just as a lover describes the beauty of his beloved with great precision, so too is it here. "Blameless," he says; this is complete virtue. "Just," and this—"True," and this—"God-fearing," and this—"Abstaining from every evil thing." And concerning this, "from every," he says, not simply from this one or that, but not from one and not from another. Where are they who say that nature leans rather toward evil? What fear, what torments, what laws made this man what he was? For since it was said, "There is no one just who will do good and not sin," therefore he says "blameless"; he did not say "sinless," but "blameless." He not only did not do those things that involve sin, but not even those that carry reproach and condemnation, etc. A And it would be enough to have brought these forth by way of a specimen. We warn the reader in the meantime that this interpretation of ours differs from those fragments of John Chrysostom which are cited in the Catena, in such a way that, except for those first words and a few others here and there, it seems to contain scarcely anything else in common with them.
FRAGMENTS ON BLESSED JOB
(From the Catena of the Greek Fathers on blessed Job, collected by Nicetas, and edited by the work and study of Patrick Young.)PROOEMIUM
C That this book is useful to everyone, in every style of life and circumstance—to man and woman, to old and young, to commoner and prince, to rich and poor, to one enjoying prosperity and to one oppressed by adversity—it is easy to show. For this wonderful and great man, famous everywhere throughout the world, this athlete of piety crowned with victory, who underwent every kind of struggle, who erected countless trophies against the devil, became both rich and poor, held in honor and held as nothing, the father of many children and childless, in kingly palaces and in a dung-heap, in splendid attire and after that in a swarming of worms, having enjoyed a thousand forms of attendance, and afterwards having endured countless insults from servants rising up, from friends hurling abuse, and from a wife plotting against him. Everything flowed to him as if from springs: abundance of wealth, greatness of power, brilliance of glory, security of peace, honor, attendance, health of body, and the good order of his children. Nothing was sorrowful; he had wealth with security and unwavering prosperity; and quite rightly so, for God had hedged him in on every side. D But later all those things flew away, and a thousand storms...A assailed his house, and all were successive, continuous, and beyond measure heavy; for all that he possessed was suddenly snatched away. His children were buried beneath a sudden and violent death, slaughtered at the table and the banquet, not by sword and blade, but by the evil spirit that brought down the house. And afterward, his wife armed herself and brought engines of war against the just man; and his friends and servants, some spat in his face, others trampled and leaped upon him. He was cast out of every house; a dunghill was his dwelling; he teemed on every side with fountains of worms, and the diamond was flooded with blood and pus, and taking a potsherd he scraped away the corrupt matter, becoming his own executioner. And his pains were incessant and unbearable; the night was more bitter than the day, and the day more burdensome than the night, and all things were filled with precipices and crags; and there was no one to console him, but myriads to insult him. Yet, nevertheless, in such a storm and amidst such unspeakable waves, he stood courageously and unswervingly. The reason for this was that he rightly weighed the nature of things, and knowing their mutability, he foresaw the future; and while enjoying prosperous fortune, he did not consider sadness and bitterness as foreign to himself, and for this reason he remained moderate in favorable circumstances.
B This man, who suffered countless things, is set forth as an example to those who apply their minds, not only of endurance of labor and patience, but also of every other virtue: of fortitude and constancy, in temptations; of abstinence from insults, in wealth and power, so that they might be mild, moderate, and sociable, sharing what they have with others with cheerfulness; of temperance, in pleasures; of justice, in judgments and contracts; and above all, of harmony and of the head of the virtues, love; for he fulfilled every virtue with the necessary zeal and care. Therefore, taking this impressed and delineated image, fix it in your conscience; and if you lie in sorrow, take refuge in it; if you abound in resources, take the antidote from here, so that you are neither overwhelmed by poverty nor puffed up by wealth; if you lose your C children, you have consolation from here; for you will find here the peak both of calamities and of endurance. If you fall into sickness, consider the fountains of worms, and you will bear all things mildly; if a friend plots against you, again bring the holy man into your thoughts, and you will overcome the passion; if the common crowd treats you badly, consider what he endured from his servants, and you will receive a full medicine; if someone entangles you in wicked suspicion, let what they said about him (that he had not yet paid the due penalty for his sins, and the insults with which they received him) come to your mind, and you will overcome this sickness. For there is no calamity among men—famine, poverty, disease, loss of children, the sudden loss of vast wealth—which this man, firmer and more stable than any adamant, did not endure by holding firm; and afterwards, pursued by the plots of his wife, vexed by the insults of his friends, D and plotted against by his servants, he was demonstrated through everything to be harder than any stone.
and these things, before the law and grace. For we shall indeed have no ordinary defense—when we, who after the law and grace have enjoyed such a great gift, bear things less than he who, at the beginning and in the early foundations of human life, displayed such philosophy. A
Chapter One
Vers. 1. “There was a man in the land of Ausitis, whose name was Job.” What does the prologue mean, and for what reason did the writer begin in this way? He was about to recount a life celebrated for virtue, and one that far exceeded our own way of life; therefore, lest anyone, upon observing the sheer magnitude of the struggles and the patience, should think that he was endowed with some strange and not human nature, he first of all reveals his nature, so that you might marvel at his intent—that he was a man, by nature one of the many, but in virtue far higher than the many. He stated what was common to nature, so that he might indicate what was peculiar to his own purpose; because, although he was a participant in the same nature as others, he performed deeds greater than what is human. Praise is also derived for him from his region, so that you might marvel from this, just what kind of rose has germinated from a thorn. B Observe also the first commendation, that the land of Ausitis brought forth such a shoot. For in Arabia, where all lived with corrupt morals, where there was no example of law-abiding behavior, that such a proper and esteemed man was found was truly worthy of admiration.
“And that man was true, irreprehensible, just, pious, abstaining from every evil action.” Those outside philosophers, when explaining the definition of man, say: “Man is a rational, mortal animal.” But divine Scripture defines him to be a man who guards the likeness of God and is known by his virtue; but it does not deign to call someone a man who confuses and destroys those divine types and marks. For if someone possesses the character of human nature but violates it by the depravity of his own way of life and treats it with dishonor, he hears from the Prophet: “Man, being in honor, did not understand; he was compared to the senseless beasts, and was made like unto them” (Ps. XLVIII, 13). C Here, therefore, using its own custom, divine Scripture shows that nothing so characterizes a man as being irreprehensible, just, and pious; and henceforth it declares that Job is known by these things, and says that he was a true man. For the wicked are false men, not otherwise than those that are merely painted. Ecclesiastes confirms the same thing, repeating all the commandments in summary at the end, and referring them to the fear of God as to the head, saying: “The end of the word, hear all: Fear God and keep His commandments, for this is the whole...” D
duty of every man.” Another person also prophesying in Jerusalem, because he saw no one to listen, says: “I came, and there was no man; I called, and there was no one to obey.” And we, too, do not depart from the custom of daily speech when we send a servant or a son to accomplish some business; we are accustomed to say to him: “Act like a man in this matter,” that is, preserve your human condition; as one endowed with mind and reason, think and act; by the performance of your duty, show that you are a man. For it is not by A figure, but by action, that what each one is is understood; otherwise it is only a homonym of the voice, saying what it says. But that one is the true man who, having preserved the image, has not in the least obscured the beauty granted by God; such as was Job, true, not feigned, who manifested the virtue of a man by the deeds themselves, not changed by attire, nor did he simulate this like an actor. B And what God sought beforehand from Abraham, when He said: “But you, be pleasing in my sight, and be blameless,” this the Scripture now testifies concerning Job; for when it had said that he was true, it added that he was also without reproach. Weigh the word with me, so that you may understand the great perfection of a just man; why did He not say “without crime,” but “void of reproach”? Surely because crime is placed among the greatest sins; but reproach, among small and minimal things: not only, therefore, he says, did he abstain from the gravest faults, but he did not allow himself to be burdened even by the lightest, which are to be judged worthy of blame rather than of accusation, and merit disapproval of the deed, but not punishment. Aquila for “irreprehensible” rendered “simple”; Symmachus, “innocent,” C when he indicated that the soul of the just man was alien to all wickedness and the artifice of simulation, and here indeed directed to the highest virtue. For he is innocent who lacks no good; who leads a life removed from all wickedness. Afterwards, he adds “and just” to “irreprehensible”; for justice is the combination and gathering of all things that are honest and good: for if any of the things that seem worthy of praise be found in anyone, separated by itself from the rest of the virtues, it will be imperfect and useless, and even often found contrary and worthy of vituperation. For example, one thrives in intelligence and skill; unless he also meditates on just counsels, he is crafty and wily, and endowed with lost morals, he is by no means prudent. For of such it has been said: “They are wise to do D evil, but they have not known how to do good.” Again, another is brave for struggles and dangers; if he does not desire to act justly, he is cruel and violent, as they say: “Let our strength be the law of justice; for what is weak is found useless.” If one restrains the pleasures of the body, he will not yet be temperate, if he is greedy for money and riches, if he is lost, if he is ungenerous, if for the sake of the desire for money he has been prodigal. Finally, every part of justice, cut off from the rest like a body, is nothing. But the harmony and union of all good things, one might reasonably consider it to be
justice; indeed, if any of those things that warrant admiration were absent, it would for that very reason limp and be mutilated, and falsely boast the name of justice. For the just man must necessarily be wise first; for how would he do what is necessary, and conduct himself decorously in all things, if he were ignorant of the order and power of each thing? B
Next, temperate—for intemperance is injustice—and a lover of God; for, "the pious," he says, "have devised just things"; gentle, humane, beneficent; and, in a word, the harmony of all things that are to be done according to right reason completes the just man. And this, Ezekiel taught us accurately, through whom God says: "But the man who shall be just, he who does justice." B
Then he sketches the just man, combining the perfect and whole virtue from its parts; and first he attributes piety to him, saying: "He shall not eat upon the mountains"; for they performed idolatry in the mountains. Then he says that temperance must also be in him: "And he shall not defile his neighbor’s wife, and he shall not approach a woman during her separation." Then he attributes also meekness and lenity to him, saying: "And he shall not oppress a man by power." To this he declares that he is self-sufficient, in saying: "And he shall not commit robbery." He also portrays him as merciful and communal, saying: "He shall give his bread to the hungry, and shall clothe the naked; he shall not give his silver at interest, and he shall not receive increase." He declares him to be easy to appease, and peace-loving, so that he is able to arbitrate most excellently between those who are in conflict. "For he shall turn his hand from iniquity, and shall execute just judgment between a man and his neighbor." For this is the preeminent and most distinguished [virtue], joined with all the other accomplishments of justice, the political and judicial habit, applying what is appropriate to each, which is why it is named after "justice" (dike). C And having gone through all things—both what should be done and what should not—he applied a common rule and pattern to all, looking to which one will err in nothing. "He has walked in my commandments," he says, "and has kept my judgments, to do them." D And all these things, joined together and woven, like a multi-membered and panharmonic body firmly held, the just man is made. And having perfected him through so many [virtues], and having woven, as it were, one definition and description of him from so many, he shut everything up into one name, and says: "This just man shall live with life."
Since, therefore, we have heard what the characteristics are that mark the just man, come, let us consider alongside these the things concerning Job. The just man is pious; but what of Job? Did he not appease God with sacrifices every day? He is chaste and temperate, but here, "I made a covenant," he says,
A and I will not understand over a virgin. He is gentle and kind, and what is gentler than this? His servants, in fact, because of his incredible kindness, were so attached to him that they longed to devour him—for they said: "Who will give us of his flesh, that we may be satisfied?" Merciful and sharing what he has with others, and who here can rival Job? Is not his door open to everyone who comes, and no one has ever left with an empty bosom? The just man will decide justly among those who dissent; it is permitted even here for Job to boast and say: "The judgment which I knew not, I searched out; and I broke the jaws of the wicked." The just man will do injury to no one, and Job even calls down curses upon himself: "If I have lifted my hand against an orphan, let my shoulder fall away from its joint." Since, therefore, Job fulfilled every part of virtue with the utmost care, for this reason he is called blameless and just. B
Thus also Job was just, not having within him a part of virtue, but the whole of human virtue, complete and universal, not abstaining from evil on one hand while clinging to it on the other. Just as we call a scale just, which maintains equality everywhere and in all things—not if it weighs gold justly but lead otherwise—but that is a just weight which provides equality to any material whatsoever, and an equal measure everywhere again. So Job was just, being equal in every respect; for he did not maintain this equality only in wealth, but also in all other matters, never exceeding measure and limit. For no one could say that he cherished equality in wealth but exceeded the measure in his association with his neighbors, or was living in a haughty or arrogant manner, but he fled even this out of much abundance, saying: "If I have despised the judgment of my manservant or my maidservant, when they contended with me, was I not made as I am in the womb, and were they not also made?" C
Therefore, it is the greatest iniquity to be lifted up and arrogant. For just as we call someone a miser—one who seizes what is others' and is not content with his own—so we call someone arrogant when he demands more from his neighbor than is owed to a human being, when someone places himself in every honor but wishes to despise another. This arises from no other source than injustice. For that this is injustice is clear from the fact that God made one nature for all, and gave all things common and equal to one's neighbor; how then do you cast him out and strip him of the honor which God granted him, and do not suffer him to be a sharer with you, but making all things your own, you render him destitute, not of wealth, but of honor? God granted one nature to both, and one dignity and primacy of nature to both. For that, "Let us make man," is common to the entire race. D Why, then, do you cast him out of his paternal possession, bringing him down to the utmost lowliness and claiming the common things as your own? But the blessed Job was not such as this, and therefore he used to say: "Did not..."
I despise the judgment of my manservant or my maidservant?" A For this reason, the author, in calling him just, demonstrates that he was not adorned with some particular kind of justice, such as is observed in business dealings and lawsuits, but with virtue in general, according to him of whom it is written: "To the just man no law is laid." He adds also that he was pious, so as to show that he was perfect both in matters concerning men and in matters concerning God; for justice relates to men, but piety to God. Observe, moreover, how virtues follow one another and fortify one another: for a good life makes one acknowledge God, and the knowledge of God becomes a guardian of life. B Hence, also, Job, because he was just, was for that reason pious; and because he always had God before his eyes, for that reason he pursued what was just, justly, and for the sake of the good itself, and for no other reason. It is not possible for one to be truly just without first having become blameless. For these reasons, the "true man" comes first—he who does not wear a mask and a guise of piety, but who pursues virtue in truth and in deed, and is shaped according to it—and the "blameless" follows him; for the genuine laborer of virtue refrains even from things that seem small. And there follows him, in turn, the "just" man, named thus from perfect justice, being complete in every form of virtue. Then, the "pious" man enters after these, more resplendent, excelling at once in good works and in correct doctrines. To these is added, "abstaining from every evil thing," which indeed encompasses every excellence in itself: for it was not said that he abstained from this evil man's vice but not from that, or that he mastered many things but was mastered by few, but that he wished to touch no wickedness at all.
It is not sufficient, however, merely to abstain from evils, C but it is also necessary that the doing of good things be present; for the idleness of virtue, no less than the practice of wickedness, knows how to procure punishment. Since even those who did not feed the hungry, because they did not practice mercy, are delivered to everlasting punishment for that reason. From this we learn that abstaining from evils is not the beginning of our salvation, unless the acquisition of good things and the practice of virtue are also present.
But observe with me how the law of the divine Spirit has gathered the praise of this man in few words, having called Job "true" according to his creation, describing his homeland and forefathers in this way, as it were; "blameless" according to his conduct; "just" according to the law and the sharing of his possessions, and also according to the rendering of righteous votes in the case of those being judged, and of the authority of all; D "pious" according to his faith, and his hatred toward idols; "abstaining from every evil thing" according to his most fervent enmity against all wicked things. And, to sum it up in one word, he says that he did nothing—
A ever worthy of reproach, but he also observed what was just toward men, and he handled matters concerning religion in a pure way, doing all things according to God, and sincerely worshipping the Divine.
VERS. 2. *And there were born to him seven sons, and three daughters.*
First he spoke of virtue, and then of those things granted by God. For of old these things came from virtue—I speak of a goodly family and having many children: "There shall not be," he says, "one who is infertile, nor a barren woman in your land." But Abraham was for this reason childless, that you might learn that these are not in truth the rewards of virtue, but rather other things; and for this cause He promised these things by way of condescension.
We conclude, moreover, that marriage is no impediment to virtue; for it would have been a hindrance to Job also. But truly this bond did not prevent the righteous man from running aright, so that some in vain employ marriage as an excuse. B
VERS. 3. *And his cattle were seven thousand sheep, three thousand camels, five hundred yoke of oxen, and five hundred she-asses in the pastures, and a very great service, and there were great works for him upon the earth.*
Behold then a man possessing rustic wealth; for he did not list [monetary] loans and interest, nor houses adorned with gilded ceilings; whence there was no difficulty in being able to do good: but he owned sheep, and oxen, and those things which are gathered from the seasons and agriculture, from which he provided for those in need. For as I said, Scripture presents to us this king [of men], not one who prides himself on precious material, but one who is content with things measured to his need. He does not mention horses, and gold-studded chariots, or treasures of silver and gold, and precious stones, and other things that inflame the disease of the love of wealth, but [he mentions] those which least exceed necessity. For having children, he remained invulnerable to wealth, considering as abundance and prosperity the lack of desire and ambition, and the not being enslaved to the passions. Since, however, the text "and a C very great service" is marked with an obelisk, it must be known that whatever is obelized does not exist in the Hebrew, but was placed only by the Seventy for the sake of clarity. To wish, however, to transfer the description [of the animals] in their diverse kinds to a spiritual contemplation is superfluous, and pertains to the art of interpreting dreams.
*And that man was noble, among those from the sunrise.* D
Symmachus, greatest of all those of the East, has rendered it: "He was," he says, "more radiant and more illustrious than all, and he had ancestors whom he could count, distinguished and brilliant; but none of these puffed him up with pride."
VERS. 4. *And his sons, going to one another, were producing a banquet each day, taking along at the same time their three sis-
sisters, to eat and drink with them.* A
Having accord in virtue, they were also undisturbed by civil discord in their sensible affairs; they walked together, not wandering far nor associating with others. They even took their sisters as witnesses of their sobriety; for they did not invite strange women to their drinking parties and dinners, but only called their own sisters, which was a clear sign of their temperance and modesty. But the devil found an opportunity for sudden treachery in this harmony and intimacy of theirs, so that by one ruin he might strike all of them, inside the house of the eldest brother.
VERS. 5. *And after the days of the banquet had been completed, Job would send and purify them, rising early in the morning.*
See a purification not Mosaic, but apostolic, cleansing their minds—not their bodies—with prayers. Some say that those ancient priests, according to the custom of Melchizedek, were self-ordained; for this is what "he would send" signifies.
VERS. 6. *And it came to pass as this day, and behold the angels of God came to stand before the Lord, and the devil came with them.*
God, who is invisible to every created nature, who is without quantity or mass, who is present everywhere, who presides over the universe, and embraces all things—nor is there any place outside His dominion and authority—this God, I say, is present to each one as it is fitting. To the holy angels, insofar as they are holy, He sends forth secret words of command; but to the wicked one, as he is wicked, He grants permissions to tempt men. For the devil cannot do anything except what is permitted by God. And he does not stand in the supercelestial places—far from it! For he was rolled out from there. For how, he says, did *Lucifer, who rose in the morning*, fall from heaven? But he is said to attend with the angels, since he too exists in the places of God’s dominion, B waiting to be permitted or allowed to carry out temptations against men; not fulfilling this as some ministry to God, but because he was cast down to this state on account of his perversion and wickedness, and he rages against us. C He is permitted by Him who manages our affairs well to bring upon us temptations that we are able to bear. The Scripture, having mapped out these same things, brought the narrative forth in a descriptive manner for the sake of our understanding. That which says, *And it came to pass as this day*, is instead of: a day arrived, on which the theater was opened, and the athlete descended to the wrestling matches. And since the holy angels care for us and attend to us, while the devil opposes our salvation, they struggle and contend with one another over the same matter, that is, man; for this reason they are said to stand together, while God meanwhile [disposes] all things. D
A We, however, are either victorious or defeated, not because of the strength of those who oppose us, or the weakness of those who bring us assistance, but because of our own choice. For when both sides urge us toward themselves—the holy angels toward good things, and the execrable demons toward evil things—our will, endowed with free choice, moves in whichever direction it wishes. For God does not use force, having honored us with free choice; nor does the devil possess any coercive power against us; rather, by our own will, whether we attach2ourselves to angels or to demons, we either act rightly or commit sins.
VERS. 7. And the Lord said to the devil, Whence comest thou?
B Why, then, is the devil present in angelic worship and service, and why does an impure spirit speak freely in the midst of the chorus of holy spirits? Neither angels nor Satan stand before God in a bodily sense; but every performance of a duty is called "standing before." Just as a creature of God, then, the devil is also commanded to do what is fitting. For even if he has shaken off the reins of the divine command in his intention, he still lies under the yoke of servitude and is ordered as a torturer and executioner to carry out what is commanded. And just as with our rulers, when they summon someone with honor, they send men of status, but when they drag someone to them with ignominy, they send certain cruel soldiers; so too God sends the holy angels as ministers for salvation, but when someone needs to be restrained by punishment, He entrusts that to the C evildoing powers. Thus Paul also delivers the one in Corinth who had acted wickedly to Satan for the destruction of the flesh, and others again, that they may not blaspheme.
