Winters of our Content?

Job 29:4

Shakespeare’s Richard III begins with the word "Now is the winter of our discontent, Made glorious summer by this son of York..." - clearly referring to the brutal British winters in contrast to the calmer summer months.

But is how we look at seasons based on geography?

Which is your favorite season? Looking back through life’s photo albums - which are the memories that most bring smiles and joy - beaches or winter holidays? Sun or snow? It depends a lot on where you come from, and what meaning is associated with seasonal moods.

Today the world marks 80 years since the liberation of Auschwitz-Birkenau - International Holocaust Remembrance Day. My late father, who survived Auschwitz often talked about the cold as one of the worse features of his years in those camps. It’s a somatic memory that never left him - and handed over to his children, who hate the cold.

But winter also has its pleasures - and a turn of phrase in today’s chapter invites us to take a closer look at how we make sense of time - both past and present, and how we can make more of the time we have together with family and friends, whatever season we’ve got.

The dialogue between Job and his three friends, which takes up the first two-thirds of the book, reaches its emotional and lyrical peak in Job’s monologue in chapters 29–31. These chapters are an eloquent reflection of nostalgia—Job recounts his former life, brimming with honor and prosperity, and asserts his piety and innocence one final time. This isn’t just a walk down memory lane; it’s also a deep and personal lament for the life he’s lost.

In chapter 29, Job provides his first thorough self-assessment. Until now, the narrative has described Job as a righteous man, but this is the first time we hear him elaborate on what that righteousness looked like in practice. He was not just a wealthy man with a large family; by his account, Job was a leader, a source of wisdom, and a person of integrity. Princes sought his guidance, the people hung on his words, and he devoted himself to helping the poor, the sick, and the vulnerable.

Yet, it is striking that none of Job’s friends have acknowledged these achievements. Is Job exaggerating his past, clinging to an idealized self-image? Or are his friends intentionally ignoring the life he led before his downfall? Either way, Job’s words transport us to better days, while also raising questions about memory, perception, and the ways we define ourselves in the face of suffering.

Among Job’s many evocative phrases, one expression stands out:

מִי־יִתְּנֵנִי כְיַרְחֵי־קֶדֶם כִּימֵי אֱלוֹהַּ יִשְׁמְרֵנִי׃
בְּהִלּוֹ נֵרוֹ עֲלֵי רֹאשִׁי לְאוֹרוֹ אֵלֶךְ חֹשֶׁךְ׃

כַּאֲשֶׁר הָיִיתִי בִּימֵי חׇרְפִּי בְּסוֹד אֱלוֹהַּ עֲלֵי אׇהֳלִי׃

Oh that I were as in months past, as in the days when God preserved me;

When his lamp shone upon my head, and by his light I walked through darkness;

As I was in the days of my youth, when God shielded my tent;

Job 29:2-4

The phrase “כִּימֵי חָרְפִּי” (yemei horpi) is particularly intriguing. While many translations render it as “the days of my youth,” the Hebrew root חרף (ḥ-r-p) typically relates to “winter” or possibly “harvest time.” This has led some scholars to suggest “the days of my autumn” or “the days of my harvest” as more accurate.

In The Book of Job: When Bad Things Happened to a Good Person, Kushner draws attention to this phrase, pointing to its poetic resonance. He cites Stephen Mitchell’s translation, which renders it as:

"If only I could return to the days when God was my guardian;
when his fire blazed above me and guided me in the dark—
to the days when I was in blossom and God was a hedge around me,
when he hadn’t yet deserted me and my children sat at my side." (Job 29:2–5)

“Mitchell translates yemei horpi as “the days when I was in blossom,” capturing the vitality and beauty of Job’s memory.

The phrase “when I was in blossom” deserves some comment. The Hebrew is y’mei horpi, literally “in the winter of my life.”

Pope translates it nicely as “the autumn of my life.” It may strike us as strange to speak of “the autumn of [one’s] life” as the best time. We tend to think of autumn/winter as a time of decline and approaching death. But Job, remember, lives in the Middle East, where there are only two seasons to the year, not four. Winter for him is not ice, snow, and trees bare of their leaves, as it is for many of us. Winter is a time of abundant rainfall, grass and flowers growing, rivers flowing and crops thriving. Summer is the season of relentless heat and the disappearance of the life-giving rain.”

As Kushner notes, Job’s Middle Eastern perspective complicates our assumptions. In Job’s world, winter is not barren but full of rain, growth, and abundance. It is the season of renewal and thriving life, in stark contrast to the harsh, dry summer.

So, was Job speaking of his youth, his prime, winter or fall, or the days of mature harvest? The ambiguity mirrors the complexity of Job’s nostalgia—a longing for seasons that have passed, glories that have faded, and warmth that can no longer be bottled. Or can it?

In the end, Job’s reflection invites us to consider: What do we carry forward from our “seasons of abundance”? How do we or can we preserve the essence, light and warmth of good days to sustain us through life’s harsh realities, perhaps perceived as long cold winters?

'The Winter of our Discontent" is also the title of John Steinbeck’s last novel, written in 1961 and dealing with moral decay and a glimpse of personal redemption. It even highlights the dark drama of these days - the plight of undocumented immigrants. Steinbeck’s choice of title echoes both King Richard and Job’s journeys - flawed humans making sense of their histories to try and lead - and lead more honest, better lives.

While the seasons and what they mean may change, the memories we choose to cherish and the meaning we ascribe to them can provide hope in even the darkest moments.

May memories bring blessing and we, humans, inflict less harm and create more love with and for each other, at all seasons, and all times.

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