Job's prayer seeking some response from a God silent through this whole calamity, ends in despondency. Even nature, he says, gets a better break from God than we human beings. Chop down a tree, and it will sprout again. Its roots grow old, its stump dies, yet a little water on the old roots, buried though they be, stimulates branches, buds, leaves. Like mountains eroded in storms, boulders disintegrated by rushing creeks, soils washed away by floods, so human life and its hope perishes and then disappears, dissolves, vanishes.
Life goes blank.
Nothing in the universe cares. Yet, Job without hope, throws his questions at this silent God. If God is good, he is not God. I believe that is true. No one can be in the Christian ministry and not sit in vigil with parishioners stunned by some absurd event.