And the devil answering the Lord said: When I have gone about the earth, and walked through that which is under heaven, I am here.
By using the formula of interrogation and response, Scripture has expressed the truth of the matter more clearly and cuts off every pretext of men who are without shame. For what it narrates that the devil said to God, he did not in fact say, but only thought; for there is not such audacity and license in him. Yet in the statement that he has traveled through all places, he first accuses himself because he has no fixed place D to dwell, but wanders through all regions like a vagrant, waging war against the human race. Secondly, we learn that the world is filled with both angels and demons, and that both are under the power of God, and that angels come to God to receive commands, but the devil can do nothing according to his own lust unless he has received permission from above. For although he has refused the reins and is outside the service of God, there is nevertheless fear in him, acting as a bridle, and God does not allow him to abuse his power. But see, the former come as servants carrying out the commands
this one, however, has nothing to say. The heaven, therefore, is inaccessible to this wicked demon, and he is not present everywhere at one and the same time, but only by moving in a cycle. But he said "under heaven" to indicate the desert and whatever is finally subject to the heaven, and the airy region. He traverses even the uninhabited areas, perhaps by some divine plan, so that he might not be a source of trouble to our race at every moment.
A • "And the Lord said to him, Have you set your mind against my servant Job?"
From this we learn that God did indeed desire Job to be tempted, just as one who has a noble athlete; for this reason he asks the devil, in order to give him an opportunity for the struggle, but he did not wish himself to provide the occasion, lest he seem to be ambitious. But see how, little by little, the nature of the discourse is revealed; for he no longer shows him as making an utterance of words, but rather [asks] "Have you set your mind against my servant?" which is the voice the narrative has delivered. God allowed the devil, therefore, even without a voice, to know that his wicked intent and action did not escape him, and he speaks to him as if to say, "Where do you come from?" not wishing to learn the whereabouts of the wicked one (for how could he, possessing as he does knowledge of all things?), but Scripture is wont for the most part to personify what is said in the form of an interrogation, just as also in the Gospels regarding Cleopas, the Lord puts forth his questions: "What are these words that you are bandying about with one another?" And who would dare to say that He who molded our hearts individually has need of questioning? To the same category belongs, "How many loaves do you have?" and elsewhere, proving his resurrection, he said, "Do you have anything here that can be eaten?" and he inquired concerning Lazarus, "Where have you laid him?" he who had anticipated the hearing and predicted his death. In the same way here, too, when saying to the devil, "Where do you come from?" and "Have you set your mind against my servant?", he does not put forth words of ignorance, nor does he wish to be taught the dwelling of the hostile one, but rather he makes that same one the accuser of his own cruelty. For it is the nature of wickedness to wound itself. D
• "A man blameless, true, God-fearing, abstaining from every evil thing."
What damage could be caused by men holding one in contempt or even by the whole world, when the Lord of the angels praises and proclaims him? For if He does not praise, even if all who inhabit earth and sea praise [one], there is no benefit. Therefore, let us look to this everywhere, that He Himself may proclaim us; and if this be so, we are higher than everyone, even if we are in poverty, and in sickness, and even if we are in...
A evils. For since the blessed Job was sitting on a dunghill, and was surrounded by the ichor of his wounds, and by thousands of fountains of worms gushing forth, and was suffering those things that are unspeakable, being spat upon by servants, plotted against by friends, by enemies, and by his wife; brought down into poverty, into famine, and into that incurable sickness, he was more blessed than everyone. How? Because God was blessing him, saying, "A man righteous, blameless, true, God-fearing." For how could he not have been excelling all those upon the earth, with the God of all bearing witness to him in the saying, "blameless, a man true," having a virtue that is incomparable, and keeping the requirements toward men blamelessly, and precisely pursuing piety toward God? And that the devil, B looking into these things regarding him, possessed no small wonder concerning him. But why on earth does He change the order of the praises here? Perhaps He does this indifferently, or perhaps He organizes the praise according to the nature of the things themselves and their harmony. For, first of all, every man is true, according to the principle of creation; then thus he is blameless according to the manner of his life; but here, because of the struggle with the devil, He places "blameless" before "true." For virtue knows how to fight against vice, and the righteousness of one's manner becomes a most sharp arrow against the envious one. Then He also attaches "true" to "blameless," so that He might show nature agreeing with one's manner, and that virtue adorns the nobility of nature through choice. VERS. 10. "And you have made his cattle many upon the earth." You see wealth bestowed by God; you see that he had not acquired them against justice: "For You," he says, "have defended, You have blessed, You have made his goods many." How much labor would Job have needed in order to persuade men that his wealth was not acquired by evil arts? Behold, the devil, though unwittingly, provided this testimony for him. VERS. 11. "If he will not bless You to Your face." For this is what "to Your face" means: openly, shamelessly, reverencing nothing. VERS. 12. "Then the Lord said to the devil: Behold, all things that he has I give into D your hand, but do not touch him." So, He says, I trust in the virtue of My athlete, that although you yourself said: "Send forth your hand," I, to the contrary, say: "Into your hand I give all things that are his"; into your hand, the wicked and insatiable one. What say you? What need is there after the testimony spoken by you, for a new exploration? But, He says, so that the mouth of the devil might be obstructed, so that the righteous man might appear more distinguished, and so that we might leave behind for those after us the remedies of patience and affliction. VERS. 13. "And it was as this day." Therefore, the author of the history, in order to show the swiftness of the plots...
enemies might appear greater; great was the cruelty and inhumanity, and the calamity was twofold: slaughter and captivity; and even the safety of the survivor was an addition to the evils. You have seen how swift and unforeseen is the blow, how new and unusual is the calamity; he who abounded in all things, and had never experienced such a thing, is suddenly stripped of the possession of all that he had. For it is not as if one part of his goods was taken away while another was left for the consolation of those things lost, but he is left alone, the one who relates the tragedy.
B VERS. 16. "While he was yet speaking, another messenger came and said to Job: Fire fell from heaven, and burned the sheep, and consumed the shepherds likewise, and I alone am saved, and have come to tell you." The wicked one repented that he had reported the first matters poorly. "Badly," he says, "did I shoot; I did not hit the mark; the dart went wide." Since I said that men drove away the donkeys and the oxen, Job might reason with himself: "Men have done me injury; what is this to God? Shall I ascribe the injustice of men to God? Others are they who have done the injury, and another is the one whom I ought to blaspheme." In order, therefore, to move his thoughts from men to God, he says: "Fire fell from heaven." But Aquila and Theodotion said, "The fire of God." C You cannot say that enemies cast it from above; rail now with insults against him who has afflicted you with injury, and revile the one who has brought war upon you: Why do you serve him? Why do you worship him who overturns your wealth? Do not think that the wounds are inflicted upon you by men when you hear of those who take you captive; God wars against you from above, from heaven. And it is manifest, so that even fire, having descended from heaven, consumed the sheep. See how great is the power of the devil, how he stirred up so many nations, or even transformed demons into enemies; consider with what easy facility he has administered all these things. But do not believe that that fire was true fire (for he lacks the power to create it), but he appeared to burn all things with the appearance of fire; or if in truth a fire existed, he stirred up that which is found in the nature of things, and that with God permitting it.
D VERS. 18, 19. "While he was yet speaking, another messenger comes, saying to Job: Your sons and your daughters were eating and drinking at their elder brother's house, and suddenly a great wind came from the desert and touched the four corners of the house, and the house fell upon your children, and they died; and I alone am saved, and I have come to tell you."
A And he collapsed it upon them in such a way that after the event, it was not possible to distinguish the body of each to be committed to burial. And as for “while they were eating and drinking,” he added this to say, at the very moment of their merrymaking. For since he had applied every trial and stripped him of his possessions, yet had not at all stripped him of his virtue, he proceeded next to his very nature; he tore the branches from the root, he plucked away the fruit, that he might grieve the one who begat them. And see how the report is sprinkled with irony, and tends toward illusion and guile, able to break the soul of a noble man. “A great wind,” he says, “came from the desert.” And again, he blames the Judge, for the wind does not obey men, but God. And he did not say, “The house fell upon those who were inside,” but [used] that which could arouse sorrow: “upon your children,” that upon hearing of his children, he might come to pity, and be moved to sympathy, and, lamenting, say: “Woe is me! Suddenly I am childless, who once had many children! It were better not to have received them than to have received them in such a way that I must learn of whom I have been bereft.” For the past peace, and calm, and prosperity, makes the calamity more severe. B However, the phrase, “I alone am saved,” in the other instances might have had some place, but here it increases his sorrow all the more, if, when his children had perished in such a fate, this one man remained alive to bring the report. Whence it seems to me that the devil himself was the one bringing these things, he himself the instigator of the evils, appearing in various ways and crafting his reports in an artful manner. For this reason he comes repeatedly, and speaks maliciously, and places the most severe of his dangers last, that having first weakened the power of the soul with lighter evils, he might make it unable to withstand the assault of the greater ones. That there was not one of the servants bringing these reports is clear from this: for how could the house, being struck from the four corners, have spared this one man? And how, in each of the calamities, was one and the same person the one who happened to be escaping the dangers, as if kept safe for this very purpose? But it was he himself both acting and reporting the hardships. For no other person is found more savage than he, wherefore he was afraid to entrust the business of such evil deeds to others. The master of wickedness devises a variety of wounds, contemplating nothing moderate, that he might thus shake down the defenses of the soul through partial assaults; and just as one bringing engines against walls decieves the besieged, stealing away their security with manifold plots, so the envious one, according to a certain order in his disorder and impiety, brought dangers against the tower of piety. D
VERS. 20. *When Job had heard this, he arose, and tore his garments, and shaved the hair of his head.*
If therefore he tore his garments and shaved his head, [index: entries preserved]
do not wonder; for he was a father, and a parent A full of natural affection; and it was necessary that the sympathy of nature should be shown, and the philosophy of his mind should be revealed. For if he had not done this, someone might perhaps have thought that this philosophy was a form of insensibility. For this reason, he reveals both his inward feelings and the precision of his philosophy, and though he suffered pain, he was not overthrown.
Do not imagine that the deed was a defeat; B this rather demonstrates the victory. For if he had not done this, some might have said that God had completely stripped away from him all sensation of evil in his sufferings. But now, though pained and mourning, he philosophizes, and truly he had built his own soul upon a rock. *The rain descended.* For he says, *Fire fell from heaven, and devoured all the flocks of sheep;* the rivers came, the dense and continuous ones, and the repeated messengers of calamities, one announcing the destruction of the sheep, another of the camels, another of the children; the winds blew, the bitter words of his wife: *Say,* she says, *a word against the Lord, and die.* And the house did not fall, C his soul was not tripped up, the just man did not blaspheme, but even gave thanks, although it was the devil who was warring, the wicked one, the wild one, who is never reconciled to human nature, but has raised an implacable war and undeclared battle against our race; and he was not simply angry, but set all his engines in motion, and brought to bear every artifice. And yet not even so did he refute the courage of the just man, but the noble one laughed at his arrows, and bore that intolerable war bravely; and this happened not under grace, D but before the Old Testament, and before grace; and he showed that it is not the nature of temptations, but the sloth of those who are stagnant, that causes a fall from without; as affliction works even for the strong, and for the stronger. *For affliction,* he says, *works patience* (Rom. v, 3). And just as with strong trees, the rushing of the winds falling upon them and blowing from every side does not uproot them, but even makes them stronger for these assaults; so too, the onsets of afflictions do not trip up a soul that is firm and living in piety, but sharpen it toward greater patience, and they cannot harm a man’s virtue. For what is human virtue? It is not riches, that you should fear poverty; nor bodily health, that you should fear sickness; nor the opinion of many, that you should fear an evil reputation; nor merely living and existing by chance, that death should become fearful to you; nor freedom, that you should fear slavery; but it is the precision of true doctrines, and uprightness of life. These not even the devil himself will be able to plunder, if the one who possesses them guards them with the necessary precision; and these even the most wicked and wild demon knows.
For this reason he plundered Job of his possessions, not to make him poor, but to force him to utter some blasphemous word, and he lacerated his body, not to plunge him into sickness, but to trip up his virtue of soul. Nevertheless, having overcome all his machinations, and having made him poor instead of rich—this thing which to us all seems most fearful—and having made him childless instead of a man of many children, and having shredded his whole body, more cruelly than the executioners who stand about the judges' tribunals (for their iron claws do not so pierce the sides of those who fall into their hands as the mouths of the worms tore apart Job's flesh), and having brought upon him a bad reputation (for his friends who were present said to him, "You have not suffered punishments equal to your sins," and they brought forth many other speeches full of accusation); and not only did he cast him out of the city, nor only out of his house, and settle him in another city, but he established the dungheap for him as city and house, and having done so, he not only did him no harm, but he even made him more glorious through the very things he plotted. Nor, although he took away so many of his possessions, did he merely fail to take away anything of what he had; rather, he fashioned for him an even greater wealth of virtue. For after these things, he enjoyed greater boldness, having been exercised by more severe struggles and greater perils.
If, then, he who suffered so many things was not harmed at all, and that not by a human, but by the demon who is more wicked than all humans; who will henceforth have an excuse among those who say, "So-and-so did me injury and harmed me"? For if the devil, who is full of such wickedness, having moved all his instruments, and having shot all his arrows, and having poured out all the evils that are among men with much excess upon the house and body of the righteous man, did the man no harm, but, as I said, even benefited him more; how will some be able to complain about this person or that, as if they were injured by them and not from within themselves? "How from within," he says, "when one is scourged by someone, or robbed of what one owns, or endures some other harsh maltreatment, and utters some blasphemous word?" He was indeed harmed from this, and harmed greatly, but not by the one who did the injury, but by his own meanness of spirit. For what I said before I will now repeat: No human being, even if he is ten thousand times more wicked than that accursed demon, and than the devil who bears irreconcilable enmity against us, could attack more wickedly or more bitterly; yet this cruel demon was not able, concerning the one who lived before the Law, the one who lived before grace, although he hurled so many and such bitter missiles against him from every side, to trip him up or cast him down.
In our own age, many of those who in the squalor
A of life, and in grief, nourish their hair, whereas he removed his own. Why so? Because it was the concern of one who mourns to change his habit and condition to the contrary; wherefore, where hair is held in honor, the shorn hair is a sign of mourning. He tore his garments, in outward form simulating mourning on account of the bitterness of his grief, but in truth, stripping himself for a wrestling match, and committing himself henceforth to the contest, so that, as a naked athlete, he might grapple with his opponent. B
VERS. 20, 21. *And falling to the ground, he worshipped the Lord and said: I myself came naked out of my mother's womb, and naked shall I return thither.*
This Job himself, receiving the blow rather than inflicting it, struck at the eyes of the devil; and, being pelted by him repeatedly with darts, he emptied his entire quiver: he suffered every kind of temptation, and each one with the greatest patience. For those things which in life are considered painful—and indeed are so—are preeminently these: poverty, and disease, and the loss of children, and the insurrection of enemies, and the faithlessness of friends, and famine, and constant pains of the flesh, and taunts, and slanders, and the acquisition of an evil reputation; and all these were poured out into one body and scattered upon one soul, and—what is more grievous—they attacked him when he was unprepared. C
And what I am saying is of this sort: One who was born of needy parents and raised in such a home, as if accustomed by exercise and practice, would more easily bear the burden of poverty. But one who is overflowing with such great riches, and abounds in such great wealth, then suddenly falling into the opposite state, would not easily endure the change; for to one unaccustomed to it, it appears more painful, falling upon him suddenly. Again, one who is obscure, and born of obscure people, and living in perpetual contempt, would not be much disturbed if he were taunted and insulted. But one who has enjoyed such great glory, and is attended by all, and is in everyone's mouth, and is everywhere proclaimed along with great D renown, if he should be brought down to dishonor and baseness, would suffer the same thing as he who suddenly becomes a poor man from a wealthy one. Furthermore, he who loses his children, even if he loses them all, yet not at one time, has those who remain as a consolation for those who are gone; and if the death of the second occurs after a time, when the pain of the first has ceased, this suffering becomes more endurable to him; for the wound does not attack him while it is fresh, but when it has already lulled and faded—which counts for no small amount in cutting down the pain. But this man saw his entire chorus snatched away in a single moment of time, and by a very bitter mode of death; for the death was violent and premature. And the time and the place also added no small increment to his grief; for it was at the time of a banquet, and in a house opened to guests, and the house itself became a tomb for them. And what is still more wonderful is that he bore all these things at once, which makes his struggle two or three times greater.
for when a struggling man has no respite from the intervals of grief, but A by the continuity of his afflictions, the tumult and confusion become greater—which happened in his case. For the loss of his sheep and the burning were followed by the stealing of his oxen; and after these, the carrying off of his donkeys, and then the capture of his camels and the slaughter of his servants; and after these, the loss of his children and that terrible and novel death, and that most fearful tomb, being at once both death and tomb. And the table, at which just now we were feasting, then received the cut-up bodies; and the bowls and the cups, together with the wine, received the blood and the severed limbs. Consider the magnitude of the calamity, and that novel shipwreck, and that strange and B incredible tragedy.
There may perhaps have been someone who lost one son, or a second, or a third, but to lose so many and such children, and—being a man of many children—to suddenly become childless, and not to have his bowels consumed little by little, but to have all his fruit snatched away at once; and not by the common law of nature, nor by having reached old age, but by an untimely and violent death; and all at once, without his being present or standing by them as they were dying, so that by hearing at least their final words, he might have some consolation for such a bitter funeral. Nay, beyond all expectation, and while he was completely ignorant of what had occurred, all were suddenly buried, and the same house became a snare and their tomb. C But besides the untimely death of his children, there were many other things that increased his grief: that they were all in the prime of life, that they were all virtuous, that they were concordant, that they were all together of both sexes, and that with none left behind, they perished; that they did departed from life not by the common law of nature, and that after so great a loss, he was conscious of no fault of his own, nor of anyone else’s, that caused him to suffer this. For each of these things, by itself, is enough to trouble a soul; but when they all appear to rush upon one at once, perceive the height of the waves, and how great is the intensity of the storm. Yet nevertheless, he did not say anything of the sort that it is likely for weaker men to say: "For this did I raise my children, and with all diligence D train them? For this did I open my house to those passing by, that after those many labors, which I undertook for the sake of the needy, the naked, and orphans, I should receive this kind of reward?" But in their place—following the slaughter of his children—he brought forth words that were far more excellent than any sacrifice, which crowned that holy head more magnificently than ten thousand wreaths, and proclaimed his praises more clearly than many trumpets. For he said: "I myself came forth naked from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return; for these things were not mine, and I was soon to be deprived of them. For we have brought nothing into this world, and it is clear that neither are we able to take anything out." And before the
gs were not mine, and I was soon to be deprived of them. For we have brought nothing into this world, and it is clear that neither are we able to take anything out.” A And, before he uttered those words, he was prostrate on the ground worshipping God; and, though affected by such a disaster, he did not abandon his piety towards God, but falling to the earth, he cast down him who had said, “Assuredly he will bless thee to thy face.” He bore witness to nature, and he bore witness likewise to piety; for, showing a paternal affection towards his children, he moderated the grief of his soul with fortitude, and lamented no more, but uttered those divine words: “Naked,” he says, “I came out of my mother's womb, and naked I shall return thither.” Whose womb, pray, does he mean here? Does he, by the mention of the womb, allude to the workmanship of the first man, and does he understand that primary creation which formed man naked and free from all wickedness out of the clay of the earth, adopting the creation of our forefather as his own? So that the sense of the words would be this: “Naked I was fashioned from the earth by divine grace, having nothing superfluous, and as if separated from all material admixture; naked, therefore, I shall also return thither;” to what place? Clearly to the place that is free from mourning and sorrow. For if you take the meaning according to what is obvious and commonly understood, and suppose him to have meant, “I came out of the maternal womb, and I shall again enter into it,” neither the propriety of reason B nor the harmony of the words is preserved. For who, endowed with a sound mind, would do such injury to nature as to return the fetus again to the maternal womb, destroying both by a mutual ruin, and by one mythical fabrication committing a double slaughter? Since even Nicodemus, hearing about the laver of regeneration—“Unless one be born from above”—answered in a coarse and humble manner; for, his thoughts creeping upon the ground, and conceiving nothing sublime or elevated, he imagined the discourse to have been of carnal generation.
VERS. 21. “The Lord gave, the Lord hath taken away: as it pleased the Lord, so it is wrought: blessed be the name of the Lord.”
