“Why did I not die at birth?
Why did I not come forth from the womb and then expire?
Why were there knees to receive me?
Why were there breasts for me to suck?
Now I would be lying down and quiet.
I would be asleep.
Then I would be at rest.
With kings and counselors of the earth.
They rebuilt ruins for themselves.
I would be asleep with princes who had gold,
Who filled their houses with silver.
Why was I not buried like a stillborn child?
Why was I not like an infant that never sees the light?
There the wicked cease from troubling.
There the weary are at rest.
There the prisoners are at ease together.
They do not hear the voice of the taskmaster.
The small and the great are there.
The slave is free from his master.”
Job would prefer to be dead. Why didn’t he die at childbirth? Why didn’t he die as he left the womb? Why were there people to receive him? Why were there breasts to suck on? Otherwise, he could have eternal rest and quiet just like the kings, counselors, and princes with their monuments, gold, and silver. Why wasn’t he stillborn? He could be with the wicked who have no troubles, the prisoners who have no cares, and the slaves who have no masters. Death appears as a time of rest and no more troubles. Both the great and the small die. All have that eternal rest. This is often the allure of those who are thinking about suicide. However, I believe that suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem.