian, Friday 15 June, 2007)

Towards a Psychogeography of the Long-Haul Flight IV

It is only after parking his car, checking in his luggage, clearing his identity check and buying the necessary duty free gifts that Marc Auge's generic traveller, Pierre Dupoint, feels at ease. And it is only once the fasten seatbelt light has been switched and the plane is at cruising altitude, does Dupont feel relaxed enough to feel "alone at last". (Non-Places, 1992, p. 6). Pierre Dupont is not only important because he presents a passage through the little stresses, time demands and ??? but also because his passage through the airport becomes an exchange where anonymity is granted for time spent in a generic and bland space - a non-place. Auge's thesis opens into an account of the non-place and in Auge's words, "If a place can be defined as relational, historical, and concerned with identity, then a space which cannot be defined as relational, or historical, or concerned with idetity will be considered a non-place" (77 -78). The airport, for Auge, typifies non-place. Non-places pass avoid the very spaces that they exist alongside, or pass through. A traveller can buy wooden tulips in Schipfol airport without needing to visit Amsterdam or even legally enter the Netherlands. As Auge writes, "the traveller is absolved of the need to stop or even look" (97). Airports present physical and permanent structures with little or no direct contact with the surrounding area. The air-traveller, especially those using an airport for connecting flights, needs to historic relation to the place it is in and the airport offers no historic relation in return. However, for Auge an exchange does take place - the air-traveller, devoid of spaces with historic and identity relations, is offered anonymity in return. In airports almost all are travellers and simply transient visitors off to elsewhere. Relations to sites and spaces do not need to be formed, nor do relations between individuals.

Auge's thesis offers an interesting starting point to uncovering a psychogeography of the long-haul flight. Benjamin's boredom and waiting becomes an offer of anonymity in exchange for passage through a non-place. However, Auge's thesis is only a beginning, and certainly limited. Relations do take place in airports. Now, more than ever, identity is essential to air-travel. And in an airport relations and identity are determined by the convergence of commerce and security. It is capital and security that govern relations in an airport, to an extent no seen in any other transport hub. A psychogeography of the long-haul flight will uncover and examine this relationship.

Towards a psychogeography of the long-haul flight Part III

In one of the many notes that constitute the Arcades Project Walter Benjamin writes: "We are bored when we don't know what we are waiting for. That we do know, or think we know, is nearly always the expression of our superficiality or inattention". If we are to utilise the banal, to utilise boredom, we need not direct ourselves to the end or finale, but rather examine the situation we are in. Attention needs to be paid to the waiting-itself, not what we are waiting for.
By turning to the conditions of waiting (the conditions of boredom) we turn the material situation that creates this condition. Benjamin concluded his note by writing "boredom is the threshold of great deeds" - and it is precisely here, in the wait and the boredom, that the critique begins. A psychogeography of the long-haul flight will examine the conditions of waiting and boredom that shape air travel and out of that provide a social critique.

Towards a Psychogeography of the Long-Haul Flight: Part 2

Travel writing tends to the exotic. It seeks out the exotic and it creates the exotic. Its focus is on the destination, rather than the means of getting there. Whether a guide book, magazine or newspaper pull-out section, the destination is viewed in terms of the "new" - an exclusive discovery or a unique encounter. Travel writing avoids travel-itself. Travel-itself is ignored because it is boring. It is not directed to some exotic finale, but is the stuff of common experience; the commute to work, the packed train, the long flight, the isolated car. A psychogeorgraphy of the long-haul flight would turn to this underrepresented and basic human experience. The banality is precisely the subject. A psychogeography of the long-haul flight will exchange the exotic for the banal. The exotic is an escape, but the banal is a confrontation.

Towards a Psychogeography of the Long-Haul Flight: P1

Air travel tends to be regarded in terms of time rather than space. Conversations form over the lenght of a flight and the hours lost or gained during international travel. On an personal level the individual traveller often views the journey as time spent in the departure lounge, in the security queue and waiting for connecting flights. Yet, with this emphasis on time, the unique space of air travel is left neglected. The airplane cabin is unique and unto itself - a contained environment cruising at 35,000 ft. It is neither here nor there, somewhere between arrival and departure. The airport terminal is also a unique space, as a heightened transport hub. It is where security and commerce work hand in hand, intertwining to the extent that it is difficult to separate them from one another. As such, it is ripe for investigation. A psychogeography of the long-haul flight will therefore focus on space rather than time.