約伯記註釋 第 1 章 第 8/12 段

'Hold back, he says, that we too may speak.'

'For why have we come? Was it not that we too might speak? And why, he says, have we kept silent before you as though we were four-footed beasts?' Do you see the contentious pride? They regard silence as a shame and the utmost brutishness.

This is not the manner of those who offer comfort.

'You will carry off more than the many,' he says, 'having yourself defeated and got the better of us.' Observe how they all charge him with long-windedness; observe how they blame and accuse him.

For what then? he says: if you die, will the world under heaven be left uninhabited, or will the earth be dug up from its foundations? Since he was continually lamenting this, that 'I wish to die,' what kind of consolation is this? And how could anyone have cast him down in some other way? For surely he was not saying that the world under heaven would be left uninhabited, nor did he mention his own death as though he were contributing something great to this common life. Indeed he says the very opposite, that man is nothing, nor worthy of any account.

For what reason, then, do you say these things? Then he too, simply and at random, brings accusation against the ungodly, or with reference to the matter at hand.

For neither can they convict him of any wicked deed that he has done.

For in saying that great evils befall the ungodly, they mean these very evils which Job endured, and they weave their argument through his misfortunes, as though wishing to make it clear that they are hinting at him.

For look and observe, both in the case of the others and in his own.

'And the light of the ungodly,' he says, 'shall be put out.'

Since he was in prosperity of old.

'And their flame shall not go forth,' he says.

His light shall be darkness in his dwelling, and the lamp over him shall be put out.

Let the least of men hunt down his possessions.

And let his counsel be tripped up, and let his foot be cast into a snare.

He is held fast and cannot escape.

And let snares come upon him round about, and let those who thirst for him prevail against him.

The cord for him is hidden in the ground, and his trap upon the paths round about; and let anguish destroy him.

May he come, with many at his feet, into a narrow famine; and a fearful downfall has been prepared for him.

May the branches of his feet be devoured; death shall consume his beauties.

And let healing be torn away out of his dwelling.

And this too has befallen him.

And let necessity and a royal charge lay hold of him.

'Royal,' that is to say God's, as it seems to me.

But if he means a human one, he mixes in also things that have not befallen him, so that he may not seem to be speaking on his account.

It shall dwell in his tent, and in his body; his comely things shall be strewn with brimstone.

From beneath his roots shall be dried up, and from above his harvest shall fall upon him.

Let his memorial perish from the earth.

'From his children,' he says, 'he shall not be known'—which is what befell him.

'My friends and my neighbors,' he says, 'drew near over against me and stood aloof.'

And his name is upon a face far off, and let them thrust him out from light into darkness.

He shall not be known to his own people, nor shall his house be preserved under heaven, but only among his own.

Over him the last groaned, and astonishment seized the first.

Both the ordinary folk and the outcasts.

These are the houses of the unjust, and this is the place of those who do not know the Lord.

'How long will you make my soul weary and pull me down with words?' Observe how they not only contribute nothing by way of comfort, but even do the opposite, working together with the devil and fighting on his side and pulling down his strength.

'Were not the things past enough?' Observe all three of them, as though from one mouth, uttering the same things.

'Only know,' he says, 'that the Lord has done thus to me.'

'Let this at least,' he says, 'shame you—the dignity of the One who chastises.' For one ought not to trample upon such as these who are being punished by God, but rather to lament and to fear, and above all to exult over no one who is perishing.

Who would not have felt shame at the calamity, if not for the dignity?

'And you speak against me,' he says, 'not being ashamed before me, and you press upon me.'

'Yes, indeed, in truth I have gone astray, and in me there lodges an error to speak a word that ought not to be spoken.'

'And my words wander and are not seasonable.'

This he said by way of concession.

And everywhere he does this, granting many things by way of concession.

He does not allow the argument to rest in the same place, but presses on again in the contest.

'Let us grant,' he says, 'that you condemn much folly and idle chatter and unseasonableness in my words;'

'but you ought not to have trampled upon me, even if this were so, but rather to have reverenced the calamity, to have feared the One who smote me, to have granted pardon to the greatness of my sufferings. But let it pass, that you magnify yourselves against me,' he says, 'and leap upon me with reproach.'