Job did indeed grieve, as much as it was fitting for a father who loved his children and had a diligent care for the departed. He did not say, as most are wont to do, “It would have been better had I never had the experience, nor been called a father, than, after having tasted the pleasure, to have fallen from it”; but he gave thanks for what he had received, and praised God for those things whose permanence was denied to him. He did not use these words, “It were better not to have attained them” (which is the speech of ungrateful men), but rather he gave thanks for the things he had obtained when he said, “The Lord gave,” and regarding those that were lost, he exalted God with these words: “The Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.” In this way, too, he stopped the mouth of his wife, as he contended with her in speech, offering those admirable words: “If we have received good from the hand of the Lord, shall we not sustain the evil?” Add to this that it C brings no little comfort to other men, when they recognize that their sins are the cause of their miseries. D
But he, A however, could not figure out for himself what sins he was paying the penalty for—a thought which troubled his reasoning above all else. For when he turned his gaze upon his own life, and his conscience—shining brighter than the sun—and the multitude of his righteous deeds, he knew he was worthy of crowns, of prizes, and of ten thousand rewards. Yet when he looked at all the things that had come to pass, and saw himself suffering more grievous hardships than those who had dared the most extreme atrocities, he could not find a reason to explain why he was suffering these things. For this very reason, since he had no cause to ascribe to his calamity, he took refuge in the incomprehensible dispensation of God, and, referring what had come to pass to what seemed best to Him, he said: “As it pleased the Lord, so it came to be.” For I do not think one ought to examine the judgment of the Master: “Blessed be the name of the Lord.” “I shall speak nothing unseemly,” he says, “regarding God, but I shall judge Him worthy of hymns for the things He gave at the beginning, and for the things He has now seen fit to take away.” With such words did the righteous man pierce the devil as if with darts. And it is a thing worthy of admiration, that even while he believed himself to have been despoiled by God, he gave thanks and was not slackened. Do thou this same thing, and consider within thyself that it is not a man who has taken from thee, but God the Creator, who cares for thee more than thou dost for thyself, who knows what is to thy profit, and who is neither an enemy nor a conspirator. Give aid to those who have departed from this life, making mention of them. For if the sacrifice of a father used to purify the children of Job, why dost thou doubt that our prayers for the departed bring them some consolation? For God is accustomed to grant favors to one for the sake of another. Let us assist others according to our power, because all creation follows the Creator; wherefore He bestows upon each according to what is useful, taking away and giving at once, and practicing our equanimity and endurance. For gratitude for things bestowed is the basis of a second benefit. B
VERS. 22. “In all these things that happened to him, Job sinned not with his lips before the Lord; and he gave no folly to God.”
As in statues and images, when we have fashioned someone, we write underneath on the base, “So-and-so set this up,” so also here, the author of the book, C after he had delineated the image of the righteous man’s soul in words, writes underneath as if on a base, saying that “In all these things Job did not sin with his lips before the Lord.” And do not imagine that he kept silent before men but not before God; nay, not even in his thought did he sin. What then is the meaning of “with his lips”? Often we, being carried away by the heat of perturbation, utter a word while our mind does not consent, the tongue alone being carried away by the impulse of grief. But he did not even suffer this; rather, his mind was clean of blasphemy, and his tongue was clean of wicked words. D And “he gave no folly to God,” that is, he did not in any way condemn what had happened as unjust; he did not say, as do many: A rash man...
the injustice of things that have occurred; he did not say, as many do, "Simply as it happened, so things proceed," but, "As it seemed good to the Lord, so it came to pass."
Therefore, let us not take breath so long as we are here, but let us always struggle, especially in the time of sickness, when pains disturb the soul from every side, when afflictions lay siege to us, and when the devil stands by, goading us to utter some bitter word. For then, most of all, we must secure ourselves and be fenced about with the breastplate of patience and the armor of thanksgiving. For these are grave weapons against the devil; this is a deadly blow; then, most of all, the crowns are glorious. Since the blessed Job also, this is what rendered him most illustrious, this is what proclaimed him: that in the time of temptation, of sickness, and of poverty, his mind appeared unshaken and unpersuadable, offering thanksgiving to God and that spiritual sacrifice. For his words, which he said, "The Lord gave, the Lord hath taken away," and what follows, were indeed a sacrifice; which we also ought always to do, in temptations, in distresses, and in entrapments, glorifying God. B
CAP. II.
"And it came to pass as this day, that the angels of God came to present themselves before the Lord, and the devil came in the midst of them, to present himself before the Lord."
Why then does He introduce them as standing round Him every day? That we might learn that present things are not without providence, but they give an account of what occurs each day, and the angels are sent forth each day to manage something, even if we do not know it.
"And the Lord said to the devil, Whence comest thou?"
He knew whence he came, that he had been defeated by the righteous one; but He wishes to see if he will ingenuously confess his defeat.
"And the Lord said to the devil, Hast thou considered my servant Job? For there is none like him of those on the earth, a man blameless, truthful, irreproachable, God-fearing, abstaining from every evil; and he still holds fast to innocence; but thou didst say to destroy his possessions in vain."
The devil, having hidden his defeat, uses his first speech, and says, "I have gone about the earth." But God, whom that envious one thought he had hidden from, reveals it; and since, having asked, He did not learn from him the defeat he sustained, He Himself proclaims it, and reveals the victory of the righteous man: "Having gone round the whole, I am here." What then? Did you go out for this? Did you ask for this? Did you not say, "Give me the possessions of Job"? Why do you hide the contest? In order that you might obscure the crown of victory. "Hast thou considered my servant? For there is no man like him, a man blameless." Do not pass over what was said simply, but note that in the first testimony it was nowhere said that the blameless C
A one — for he did not mention that name before — but now He added to him the crown of blamelessness, because he endured evils with thanksgiving. If, therefore, he seems even to speak somewhat boldly in the following, it is to be reckoned to his blamelessness. And Job himself says later: "The Lord knows my blamelessness." No one accounts the speech of a blameless man as malice; for we judge not by the deeds, but by the intention of those who act. B Does a son insult his father, and is the act not unholy? He is condemned as a parricide because he cast an insulting word at his father, and dared to bring shame upon his own root and stock. But an innocent child, even if he strikes his father or mother, that insult is more desirable than any pleasure. Many times, therefore, mothers provoke their children to insult them—not delighting in the insult, but in the blamelessness, the uncorrupted nature, and the simplicity of their character. Thus God, knowing that the speech did not proceed from wickedness, accepts what was said by Job when he was called by him into judgment; for it was a voice of blamelessness, not of malice.
"In vain," he says, "did you envy his wealth, when you said that he was pious for the sake of his riches. He was stripped of his possessions, but he was not stripped of his piety. You did not wish, O shameless one, to believe me as you would God. What then? Should you not have been convinced by experience itself, from that point on, that my servant does not weigh philosophy by prosperity?" And mark this: it is not said, "His goods perished without cause," but, "You said to destroy without cause"; since he received no ordinary reward for the loss and deprivation.
VERS. 4. "But stretch forth your hand, and touch his bones and his flesh; surely he will bless you to your face."
Of Olympiodorus and Chrysostom. The beast is cruel and shameless; for it is not enough for it to be satiated merely by our flesh, C but it desires to penetrate even to the marrow and the bones. It does not lack wickedness; it invents a new device. "It is a thing of little moment," it says, "if he has lost his goods, and has gladly despised all things, so that he might ensure his own safety. But what is this, if you have not granted power over his soul?" And this is exactly what it seemed to be asking when it said: "All things he pays for his life; therefore inflict a blow upon his body." And why did he not ask for this at the beginning? Naturally, because he was considering within himself that if it chanced that he departed defeated, he would carry off a more illustrious victory from a small matter; but if not, D that he would be the victor in the struggle of the body. "A possession of goods," he says, "is not valued greatly by men; for they grant all things for the salvation of their own lives." Nor did he say "touch the flesh" simply, but he wanted the evil to penetrate even deeper; with such wickedness does he speak. Hence it is also manifest that the ancient dragon has no power over us, unless he is granted it by God, in accordance with His ineffable
A providence. And although, by God’s permission, he can take a man’s life, yet he cannot inflict evil; instead, he petitions God for leave. For he knows, even though he himself has fallen, that he can do nothing against anyone unless God permits it—a permission which must be judged to proceed wisely, insofar as it originates from God. Now, what he says is of this kind: "Strip him of the protection of outward care and the concern for the soul; for he is not worthy of admiration if You keep him unassailed. Grant me leave to destroy his flesh even to the marrow." For calamity knows how to test a mind that is untutored, [or: and solely refined] one that has assumed the cause of its devotion to Thee; as if to say: "If You touch his flesh, then he will bless You to Your face"—that is to say, he will openly blaspheme You.
"And the Lord said to the devil: Behold, I deliver him to you; only preserve his soul" (Theodotion, however, says: "And his soul you shall not touch").
Chrysostom and Olympiodorus. B Again, the kind God, who, wishing to make His own prize-winners a public spectacle to angels and men, permits even this, in order that we might learn that whatever the Evil One is able to do, he does by permission. The devil had said: "You touch his flesh." But, lest he should say that You struck him maliciously, as if he were Your own servant, He did not do what the devil requested, but permitted it to his power.
And see how, when He says not only, "Do not touch his soul," but, "Preserve his soul," He strikes great fear into him. "I shall demand from you," He says, "the safety of his soul." Because it was likely that he would cast Job into such a serious disease that the destruction of the body would ensue, and that he would then excuse himself by saying that he had not touched his soul; therefore, He says, "Take care C that he does not suffer anything touching the principle of life; for if you destroy him, the theater [of our combat] will no longer be assembled for us."
"And he struck Job with a wicked ulcer, from the soles of his feet to his crown."
He struck him, he says, with a most grievous torture, infecting his whole body with leprosy and elephantiasis; for he made his entire body one wound, one weal, so that he might be revealed as a crowned athlete through all his members. For wickedness does not know how to spare, being a corruption that, by its own bitter disposition, is a certain plague and destruction.
"And he took a potsherd, that he might scrape the D matter, and he sat upon the dunghill, outside the city."
And why did he not scrape the matter with his hands or his fingers? So that the treatment might not become a greater cause of disgust. Now, if he did not endure to treat himself, how could he have sought the help of others? He was his own torturer and executioner, not
by cutting away the putrefying stench, but by scraping the living clay with dead clay. Why A did he sit upon the dunghill? So that he might cover up the falling debris with the heap. And why in the open air? So that he might not stifle himself with the stench, which he would have suffered had he been shut up in some small room; besides, the tempter had left no house for him.
The loss of his children was indeed heavy, but after that bitter tragedy, a more cruel one awaited him, and one that allowed him not even a short breathing space. From this B came the fountains of worms, the streams of ichor, the sitting upon the dunghill, the potsherd grazing his sides, the stench of his ulcers, which brought upon him that new kind of famine, preventing him from touching even the food set before his eyes, and creating for him a far greater distress than hunger itself; and this not for two, or ten, or twenty, or a hundred days, but for many months.
Yet for consoling the minds of those who mourn, the examples afforded by Job can have no mediocre power, both the wounds of the just man and his dunghill, C which is more splendid than any royal chair. For from the sight of a royal throne, there is no gain for those who look upon it, but only a momentary pleasure, having no utility at all associated with it; but whoever contemplates the dunghill of Job will receive all profit from it, and will learn consummate equanimity and consolation in enduring adversities. For this reason, many today undertake long and sea-faring journeys, hastening from the ends of the earth to Arabia, that they might visit that dunghill and, seeing that land D, may kiss it, which received the struggles of that crowned athlete and his blood, more precious than any gold. For not even the splendor of purple is as great as that body was then, sprinkled not with another’s, but with its own blood; and those wounds were more precious than all precious stones. For the nature of pearls serves our life in nothing, nor satisfies any necessity of those who possess them; but those wounds provide solace for every sorrow and anxiety. And that you may understand that these things are true: if any man should be bereft of a legitimate and only son, and you should show him countless pearls, you will bring nothing to alleviate his illness and to heal his grief. But if you were to rouse in him the memory of Job’s ulcers, you will easily be able to banish the disease with such a discourse; for what, O man, are you mourning? You have lost one son; but that blessed man, after he saw the whole choir of his children extinguished, received the blow in his own body, stripped bare he sat upon the dunghill; his body flowed with putrefaction on every side, his limbs were being eaten away by decay little by little; he who was commended for his justice and piety, who had God as a witness of his own virtue.
If you speak these words, you will have extinguished all the sadness of the mourner, and lifted away all the pain; and thus the wounds of the just man will surpass every pearl in utility. Imagine, therefore, this athlete before your eyes, and place that dunghill before your sight, and as you behold him sitting in the midst, the golden,
A bejeweled-looking statue—though indeed I do not know by what name I should call it, and I cannot find a material of such value that it could be compared to that blood-stained body. Thus, even more than the most precious material, the nature of that flesh, by reason of its great abundance, was more precious, and its wounds were more radiant than the rays of the sun. For the latter illuminate the eyes of the body, but the former illuminate the eyes of our intellect; the latter completely blinded the devil. Therefore, after that blow, he leaped away and did not appear again. B But you, beloved, learn from this how great is the profit of tribulation. For when the just man was wealthy and enjoyed comfort, the devil had grounds to accuse him—falsely, to be sure, yet he still could say: "Does Job fear Thee for nothing?" But when He stripped him bare and made him a pauper, he did not dare even to mutter anymore. And when he was rich, he promised to wrestle with him and threatened to trip him; but when he had made him a pauper and deprived him of everything and cast him into the ultimate pain, then he leaped away. And when his body was sound, he raised his hands against him; but when he had hacked his flesh, then he fled, defeated. Do you see how much poverty is better than wealth, and sickness than health, and temptation than comfort for those who are sober, and how much more useful it is, and how it makes those who contend more brilliant and more vigorous? Who has ever seen or heard of such wonderful wrestling? C In worldly contests, boxers, when they have crushed the heads of their opponents, are then crowned for their victory; but this one, when he had hacked the body of the just man, piercing it with sores of every kind, and made it weaker, then he was defeated and withdrew. And because he had dug through his sides on every side, nothing more was gained by him; for the treasure stored within he did not plunder, but he made it more manifest to us, and through that piercing he gave to all the power to look inside and to perceive all his wealth. And when he expected to prevail, then he withdrew with much shame, and he uttered no sound anymore. D What has happened, O devil? Why do you retreat? Have not all things, as many as you wished, happened? Did you not destroy his flocks, his herds, his droves of horses and of mules? Did you not also wipe out the chorus of his children and hack all his flesh? Why do you retreat? "Because," he says, "everything that I wished happened, but that which I most desired to come to pass, and for the sake of which I did everything, this did not happen; for he did not blaspheme. For this reason I was doing all those things," he says, "in order that this might come forth; but since this did not happen, I gained nothing more from the loss of his possessions, and from the destruction of his children, and from the blow to his body. On the contrary, that which I desired did not turn out; I made the enemy more brilliant and rendered him more radiant."
Have you understood how great is the profit of tribulation? It is indeed a good thing...
A For his body was beautiful even when it was healthy; but it became far more venerable when cut through by those wounds. For even wool is beautiful before it is dyed, but when it becomes purple, it acquires an ineffable beauty and great elegance. B If He had not stripped him, we would not have recognized the fine condition of the victor; if He had not pierced his body with sores, the rays lurking within would not have shone forth; if He had not seated him upon the dunghill, we would not have known his wealth. For a king sitting splendid on a throne is not as illustrious as he was then, sitting upon the dunghill; for after the royal throne comes death, but after that dunghill, the kingdom of heaven. I have set forth this history, not so that you may embellish what has been said with praises, but so that you may imitate the virtue and patience of the man; so that, instructed by his deeds, you may learn that nothing in human affairs is burdensome, except sin alone. Not poverty, not disease, not insults, not calumny, not disgrace, not even death—which is judged the supreme evil of all. For among the wise, these are merely names—names, I say, of evils that are devoid of reality; the true calamity is to offend God, and to commit anything that is not pleasing to Him.
It remains for us to institute a comparison between his right actions and the evils he endured, so that you may understand clearly that rewards are available not only for right actions but also for the endurance of evils—and indeed, ample rewards, and to this not less than to those, nay, sometimes even much more to this than to those. Let us bring into our midst, if you please, the great athlete of patience, who excelled in both categories, so that you may perceive from where he shone forth more brightly. Let us see, then, by comparing, at what time his virtue shone more clearly: was it when he was a common harbor for the needy, or rather when he was enduring bitter things that ravaged his soul with grievous anguish? Was it when he opened his home to all who arrived, or when, it having been overturned, he uttered no harsh word, but praised God all the more? Yet the former was a right action, whereas the latter was an endurance of suffering.
Tell me, when was he more radiant? C When he was sacrificing victims for his children and bringing them to concord, or rather when, crushed by their ruin and having perished in the most bitter manner of death, he bore what had happened with great equanimity of soul? When did his virtue shine forth more? When with the fleece of his sheep the shoulders of the naked were warmed, or when, having heard, "Fire fell from heaven and consumed the flock along with the shepherds," he was not disturbed, nor troubled, but bore the calamity gently? When was he greater? D When he used his bodily health for the protection of those suffering injury, crushing the jaws of the unjust, snatching spoils from the midst of their teeth, and becoming a harbor for them; or when his body...
which was the shield of the afflicted, he saw being devoured by worms, and sitting upon the dunghill, he himself was scraping it, having taken a potsherd? For he says, "I scrape away the clods of the earth from my sanies." A And yet those were all virtuous deeds, while these were all hardships; but nevertheless, these rendered him more illustrious than those. For this was by far the most bitter part of the struggle for him, and one that required greater fortitude, a more steadfast soul, and a loftier mind, and one possessing more love toward God. For this reason, although the devil had spoken even when the former things happened, though impudently and with great audacity, saying, "Does Job worship the Lord for naught?" yet when these things occurred, he retreated, covering his face, turning his back, and not even having the shadow of an impudent contradiction to put forward. B
Vers. 9. "And when much time had passed, his wife said to him: How long will you endure, saying: Behold, I wait a small time still, expecting the hope of my salvation?"
But as the struggle advanced further, he was crowned again with other crowns because of his words to his wife. For since all things had been destroyed for him—possessions, children, and even his own body—his wife alone was left by design for temptation and intrigue. And therefore the devil did not destroy her together with the children, nor did he ask for her slaughter, since he expected that she would greatly contribute to the conspiracy against this holy man; for this reason, he left her to him as a kind of great and powerful weapon. "For if I drove out Adam from Paradise by means of the woman," he says, "much more shall I be able to trip up Job from the dunghill." C And behold the wicked artifice; for he did not bring forward this device when the oxen were being destroyed, nor when the donkeys, nor the camels, nor when the house had collapsed, nor when the children were buried; but he remains silent for a time and keeps quiet, with his eyes fixed upon the lone athlete. But when the springs of worms burst forth, and the rotting skin trickled away, and the flesh being consumed produced putrid pus full of stench, and the hand of the demon—more painful than a frying-pan, a furnace, and any flame—was consuming him, D and more fiercely than any wild beast was gnawing the body from all sides and devouring it, and when much time had passed in this affliction, then he brings her, when he was already embalmed and worked over. For if he had approached at the beginnings of the calamity, he would not have found him so drained of strength, nor would she have been able to make the calamity swell so much and elevate it by her words. But now, when he saw that he, because of the length of time, was thirsting for a release and was vehemently desiring the loosening of what was attacking him, then he approaches. For when he was thoroughly worn out, and could no longer even breathe, but even desired to die,
hear what he says: "Would that I were able to lay hands upon myself, or ask another, and he would do this for me." And observe the wickedness of the woman, how she immediately takes her starting point from the length of time: "How long will you endure?" she says. If words alone, even when external matters are not present, can sometimes soften a spirit, consider what it is likely he was suffering then, with these words and with the circumstances themselves tormenting him. And the worst of all is that it was a woman who was saying this, and a wife who had given up and succumbed, and on account of this was eager to cast him as well into despair. But, in order that we may see the machine more clearly—this one brought up against the wall of diamond—let us hear the words themselves. What, then, are these? B "How long will you endure?" saying, "Behold, I wait a little while longer, expecting the hope of my salvation." "The time itself," she says, "refutes your words, though it has already been long, it brings no end to these evils." She was saying these things not only to cast him into despair, but also reproaching and mocking him; for he, whenever she made herself a nuisance, would comfort her and put her off, saying such things as, "Wait a little longer, and there will quickly be an end to these things." Mocking him, therefore, she says, "Will you say the same thing even now? For much time has already passed by, and no end to these these things has appeared." Why, O woman, do you weaken the athlete? Why do you unnerve his hands? You should have said, "A little while longer." And observe the wickedness: she makes no mention of the oxen, nor the sheep, nor the camels; for she knew that he was not greatly stung by the loss of these things, but she immediately proceeds to nature, and calls the children to his memory. For she had seen him on their account both tear his garment and shear his hair; and she did not say, "Your children have perished," but with deep emotion: "For behold, your memorial has vanished from the earth; sons and daughters, the travails of my womb and the pains which I labored for to no purpose with hardships." C In the beginning, children were desirable because in this way each person handed down a memorial and as it were the relics of his own life to posterity. For because there were not yet hopes of resurrection, but death ruled, and after life here men thought that those who died were extinguished, God gave the consolation from children, so that living images of those who had departed might remain, and our race might be preserved, and for those about to die, and for their loved ones, their offspring might be the greatest consolation. And that you may learn that for this reason especially children were desirable, hear what the wife laments to Job after those many and ineffable wounds: "Behold," she says, "your memorial has vanished from the earth." And again Saul to David: "Swear to me that D
"you will not destroy my seed and my name after me." For if even now, when the resurrection has been made manifest, children are cherished on this account, because they preserve the memory of those who have departed, then much more were they so at that time; and therefore the curse derived from this source becomes more bitter; for in those times he who was cursing did not say, "Let the children be destroyed," but, "Let his memorial be blotted out from the earth, sons and daughters." Having said "memorial," she again carefully recounts the nature of both sexes. "No son," she says, "no daughter survives, who might perpetuate the memory by succession," as if saying: "Even if you should recover your health, you will enjoy no fruit from that recovered health, now that your children have perished." For those ancients had all their hope of perpetuity placed in the succession of children, and they emulated the future promise by means of a mortal resurrection. She does not mention possessions B or herds, for she knew the greatness of his soul, and what would touch him most deeply. "What change," she says, "do you expect? Is it possible for those who have vanished to return? You are childless, without heirs, uprooted at the foundation, with no one left through whom you might be remembered." "But if," she says, "you do not care about these things, at least consider my own." And notice her pathos: "The pangs and pains of my womb, which I labored in vain with toil; the pangs of childbirth, the pains of rearing." What she says is of this sort: "I, who bore the greater burden, have been wronged for your sake; and indeed I have endured the pains, but I have been deprived of the fruits." She says these things in order to show that she too is a sharer in the calamity; for a counselor who philosophizes about others' misfortunes is regarded as unconvincing. Therefore, through all her words, sending forth an arrow of neglect, she also intermingles her own person, so that, by the memory of the children and by her own suffering, she might the more vehemently challenge the righteous man to impatience. "Why," she says, "do you always put off the present, and vainly encourage yourself with the expectation of future time, childless, homeless, naked, utterly destroyed? C You yourself sit in the rot of worms, spending the night under the open sky." A great emphasis: "You yourself," that is, he the just, he the admirable, he who was to us the sum of all good things. And see how she neither sets forth the loss of wealth, nor does she leave it silent and pass it by, but signifies it in the way it was proper to do, and with the affection that was right; for when she adds, "And I am a wanderer and a handmaid, from place to place and house to house," she both indicates the loss and shows her intense emotional attachment; for these words are sufficient in themselves to exaggerate the calamity. "For I go to the doors of others," she says. D
A And I not only beg, but I wander about, and I serve a strange and new kind of servitude, perambulating all places, and carrying around the signs of calamity, and showing my evils to all, moving from place to place, and for the sake of daily bread, I beat upon the doors of others—I, who was once able to supply the necessities to others in abundance. As if she were to say: "We have not only lost our children, the subject of our memorial, and you yourself are held by so many evils, but we have also suffered the most extreme poverty, providing for ourselves like hired servants, we who used to provide such abundant supplies to the needy; yet I myself am not even able to maintain myself through servitude, since one house is not enough to suppress the shame of poverty; but I wander about in misery, begging and serving, I who was once nurtured in freedom." See how she weaves her own circumstances with his; she says, "Your affairs are not sufficient, let mine prevail."
