Strange, he who knew no other land but his own—that of legend—seems to have lived in all of them; he who perhaps was never born, seems to have achieved immortality.

Understandably, he has fascinated innumerable storytellers and commentators through the centuries.

Records of his birth seem to proliferate. Though stateless, he belonged to more than one nation, to more than one era. He defies geography and chronology. Was he Jewish—this first world citizen? Possibly, though it is far from certain. More than likely he was not; many texts stress his character traits, his good deeds which make him into a Just Man or a prophet “among the Gentiles.” Only a small minority insists on making him Jewish—an insistence based on the premise that a personality of his stature could be nothing else.

He is alternately described as a high Egyptian official, an advisor at the Pharaoh’s court, a colleague of Balaam and Yethro. When the Pharaoh wondered how to resolve his own Jewish question, Yethro declared himself in favor of granting Moses’ request—to let his people go—while Balaam opposed it. When consulted in turn, Job refused to take a stand, preferring to remain neutral, silent—neither for nor against. And it was for this neutrality, this silence, the Midrash tells us, that he incurred his later sufferings. In times of crisis, of danger, no one has the right to choose caution, abstention; when the life and death of a human community are at stake, neutrality becomes criminal.

One may suppose that this legend was invented to justify Job’s subsequent ordeals; just as there is no crime without punishment, ideally there is no punishment without crime.

This seems a flawed explanation. How could Job be accused of indifference toward the persecuted Jews if he himself was not Jewish? Answer: Even if he was not a Jew by birth, he was one by adoption—a kind of honorary Jew. Related to Jews and close to them. One source claims that he was married to Dinah, Jacob’s daughter.

One apocryphal work, “Job’s Testament,” goes further and says that he was Esau’s son, which would make Dinah his cousin. And how did he succeed in entering Egypt’s royal palace? His other cousin—Joseph—must have lent his support. As long as Joseph remained in power, Job was safe. His position must have weakened in the days when Moses began to make trouble. This would explain why he dared not express an opinion during the debate on the liberation of the Jews, preferring not to take part in that decision. A guilty, cowardly attitude for which he deserved punishment.

All of this is denied by another legend which describes him as solidly established in the land of Canaan, where he had settled long before the Jews’ arrival. In fact, he died there on the very day Moses’ scouts made their appearance. That was why they found the place so dull and deserted: its inhabitants were away attending the funeral of their prince, the illustrious Job. Thus it appears that the scouts were unjustly accused and punished; they had neither slandered nor defamed the Promised Land; they had described precisely what they had seen: deserted streets, abandoned homes, people in tears. It had been Job’s fault; he should have chosen another time and place to die.