'Know that it is the Lord who has troubled me.'

And what of this? That one ought to reverence and to fear.

It seems to me that he is here hinting that it was not on account of sins that he was suffering so greatly.

For it is not the case that, if God smites someone, that person necessarily suffers on account of sins—as indeed this man did not—but for the sake of testing and of more crowns.

'And his stronghold,' he says, 'he has raised up against me.'

Behold, I speak openly, and yet I shall not speak.

Openly, in plain sight, or as though conversing with someone.

I will cry out, and there is nowhere any judgment.

This is the great head and sum of the calamity.

'No one hears,' he says, 'no one judges, no one takes up my cause'—ought not such a man to be pitied?—'I see no one, I am hemmed in on every side, I cry out, and no one hears. Round about,' he says, 'I am walled in, and I cannot pass through, and upon my paths he has set darkness.'

Either those of the mind or those of the way, that is to say:

'I have nowhere to go, nor can I see, nor am I able. He has stripped my glory from me and taken the crown from my head; he has torn me apart round about, and I am gone.'

'But he has bound me on every side,' he says; 'I do not see him, nor any other. And he has hewn down my hope like a tree.'

'Terribly has he dealt with me in wrath, and he has counted me as an enemy.'

'And with one accord his onslaughts came upon me; in my ways lurking ambushers encircled me.'

Those who plotted against him and seized the flocks.

Great is the assault of the devil.

Those of his household who were left to him wrought a harsher calamity than those who had departed.

For those did nothing more, but these both reproached and disobeyed and spoke against him.

'And from me,' he says, 'my brothers have withdrawn; they have come to know strangers rather than me.'

'And my friends have become without mercy, and my nearest kin have not acknowledged me.'

'Those who knew my name have forgotten me.'

'Neighbors, household folk, menservants and maidservants counted me as a stranger; I became an alien in their sight.'

'I called my servants, and they did not obey me.'

And my mouth begged of them.

And I entreated my wife, and I called flatteringly upon the sons of my concubines; but they renounced me forever.

Those who saw me abhorred me, and those whom I loved rose up against me.

In my skin my flesh has rotted, and my bones are held fast in pains.

Draw near to me, have pity, O friends, have pity on me;

for it is the hand of the Lord that has touched me.

But why do you persecute me as the Lord also does, and are not satisfied with my flesh? And who would grant that my words be written down? — whether the things of my calamity or the things of my life, the deeds among my virtues, which testified of him that he was not wicked.

And this comes from his being deeply conscious to himself of his own innocence.

For I am so confident, he says, having wronged no one, that I would even wish, after all these things, that the events of my calamity be written down, since this too brings a certain consolation; and that they be set down in a book forever, engraved with an iron pen and lead, or carved into rocks. Behold, they were written not with an iron pen, but far more abundantly than he asked.

For those things, even if they had been done, time would have consumed; but these have been written in a far greater way.

For I know, he says, that he who is about to release me upon the earth is everlasting.

namely, the God who is about to consign me to the earth. And what of this? If God is immortal, why do you wish your words to be written and to remain forever in undying remembrance? See what a passion belongs to those in misfortunes:

they wish that not only those present and beholding them, but also those who shall come afterward, should be witnesses of their own calamities, so as, in a manner, to hunt out sympathy from every quarter.

which indeed seems to me the rich man also then suffered, wishing to teach those above the earth his own evils, and in what condition the one who lives in luxury finds himself hereafter.

And he will raise up my body which endures these things;

for these things were accomplished for me by the Lord.

Did he then know about the resurrection? It seems to me that he knew even about the resurrection of bodies — unless one should say that the 'resurrection' means the deliverance from the terrors that held him fast.

So I wish, he says, that even after my deliverance the terrible things should remain immortal. This is the greatest instruction and philosophy: always to keep God's punishments before one's eyes, even those already past.