After she had set forth that which is most miserable of all things, changing from house to house, she did not end her lamentations here, but subjoining, she said: B • Looking for the sun, when it will set, that I may rest from the toils and pains which now hold me fast. • That which is pleasant to others, she says, to look upon the rays of the sun, this is bitter to me; but I desire the darkness and the night. For only night bestows rest upon my sweats; it brings me comfort for my evils. Day comforts me and frees me from troubles when it follows the sun to its setting; for the night is accustomed to heal the evils encountered in the darkness.
However, despairing at her calamities and filled with diabolical energy, she suggests to the just man that this release from evils is the only one remaining to him: the departure from the body. And this could be achieved for him if he were to C provoke God with insulting words and provoke Him against himself to inflict death upon him. She urges this counsel with wicked and cunning art, constructing her speech from her own and her husband's calamities. "I have experienced," she says, "the pains of childbirth, and I have labored in educating the offspring, that after you, you might leave children, a memorial of yourself; the hope of these has vanished, all have perished, males and females alike. Upon whom, then, shall I look hereafter? Upon you, their father, full of worms, a pauper, an outcast? D Or upon me, the miserable one, the wanderer, who from the height of happiness am forced to serve for wages, and from morning until evening struggle with pains and toils? But if you will listen to me, say some word against God, provoking Him to anger that He might destroy you; for this is the only remedy for evils left to you." Wherefore she appends: • But say some word against the Lord, and die. •
You see here also her wickedness, how, while she gives counsel, she does not immediately introduce the pernicious
A exhortation, but having first piteously narrated the calamities, and spun out the tragedy, she proposes the exhortation in short; and she does not even clearly display it, but by shadowing it over, she holds out to him the deliverance from evils, which he desired above all things, and promises him death, which he most longed for. And consider from this too the craftiness of the devil: for since he knew Job’s longing for God, he does not allow the wife to accuse God, so that he might not immediately turn away from her as an enemy; for this reason she makes no mention of Him at all, but turns the things that had happened up and down. But do you, in addition to what has been said, add that it was a woman who was tendering this counsel, a rhetorician clever at bewitching those who are not paying attention; for many, indeed, even without calamities, have been brought down by the counsel of a woman alone. And here, as if it were a device more powerful than those that had gone before, he brings the B wife to the righteous man; as if to say: "Would that you had taken this one too, O wicked one, would that you had buried her along with the children!" And some say that these were not even the words of the wife, but that the devil, having transformed himself into her likeness, spoke these things; for it was not likely that the wife of Job would be such; unless one were to say that, having been overturned by the calamity, she had become such. It is likely, however, that this was not the first counsel that had been given, but that the righteous man had heard many things from his wife far more grievous than these. And observe the wickedness of the devil: he contemplates Eve; for, he says, a woman cast down the first man, this one too might be able to prevail over him. But, O senseless one, having found that one weaker than his belly, he could easily sow his own seed, but this one you see philosophizing, and prevailing over his very nature. The loss of wealth did not bend him, nor the untimely death of children, nor the unassuageable torture of the body, nor the length of such a time; and do you expect to overcome with words him who was not conquered by things? But the woman, after having accurately narrated the tragedy, then brings forward her shameless counsel, and not even then does she say openly, "Blaspheme," for those who counsel wicked things do not dare to introduce the exhortation unveiled. What do you say, O woman? When it is necessary to propitiate and reconcile, do you rather urge me to provoke Him? For if God is the author of all these things, one ought to implore Him with prayers, not assail Him with reproaches. C VERS. 10. "But he, looking at her, said: You have spoken as one of the foolish women." Of Basil and Chrysostom. Job, having been moved to indignation by these words (which the former evils had been unable to do), with a face full of wrath and with a fierce gaze, having turned towards his wife as if towards an enemy, and looking at her bitterly, even before he spoke, warded off her devices by his look alone. She indeed had hoped to move fountains of tears; but he became more vehement than a lion, full of anger and indignation, not because of D
A what he was suffering, but because of what she had devilishly counseled. And having shown his anger in his look, he makes a measured rebuke; for he was sober even in his calamities.
And what does he say? "You have spoken as one of the foolish women." I did not instruct you in this way, he says, I did not bring you up in this way, so that I no longer recognize the wife who shares my home. For these words are the words of a mindless woman, and the counsel is that of one deranged. Put away, he says, O wife, this counsel; how long will you insult our common life in the things you say? You have lied, and you have slandered my upbringing (which I had hoped you would never do) with your words; and I consider it a profane act, now that it has halved my life, since marriage has made us both one body, but you have fallen into blasphemy. You see a fitting incision, and a wound suitable to cure the sickness. He did not say, "You are a fool and mindless"; but what? "You have spoken as one of the foolish women"; that is, you have uttered nothing worthy of yourself, nor of my instruction.
Then after the rebuke, he brings forward counsel again, one sufficient to console her, and having much reasonableness in it, saying: B "If we have received good things from the hand of the Lord, shall we not endure the bad?"
Remember, he says, those former things, and consider who their author is, and you will bear even these things bravely. Do you see the man's modesty? For he does not attribute the endurance of evils to his own fortitude, but affirms that it arises from the very sequence of events. For for what were those things given to us by God? What reward was he paying us? None; they flowed from His goodness alone. For it was a gift, not a reward; and grace, not a payment. Therefore, let us also bear these things bravely; call to memory the good things that have already come to you, weigh the better against the worse. No human life is blessed throughout; to fare well in all things belongs to God alone; but if you are pained by the present, console yourself from things past. Now you weep, but you laughed before; now you are in poverty, but you were wealthy before; you drank from the clear stream of life, and though you are now drinking from this muddy one, you must endure it bravely; for the streams of rivers are not always pure. Our life, as you know, is a river, C flowing incessantly, and filled with successive waves; for one part of it has already flowed away, another is still moving, another has just emerged from the springs, and another is yet to come, and we are all hastening toward the common ocean of death. "If we have received the good things from the hand of the Lord, shall we not endure the bad?" Are we forcing the Judge to provide us with the same state of affairs through the ages? Are we teaching the Master how our life ought to be conducted? He has the power of His own decrees, He disposes our affairs as He wills; but He is wise, and bestows upon His servants what is useful. Do not pry into the judgment of the Master, but love only those things which are ordered by His wisdom; whatever He may give you, receive it D
A with pleasure; show in your painful circumstances that you were worthy of the happiness you enjoyed before. By saying these things, Job repelled this attack of the devil also, and brought upon him the perfect shame of defeat. He showed by his countenance his great zeal against sin (for nature recognizes the eye as an index of what lies hidden within), and having endured such an assault from the wicked one calmly and philosophically, he could not bear the exhortation to evil, deeming it to be a hearing more painful than the darts fixed in his body, and he rebuked his wife. For, he says, just as we have gladly accepted the healing, so let us also bear the discipline with sobriety; for he calls 'good' those things which delight, but 'evil' he calls the temptations. But the phrase, "As one of the foolish women you have spoken," some have understood as referring to Eve. You have imitated, he says, her who first embraced the cloud of sin, and was deceived by similar counsels, encircling him who was adorned with the image of God, and was free from every vice.
For this blessed man, being shot at from every side, B stood all the more securely, and receiving ten thousand arrows he did not yield, but he emptied the devil's quiver, while he himself neither fell nor was tripped up. But just as a most excellent pilot is neither submerged when the sea is raging and the waves are being stirred up, nor becomes more relaxed when there is a calm, but in both variations of the times maintains his skill in the same way, so he too kept his own art unchanged. And neither did wealth puff him up, nor did poverty humble him; nor was he laid flat and prostrate when things were flowing in his favor, nor was he disturbed when almost his whole house had been overturned and total destruction had occurred, and he put his own courage to the test. Let the rich hear, let the poor hear, for this narrative is useful to both, and the history is C beneficial to all men, both to those in prosperity and to those in calamity. For the athlete of piety, the conqueror of the world, having made use of both kinds of armor, erected the trophy in both situations, and against every kind of war the demon brought upon him, he set himself in battle array against everything, and was proclaimed victor in all things. And just like a noble soldier who knows how to fight by night, to fight in a siege, to fight on foot, to fight at sea, and to shoot with arrows, and to brandish a spear, and with slings and javelins, and in every way of battle to prevail over his enemies, and everywhere to conquer; so too that noble man bore every temptation with D much courage: that from poverty, that from famine, that from sickness, that from pain, that from the loss of children, that from friends, that from enemies, that from his wife, that from his servants. For there was no human calamity that was not poured out upon his body, yet he was raised above all the snares, and became higher than the darts of the devil; and
A what is even more wonderful, that all things came upon him, and all with excess, and all at once. For do not look only at this, that he suffered so much, but add that it was not little by little, nor at intervals, but all at once and together; nor was this addition of temptations small. For, of other men, first of all, none could be found who has endured everything at once; but if one struggles with poverty, yet he enjoys health; and if one suffers both poverty and disease, yet he often enjoys the consolation of a wife who comforts his terrible situation, and becomes for him a port; and if he has not enjoyed such a wife, yet she does not give him lethal advice; and if she does give such lethal advice, yet he has not lost all his children at once; and if he has lost them at once, yet not by such a kind of death; and if he has lost them by such a death, yet he has had friends who comforted him; and if he has not had friends who comforted him, yet they have not trampled upon him; and if they have trampled upon him, yet he has not had servants who reproached him; and if they have reproached him, yet he has not had them spitting in his face; and if they have spat in his face, yet he has not been afflicted with such a disease; and if he has been afflicted with such a disease, yet he has enjoyed a room and shelter, and has not sat upon a dungheap; and if he has sat upon a dungheap, yet he has had those reaching out their hands to him; and if he has not had those reaching out their hands, yet they have not trampled upon him: but this man endured all these things, and he took his seat on a dunghill; and he had no one to offer a helping hand; and he was not free from those who insulted him: but this man suffered all these things.
For while he was in these states, and being roasted B from every side, within and without, the woman was weaving her plots, and the wife became the weapon of the demon, and lending her tongue to the devil, she assailed her husband, and she hurled things more bitter and more lethal than those we have mentioned. Nor did the wrestling bouts end there, but this was rather the beginning and the prelude to the battle; and he was cast into infinite reproaches by his friends. But have you not grown weary hearing of these successive calamities? Yet he did not grow weary while suffering them. Wherefore I exhort your charity to wait a little longer; for we have not yet said everything, nor have we added the other excess. For there was one excess of his calamity, that he sustained all the evils that fall upon a man in one body. Another, that he suffered them all at once, and without any respite. I wish also to add a third; and what is this? That each of the things we have spoken of came upon him not only at once, but also with much intensity and novelty; whether poverty, more grievous than any poverty, or disease, or the seat, or the loss of children, or the loss of all his possessions D. But consider: one has lost his possessions, but not so completely, nor in such a way. He has lost his children, but never all at once, nor so many, nor such ones. He has fallen into disease, but not such a disease, but rather into fevers, or a flux, or some other common ailment. But that wound was some strange thing, and intelligible only to the sufferer.
For no speech could express the bitterness of those ulcers and the pain of those wounds. It is enough, however, simply to name the one who wrought them, and his unrestrained fury, to indicate the magnitude of the blow. That posture of his was also new and strange; for there is not, there has not yet been found, any poor man who has ever sat thus in the open air for all that time, as he endured, stripped of garments, deprived of any shelter, sitting upon a dungheap. Many a man has had a wicked wife, but never was one found so wicked as, in such a calamity, to attack her husband and sharpen a sword against his soul, and offer such counsel as she did. The behavior of his friends and servants, too, was strange; and the kind of famine—new again—was that, though food was set before him, he did not taste it. I will speak also of a fourth excess: I mean his wealth and the prosperity he formerly enjoyed. For he who has lived in poverty from the beginning would bear it more easily, being accustomed to the affliction by meditation. But he who has been brought down from such great prosperity, because he is untrained and unpracticed, experiences the sensation of calamity more harshly and with more bitter pain and greater perturbation. I will mention yet another excess, which most of all crowns and proclaims that athlete, showing his soul to be lofty and touching the heavens. What is this, then? The difference of time. For having lived before grace and before the law, he philosophized in such a way, without enjoying instruction, without having encountered letters or books, without seeing others like himself, without having the ability to run back to the preceding time or to consider those who had succeeded (for not yet was there Scripture, or history handing down what had happened); but in an untrodden way, on an unsailed sea, in such deep darkness of wickedness, he—alone and the first—then blazed this path of philosophy, showing himself in the chief of goods to be preeminent beyond measure. For while it is a great thing to succeed in the lesser parts of virtue, it is a much greater thing to be most excellent in that which is the most excellent of all. And that patience is the most excellent of all, no one will deny. The devil himself, knowing these things, said: “Skin for skin, and all that a man possesses he will give for his soul. B However, reach out your hand and touch his bones and his flesh.” Whence it is clear that this virtue is the highest of all, and requires a soul of youthful and iron-like strength.
I, however, do not admire Job so much before the exhortation of his wife as I do after that ruinous counsel. And let no one think what I say is paradoxical; for often those whom the nature of circumstances could not overthrow, speech and perverse exhortation have broken down. The devil, knowing this, after the blow of the trial had been inflicted, assails the man with words as well. This very thing—
A he also did in the case of David; for when he saw that he had endured the insurrection of his son and that lawless tyranny bravely, wishing to undermine his mind and persuade him to fall into anger, he sent against him that Shimei, having prepared him with bitter words to bite his soul. He practiced this same villainy against Job; for when he saw that he had laughed at his arrows, and had stood bravely against everything like an adamantine tower, he armed his wife, so that the counsel might be free from suspicion, and he concealed the poison in her words, exaggerating the calamity tragically. What then did the brave man say? "You have spoken as one of the foolish women. If we have received good things from the hand of the Lord, shall we not endure the bad?" For he says, if He were not the Master, and did not surpass us so greatly, but were some friend of equal standing and condition, what excuse could we offer if, having been granted so many benefits, we were unwilling to bear the opposite? You see a man who is a lover of God, and how he does not boast, nor is he puffed up in spirit, because he bravely endured those blows which exceeded nature, nor does he attribute such great tolerance to his own wisdom or to the courage of his soul; but as if paying a necessary debt, and feeling that nothing unreasonable had happened to him, he thus stopped the mouth of the little woman B with his words.
"In all these things that happened to him, Job did not sin with his lips before God." It is not possible, he says, to say that he spoke these things to his wife, while in the meantime his secret thoughts were full of anger and annoyance; but he did not speak anything even with his lips. The Hebrew codex does not have this, being content to have expressed the meaning.
"But when his three friends heard all the evils that had come upon him, they came each from his own country to him." The three friends do indeed come so that they might console him, but they do the opposite of consolation; for their presence was friendly, but their exhortation was not friendly. And even before their words, their mere appearance was enough to cast down the righteous man. For we are accustomed to contemplate the atrocity of our own misfortunes more clearly by the sight of the good fortune of others. Consider how grievous it was for him to see himself in such evils, and to behold those who were familiar and known to him remaining in the same state in which they had been, and enjoying their former happiness. Furthermore, it was bitter that his calamity had been bruoted to the ears of all: for if those who were separated by such a distance of places heard of it by report, how much more those who were nearer! But he was especially distressed, not by the magnitude of his misfortunes, but by the fact that he appeared to be suffering as an impious and lawless man, as an enemy and adversary D of God, and as one who had spent the course of his former life in hypocrisy. He did not care about his body being destroyed, but about his reputation being cast down; not that he was vainglorious, or inclined toward the opinion of the many, but because he saw that many on these grounds
scandalized. The author also sets down the names of the friends, saying: *And none of them spoke.* A For a soul, once struck by despondency, is unfit for any hearing. For this reason, those men, seeing the tragedy of that house, and seeing the righteous man sitting upon the ash-heap and ulcerated, tore their garments and wailed loudly, and sat beside him in silence, showing that nothing is so appropriate for those in pain, at the beginning, as quiet and silence; for indeed, the suffering was greater than could be comforted by word. For they had come to comfort him, but not finding an image from which they might offer comfort, they were silent; and they did this wisely, comforting him by the facts themselves—by sitting nearby, by tearing their garments. But these things were all good, and worthy of friends, and marks of those who sympathize; but the things that follow, no longer so.
CAPUT III
*After this Job opened his mouth.* [The commentary] of Polychronius and Chrysostom. The phrase "after this" is placed precisely. For although he saw many coming to him and going away again, he persisted in enduring his sufferings; but when he beheld Eliphaz and his companions arriving from genuine affection, and staying with him for a long time—who indeed testified by their silence to the gravity of the evils that had occurred, and did not dare to comfort him before he himself had given a starting point—then, thinking that he would henceforth be burdensome to them because of his silence, he breaks it. Let us see, therefore, what he speaks when he opens his mouth.
*And he cursed his day, saying: Let the day perish in which I was born, and that night in which they said: Behold a male.* D Let us not, therefore, examine just the words, but let us see that they are spoken from a soul suffering despondency; for if he had not uttered even these, he might have seemed not to share in our common nature.
*Let that night be darkness, and may the Lord not seek it from above, nor may light come to it; but let darkness and the shadow of death take it.* C When the righteous man saw the friends called by the atrocity of his evils, and considered the burden of his affliction, and judged that their sitting with him for a long time was burdensome, and that it was not in these circumstances that he had been with them before—and to sum it up in a word, seeing that everything had turned against him—he neither repels them churlishly, deeming it absurd to send away with insult those who had come out of respect, nor does he urge them simply to depart, respecting their friendship. But considering all these things, and by
A being stung by all of them, he brought his words to this point: "Why did I not die in the womb? Why did I come out of the belly and not perish immediately?" Just as Christ, therefore, in saying, "It would have been better for him if he had not been born," meant nothing else than the difficult and bitter things that were awaiting him, so also Job here, saying, "Would that I had not been born, or having been born, had perished immediately," so that death might have been the companion of his birth, does not inveigh against the handiwork of God, but sets before our eyes the magnitude of his calamity. Observe, however, his piety, how he pours out all his anger upon the day, not daring to overstep this limit, but always repeating these things, the day and the night; as if to say, "Up until then I was free of the present evils, even if I were to receive no reward for piety."
"Now I would have slept and been at rest, sleeping and finding repose." To me, indeed, it seems that he is checking his friends and persuading them not to hold human affairs in high esteem. Observe, then, even in his adversity, the words of philosophy. C
"There the wicked have ceased from their fury; there the weary in body have rested." What are you saying? Am I wicked and corrupt? Does even this kind of man enjoy that solace? Then he institutes a proclamation of death: namely, that some have departed from wickedness, others have emerged from the waves of tribulations; some have found a harbor from calamities, others a hindrance to their own depravity; and, what is most important, that they cannot expect their former states again, but, having ceased from labors, they enjoy perpetual rest; for death is the release and end of all evils. D
"Together the base have not heard the voice of the tax-collector."
According to a more recondite meaning, the divine word declares those blessed who have not heard the voice of the one exacting taxes and tribute. For those who resist the pleasures of the body, and trample principalities underfoot, and bring the spiritual forces of wickedness under the yoke, have become superior to the voice of the exactor, that is, of the devil, who, from those who have voluntarily placed themselves under his power, demands, as a kind of tribute, the
that they perform what is pleasing to him. But the righteous, because they did not listen to his voice when he urged them toward evil, for this reason enjoy happiness together in the kingdom of heaven.
