The Role of a Lifetime
In this world, we all have our troubles. Every single one of us has moments, or months, or years, where we feel we are suffering--must suffer--will continue to suffer more than we can possibly bear. For the biblically literate, the story of Job is the obvious comparison. Poor Job! Calamity after calamity, misery upon misery, all piled on top of this innocent man! He never knew the reason--he was blamed for asking the question--and totally blameless, he endured so much. How could he stand it? He was just like meee!
Who here is familiar with Archibald MacLeish's J.B.: A Play in Verse? It's a modern retelling of the book of Job. Wait, no, that's not quite it: "my J.B. is not a reconstruction of the Book of Job--not, at least, a reconstruction of the kind presently familiar in which the discovery of the model is part of the adventure. My play is put in motion by two broken-down actors who believe, themselves, that the play is the Book of Job and that one of them is acting God and the other, Satan. When J.B. and his family appear however it is not out of the bible that they come."
When we read this play aloud in twelfth-grade English, the teacher wanted each role to be performed by a single person for consistency's sake. So she began to describe each part, great and small, and asked who in the class wanted to read it. When she came to one particular role and began to delineate it, suddenly her eyes grew wide and you could practically see the big light bulb popping on over her head as she turned to me and asked "Do you want to play this part?"
Now, for which role in the story of Job could I have been such an obvious choice?NICKLES. I taste of the world.
I've licked the stick that beat my brains out--
Stock that broke my father's bones.
MR. ZUSS. I know. You've been around, you children!
Our modern hero! Our Odysseus
Sailing sidewalks toward the turd of
Truth and touching it at last... in triumph!
The honest, disillusioned--child!
You sicken me!
NICKLES. All right. I sicken you.
No need to be offensive, is there?
If you would rather someone else...
MR. ZUSS. Did what?
NICKLES. Played Job.
MR. ZUSS. Played Job?
NICKLES. Nat-u-rally!
Who else could play the part like me?
God has killed his sons... his daughters...
Taken his camels, oxen, sheep,
Everything he has... and left him
Sick and stricken on a dung-heap--
Not even the consciousness of crime to comfort him.
MR. ZUSS. Not Job. Not you. I wouldn't think of it.
NICKLES. You wouldn't think of me for Job?
What would you think of?
MR. ZUSS. Oh, there's always
Someone playing Job.
NICKLES. There must be
Thousands! What's that got to do with it?
Millions and millions of mankind
Burned, crushed, broken, mutilated,
Slaughtered, and for what? For thinking!
For walking round the world in the wrong
Skin, the wrong-shaped noses, eyelids:
Living at the wrong address--
London, Berlin, Hiroshima--
Wrong night--wrong city.
There never could have been so many
Suffered more for less. But where do
I come in?... Play the dung-heap?
MR. ZUSS. All we have to do is start.
Job will join us. Job will be there.
NICKLES. I know. I know. I know. I've seen him.
Job is everywhere we go,
His children dead, his work for nothing,
Counting his losses, scraping his boils,
Discussing himself with his friends and physicians,
Questioning everything--the times, the stars.
His own soul. God's providence.
What do I play?
MR. ZUSS. What do you play?
NICKLES. What do I play? You play God.
You play God and I play...
Ah!
MR. ZUSS. I had assumed you knew.
Sometimes when life gets rough and things are falling apart all around me, I just need the reminder that I once was considered the ideal person to play the part of Satan.
::grin::
Who here is familiar with Archibald MacLeish's J.B.: A Play in Verse? It's a modern retelling of the book of Job. Wait, no, that's not quite it: "my J.B. is not a reconstruction of the Book of Job--not, at least, a reconstruction of the kind presently familiar in which the discovery of the model is part of the adventure. My play is put in motion by two broken-down actors who believe, themselves, that the play is the Book of Job and that one of them is acting God and the other, Satan. When J.B. and his family appear however it is not out of the bible that they come."
When we read this play aloud in twelfth-grade English, the teacher wanted each role to be performed by a single person for consistency's sake. So she began to describe each part, great and small, and asked who in the class wanted to read it. When she came to one particular role and began to delineate it, suddenly her eyes grew wide and you could practically see the big light bulb popping on over her head as she turned to me and asked "Do you want to play this part?"
Now, for which role in the story of Job could I have been such an obvious choice?NICKLES. I taste of the world.
I've licked the stick that beat my brains out--
Stock that broke my father's bones.
MR. ZUSS. I know. You've been around, you children!
Our modern hero! Our Odysseus
Sailing sidewalks toward the turd of
Truth and touching it at last... in triumph!
The honest, disillusioned--child!
You sicken me!
NICKLES. All right. I sicken you.
No need to be offensive, is there?
If you would rather someone else...
MR. ZUSS. Did what?
NICKLES. Played Job.
MR. ZUSS. Played Job?
NICKLES. Nat-u-rally!
Who else could play the part like me?
God has killed his sons... his daughters...
Taken his camels, oxen, sheep,
Everything he has... and left him
Sick and stricken on a dung-heap--
Not even the consciousness of crime to comfort him.
MR. ZUSS. Not Job. Not you. I wouldn't think of it.
NICKLES. You wouldn't think of me for Job?
What would you think of?
MR. ZUSS. Oh, there's always
Someone playing Job.
NICKLES. There must be
Thousands! What's that got to do with it?
Millions and millions of mankind
Burned, crushed, broken, mutilated,
Slaughtered, and for what? For thinking!
For walking round the world in the wrong
Skin, the wrong-shaped noses, eyelids:
Living at the wrong address--
London, Berlin, Hiroshima--
Wrong night--wrong city.
There never could have been so many
Suffered more for less. But where do
I come in?... Play the dung-heap?
MR. ZUSS. All we have to do is start.
Job will join us. Job will be there.
NICKLES. I know. I know. I know. I've seen him.
Job is everywhere we go,
His children dead, his work for nothing,
Counting his losses, scraping his boils,
Discussing himself with his friends and physicians,
Questioning everything--the times, the stars.
His own soul. God's providence.
What do I play?
MR. ZUSS. What do you play?
NICKLES. What do I play? You play God.
You play God and I play...
Ah!
MR. ZUSS. I had assumed you knew.
Sometimes when life gets rough and things are falling apart all around me, I just need the reminder that I once was considered the ideal person to play the part of Satan.
::grin::