This very thing he himself contrived in the case of the plates of bronze from the censers, and in the case of the Sodomites, and in the case of the bronze serpent, and in the case of the places that take their name from the punishments, as Emekachor.

He says also, 'according to the former days.'

For these things, he says, were accomplished for me by the Lord — rightly stating this as the reasonable cause of the change;

He himself, he says, has struck; he himself will heal.

the things of which I myself am conscious, which my own eyes have seen and no other,

and all things have been brought to completion for me in my bosom.

For the affliction, he says, is not of human origin.

For indeed I know that the things that befell my flocks, judging from the things that befell my body, are a blow of God. Therefore he says:

the things of which I myself am conscious;

I have a sufficient teacher that the blow is God-sent — namely these things that have befallen me. As when he says:

For I see my food as filth; these things are not of a natural disease;

long ago the body would have given out.

so that they might not suppose that he says these things from a wicked conscience: I kept, he says, your commandment.

But if you are not persuaded, he says, but will contradict me, then fear the uncertainty of what is to come;

for altogether the one living in wickedness must perish.

For if I, being in wickedness, suffer these things, then you too ought to fear the same and to be in dread.

What shall we say against him? And shall we find any root of accusation in him? But you also, beware of judgment;

for wrath shall come upon the lawless, and then they shall know that their strength is nowhere to be found.

I did not suppose you to be such a man, nor that you would contradict these things,

and not rather that you would understand more than I.

I did not think you ignorant of the things that are, and which I too know — things so manifest, and that keep their own law without being counterfeited. I will hear the instruction that reproaches me, and a spirit out of your understanding answers me.

Did you not know these things of old, from when man was set upon the earth? For has anything new happened, he says, since the world came into being? Indeed nothing paradoxical happens, no innovation nor alteration. For the gladness of the ungodly is a monstrous fall, and the joy of the transgressors is destruction.

But if their gladness is a monstrous fall and their joy destruction, then where, tell me, shall we place the destruction? Where the pain and the despondency? Though his gifts go up to heaven, he says, and his sacrifice touch the clouds, when he seems already firmly established, then he shall utterly perish, and those who saw him will say:

Where is he? Then, showing that the blow is from above, he says:

For like a dream that has flown away he shall not be found, and he flew off like a nocturnal apparition.

For the eye caught but a glimpse, and shall not look again;

and his place shall regard him no more.

May inferior men destroy his sons, and may their hands grope after pains.

I passed by, and behold, he was not; and I sought him, and his place was not found.

Suddenly their destruction comes, so that you may not suppose the calamity to follow a natural sequence, but to proceed according to a certain divine and paradoxical power.

And do not speak to me of lawless deeds alone; but even should they offer sacrifices, there is no profit.

May inferior men, he says, destroy their sons.

And from this it is plain that the blow is God-sent, since the weaker prevail over the greater, and the outcast get the better of those who possess strength.

His bones, he says, were filled with his youth, and it shall lie down with him upon the dust.

Wickedness was sweet in his mouth; he will hide it under his tongue.

He will not spare it, nor forsake it, but will gather it up in the midst of his throat.

and he shall by no means be able to help himself.

The gall of an asp is in his belly, and travail; wealth unjustly gathered shall be vomited out of his belly.

Even though, he says, he should hold it in safety as within his belly, quickly will he cast it forth with pain. For this is the meaning:

this is what befalls the rich.

Then he pronounces a curse, he says, springing from the boasting of wealth. And out of his house, he says, an angel of death will drag him forth.

And he shall suck the venom of serpents, and the tongue of a snake shall slay him.

May he not see the milking of the herds, nor the pastures of honey and butter.

In vain and empty things he has toiled.

Let him possess wealth of which he shall not taste, like a tough morsel that is neither chewed nor swallowed.

For he crushed the houses of many helpless men, and plundered their dwelling, and did not restore it.

Therefore there shall be no salvation for him in his possessions, nor shall his goods flourish.

In his desire he shall not be saved; there is nothing left over of his food.

When he seems already filled, he shall be pressed hard, and every distress shall come upon him, and he will fill his belly.