B “Pusillus and great is there, and servant fearing his lord.”
Great, he says, is the inequality in this present life, but great also is the liberty and equality after the migration from this life: there is no fear there of change, as there is here; death is a hindrance to evils, a release from hardship. Things that seemed grievous are dissolved; and he who formerly feared his own master, there does not fear at all. All are there, the small and the great, that is, both he who is in dignity and he who is in lowliness.
“For why is light given to those in bitterness? and life to souls that are in pain?”
Of Chrysostom and Polychronius
. These are not the words of one complaining—far be it—for words that are uttered with a different frame of mind are not to be understood in the same way; rather, they are the voices of one grieving and inquiring: why do those who are destined to be tested by calamities enter into life? For to the rest, who live in splendor and enjoy health of body, this common life together brings no small consolation. But those who shall partake of none of these things, but will struggle in life with miseries alone—I do not know what benefit they can have by entering life; and while the others perhaps help the life of the community in some way, these, however, in what way?From this we learn that not only life, but death also, has been given usefully by God, since death is so desirable; wherefore he adds:
“Who desire death, and it does not happen to them, digging as for treasures; but they became exceedingly glad if they should attain it.”
For this reason, he says, “To everything there is a season.” And again: “O death, how bitter is your remembrance to a man at peace in his possessions, to a man at rest, and who prospers in all things, and still has the strength to receive food!” And again: “O death, good is your judgment to a man who is needy, and who is failing in strength, and broken with age, and who is anxious about all things, and is faithless, and has lost patience.” Therefore Job also, when he was in miseries, desired death; and he says these things so that, when you hear his wife advising him, “Say some word against the Lord, and die,” you may not think that he abstained from such speech out of a desire for life, and not for the sake of piety. For he who considered death to be so great and desirable a good for himself, even though it was present and ready to hand, did not dare to seize it.
VERS. 23. “Death is rest to a man; for God has shut it in against him.” A C. This is the sentiment: If, therefore, death is rest, why do not many hasten toward it? For this reason, God has made life desirable to us, so that we might not hasten to accelerate death for ourselves.
VERS. 25. “For the fear which I feared has come to me; and that which I dreaded has met me.”
This, therefore, was the cause why, in such great storms and ineffable waves, the just man stood firmly with an unconquered mind: because, when he abounded in riches and wealth, he expected poverty; when he was in good health, he hoped for sickness; when he was the father of so many children, he expected that he might suddenly become childless. And he always nurtured this fear and anxiety of mind within himself, as he was not ignorant of the nature of human affairs and reflected within himself upon their fleeting condition. For this reason he said: “The fear which I dreaded has met me.” And he well said, “has met me,” as if he were saying: “Towards whom I was always proceeding with my thoughts.” For with his mind he was always walking toward it, waiting for it, hoping, and expecting. Although, while living in wealth, luxury, and great splendor, he spent his days, nevertheless the calamities of others were daily observed by his mind. Whence, nothing of those things which seem grievous and intolerable, when it happened, disturbed his tranquility.
VERS. 26. “I was not in peace, nor in silence, nor in rest; but wrath has come upon me.”
He did not say: “I have no peace,” nor: “I am not in silence”; but he spoke in the past tense: “I was not in peace.” For although those things which had occurred to me before caused me to live in luxury, nevertheless the expectation of sad things did not allow the mind to be at rest, nor to enjoy present luxuries. Wherefore, when he saw that those things had actually happened to him which he had previously considered within his own mind and speech, he bore it bravely. Since those things had been premeditated by him long before, and as he saw before his eyes what he had previously perceived by expectation, these things did not seem new to him, nor was he disturbed in mind. Rather, he says: “The expected wrath has come to me,” that is, the bitter and intolerable punishment, of which I have made trial, and which I had pondered within myself before I experienced it.
CAPUT IV
D VERS. 2. “Has a word been spoken to you often in trouble? But who will sustain the weight of your words?”
Scripture is accustomed to signify sin by the name of “labor,” as when it says, “Under their tongue is labor and sorrow.” Eliphaz therefore says: “See, Job, lest perhaps you have spoken something in sin, and for that reason are now suffering these evils.” But he does not say: “Have you done nothing?” but: “Have you said nothing?” — since his life was clear and illustrious, and everywhere among the nations there existed many monuments of his virtue. “Do not say this,” he says, “if even...”
A your actions are noble and good; for it happens that in words even sin is committed.”
Vers. 3-5. “If you have instructed many, and have comforted weak hands, and those who were infirm you have raised up with words, and to failing knees you have imparted confidence; but now labor has come upon you, and it has touched you, you have hurried.”
Chrysostom and Polychronius. He does not mention the works of Job that were accomplished during his wealth (for it would have been easy for him to reproach him with poverty), but he commemorates those whom he had helped with his words. But what he says is of this kind: “These present circumstances conflict with your old way of thinking. What is happening to you, you who have many times strengthened others with your words, and have raised up those almost falling by setting good hopes before them? How is it that you cannot bear the pain that has come upon you? But you ‘have hurried’ — that is, you have been troubled.” The term is derived from those who are troubled and quicken their pace. Yet you ought to have been mindful of your own words and respected them, so as to practice philosophy not only in others’ calamities but also in your own. Observe, moreover, that besides other virtues, Eliphaz bears witness that the gift of teaching and comforting had been granted to Job by divine grace, so that by his comforting words and exhortations he rendered those who were in calamities of a cheerful mind. These words of Eliphaz are still B free from harshness, but in those that follow he does not respect the character of one who ought to have comforted. Listen, therefore:
Vers. 6. “Is not your fear in your foolishness, and your hope, and the iniquity of your way?”
But Aquila: “Your patience, and the simplicity of your ways.” He weaves a futile syllogism; for since Job had said, “The fear which I dreaded has come upon me,” he says that that fear was in foolishness, and your hope was from the iniquity of your heart; for it is senseless for a good man to expect such things. Therefore, you have convicted yourself that your life was wicked; for if you were confident in your purity, all fear is in vain.
Vers. 9. “By the commandment of the Lord they shall perish; and by the spirit of his wrath they shall be destroyed.”
And the phrase, “By the commandment of the Lord,” he says, do not think that these things which have happened to you are from evil demons or from malicious men. It is God who punishes and chastens; therefore, it cannot be doubted that the punishment is worthy and just.
Vers. 12. “If any true word has been in your discourses.”
The phrase, “If any true word has been in your discourses,” implies that Job had many times spoken noble things, either urging others to emulation or for other reasons of divine dispensation.
Vers. 18. “If he trusts not against his own servants, and against his angels he considers something crooked.” C D
It has been rightly said, he notes; for by this he declares the wisdom of God, so that they might not be puffed up by the excellence of their nature, but might be subject to the divine authority forever. Although He took note of something crooked against them; that is to say, He punished them because they abandoned their own dwelling. A
VERS. 19. "He struck them like a moth, and from morning until evening they are no more."
Therefore, that expression, "He struck them like a moth," means that with easy effort He corrupted even their inmost parts. And "He blew," that is, He needed no labor, but only willed it, and their end and destruction followed. This, however, is said by a metaphor taken from those who become enraged, who are accustomed to use blowing in place of a rebuke. Moreover, those words, "from morning until evening they are no more," are said either because Job endured all things in a single day, or to show that God does not need time in order to punish the ungodly. B
CAP. V.
VERS. 6. "For labor will not proceed from the earth." [Symmachus, however, says, "Pain will not come forth from the dust."] "Nor will toil sprout from the mountains; but man is born to labor: and the chicks of the vulture fly very high."
What then? Are they enjoying a greater divine providence? Away with such a thought; for this does not happen to the earth and the mountains, since they lack sensation; for it is a natural thing, he says, that calamities cannot be avoided. And lest anyone should object that he is righteous, he says that human nature is of such a kind that it is not free from sin. Eliphaz therefore seeks a firm argument from nature, and says that it is characteristic of man to be tempted by calamities. Immediately, therefore, as soon as a man is brought into the light, he enters into an inheritance of labors and distresses, and his whole life is full of difficulties and miseries. And on this account, our nature is inferior to those things which are brought forth from the earth and the mountains, which in their birth and growth are free from pain and toil. And to the birds, indeed, it is granted to fly without labor, and to gather food without toil; C but man enjoys none of these things without tribulation.
VERS. 10. "Who gives rain upon the earth, and sends water upon that which is under heaven."
This is the first gift of His beneficence, by which both our life is sustained and the change of the seasons is made manifest.
VERS. 15, 16. "But let the weak one escape from the hand of the powerful: but let there be hope for the weak; and let the mouth of the unjust be stopped." D
These things, he says, God does, so that he who is without any strength may hope for what is good; and the unjust man may not be puffed up, but the tongue that speaks lofty things may be stopped, and the high eyebrow may be lowered.
* Something seems to be missing in the Greek.
FRAGMENTS ON BLESSED JOB
"Blessed is the man whom the Lord reproves; therefore do not reject the admonition of the Almighty." For if He is the one who delivers from evils and shifts things to the contrary state, and makes one enjoy deep peace, He does not do even these things from a different mind, but from the same. A
"Six times He shall deliver you from necessities, and in the seventh, no evil shall touch you." That is to say, He does not always do this to you; but in the first instances, He permits you to be tested; after this, however, not so; so that you no longer have need of being delivered from temptation.
"He shall hide you from the scourge of the tongue." This is not a small thing, but a very great one, B to be delivered from a man saying nothing good. For there is nothing worse than the tongue; it is more cruel and more unbearable than every plot, than every sword.
"You shall laugh at the unjust and the lawless, and you shall not be afraid of wild beasts; for wild beasts shall be at peace with you." Briefly, not only will those outside be peacefully disposed toward you, but your house also will enjoy much peace, and those in it will remain without dissension, both toward one another and toward you. For nothing is equal to being at peace within the house; for what profit is there in being relieved of wars from outside, if one is full of turmoil within?
"And you shall come to the grave as ripe wheat, harvested in its season; or as a heap of the threshing floor gathered in at the hour." That is to say, abounding in all goods, and having arranged your inheritance for your descendants, you will thus depart this life, having reached a flourishing old age, and having nothing lacking, neither time nor life.
CAP. VI.
"Job, taking up the discourse, says: If indeed someone would weigh my anger, and take up my sorrows in a balance together, it would be heavier than the sand of the seashore."
Of Polychronius and Chrysostom. "If indeed," for "would that." By "anger" here, he means dejection and the passion of the soul, which arises from calamities; and by "sorrows," those occurring in the body from ulcers. C And, increasing the passion by the quantity, he said "together." What he says is of this kind: You philosophize about the misfortunes of others, and standing far from my calamities, you give me counsel with much confidence; but if it were possible for someone to take my passions and sorrows for himself, and, as in a balance, to weigh them against the sand of the seashore, he would find the scale of these to be heavier, and the other to be weighed down. He chose "seashore sand" because it is more moist. D
A
VERS. 4. "When I begin to speak, they goad me." Behold my misfortune; those who ought to have pitied me hold me as someone unseen and rejected.
VERS. 7. "For my anger cannot cease: for I see my food as the stench of a lion."
This noble athlete, standing as if in the common theater of the world, addresses all men through the calamities that befell him, and exhorts them to bear courageously the adversities that occur, and not to yield to the evils that beset them. For there is no human calamity at all which cannot receive consolation from hence: for the miseries that are scattered throughout the whole world, these all at once and with one assault rushed upon his body. What indulgence, therefore, is to be granted to him who cannot bear with thanksgiving even a small portion of the bitterness that he suffered, when he himself appears to have sustained not only a portion, but the sum total of the evils of all men alone? For what was ever poorer than Job? Who was poorer than those who lie cast away in the bath-house, and those who sleep in the ashes of an oven, and, to speak in one word, poorer than all men? For these at least have a tattered garment, but he B sat naked; and the only garment which nature had granted him, namely, the covering of the flesh, this the devil had corrupted on every side with a grievous and troublesome rot: and these indeed are covered with straw and stubble, but he, without the consolation of a roof, passed the night under the open sky. And what is greater: that these were conscious to themselves of many sins, on account of which they might justly accuse themselves (and it is no light consolation in calamity for one to be conscious that he is justly punished), but he was deprived even of this consolation, who, showing forth a manner of life full of virtue, endured the punishments due to the most flagitious of men. And these indeed were nurtured in calamity from the beginning, and exercised themselves in it; but he bore poverty that was not premeditated, and that the most extreme, and for which it is not possible to find an equal; for what can be poorer than a man who is naked and lacking a roof? Indeed, he could not even enjoy the ground at all; for he did not sit upon the earth, but upon the dunghill.
This one calamity, then, seems to be the subject matter of all evils at once to men. But a second after that, or rather before that, the affliction of the body; for who received such a one? His body was gradually consumed, and a fountain of worms gushed forth for him from every side of his limbs, and that flow was continuous with much foulness; and his body, gradually falling apart and C putrefying with such rot, rendered his food unwelcome to him, and he experienced a strange and incredible hunger; for when food was set before him, he could not eat: "For I see," he says, "my food as the stench of a lion." What can be more bitter than this punishment? Sleep did not administer rest to him, nor did nourishment feed him: "As the odor," he says, "of a lion"; for this beast smells beyond measure, and since it is by nature insatiable, God [has...] D
made it more loathsome than other animals. A They say, moreover, that the leavings of this creature’s food are inedible to other animals because of the foul stench breathed out upon them from it. How, then, could anyone express that strange and inexplicable hunger? Is it voluntary or is it constrained? For I am at a loss as to what to call it, nor do I find a name to bestow upon such a paradoxical form of suffering. For he abstained from the table set before him, and though he saw the food, he did not touch it; for the stench coming from the wounds in his body was already there, extinguishing his appetite and filling even the table with disgust. Wishing to signify this, he said, "For I see my food as a stench." For the necessity of hunger constrained him to touch what was set out, but the excess of the stench, arising from his flesh, overcame the force of hunger. For this reason, B as I said, I know not what to call it. Is it voluntary? Yet he wished to taste of what was provided. Is it constrained? Yet the food was present, and there was no one to prevent him from eating.
"For what is my strength, that I might endure?" What power do I have, to suffer such things? He does not, therefore, endure from his own strength, but from piety and the fear of God; otherwise, he would have done away with himself. But as it is, he leaves the matter to prayer, and not to his own daring.
"My nearest ones have not regarded me; like a failing torrent, or like a wave, they have passed me by." This, too, is an effect of God's abandonment, that even one’s own kin should disdain those who are suffering such things. For when He Himself withdraws, C and a man is stripped of the help that comes from God, all things become hostile and adverse. How, then, he says, do you reproach me, who have fallen into a multitude of evils and have been cast outside all solace, for bearing with bitterness and vexation the state of affairs which has so unexpectedly turned to its opposite?
"Those who used to stand in awe of me, have now fallen upon me." Chrysostom and Polychronius. What am I saying, he asks, that my closest ones have spit upon me? They increased my calamities, and that, too, when a little while before they were trembling at the very mention of my name.
"So that, seeing my wound, you may be afraid." See, he says, that you do not require a penalty for your cruelty; D if nothing else—neither friendship, nor kindness, nor anything else—makes you gentler, the very sight of my wounds ought to fill you with great gentleness.
"For what? Did I ask anything of you? Or [was it that I requested] from you..."
have I begged, or for your strength have I felt a need, so that you might save me from enemies, or deliver me from the hand of the powerful? A
Did I, he says, become a burden to you in any way, that you should treat me so cruelly? Or did I ask for your assistance against my adversaries? Or did I petition you as a suppliant to comfort my poverty with some largesse? Nay, I have neither implored your help before, nor do I now, but you came of your own accord, as if to provide consolation; why then do you act the part of my enemies?
VER. 24. ‹ Teach me, and I shall be silent: if I have erred in anything, tell me. ›
If I seem to have offended in anything, make me certain of it. For they had no manifest crimes to bring against him, but [spoke] merely from naked conjecture; for it was manifest that his life had been joined with virtue; but they, from his punishments, conjectured the opposite. B
VER. 25-27. ‹ For I do not ask for strength from you, nor will your correction pacify me with words; for I shall not endure the elocution of your speech. Yet you fall upon the orphan, and insult your friend. ›
I do not need, he says, your help; do not condescend to me, nor, as if wishing to confirm me, do you speak things to please my ears, but rebuke me with frankness; for I do not fear your rebukes, nor shall I grow silent at your speech, since my conscience is pure, but by contradicting every word, I hope to win the victory. This, however, I know: that you, regarding neither my calamity nor our friendship, attack me with such bitter reproaches, as one truly bereft of God’s protection; for neither the calamity nor the friendship has bent your hearts. But I, even if you have turned from friends into enemies, will not avoid the contest, but I will contradict you and proceed to my defense; for I am conscious of no crime in myself. C
CAP. VII.
VERS. 1, 2. ‹ Is not the life of man upon the earth a trial? And is his life like that of a daily laborer? Or like a servant fearing his master, and having reached the shadow? Or like a laborer awaiting his wage? ›
Does not the life of all men, he says, seem to you to be filled with trials and afflictions? And is not every man like a daily laborer, who toils the whole day to obtain a meager gain? Or like a servant who fears his master, and barely obtains a short intermission of labor? Or simply like a laborer, although not a daily one, who after many toilsome labors receives some wage for his work? D
By these things, therefore, he wishes to show the laborious and brief nature of life; and he says: Is life, therefore, full only of toils, and not also of dangers? To me, however, he seems to be speaking about a fugitive servant who is in agony at every moment.
because of his flight; for this is what it signifies: A *having attained a shadow*, that is, imagining what is not present as if it were present because of fear, and seeking darkness by which he will be covered. But if life is a place of *tentations*, how is it possible for one who is in a place of *tentation* not to fall into *tentations*? So it comes about that it is not from my iniquity alone, but also from nature itself that I have suffered these things which I have suffered.
• *And nights of pain have been given to me. If I sleep, I say, When is the day? And when I arise, again, When is the evening? And I am filled with pains from evening until morning.* B
Have you also seen the unbearable *tentation* of the night, which was both strange and paradoxical? For to all other men, even if they suffer infinite things, even if they dwell in a prison, even if they are bound in chains, even if they lament calamities, even if they endure bodily corruption, even if they are pressed by poverty, even if by disease, even if by toils and hardships, the night, when it comes, brings a medicine of consolation, releasing the body from toils and unburdening the soul of cares. But for Job, the harbor then became a reef, and the medicine turned into a sore, and the consolation was an addition more grievous than the pain; and a more fearful storm arose during the time that provides tranquility to all other men. And he would flee from the day, as if from waves, because of those unbearable pains, but he would find tempests, and whirlwinds, and hidden reefs, and crags, so that he would again seek the waves of the day. And having the present as a burden, he would desire the absent, hastening to run through the intervals of time because of his torments. C Wherefore he himself, describing this new kind of evil, cried out and said: *If I sleep, I say, When is the day? If I arise, I say, When is the evening?* For what reason, tell me? For in the day, you rightly seek the night, inasmuch as it provides an end to all the daily toils; but once you are in the night, and in tranquility and forgetfulness of those pains and cares, why do you again seek the day, tell me? Because the night is more grievous to me than the day; for it does not grant me an end to my toils, but adds to them, and creates disturbances and agitations. And describing this very thing, he said: *You terrify me with dreams, and through visions you strike me with fear*; for he was truly struck with fear, seeing terrible sights in the night, and enduring an unbearable fear, and great ecstasy and consternation; and the night, which was granted to others for rest, became to him an intensification of his calamities.
• *My body is covered in the corruption of worms; and I scrape away clods of earth from the sanies.* D
By saying, *I scrape away clods of earth*, he signifies, as it seems to me, that he was reduced to such misery that he was no longer scraping with a potsherd, but thenceforth was doing this with the earth itself.
A Furthermore, he instructed his friends regarding fortitude and patience, and regarding the casting off of the opinion which they had conceived concerning him (that, namely, he was suffering on account of his sins), so that from the multitude of his miseries they might be able to understand that he was not so wicked as to suffer such things; for it was necessary for them, as a first step, to descend into their own souls and thus form a judgment concerning the deeds of Job. For pain that never intermitted, the suppuration, and the worms, gave proof of both his patience and his fortitude.
Ves. 6. *My life, truly, is swifter than a word*: [Others rendered it, *than a runner*.] *But it has perished in vain hope.* [Symmachus, however, says: *My days are consumed, since there is no hope.*]
Perhaps that saying, *My life is swifter than a word*, might signify the fragile and fleeting condition of life, because it does not remain in the same state, but like a word, it slips away and vanishes. It may also show the extreme intensity of his pain, and that his tribulations were little short of death itself. That which says, *Swifter than a runner*, seems to suggest that just as runners, before they set their foot down, rebound; so glory, before it arrives, flies away. *But my life*, he says, *has perished in vain hope.* Why, then? Because I have endured labors and tribulations, yet have brought back no reward; because I am pressed by calamities and find no good outcome. Afterwards, breaking off his discourse with his friends, he turns, after an interval, to prayer, and says:
Ves. 9, 10. *For if a man shall descend to Hades, he shall not ascend again, neither shall he return any more into his own house, nor shall his place know him any more.* C
On account of this, the just man is especially worthy of admiration, because, although he understood nothing certain concerning the resurrection, he both experienced pains and yet bore them with a brave and noble spirit; for that he had no certain knowledge of the mystery of the resurrection from the dead is clear from the things he says: It is not permitted, he says, to him who is extinguished by death and descends to the underworld to revive again and return to his own dwellings; but not even will a memory of him remain, since he has ceased to appear among the living: for it is impossible for a dead man to rise.
