Archibald MacLeish (1892–1982)

This retelling of the Biblical story of Job was written while the horrors of World War Two, especially the destruction of Hiroshima, were still fresh. It holds up well today. MacLeish does a fine balancing act between recounting and questioning the original tale. In particular, the “happy end” of the original is placed in a bitter light. “Mrs.” Job, a one-dimensional figure in the original, becomes a believable character. As Sarah, she neatly counterpoints J.B.’s expansive postwar show more American outlook. Their dialogue deftly delineates the two branches that developed out of New England Puritanism. I also liked the device of having God and the adversary who tempts him into flinging J.B. into incomprehensible suffering played by two has-been actors who don masks for their parts, reminiscent of the personae of Greek tragedy. show less

“We have no choice but to be guilty. God is unthinkable if we are innocent.”

In a playhouse, a story of J.B. and Sarah is performed – a pious family who suffers and grieves when all five of their children are killed. But above in the rafters, looking on, are two veteran and world-weary actors supplying the deliberations, by proxy, of God and Satan. It’s a retelling of the book of Job, obviously, but its examination of the pathos and ethics of theodicy takes a highly different show more strategy. Job is no longer isolated and in opposition to the rest of the world: instead, his family is equally affected and given the respect of being subjects rather than objects of Job’s suffering. The children’s deaths are not a static circumstance that establishes Job’s suffering at the outset (in the book of Job, the children’s deaths can be resolved wryly with “His children die, but it’s okay, he gets new ones!”), but an ongoing source of grief through which to struggle. The portrayal of suffering as not an individual struggle but rather one that breaks down relationships makes the ethics of the situation even more insurmountable: would a God who is good give us love and then give us circumstances whose anguish is only heightened by love’s loss?

The story’s setting within the rehearsal of a playhouse also shifted the tone in a really interesting dynamic. In the book of Job, while God and Satan have a greater perspective, Job’s “on the ground” circumstances leave him with a sense of divine inevitability (ie, God is God, what are you going to do about it). But for J.B., the play is artificial, and when it’s over he goes back to…life? The real world? The tension raised by the recognition that these are actors portraying one circumstance of tragedy, while in the greater world a variety of equally moving tragedies are actually affecting people’s lives, heightens the indirect confrontation of God. Job isn’t extraordinary or specially hand-selected: rather, exactly the opposite, he is ordinary and among the vast company of humanity enduring hardships. And in the end, the theatricality is undercut, as there is no whirlwind, no confrontation of God, and no restoration.

The character and power of God is diminished in this retelling of Job because, as Sarah says, “God is unthinkable if we are innocent.” By bringing humanity and relationship to the forefront, the story is steadfast about the value of human life, human goodness, and human innocence: therefore God remains accused and the sympathies of the audience remain with humanity. show less

Reading this was fine and good and hard, just like Job is. But seeing it -- there is just something about it. I loved it. I loved all the questions it raises and does not answer. Why is life so hard? Why do bad things happen to good people? Why do good things happen to bad people? What are we to do after we suffer and suffer and suffer? Can we ask questions? Must we curse God and die? Can we not just choose to live? The ultimate to be or not to be, this ancient story made modern so that I show more can grasp it just a little better. show less

This was my first Broadway play. Directed by Elia Kazan, with Raymond Massey as Mr. Zuss and a young Christopher Plummer as Nickles, it simply blew my mind. Ironically, as an undergraduate the year before, I had determined to write a modern version of the book of Job for production by the drama club on our campus. As a pre-ministerial student (that was a long time ago!), I knew I had to come to terms with the book of Job before I could proceed with pastoral duties. I didn't realize that it show more would take another ten years and the discovery of William Blake's illustrations for me even to begin to find my way out of Job's dilemma. So, as an undergraduate, I failed at playwrighting.

Archibald MacLeish had already provided my favorite critical adage: "A poem must not mean but be." Here, now, he also gave me a modern Job: delightful, imaginative, then provocative, moving, and (though not triumphant!) consoling.

I recently re-read the play. I wish it were still being produced. I still think Nickles steals the show. But, after all, it's J.B.'s wife Sara who steals one's heart. When the fresh forsythia of spring prevents her abandoning life, she returns in love to J.B., and together they face survival. Job forgives God, and Sara forgives Job. At least that's one way to read the ending. Probably Mr. Zuss's way, not Nickles'. show less