May he send upon him the fury of his wrath, and cast pains upon him;

and he shall by no means be saved from the hand of iron; may a bow of bronze wound him, and may an arrow pass through his body.

And may the stars not walk in his dwellings;

Terrors are upon him, and let all darkness abide upon him.

An unquenchable fire shall devour him, and an intruder shall afflict his house.

Let heaven uncover his iniquities, and let the earth rise up against him.

Destruction shall drag his house away utterly, and a day of wrath shall come upon him.

These things he hints at, and speaks of this man in riddling fashion.

This, he says, is the portion of the ungodly man from the Lord, and the possession of his goods from the Overseer.

Observe how each of them arrives at differing conclusions, yet both this one and that one say the same thing: that the ungodly shall perish.

Hear my words, that this may not be my only comfort from you.

that you may learn that I reap nothing from

you, since these things are not so. Bear with me, and I will speak;

For what? Is my reproof from man? And why should I not be angry? Look upon me and be astonished, laying your hand upon your mouth.

For whenever I call it to mind, I am stricken with fear, and pangs seize hold of my flesh.

For let us grant, he says, that I am indeed wicked and ungodly; yet I gain nothing from these things.

And I know indeed that you will laugh me to scorn, yet I do not spare myself. For what? he says. Is my reproof from man? That is to say:

No one is able to reprove me; my contention is not with a man. For whenever I call it to mind, I am stricken with fear, and pangs seize hold of my flesh.

Observe throughout how he makes his defence, how he sets forth his sufferings, how he states the cause of the dreadful words he is about to utter: that it is not from himself nor from any settled disposition, but from a troubled soul and darkened reasonings that he gives voice to these things.

Why, he says, do the ungodly live, and grow old, yea, and in wealth? This is directed against his friend, who had said:

The rejoicing of the ungodly is destruction; and also that:

though their gifts should mount up to heaven, they shall be overthrown.

Why do the ungodly live, and grow old, yea, and in wealth? Their seed is according to their soul's desire, and their children are before their eyes; their houses prosper, and there is nowhere any fear, nor is there any scourge from the Lord upon them.

Their cow did not miscarry; their pregnant one came through safely and did not fail.

They remain like sheep that endure for ever; and their little ones sport before them, taking up the psaltery and the harp, and they make merry at the sound of a song.

They have brought their life, he says, to an end amid good things, and in the repose of Hades they have fallen asleep.

Do you see how he does not say that it is not unto the end? And the dreadful thing is that they say:

Depart from me; I do not wish to know your ways.

What is the Almighty, that we should serve him? And what profit is it, that we should meet with him? Their good things were in their own hands, but he does not look upon the works of the ungodly.

It is not this alone that one ought to marvel at, he says, that in return for such wickedness they receive these rewards, but that their very prosperity makes them worse. For they say, he says, to the Lord:

Why? Because their good things were in their own hands.

Nevertheless, the lamp of the ungodly shall be put out.

Overthrow shall come upon them, and pangs shall seize them from wrath.

They shall be like chaff before the wind, or like dust which the whirlwind has carried off.

Just as, he says, they enjoy prosperity, so also shall they meet with the contrary. Let his substance not fail his sons, he says; He shall recompense him, and he shall know it.

Let his own eyes behold his own slaughter, and let him not be delivered by the Lord; for his will was in his house after him, and the number of his months has been cut off.

Is it not the Lord, he says, who teaches understanding and knowledge? For since the one who had spoken before him said that from the time man was set upon the earth these things come to pass, and reproached him as though he were ignorant of what was plain and manifest—You have said, he says, that these things come to pass;

yet also the contrary things come to pass, so that let no one suppose that he knows the ineffable word of God, according to which all things come to pass.

Are not those men ungodly? Why are they not punished? But the one is in famine, the other in wealth, though the wickedness is the same. Then he says:

But he himself shall judge the wise.

This one shall die in the full strength of his folly, but another amid ease and prosperity;

and his inward parts are full of fat, and his marrow is well moistened.