Vers. 13, 14. *I said: That my bed shall comfort me.* [Symmachus, indeed, expressing the same thing in different words, said: *I shall relate my speech to myself privately on my bed.*] [Theodotio, however: *My bed shall support me in my talkativeness.*] *You terrify me with dreams, and with visions you amaze me.* D
That which happened to the just man alone, happened to no other; for not even did the night offer him any comfort, but the phantasy of nocturnal terrors increased the misery of his daily ills all the more. But that he suffered even more grievous things in his sleep, hear what he says: *Why do you terrify me with dreams, and with visions you amaze me?* What man of iron, what man of adamant, could have endured so many heavy and bitter things? For if each one were intolerable by itself...
For if each of these things is unbearable in itself, A consider what a turmoil their coming together all at once raised. Nevertheless, he endured all these things, and in all that happened to him, he did not sin, not even with his lips. And this, too, while having no respite in his calamities, but being tormented by his passions both by night and by day. I omit speaking of the terrible things of the day; but not even the night provided him any immunity from evils. Therefore he said: "You terrify me with visions," B meaning that in the time of relief, when I expect to have a little leisure for my thoughts and to find sleep and rest, fearful dreams assail me. This happens especially and naturally to those who are struggling with calamities during the day, just as the wise Ecclesiastes also said: "For a dream comes in the multitude of cares" (Eccl. V, 2). It is likely that the devil also, by showing him certain fearful phantasms and specters, struck terror and dread into him in his sleep. But this blessed man, not yet fully convinced that he had been requested by the devil, thinks that it is God who is inflicting these torments upon him. But this, too, was a result of the devil's operation; for God had afflicted him with no evil, but all things were at the hands of the devil. C
CHAPTER VIII
"Does the Lord judge unjustly, or will He who made all things disturb justice?"
Chrysostom, Polychronius, and Olympiodorus: Do you not see, he says, how much equity is in the creation, how much orderly arrangement? Is it possible for God to pass an unexamined sentence against anyone? Or has He who made all things decently and harmoniously, and who brought forth the beginning in benevolence, disturbed the equality of justice in your case alone, and afflicted you contrary to justice and right? He strikes the holy man quietly, as if he were suffering adversities justly and on account of sins—being of the same opinion as the one who came before him, namely, that tribulations and afflictions are sent upon men entirely because of sin. But he ought to have considered that such things happen not only to the wicked but also to the righteous (since they are indifferent matters) D and that the righteous man becomes more admirable by enduring tribulations and pains. But since he could not convict him of sin, he turns to his children and says:
"For ask of the former generation, and search out the genus of the fathers; for we are of yesterday, and we do not know, for our life upon the earth is a shadow."
What he says is of this kind: Since we are short-lived, let us ask those who have aged, and they will tell us that just as it is impossible for grass to grow without moisture, so it is impossible for happiness to endure without justice; and that it is not possible for prosperity
the quantity and abundance of men cannot be stable and firm; and that punishments are inflicted on account of sins.
CAP. IX.
VERS. 1, 2. *Respondens autem Job, ait: Vere scio quia ita est.*
How much philosophy do these words set forth? I know, he says, that the impious are subject to destruction, but the just are not. You see how he in no way accuses God of injustice.
VERS. 10. *Who doeth great and unsearchable things, and glorious and wonderful, of which there is no number.*
Are not these things, he says, which I mentioned before, though they are presented to our eyes, great and unsearchable? How much more so are those things which are invisible? But observe that he never produces the essence of God, but only His works. And why, he says, do I enumerate them one by one? For the works of God are great, and incomprehensible, and innumerable.
VERS. 17. *But he hath made many of my tribulations in vain.*
This is also what God had said to the devil concerning him: *But thou saidst to destroy his substance in vain;* why then are you surprised if what God said, he also says himself: *In vain*, not because he has sinned, but because that punishment and affliction will profit him nothing.
VERS. 30, 31. *For if I be washed as if with snow, and be cleansed with hands that are pure, yet Thou hast plunged me in filth, and my garment hath abhorred me.*
D Chrysost. and Olymp. It was the custom among the ancients to wash away the filth of the body with baths; and an ancient custom also prevailed that, when they wished to show themselves not at all participants in any crime, they would wash their hands, saying: *I am innocent of this matter;* just as was done by Pilate in the affair of our Savior; and David also sang: *I will wash my hands among the innocent.* This, then, is what he says: Even if I should be pure, these precise examinations and the punishments which are brought upon me, by the prejudice of men's opinion, show me to be filthy and unclean; so that whoever has touched my garments thinks he is defiled and polluted, since each one suspects that I am suffering these things on account of a multitude of sins. He says these things, however, because his friends, in order to prove that he was a sinner, had brought forward the things that had happened to him. But what he says is of this kind: I am set forth as an example of impiety to all. Why, then, have I not died? For it was fitting that the wicked one be taken from the midst, so that he might not become a teacher of wickedness to others. Even if I were purer than the sun, I still have a stain, and not an ordinary one, branded upon me. But those also who are most near to me, as a garment is to the body, even they have hated me; not on account of the punishment, but as one cursed and defiled, as one unclean, so have they turned away from me.
and my body has become loathsome to me; for this is A the garment. But it may also be understood thus: "My garment has abhorred me," because my clothing flees from me, as if it hated me; that is to say, I cannot even put it on, because of the excessive ulceration.
CAP. X.
VERS. 2. "Because you have despised the works of your hands, and have attended to the counsel of the impious."
You see that he does not wish to contend in judgment for this reason—as if his actions were good—but he asks, "In what way will this affliction profit me?" For I fear that it might even harm me; for it is likely that some might think that either you do not care for the men whom you formed, or that the wicked are especially successful in your sight, and that their counsels are most pleasing to you.
VERS. 7. "For you know that I have not acted impiously, but who is he that rescues from your hands?"
Chrysostom and Olympiodorus. I also know that I have not acted impiously, but it happens that I may have acted impiously and am unaware of it; when you punish, therefore, no one can be justified. But even if I have not acted impiously, at least in my own judgment, I know that it is not possible to escape your counsel; that is to say, even if I am not conscious of any fault in myself, let your counsel prevail, which understands our affairs better than we do ourselves B.
VERS. 8. "Your hands have formed me, and have made me."
Chrysostom and Olympiodorus. Though I am a sinner, he says, I am the work of your hands. You see how he recognizes God as the creator, and prays that he might spare his own handiwork.
"Afterwards, changing, you struck me." [Aquila and Theodotion: "At once in a circle you overwhelmed me."]
Consequently, when he acknowledges him as the author and lord of creation and of providence, he turns his speech to prayer, suppliantly beseeching him to remember the vileness and brevity of human life, and that he originally created man out of his own goodness, but afterward, becoming angered, penalized him with death; and he says:
VERS. 10-12. "Have you not milked me like milk, and curdled me like cheese? You clothed me with skin and flesh, and joined me together with bones and nerves; and you placed life and mercy with me, and your visitation has preserved my spirit."
He calls the seed from which the animal consists "milked milk"; and just as milk that is milked becomes cheese, so also the seed, having been poured out and curdled, becomes a nature and substance; and this is the first constitution of the embryo. For the seed that is cast into the furrows C of the womb, when it is curdled like
and coagulates, becomes a substance, and is afterwards fashioned (or, as Scripture says, is assimilated to an exemplar, and receives [it] as a character); and the substance which was moist is coagulated, and what was cast into the womb is distributed into skin, flesh, bones, and nerves. And these things, indeed, individually move with animal motion while the soul is present, but when it departs, they remain sluggish and idle. “You have not only,” he says, “granted me life”—which is the mark proper to creation— “but You have also shown Yourself merciful toward me,” which manifests the favor of Providence; for in my whole life I have experienced Your providence. For this is what “Your visitation has preserved my spirit” means: that is, after I was created, I enjoy life by Your providence. And in sum, it indicates the entire path and harmony of the constitution of the body, which comes from preceding things, and the reason and harmony of the pre-existing things themselves. B
CAP. XI.
VERS. 4. “For do not say, that I am clean by [my] works, and blameless before Him.”
And he indeed had said: “In truth I know that no mortal is clean before the Lord.” You see how they impute contrary things to him.
CAP. XII.
VERS. 7-11. “But yet inquire of the quadrupeds, if they should answer you; and the birds of the sky, if they should declare to you; recount to the earth, if it should tell you, and the fishes of the sea will explain to you. Who then has not known in all these things that the hand of the Lord has made these? If not, in His hand is the soul of all things living, and the spirit of all mankind. For the ear indeed distinguishes words, but the throat tastes foods.” C
Chrysostom and Olympiodorus. Since they boasted that they possessed knowledge of God, for this reason He declares that every creature knows its Maker, which is manifest not only to men but also to brute animals and to the earth which is devoid of sense. Why, therefore, he says, as if you had said something great and wonderful, are you so affected? For it is altogether necessary for the wicked to perish, and there is no one who is ignorant of this. But to inflict greater shame upon Zophar, he spoke hyperbolically: “Inquire of the irrational and inanimate things,” which even though they do not speak, in that they seem to utter such a voice, they declare the glory of God; since, therefore, they perceive the power of the divine potency, if they were endowed with speech, they would profess God to be the Creator of all D things, whose wisdom surpasses human comprehension, who takes punishment from the wicked, in whose hand is situated the life and death of all the living, who easily performs whatever He may have decreed concerning each, and who cherishes and preserves the soul of brutes, and the spirit of man, and all other things. If, therefore, brute animals would thus preach about God, if they were endowed with speech,
just as, without doubt, the throat is a judge of tastes, and the ear of sounds, so too man is gifted with reason. Some manuscripts, however, instead of "ear," have "mind." He says, therefore, that just as we all possess a throat for the judgment of food, and it is a common thing for all men to partake of nourishment, so too we have received a mind for the knowledge of God, which is able to perceive His wisdom and power—for the mind distinguishes intelligible things, while the senses distinguish things that fall under the senses—and it is common to us all to know God as the maker of all things.
A VERS. 12. « In much time is wisdom, and in many years is knowledge. »
Chrysostom and Olympiodorus. It seems to me that he is rebuking them with these words: "Do not," he says, "suppose that you have found everything; for although we are endowed with a mind that has the power of judgment, yet we need much time to discover [the truth]; for a wise man, by growing old, makes progress in wisdom." Perhaps he also wishes to say this: "I know the things I hear, and I have devoted time to acquiring knowledge." Aquila and Symmachus, however, rendered it differently: the one said, "In the ancients is wisdom," and the other, "In the long-lived," [a wisdom] which, among men, is perfected by labor and acquired by time, but with God, it is solely by His will.
VERS. 14. « If He destroys, who shall build? If He closes against men, who shall open? »
The righteous man silently instructs those who were contradicting him concerning Providence; for although they confessed Providence, they were nonetheless caught in contradictions. He says, therefore: "Who has resisted His will?" For one may find this man struggling with poverty, that one with calamity, or weighed down by sickness; and, to put it briefly, you will find one person after another entangled in various misfortunes which happen by the will of God, and there is no one who can push away what has been decreed. And the demonstration of this matter is sought from greater things and from those which are acknowledged by all.
C VERS. 15. « If He withholds water, He will dry up the earth; and if He releases it, He destroys it by inverting it. »
If He withholds the rain, as in the time of Elijah, all things perish through filth and drought; but if He releases it upon the earth, as in the time of Noah, He floods and destroys it. Then, he shows the reason for that demonstration—that the things which are done by God cannot be done by any other—through what follows, saying:
« With Him is power and strength; with Him is knowledge and understanding. »
That is to say, it is proper to Him alone to do all things according to His will; and this occurs justly and deservedly, since, ruling over all things, He is endowed with ineffable power. "With Him is knowledge and understanding," meaning the most exact knowledge of existing things, and the most prudent governance.
VERS. 17. A *“Who leads counselors away captive, and brings the judges of the earth into confusion.”*
Chrysostom and Polychronius: And these are the works of Providence; for by the divine will and judgment, even counselors are led away into captivity, and judges change their ground. But perhaps this is spoken not of those who are made captives in war, but of those who pride themselves on the keenness and ingenuity of their intellect; as if saying: He deceives the wise, and reduces to insanity those who are strong in the faculty of discernment, and makes those who instruct others in what must be done appear, by contrast with his own precise knowledge, to be lacking in wisdom, and leads them into a state of counsel-less confusion. B Aquila and Symmachus also exhibit this meaning; the former says: “Leading counselors as spoils,” and the latter: “Reducing counselors to a lack of counsel.” See, moreover, how in demonstrating the invincible power of God, he teaches that He also excels all others in wisdom; and he divides his discourse between those who are illustrious in their manner of life, and those who are thought great on account of their piety.
CAP. XIII
VERS. 5. C *“But would that you would be altogether silent, and it will be reckoned to you as wisdom.”*
Chrysostom and Olympiodorus: When anyone speaks things that are foreign to reason, it is better to be silent; and by remaining silent, one will be wiser than by speaking. For it is good for such persons to keep silent, rather than to leap into such words; for the silence of these has the appearance of wisdom—for one who makes himself mute will seem to be prudent—whereas talkativeness exacerbates the one who is suffering. You, therefore, who love God, do not be shaken by such words, but rather imitate the saints, being firmly persuaded that these suggestions are of Satan, and that it is the devil who is working in those who are casting insults, so that he may draw you away from the faith and cause you to desist from your good purpose. D For the wily old serpent knows that pain and distress do not harm you, but rather render you more commended to God; but to depart from a good purpose, that is what does you the greatest harm. Therefore, the more he attacks you with temptations, the greater progress you should make in virtue; and the more he compels you toward listlessness, the more you should endure with patience and tolerance of soul, and say: *“All these things have come upon us, and we have not forgotten Thee.”* If you fortify your soul against temptations in this way, the devil will indeed depart confounded, and the Lord of all will remember you and will refresh you twofold in this life; and afterward you will hear: *“Well done, good and faithful servant; you have been faithful over a few things, I will set you over much.”* Let the patience of Job come to your mind, who was struck down neither in favorable fortune nor in temptations; but in both conditions endured many and grievous things with a patient and strong spirit, until he had received double from God and received this testimony even unto this day, that he endured trials so that he might appear righteous to all.
FRAGMENTS ON BLESSED JOB
VERS. 13, 14. "Be silent that I may speak, and I will rest from my anger, apprehending my flesh in my teeth."
Just as those who bite their own flesh in their pains find some consolation, so also do I as I utter these things. You see that these are not the words of one justifying himself, but are some consolation for pain, by which the body is revived and the soul is relieved through speech.
VERS. 17. "Hear, hear my words; for I shall declare them while you are listening."
I wish to be judged, he says; I do not refuse the tribunal, and I know that I shall not be condemned. But in calling upon his friends to listen to the things he is about to say, in order to move them more deeply, he doubles his exhortation. For he saw that they were displeased at his rebukes, for which reason, hearing them speaking openly B and without restraint, he says what he does. The doubling of the word "Hear," therefore, either sets his distress before their eyes, or he intends to procure their attention so that they might listen firmly. For it happens sometimes that, although a voice strikes the ears, men do not hear because the mind is not attentive; wherefore the Savior, stimulating the hearers to listen genuinely, said: "He who has ears to hear, let him hear." (Matt. XI, 15)
VERS. 26. "For you have written evils against me, and have laid upon me the sins of my youth."
Perchance you are also unaware of the worthlessness of my nature, that I differ in nothing from a leaf or grass carried by the wind. Why then, O Lord, have you pronounced such a sentence against me? For "You have written evils against me," that is to say, tribulations, is a metaphor taken from kings, who issue sentences and decrees in writing. But "You have opposed yourself to me" signifies that you inflict punishment as if upon an adversary. As if he meant: "You have decreed punishment against me by your authority, as a master against a seditious and rebellious slave"; for "You have written" signifies that. Thus he spoke while preserving C what was fitting for the Master.
VERS. 28. "Who grows old like a wineskin."
Again he recounts the magnitude of the calamity; again he mocks the worthlessness of his nature. But why did he bring in a wineskin? Because the wineskin is empty, having only air; this is also what it is common for the many to say, that we are an "inflated wineskin." Therefore, he says, do not look at the bulk of my body, nor at the distended skin, but consider what is within, and you will see much emptiness.
"Or like a garment eaten by a moth."
By the moth-eaten garment he signifies bodily ailments, which no less than the moth gnaw and devour the body.
CHAPTER XIV
AVER. 4, 5. "For who shall be clean from filth? Nay, not one, even if his life upon the earth be but one day."
You see him again having recourse to nature, and seeking not only to be delivered from miseries because of its fragility and brevity, and because life is full of anxiety, but because it is not even possible for one to be pure from defilement.
BVER. 14, 15. "For in time the sea fails, and the river dried up and became desolate; but man, when he has fallen asleep, shall certainly not rise again, until the heaven be woven together, and they shall not be awakened from their sleep."
Perhaps, just as in the preceding parts, man was shown to be more short-lived than plants, so also here he is demonstrated to be of shorter duration than the sea and the river; for neither the sea nor the river is cut off, but man undergoes this. Would that it were possible for us to die and to return to life again, but this is not possible. For the sea indeed fails and is filled again, now waxing and now waning, and rivers are dried up and flow again; but man, when he has died, no longer returns to life. And these things are according to the letter. Allegorically, however: "There is hope for a tree," instead of "for a man." For if he should fall into transgression, and should repent, and should be in the land of piety, and on the rock—that is, in pious faith—irrigated by the water of regeneration or by the tear of repentance, he will sprout again; but he who has died in transgression and sin has no good hope. C And in the future age, sin, called metaphorically the sea, shall be blotted out, and the devil with his temptations shall be dried up; yet those who have died are not blotted out, but await the resurrection.
CHAPTER XV
VER. 1. "Then Eliphaz the Temanite answered and said: Shall a wise man give an answer of the spirit of understanding, and filled his belly with pain, arguing in words in which it is not fitting, and in speeches in which there is no profit?"
Since Job had said: "And I have a heart according to you"; and: "I am not less understanding than you"; Eliphaz immediately seizes the occasion from these to attack him; "Behold," he says, "how a man who is prudent, and who boasts that he knows all things, answers." "He filled his belly with pain," that is: such a man says these things to console himself, yet he is none the less full of turmoil. He says these things to put Job to shame, accusing him of two things; primarily because indeed the wise man D does not display his wisdom arrogantly—which has been done by you; and secondly, as to the things you have spoken, as if refuting us, and as if you were suffering for the sake of truth, and filling the belly of your mind (for this is what it means: "He filled his belly with pain").
belly), you have spoken in vain and uselessly, and to no purpose; A neither of which the wise man does, but rather the exact opposite, and he gives a sensible answer; and even if he is pained [alt-version omitted] by the truth and wishes to rebuke certain people, he does not bring forward hollow words, nor such as are inappropriate, just to satisfy the pain of the belly, nor does he converse bitterly just to satisfy the pain and the burning of his own mind, as you have done.
« You have been scourged for a few of the things you have sinned. » B Since Job had said: "What are my sins, teach me," for this reason Eliphaz upbraids him with a multitude of sins and says: "Know that in comparison with your sins, you have been lightly punished, and you have not paid the penalty equal to your transgressions." Then, since he cannot point out any sin of Job’s, he tries to judge him from his own words, saying:
« For the death of the impious is a testimony. » That is to say, an examination, an accusation, a testimony to other men that all must suffer in this way. And it is no wonder, he says; for the end of all the impious is miserable, that is to say, their death is a proof C of the impiety of men, meaning that their disgraceful end will demonstrate their conduct. For just as he set prosperity as a sign of justice, so also he set misfortune as a hallmark of depravity. Or "The death of the impious is a testimony," that is, it is clear, manifest, and unknown to no one. Or, if you wish, understand it also this way, that the perfecting of wickedness produces death—not the common death, but the death of punishment.
CAP. XVI
« But now he has made me exhausted, foolish, and putrid. » Olympiodorus and Chrysostom. It is not enough, he says, that I am being punished, but D I also appear to be without sense; for indeed the punishment has exhausted me, and has cut me down, and has worn me away, so that I seem to be almost devoid of my natural senses. Or perhaps he also says this: that God allowed my friends to assume about me that I am insensible in my afflictions; for he used "foolish" here in place of "insensible," and for this reason he added to it "putrid," because those limbs that are putrid are deprived of sensation.
« May my prayer reach the Lord, and before him may my eye drip. » He says, in effect: May God hear these things, may God see these things, and having inclined to my supplications, and having had mercy on me as I weep, may He be willing to judge for me the poor
not be burdened. But this, O illustrious man, you have truly achieved; for the great agonothete looked upon your struggles, lent an ear to your supplication, and beheld your precious tears, and for this reason made the cause of your struggles certain and manifest to all. And it turns out that those who weep happily distill their tears before God.
CHAPTER XIX
VERS. 1, 2. *But Job answering, said: How long do you afflict my soul?*
See how they not only brought no fruit from their consolation, but by cooperating with the devil, by bringing him aid, and by enervating the strength of the just man, they did the exact opposite: for he adds: *And will you destroy me with words?*
That is to say, you attempt to overthrow my just defenses with your contradictions, and like enemies you cast words as if they were darts, until, having broken and dissolved the tension of my soul, you carry off an unjust victory: what was said above did not suffice for you, but now all three of you, as if with one mouth, utter the same things.
VERS. 15. *The neighbors of my house, and my maidservants, I have become a stranger before them.*
The temptation of the devil was heavy. The domestics who remained alive created a more bitter calamity than those who had died; for the latter were doing no further evil, but the former showed themselves to be unruly, they abused him with insults, they spoke against him, and they committed the rest of the things which he adds.
VERS. 19. *They who saw me, despised me: whom I had loved, they have risen up against me.*
With whom, he says, there was formerly an intimacy, they flee my presence, and those who once loved me have become enemies: for my companions and associates, when they saw me coming forth and in need of their consolation, turned away from me as if I were something abominable; and those whom I had previously made my peculiar friends, who used to implore my help, and who were beholden to me for benefits, have afflicted me with evils. Something of this kind David sings in the Psalms: *They have repaid me evil for good, and hatred for my love.* A
VERS. 24. *With an iron pen and lead, or to be graven in rocks?*
For behold, they are written, not indeed with an iron pen, but with something far more durable than he requested; for the former, even if it had been so written, time would have consumed, but these have been inscribed more deeply and permanently.
VERS. 26. *To raise up my skin which suffers these things.*
Would that, he says, God would raise up my skin, which has suffered these things. From this, however, we are taught an ecclesiastical doctrine, namely, that the body itself, having endured the temptations and the tortures, rises again together with the soul, so that it may also enjoy glory together with it; for this reason he said, which suffers
to endure these things. For it is not just for one thing to suffer and another to rise again. A He was not ignorant, therefore, of the resurrection, nor, in my opinion, of the resurrection of bodies, unless one says that liberation from the evils which oppressed him was the resurrection. But he rightly assigns a reasonable cause for the change. He, he says, has wounded, and he himself will heal; and he who cast me into these dire straits, he himself will show this wretched body pure once more, and when at length he delivers it from its many sufferings, he may grant an intermission from the pains that weigh upon me. The version of Theodotion, however, "My Redeemer lives, and in the end will raise upon the dust," persuades one to join the two verses and read them thus: "For I know that he is eternal who is about to summon me upon the earth, to raise up my skin which suffers these things." The meaning of these words is this: God is immortal, whose offspring we are; and after he has dissolved me into the earth through death, he will raise me up from the earth again through the resurrection; or, having dissolved me—that is, freed me—from the disease, he will again renew my skin that was corrupted by the humors; for it is he who makes one suffer and restores one to health again, who kills and makes alive. Wherefore he adds:
CAP. XX.
"For the mirth of the wicked is an extraordinary fall, and the joy of the lawless is destruction." If their mirth is an extraordinary fall, and their joy is destruction, where shall we place the destruction, tell me, where shall we place the pain and the despondency? "May the minor ones destroy his sons, and may his hands kindle pains." And from this it is clear that the stroke is divinely inflicted, because the lesser overcome the greater, and those who were cast aside prevail over those who possess strength. Instead of "kindle pains," Akylas said "they shall attract," and Symmachus said "they shall inflict."CAP. XXI.
"Why do the impious live, and have they grown old even in wealth?" David sings something similar in the Psalms: "Behold, these are sinners and those who abound in the world have acquired wealth." And now Job, he says, one should not wonder at this alone, that they receive such rewards for their wickedness, but also that their very prosperity makes them worse. DChapter XXII.
"Or having a reckoning with you will he reprove you, and will he enter into judgment with you?" He is so full of love for mankind that, even while judging us, he permits us to speak to him as if he were contending with us in judgment, about whatever we wish. For he says in Isaiah: "Come, and let us reason together." Dthat I have done what is fitting, say: "And whatever I may have to say, I shall persuade you, as I condemn you, that you are worthy of condemnation."
CHAPTER XXIII
AVER. 2-7. "Who then will know that I might find him, and come to the end?" [Symmachus indeed: "Unto his throne."] "And I would declare my own judgment." [For which Symmachus again: "I will set judgment before him."] "And to fill my mouth with reproofs, and I would know the healings that he will speak to me." [Symmachus, however: "Words."] "And I would perceive what he will announce to me, and with much power he will come upon me." [Symmachus: "He is judged with me."] "Then he will not use threats against me." [Symmachus: "Only let him not himself attack me."] "For truth and reproof are from him; and he shall bring forth my judgment unto the end."
The sum of this discourse is this: Who might grant me that God should lend an ear and answer me? For thus he would justify me. The individual words, however, are as follows: "Would that it were permitted," he says, "to find God! Would that it were permitted to reach the divine throne, to stand there, to confer with God, to contend in judgment, and to receive the sentence from there, would that it were granted! Would that, stationed beside that divine tribunal, I were able to weep over all that I have suffered, and speak of each thing that has been done by me! So that, relating before him both what I have done and what I have suffered, I might learn by experience what judgment he brings, and what he has to say to these things that might heal my distress; and whether he attacks me with great force, punishing me more severely, or whether he relaxes the threat. For even if he should use much strength and threat against me, I am nonetheless certain that he is the author of truth, and that he brings forth and exercises reproofs—that is, judgments—without respect of persons: and I am persuaded that, if I were to encounter him, I would carry away a sentence full and absolute of victory over you. For that expression, 'In the end,' he used for 'perfected'; for among the Hebrews, 'end' and 'victory' are signified by a single word; wherefore in some of the psalms, instead of 'In the end,' it is inscribed 'To the Victor.' I desired, therefore," he says, "to learn what God was about to say to me, and whether he intended to punish me in like manner." He says these things, not as condemning God of injustice, but as rebuking his friends, who did not harbor a sound opinion of Him. You see how he obtained what he sought; for this has become the conclusion in the book, and he was vouchsafed divine converse and an answer.
VER. 13. "But if he himself has judged thus, who is it that contradicts him? For he himself willed, and he did it."
"He knows," he says, "my way, and that I have always studied to obey him; but who, when he judges, will contradict him? For those things which I am conscious of in myself, these are—"
Nevertheless, let the will of God prevail, and let no one resist His judgments. A For if He condemned me even though I was acting justly, and if He deemed it right that I should suffer these things, who would have the power to gainsay Him? Truly no one; for power accompanies His will, and what seems good to Him is brought into effect. Do not demand of me the reasons for divine providence; I know one thing: that I am conscious of no wickedness within myself. But if I am tried and tested in misfortunes, I do not examine the dispensation of God; rather, being ignorant of the reason, I affirm that He has done what seemed good to Him, and, bowing down, I worship, without investigating further. "Therefore I shall be troubled before His face; I shall consider, and I shall fear from Him." B I have not sinned, he says; and what of that? For God is entitled to inflict punishment not only because of sins, but also without them. "And the Lord has softened my heart, and the Almighty has troubled me; for I did not know that darkness would come upon me, and a gloom covered me before my face." For this did not happen, he says, according to human sequence; the evil was unexpected. I surmise that the blow was inflicted by the hand of God. He says well, "before my face"; for these are not common darkness, but [the darkness] of my sadness and anxiety.
CAP. XXV
"And Bildad the Shuhite answered, saying: What, then, is the exordium, if not fear from Him?" Hence, he says, I shall begin my speech and make my preface. All things are full of fear and trembling, and there is no one who will be able to escape that hand. Furthermore, regarding what Job had said, "Who would know that I shall go to Him?" he says that beyond all things, even calling God to mind is fearful. "For how shall a mortal be just before the Lord? Or who that is born of woman can cleanse himself?" For because Job had said, "I would wish to come into judgment," and, "Even if I did not sin, I am nevertheless punished," to this the other replies again that there is no one just among men, nor is anyone blameless in the absolute sense, so that you demand judgment and examination in vain.CAP. XXVI
"And Job answered, saying: Whom do you assist, or whom are you about to help? Is it not he who has great strength, and whose arm is mighty?" C I do not find fault, he says, because you have taken up the side of God; for it was right that you should do so. However, it was not appropriate for you to condemn me; for there is also a way to [defend] one who is on God's sidefor it is permitted to speak on behalf of God, and at the same time to take care that the discourse not be liable to any blame. When he had spoken these things to him in mockery, as one wishing to appear a newer advocate for God—of whom all have the impression that He is wise and powerful—he turns his discourse to the power of God, showing that it is better to think rightly concerning that power of God, and says:
CHAPTER XXVIII.
A ‹VERS. 1. He set an order for darkness, and He Himself searches out every end.› He rightly said: He set an order for darkness, to show that it is accustomed to yield and depart. Who puts that gloom to flight? Whence is there such order in such a matter? Then he narrates His power and His wisdom, persuading himself that He does not wish to exact penalties from him: For God, he says, wisely searches out the ends and outcomes of all things, embracing all things with His incomprehensible providence; therefore He neither puts off the punishments of the impious rashly, nor brings them on in vain, for He has arranged and disposed all things by measure, order, and harmony.
‹VERS. 28. But He said to man: Behold, the worship of God is wisdom, and to abstain from evil is knowledge.› This is the greatest wisdom, to worship God, not to act with excessive curiosity and demand justifications for what happens; nothing is equal to this art, nothing more powerful than this wisdom, nothing more excellent than piety toward God.
CHAPTER XXIX.
B ‹VERS. 12. For I delivered the beggar from the hand of the powerful, and I helped the orphan who had no helper.› But first, referring the inspection and protection of himself to God, then he glories in the Lord. Observe, however, that he does not boast of his abstaining from evils, nor of sacrifices in the manner of the Jews, but of that which God requires, and in this he lifts himself up: (For judge, He says, for the orphan, and justify the widow), and because of the operation of good things: For I delivered, he says, the beggar, and helped the orphan.
‹VERS. 13. Let the blessing of him who is perishing come upon me; [Symmachus, Let it descend.] and the mouth of the widow blessed me.› But you know that the class of widows is somewhat ungrateful, not by their own nature, nor by their intention, but by the necessity of poverty; for it is a furnace of poverty; and it is C a difficult matter to praise one who does good; but even these praised and blessed Job. His excellent deeds are recorded, that we might imitate them.
‹VERS. 14. I have put on justice, and I was clothed with judgment as with a double cloak.› But after he had said: I delivered the beggar from the hand of the powerful, he rightly added that: I was clothed with justice, and put on judgment as a double cloak.
For there are those who preside over others, yet they themselves frequently commit injustice; but this man was not so. Rather, he says, "I was clothed with judgment, and displayed myself in this way." And although others are vexed by such matters, feeling indignant and thinking them burdensome and heavy, I did not—he says—but just as someone might take pleasure in a costly double cloak, so I took pride in the equity of my judgment. Not today just to be done with it tomorrow, no—but just as it is necessary to wear one's clothes always, so too did I consider it necessary to defend the powerless.
Yet who appointed him judge? By his own self-election and his own accord, alongside virtue itself, he became a judge, just as Moses did; such are those who must be rulers. You have seen him in the midst of his temptations, as much as it was possible for you to see (for speech itself could not succeed in providing an accurate representation: the pain, the tortures, the tyranny of dejection, and the turbulence rising from such great storms—no power of language can explain these to listeners as the experience of the things themselves does). But come, I will show him to you once more; for this is no small matter, but one that requires a profoundly philosophic soul: the demonstration of high philosophy while in the midst of wealth and prosperity. Who, then, was he, being wealthy? A common haven for all, a common father to all, a general physician, or rather, even greater than a physician. Hear, then, him saying: A *“I was an eye to the blind, and a foot to the lame.”* B
Do you see how he is greater than a physician? Instead of nature, he became such to those who were maimed, and those things which they could not correct by art, these he himself recovered by his encouragement, through his great providence for them, becoming limbs for them. For those whose members were thus mutilated were so disposed as if they were healthy and sound-footed and sighted, not sensing their lameness nor their blindness because of his great providence. For this reason he did not say, "I consoled the lame and the blind," he did not say, "I alleviated the calamity," nor, "I removed the sense of their blindness." But rather: C *“I was their eye”*—they saw through me; *“I was their foot”*—they did not experience their own calamity because of me; they did not seek those who would lead them by the hand or guide their way. Everywhere, I made the darkness into light for them.
Observe the apostolic signs: *“I was an eye to the blind,”* not by restoring eyes (for that grace was not yet), but by causing them not to feel the calamity. But the men of the present age, even those who see, they make blind. He did not say, "I did these things through my servants," but, "I myself corrected the faults and defects of nature," not only those caused by men, but even those that derived from nature itself; for by the supply of necessities and by much diligent care, I filled up the missing bodily members for those who were in need. As for the mind, he opened up blind intellects and benefited those who were maimed in soul, and he himself became their D
A eye. But he bestowed feet upon those who were lame, and through his word he became their foot, and led both by the hand. The eye is taken for intellectual guidance, and the foot for the moral.
VERS. 16. « I was a father to the weak (impotent). » Not even here did he say, "I consoled orphans"; but, "I did not even allow a sense of orphanage to settle in their minds, nor did I allow the bitterness of their evils to appear." This I also granted to those who were maimed in their limbs, certainly by the greatest care and solicitude removing the sense of the bitter things from those who suffered such things. In these B words, the voice of him who helped the impotent and the weak with his aid is made manifest. Consider, however, after what interval of time he says these things.
« And the judgment which I knew not, I searched out. » This is much greater than acting the part of a judge; for judges sitting before the tribunal wait for those who have been injured, and then, after the petition of such people concerning their injuries and complaints, those who are most approved among the judges (though many do not even do this) provide their protection. But this man surpassed even the most approved, and surpassed them in many ways: for he did not delay until those C affected by injury came to him, nor did he provide aid after their petition; rather, he himself went around beforehand, seeking those who were suffering injury: and that not simply, but with much care and vigilance. This indeed, by the power of the word, you can clearly recognize; for he did not say, "I sought," but, "The judgment which I knew not, I searched out," that is, "I investigated, I sought diligently, I persisted in the solicitous search, I moved every stone," so that if someone injured were lurking anywhere, I might find him. You see a patronage which was not exercised only in mere D resources, food, and clothing, but which defended the cause of another even with danger to his own body.
VERS. 17. « Out of the midst of their teeth I snatched the prey. » Consider the difficulty of the matter. "The thing," he says, "which was already swallowed and previously seized, I restored and recovered; for I did not despair, nor did I lose heart, although the matter had been anticipated, but showing care and solicitude toward my fellow servants, and (as it is in the Proverb) snatching the legs and the extremities of the ears of a sheep out of the mouth of a lion," what was already devoured and swallowed, like some excellent and provident shepherd, I rescued.
VERS. 22, 23. « But they rejoiced when I spoke to them; as the thirsty land receiving the rain, so they did my speech. » Observe what he says. Not wealth, not the patronage of the oppressed, nor anything else of that kind made him odious; but all gladly lent him their ear.
653
CAPUT XXX.
A VERS. 1. "Now they mock me in part, whose fathers I disdained; whom I did not deem worthy of the dogs of my flocks." "I disdained," he says, not using disdain with arrogance, but clearly knowing them to be wicked, according to the text: "The wicked is brought to nothing in his sight"; for he esteemed such people as of no value. But the phrase, "Now they mock me in part"—according to me, this does not mean that they were conferring any portion of a benefit, but because he himself used to admonish others, and now these men were doing the same to him; for this reason it is said in this way. And as for their not being worthy of the dogs, it is not that they were worse than this barking animal, but that he did not even judge them worthy of tending to the dogs. For, he says, I did not deem them worthy of leading the dogs of my flock. He therefore rejected their admonition, as they had nothing to command respect, either from their age or from their virtue. For who, he asks, were admonishing, and whom were they admonishing? The younger were admonishing one older than themselves; the wicked, one who was not so; the base and obscure, one who had once been brilliant and illustrious B. In the verses that follow immediately, he also hints at their weakness, saying: "And I wept for every one that was in trouble; I groaned seeing a man in distress. But I was waiting for good things, and behold, days of evil came upon me." Although I was in wealth, I did nothing of the sort; I did not rejoice at the misfortunes of others, which is what I suffer now, finding many who rejoice at my own evils. On the contrary, I wept and groaned. This indeed is no small thing, beloved, to have a mind full of sympathy. And the phrase, "I was waiting for good things, and behold, days of evil came upon me," I interpret as follows: because of my compassion for others, I expected good things, but my hopes turned out exactly the opposite. Thus also Symmachus translated it: "I expected good things, and evil came."CHAPTER XXXI
C "I made a covenant with my eyes, and I will not think upon a maiden." [Symmachus indeed: "And I have considered nothing regarding a maiden."] Job observed evangelical precision; for what Christ, coming later, commanded, this man had already accomplished in his deeds. And since he who looks at a woman to lust after her has already committed adultery, he was training his eye not to gaze curiously at the countenances of maidens. What then could those say who have "spiritual sisters" D and assert that they live with them without passion and are not harmed? Even if this were the case, one ought to spare those who are scandalized; for let it be that you, while living with a maiden, are pure of all [evil passion], yet you strike others who are weaker...And indeed the blessed Job did not dare to lay claim to such great strength and philosophy for himself; but he who had traversed every virtue, and had prevailed over all the snares of the devil, and who alone and first had demonstrated such great steadfastness, and had surpassed all iron and adamant by the temperance of his soul, and had crushed the power of the devil, even he dreaded such a struggle, and thought it impossible to live with a maiden and remain unharmed and pure; so that not only did he establish himself far from such cohabitation, but even from the sight of her, which happens simply and by chance, and he imposed a law upon his own eyes, simply not to look upon a maiden. For "I made a covenant," he says, "with my eyes, and I will not understand concerning a maiden," that is, I will not keep my mind upon her, I will not gaze [at her]. For he knew, he knew clearly, that it is difficult, or perhaps even impossible, not only for one who lives with a maiden, but even for one who looks with curiosity upon the face of a maiden, to escape the harm resulting from it. But if Job seems to you an unequal opponent to descend into the arena with you (although we are truly unworthy of his dunghill), and if you think the example falls short of your magnanimity, consider with yourself the blessed Paul, who, after reaching the pinnacle of philosophy and self-control, buffeted his body and brought it into bondage, and showed his life to be full of struggles. For this reason Christ also, to show the difficulty of the matter, did not permit even the simple looking upon the faces of women, but he even threatened to punish those who look in such a way with the punishment of adulterers; and he did not lay down celibacy as a law, but expressing the nature of the matter, he said: "He who is able to receive it, let him receive it." B
VERS. 16. "And the impotent, whatever they had need of, were not disappointed."
You see how he was not fastidious, how he was sober, the common physician of all, and a common harbor, and a common refuge for those in distress, of whatever need they might have, he says, not [helping] one while not the other, but whatever the need was, even if it were full of dangers, even if it were costly, even if it were perilous. And see that he brought aid to those from whom he expected no reward in return: to widows, to wit, and orphans, and the impotent.
VERS. 23. "For the fear of the Lord restrained me, I will not endure by reason of his grasp."
And such was the kindness and humanity of the just man: but what might one say regarding his contempt of riches? For this too he had achieved with great excellence; for not only was he not desirous of what belonged to others, which is the suffering of most people now, but not even of his own, but
his soul was completely averse to them. Hence he said:
A VERS. 24, 25. “If I have placed gold in my bosom. [Symmachus, however, says: My confidence.] If I have also trusted in a precious stone, or if I have rejoiced because my wealth was great.”〉
For this reason, when the riches were taken away, he bore it with great ease; and when they were present, he practiced abundant almsgiving—for he practiced every virtue—and he was disposed toward those who had nothing more accurately than towards those who had much. For he who has nothing is not as detached from riches as he is, even while possessing so much; for it is the intent of the mind that is crowned everywhere.
VERS. 25. “If I have laid my hand upon countless things.”〉
That Job was not greatly attached to his goods while they were present, hear what he says: “If I have also rejoiced because my wealth was great.” What do you say, O man? Did you not rejoice when wealth was flowing in? “By no means,” he says. Why so? “Because I knew its unstable and flowing nature; I knew that the possession was not permanent.”
VERS. 26. “Or do we not see the sun as it shines, failing, or the moon waning? For it is not in them.”〉
The meaning of his words is this: If the stars that are in heaven, which shine perpetually, are subject to a certain change—the sun suffering an eclipse and the moon a waning—how is it not of extreme folly to think that earthly things are permanent and fixed? Therefore, he neither rejoiced when they were present, nor grieved when they were gone, since he knew their nature well. This brilliant light perishes, and vanishes, and is not seen. Do you see what cause he assigns for the change of the luminaries? Therefore, creation is sufficient for us not only for the knowledge of God, but also for philosophy. When you see that the sun is great, admire the Creator; when you see that it suffers an eclipse, learn of the perishable nature of human affairs. For if that which is the most brilliant of all things on earth—he says this—wanes and comes to an end, much more so do all other things. If that which is so useful and necessary, and without which life cannot exist, is subject to change, much more so are those things which are superfluous and not necessarily set before us.
VERS. 31, 32. “If my handmaids have not often said: ‘Who would give us of his flesh to be satisfied?’ since I was very B good.”〉
Was this man, therefore, humble, but not also desirable and lovable? Consider here also the excess of the desire and love which he had excited in others; for just as in adversities C he bore what was brought upon him with all vehemence, so too in prosperity D
A he attained that very summit of every virtue, not by chance or rashly, but in abundance; and thus he showed himself mild and benign not only toward others, but also toward his servants. For from this springs all moderation of the soul, when one is humane toward those who are subject to him, and not violent; wherefore his servants said: "Who can give us of his flesh, that we may be filled?" By this he describes the frantic love with which his servants followed him, who, because of the benefits he had bestowed upon them, embraced him with a burning affection. For so, he says, they hung upon me, so they clung to me, so they were fastened to me, so they loved me, that they even desired to be filled with my flesh—to devour and eat it—because of the vehemence of their love and the burning heat of it. I was so extremely kind and pleasant to my handmaids, that if it had been possible to be satisfied with my very flesh, they would gladly have done so.
VER. 32. "And no stranger lodged in the street; my door lay open to every passer-by."
This is a sign of hospitality and of the nobility inherited from Abraham. "I possessed," he says, "a common home and a common table, not considering what was mine as my own, but as the Lord's. The Lord gave it, therefore let the ration be distributed to my fellow-servants." You have seen the humility, you have seen the humanity, you have seen the kindness, you have seen the liberality, in that he stretched forth his hand to all and opened his house, so that the good thing became common to all. For he did not do what many are wont to do, who observe those to whom they give something too diligently and inquire too curiously into them; but he says, "My door lay open to all, and no one lodged outside."
VER. 33, 34. "If, moreover, when I had sinned involuntarily, I hid my sin; for I did not fear the great multitude, so as not to confess before them."
"Do you first state your sins, that you may be justified." Of my good deeds, he says, I made no one a witness, but of my faults I wished everyone to be aware; wherefore I did not fear the great multitude of the city, so as not to confess my own transgression before them. D
VER. 35. "Or if I have allowed the needy to go out from my door with an empty bosom; who would give me a hearer?"
What he says is of this kind: If I have despised the needy, may no one listen to me. But observe that he did not say, "I gave only to one who came," but "I did not even allow a reluctant one to go away empty." For he applied violence to those who were willing to pass him by of their own accord; for he knew that by this action he was acquiring for himself a great gain. For with as much zeal as the poor are eager to importune those who can stretch forth a helping hand, with so much zeal did he endeavor to importune those who were to be benefited by him, and he would not permit them to go out with an empty bosom; for he not only tended them by receiving them, but, in addition to feeding them, he also provided supplies for their
and after that he provided for the poor abundantly and cheerfully. A vacuo exire pariebatur: he caused nothing to go away empty; for he not only received them under his roof and showed them service, but once they had been refreshed with food, he gave them viaticum to alleviate their poverty, copiously and cheerfully.
CHAPTER XXXII.
VERS. 6. *Suscipiens autem Elius, filius Barachiel, Buzites, dixit: Junior quidem sum tempore, vos autem estis seniores; quare silui, timens in vobis annuntiare meam ipsius scientiam.*
We may conjecture his prudence from both sides, that is, from his silence and from his speech. For lest someone might say, "And why did you not fight for God with us from the beginning?" he takes refuge in his age, saying: "While I was expecting some noble and wonderful thing to be brought forth by you, I kept silence." You see how he was not at all led by any desire for honor, and how he deferred to them in precedence. B
VERS. 12. *Et ecce non erat ipsi Job qui argueret, qui vicissim responderet verbis ejus ex vobis.*
He means this: neither then, when you were reproving him, did you reprove him as was fitting, nor was it right of you to keep silence afterward. But you would surely not say that you did this wisely, because you ranged yourselves on God’s side and undertook to defend Him with your words; for you sinned no less in that you were unable to refute Job and allowed him to speak such things, and in this your imprudence is manifest. Nor can you say that you received grace and wisdom from God as if you were His advocates; for you were overcome by Job. C
VERS. 15, 16. *Exterriti sunt, non responderunt ultra: veteres fecerunt ex se sermones; sustinui, non enim locutus sum, quia steterunt, non responderunt.*
Some say that these two verses are not Elihu’s, but the author’s of the book, who inserts the silence of the friends at this point; but I say they are Elihu’s, and that there is a figure of speech in the words known as an apostrophe; for he speaks of them as though he were meanwhile holding a conversation with another. Since they were struck dumb by Job’s words and by their silence had shown their own former discourses to be stale, putrid, and useless, he therefore continues: "I, however, waited, and did not speak, thinking that they would be able to answer; but when they stopped, and could proceed no further, being checked by Job’s words, I stepped forward to refute what had been said." D
VERS. 19. *Venter autem meus, sicut uter musto fervens ligatus, (Symmachus vero, Sicut vinum novum quod respirare nequit.) aut veluti follis ærarii disruptus.*
Here it is shown that Elihu, long travailing to speak, had endured and practiced patience and was almost bursting, so that he needed much patience; and he had to be—
...it is preeminently the work of wisdom to be able to restrain words. A
CHAPTER XXXV.
VERS. 9, 10. « From the multitude they who are slandered shall cry out, they shall shout because of the arm of many. And he said not, Where is God who made me, who distributeth the night-watches? »
Chrysost. and Orig. Or dost thou not see how, as in an army, all things are ordered, and with accurate diligence each thing remains in its proper order, with nothing of all things transgressing its own bounds, or invading another's station? Thus, while men sleep, no snares are plotted; for when wild beasts wander about, then these take their sleep. Observe, however, that Elihu pursues the praises and proclamations of God, when he says of Him, *Who distributeth the night-watches*. Dost thou wish to see how God distributes the night-watches? B The whole time of this life is night and darkness; the light is reserved for thee hereafter; for now thou seest through a glass, but thou shalt one day see the light. For indeed, this whole age is night, and there is need of watches appointed for this night, so that the guards—those set over the nights—may protect those who are in the night from robbers, from wild beasts, and from enemies. Who then are the guards? The angels, who pitch their tents around us and encamp.
VERS. 14. « But judge before him, if thou canst praise him, even as it is now. »
Olymp. and Chrysost. Consider, he says, the excellence of God with thy mind, whether thy understanding can grasp the proclamation of His praise. Why, then, dost thou wish to enter into judgment with one so great and such as He is, when thou art not even able to praise Him according to His worth? C And this, in the midst of the punishments which thou now sufferest! For if He had sat as a judge upon a tribunal, and set forth the justifications, wouldst thou not have praised Him, wouldst thou not have glorified Him according to His worth for what has now happened to thee, when thou thinkest thou art being wronged and punished? For indeed, not to be able to praise God according to His worth is no great thing; but in those matters which happen to us, not to be able to praise Him worthily when one wishes to contend in judgment with Him—that is a great thing.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
VERS. 1. « And after Elihu had ceased to speak, the Lord said to Job through the whirlwind and clouds. » D
Since the cloud is a symbol of heaven, as if desiring to raise Job's mind and persuade him that that voice was sent down from above—just as upon the mercy-seat of the ark—it seems to me that this was also done upon the mountain, when the cloud overshadowed them, so that they might understand that the voice came from above.
FRAGMENTS ON BLESSED JOB
A VERSE 2. *Who is this that hideth counsel from me?* [Symmachus: *Dark in mind,*] *containing words in his heart, and thinkest to hide them from me?* Consider what He is doing. To me, inferring from these words, it seems that something else had entered Job’s mind. For since there were many things which Job held in his mind, and did not dare to bring into the open, God immediately upon the threshold rouses him, and shows that He exercises a providential care for human affairs, and clearly knows all things. Therefore, He begins His discourse from those former things which were less worthy of excuse. For if the things he dared to speak were so burdensome and grievous, much more were those which he had suppressed; for this reason, He applies the medicine to those former things: *Who is this?* He says. At once, from the beginning of the discourse, He sets the interval between God and man before his eyes; as if to say: Tell me, I pray, who are you who strive to hide from me, to whom arcane and hidden things are viewed with accurate knowledge? For are they not words, because you have not brought them forth? As soon as the mind has brought forth something, it is speech: therefore you strive in vain to hide things which cannot be hidden. You see with what mild speech, and yet one suited for correction and reproof, He is nourished.
VERS. 3. *Gird up thy loins like a man; and I will demand of thee, and answer thou me.* Since Job had been struck down by despondency and had collapsed in spirit, He rouses him with words so that he might give attention to what is being said; and He uses interrogatory speech, a class of speaking which has an excellent power for rebuke; and He shows prudently and wisely that all things were established by Him; and that for Him, who had operated with such great prudence, it would not be His place to neglect a man, for whose sake He had fabricated all things, when he was oppressed by adverse misfortunes. B We truly learn arcane mysteries from this; and what was said to Job, *Gird up thy loins like a man*, was spoken not more to him than to us; for we too must show this readiness of zeal and promptness of soul.
VERS. 4. *Where wast thou when I founded the earth?* What are you saying, He says? Shall I, who with such great skill established the earth for your sake, neglect you, for whose sake I created it? And therefore He is silent about the prudence with which He fashioned man, and the craftsmanship He used while He fabricated him, and by an argument drawn from the earth and heaven, He abundantly demonstrates that point: if the world experiences such great providence for your sake, how much more does providence watch over you yourself? He did not say, *when I created*, but, *when I founded*: for to set the earth, which rests upon no foundation, base, or pedestal, and to fit together so great a mass of body so aptly, and to stabilize it firmly, so that for so long a period of time it remains unshaken in its seat, was a work of rare and exquisite craftsmanship.
VERS. 5. *Who laid the measures thereof, if thou knowest? or who is he that hath brought a line upon it?*
The earth was not made by chance or at random, nor as it happened; but to my mind, if even a trifling amount were added to it, it would be excessive and immoderate; and in like manner, if it were taken away, the whole would appear harmed and corrupted. This is what the measures and the line imply.
VERS. 10. *And I set my bounds, surrounding it with bars and doors.*
He shows here that it stands so securely, as if bound. By this, therefore, He shows its stability; and by what follows, He shows its ease. For He adds:
VERS. 13. *To shake the wicked out of it.*
He means brigands, violators of tombs, and the rest of their throng who use the support of night to commit their crimes; for when the light has risen, they no longer dare to walk freely upon the earth, but are shaken out of it and recoil; for they hate the light, as it exposes their deeds.
VERS. 14. *Or didst thou, taking clay, fashion an animal, and place it on the earth, fit to speak?*
B Of Olympiodorus, Severus, and Chrysostom. Did you, O Job, he says, having taken dust moistened with water, fashion man from the earth? And did you bedeck him with reason, as I did? And did you show him to be the ornament of the world? Whence it is manifest that other animals were devoid of reason, which indeed God attributed to man as being his own peculiar possession; for He calls the animal "fit to speak," meaning rational. Now, "To be placed on the earth" means to be appointed ruler of all things that are on the earth. Consequently, I admire God on both these accounts: that He made the human body subject to corruption, and that He manifested His own power and wisdom in that corruption C (for the baseness of the substance most of all declares the poverty and difficulty of the art), in that He bestowed such harmony and such senses—so various and manifold, and such as provide a broad subject for philosophy—upon mud, as it were, and ash. For from earth, which provides material only for roof tiles and bricks, He was able to fashion an eye so beautiful, and to instill in it such power, that by the perception of a tiny pupil it can see and embrace so many bodies in number.
VERS. 22, 23. *Or hast thou entered into the treasures of snow? or hast thou seen the treasures of the hail? And they are laid up for thee against the time of the enemy, against the day of war and battle.* D
Of Chrysostom and Olympiodorus. He calls them treasures, not because they are storerooms, but because He brings them forth readily, as if from treasures, whenever it seems good to Him. Do you know, then, He says, how I prepare the snow and hail, which are not seen, to appear? Or are you able to use these against your enemies, as I am able to do? You see that by these words He indicates the timeliness of these things, namely, that they do not happen at random, but at a timely moment; for He uses snow and hail against enemies, and when He wishes to punish some.
to punish. Then he proceeds to speak of all the other things as well, I mean the rains, and the frost, and the winds. A
VERS. 35. "Will you send forth lightnings, and they will go? Or will they say to you, What is it?" You see lightnings also answering; not that the lightnings say, "What is it?" but that all things, as if they were animate, thus obey God.
VERS. 36. "Who has given to women the wisdom of weaving, or the knowledge of variegation?" Severi, Chrysostomi et Gregorii Theologi. When He had enumerated the creation of heaven and earth, the limits of the sea, the position of the stars, the flow of rain, and the other things by which He governs our life, "Who," He says, "granted to women, otherwise weak, the art of weaving, and that they should variegate these things with the dyes B and colors of wool?" Scripture mixes small things with great, and admires the wisdom of women in the weaving of textiles, saying: "Who gave to women the wisdom of weaving, and the knowledge of variegation?" For this is of an animal endowed with reason, which excels in prudence, and reaches up to heavenly things; for this wisdom of variegation is not common, nor is its use meager. The art of weaving, therefore, does not lie neglected, nor is it cast aside as superfluous, but in this also there is divine wisdom, which God is not ashamed to call His own, when He says that no other, but Himself, is its giver and provider.
VERS. 39, 40. "Or will you hunt food for lions, and will you fill the souls of dragons? For they feared in their C lairs, and sit in the forests lying in wait." Why then does He say these things? Because if I embrace with such providence beasts that are superfluous and of the least necessity, which provide no utility for your service, shall I not much more [embrace] you? For what fruit and utility does man derive from such things?
CHAPTER XXXIX.
VERS. 1-3. "If you have known the time of the birth of the wild goats of the rock, and have watched the pangs of hinds, and have numbered their months full of their birth, and have released their pangs, and have raised their young ones without fear, D and will send forth their pangs?" He said well, "watched"; for since the animal is always in flight, and in fear, and in weakness, always leaping and bounding, how, he says, does it not miscarry, but the offspring comes out full-term? And the phrase, "released their pangs," is spoken with emphasis; for they give birth of their own accord, and do not need the help of a midwife. And [as for] "raised their young ones without fear?" Theodotion interpreted it more clearly, saying: "If they deliver their young, will you save them?" And the phrase, “And will send forth their pangs”? If you understand the suffering itself and the pains in childbirth by the name "pangs," "thou shalt send forth" is taken to mean "you will cause to cease"; for you will cause to cease, he says, the pangs.
or [the sorrows of labor] that they may not always be in them; but if you receive the parturition for the offspring brought forth and born into light, and send that forth, it is the same as to say you will cast them away; which Symmachus signified in his version: *Those which have given birth, abandon them*; for after they have nourished their young for a time, they let them go wherever they wish to go. The following verse also represents this meaning.
Vers. 5-7. *Who is it that hath sent out the wild ass free, and who hath loosed his bonds?* Who, he says, has so ordained this? Who has laid down the laws of nature? For since these laws are continuous and do not suffer any failure or corruption, you will not bring that strong and indomitable animal under your hand, even if you contend with it ten thousand times in your zeal, nor will you render it tame and gentle.
B Vers. 19. *Hast thou clothed his neck with strength?* [Symmachus rendered it "neighing," but Theodotion "cry," and thou hast clothed his neck with fear].
Making mention of the horse, a tame animal, he transfers his discourse to that which brings the greatest utility to human life, and relates much about this animal; how it is proud, and erect, and suitable for war, and how it is capable of saving a man. You see that each is proud—both the ass and this one; but the latter is subject to man, whereas the former is not.
Vers. 24. *He will not believe until the trumpet sounds.* He hears, he says, the trumpet, and knows the signal for war, and from afar he sounds out a war cry.
Vers. 26. *By thy wisdom does the hawk stand, spreading his wings motionless, looking toward the South.* See how much he encompasses in a few words. Why did he not mention the ox, or sheep, or any of the other such livestock, but rather the useless ones, and those which seem to exist to no purpose? To show that if there is such wisdom and providence in those, much more is there in these.
CAP. XL.
Vers. 4. *Hast thou an arm like the Lord’s?* From those things, he says, about which you were inquiring—the storms of the year, the heavenly phenomena, and the Providence regarding the genus of living creatures—it is manifest that mankind is my concern. But why I have inflicted such a temptation upon you, you have just heard: that the cause of this dereliction was the manifestation of your virtue, so that you might provide a proof of it. But here, learn my power, and that I have not permitted you to be wounded as if doing battle; for what strength are you endowed with, that I should descend into battle with you? Do you have an arm like the arm of the Lord? Or do you possess equal power?FRAGMENTA IN BEATUM JOB.
«Η φωνῇ κατ' αὐτοῦ βροντᾷς; » A “Do you thunder with a voice like His?” Thunder, therefore, and all other things were made not for empty display, but for the knowledge of God. See by how many arguments He proves the vileness of his nature. For He does not say: "You are humble and abject"; rather, "I am great, and you cannot do what I do."
«᾿Αλλὰ δὴ ἰδοὺ θηρία παρὰ σοι, χόρτον ἴσα βουσὶν ἐσθίουσιν. » “But behold, beasts are with you; they eat grass like oxen.” The verse concerning the beasts can be understood according to the senses, which have often, by the divine will, unlearned their nature; for it is an object of wonder that a beast does not feed on blood, but uses the food of an ox. Since, therefore, this is paradoxical, God questions Job as to whether such a thing exists in his power, so that beasts might eat grass and not flesh. Then He speaks of two specifically, one terrestrial, and the other aquatic and marine. B We are not ignorant that many think these things were said about the devil, taking them in an allegorical sense; but one must first attend to the history, and one should not overlook when it is possible to benefit the hearer from the allegory as well.
« Ἐνσιτοῦνται δὲ ἐν αὐτῷ ἔθνη, μεριτεύονται δὲ αὐτὴν Φοινίκων ἔθνη.» ['Ακύλας δὲ, Ημισεύσουσιν αὐτὸν μεταξύ Χαναναίων.] “Nations shall feed upon him, and nations of Phoenicians shall share him.” [Aquila says, “They shall divide him among the Canaanites.”] So great is the bulk of his body that it could suffice for an entire nation. He does not say this because it is going to happen, but he makes mention of the Phoenicians because of their trade. C
CAP. XLII
« Διὸ ἐφαύλισα ἐμαυτὸν, καὶ ἐτάκην· ἤγημαι δὲ ἐμαυτὸν γῆν καὶ σποδόν. » “Therefore I despised myself, and withered away; and I deemed myself earth and ashes.” You have here the excuse for all that came before; for when Job said these things, he was not free from temptation, but, oppressed by calamities, he sang a palinode. “I deem myself,” he says, “of no account; I desire that what was said by me above be excused; for I was not unworthy to suffer these afflictions.” What, then, does God do? Since he condemned himself, then He pronounced him just. Consider, however, how holy men, when they are deemed worthy of greater honors, are endowed with greater humility; D for so too did Abraham, when he beheld the Lord, say: “But I am earth and ashes” (Gen. xviii, 27).
« Νῦν δὲ λάβετε ἑπτὰ μόσχους, καὶ ἑπτὰ κριούς, καὶ πορεύθητε πρὸς τὸν θεράποντά μου Ἰώβ, καὶ ποιήσει κάρπωσιν ὑπὲρ ὑμῶν. » “Now therefore take seven calves and seven rams, and go to my servant Job, and he shall make an offering for you.” He would not have commanded this if the Law existed; but he himself becomes a priest, while they bring the sacrifices; and indeed, as he offered for his children, he offers for his friends. You see how, showing his lack of resentment, He makes them witnesses of the man’s virtue; and He shows the magnitude of their sin through the abundance of the offering; for...
there would have been no need for so many sacrifices, had the sins which needed to be forgiven not been grave. A And he declares that even the sacrifice [itself] was insufficient: "For if not for his sake," he says, "I would not have granted you forgiveness of sins." For this reason he shows that He also liberated them.
VERS. 10. *And the Lord gave Job double all that he had before, in duplication.*
God allowed the devil to exert all his power; and when he had emptied all his arrows, and no manner of attack was left, then He removed the fighter from the arena, so that the victory might be brilliant and indisputable.
VERS. 16. *But he was the son of Zare, from the sons of Esau, but his mother was Bosorra; so that he was the fifth from Abraham.*
When this righteous man was shining, the Jews were still in Egypt; they were about to go up [to the Promised Land] eventually; and, had they wished, they would have found no small store of piety; for it is not likely that he remained unknown. For if his remains are displayed even to this day, much more would they have been displayed then, while the events were still fresh, and all those in Arabia would have known the magnitude of what had come to pass. B
*But the friends who came to him were Eliphaz of the sons of Esau, king of the Thæmanians [But Theodotion rendered: Son of Josaphat], Baldad the tyrant of the Sauchæans [Theodotion adds: Son of Ammon, son of Chobor], Sophar, king of the Minæans.* C
Whoever therefore reads this book, looking at this brave fighter as if at an archetypal image, let him imitate his courage, let him emulate his patience, so that walking the same path, and bravely arraying himself against all the machinations of the devil, he may be able to attain the good things promised to those who love God; and may the sufferings of this blessed man become medicines for our own evils; and may his difficult surge be a harbor for our calamities. And in each thing that happens to us, D let us set the Saint before our minds; and seeing one body endure the terrible things of the whole world, let us conduct ourselves bravely in the things that press upon us individually; and let us constantly take refuge in this book, as if with a pious and indulgent mother, who stretches out her hands from every side, and receives and restores her children who are struck with fear and terror; and even if the most mournful and most enduring tribulations happen to beset us, receiving full consolation from it by the grace of Christ the true God; with whom to the Father be glory, together with the Holy Spirit, now and always, and to the ages of ages. Amen.