But that other dies in bitterness of soul, having eaten nothing good;

and they lie down together with one accord upon the earth, and corruption has covered them upon the earth.

So then I know you, he says, that you press upon me with presumption, so that you will say:

Where is the house of the ruler, and where is the covering of the tents of the ungodly? Ought you not, he says, to examine these matters from prudent reasonings and from a right mind? Surely, then, you did not come to comfort me.

Ask those who pass along the way, and their tokens you shall not disown, that the wicked man is spared for the day of destruction, and shall be led away for the day of his wrath.

Who shall declare his way to his face? And though he has acted, who shall repay him? Yet he too is carried off to the tomb, and has kept watch over the sepulchre.

The pebbles of the valley are sweet to him, and every man shall depart after him, as before him went those without number.

How then do you comfort me with vain things? And of your consolation there remains for me nothing at all.

Is it not the Lord who teaches understanding and knowledge? And this too he confessed, being overcome.

Then, since from what had been said it was gathered that Job was not ungodly, nor ought one to conjecture men's characters from their punishments,

by this argument he well-nigh does away with providence itself, saying:

For what does it matter to the Lord, if you are blameless in your works? That is to say:

This is nothing to God.

Or is it any profit to him, that you make your way plain? For does this contribute anything to his advantage? he says.

For since he was saying up and down that God did these things and that it was on his account that he suffered, he wishes to show that it is not from God.

Or, taking account of you, he says, will he reprove you and enter into judgement with you? Nay rather, even if you were righteous, it is no concern of his, nor does he take account of you. That is to say:

This is not worthy of much earnestness on God's part.

Yet even if he were minded to judge you, he would find many sins, if indeed he wished to enter justly into judgement with you. Then he enumerates the sins:

Is not your wickedness great, and your sins without number? For you took pledges from your brethren for no cause, and stripped the clothing from the naked; neither did you give water to the thirsty to drink, but withheld a morsel from the hungry.

You showed partiality to certain men's persons, and laid the poor to rest upon the ground;

you sent widows away empty, and afflicted orphans.

Therefore snares have compassed you about, and sudden war has hastened upon you.

And whence? Because you are being punished, he says.

Your light has turned to darkness, and as you lay down, water covered you.

You have become a wanderer in the wilderness and under the open sky, a fugitive without a home; will not he who dwells on high behold, and has he not brought low those who are carried along in insolence? And you said:

What does the Mighty One know? Does he judge through the thick darkness? A cloud is his hiding-place, and he shall not be seen, and he passes through the circuit of heaven.

Will you keep the age-old path, which righteous men have trodden, who were cut off untimely? A river overflowing were their foundations, those who said:

What shall the Lord do to us, or what shall the Almighty bring upon us? Yet it was he who filled their houses with good things; but the counsel of the ungodly is far from him.

The righteous saw it and laughed, and the blameless man derided them.

Surely their substance has been made to vanish, and fire shall devour their remnant.

Now be hardened, if you can endure it;

Surely your fruit shall be among good things.

Receive, he says, instruction from his mouth with confession, and take up his words in your heart.

Speak against him to his face, if you can endure it. By no means.

But if you turn back and humble yourself before the Lord, and put far away from your dwelling all that is unjust, then you shall lay up treasure on the dust in the rock, and Sophir shall be to you as the rock of the torrent.

The Almighty shall be your helper against your enemies, and he shall render you pure like silver refined by fire.

Then you shall have boldness before the Lord, looking up cheerfully to heaven.

And when you have prayed to him, he will hear you, and he will grant you to pay your vows.

He will restore to you a habitation of righteousness, and upon your ways there shall be light.

'I have been proud,' he says; yet him who bows his eyes low he will save.

He will deliver the innocent one; and you shall be saved through the cleanness of your hands.

And indeed I know that the reproof comes from my own hands.

I carry my accuser about with me.

The reproof, the proof of my evils, I have from within my own house. His hand has become heavy upon me, and I groan over myself.

Would that it were possible, he says, at once to have the verdict of the punishments brought forward, or to find him.

Would that it were possible, he says, to plead my cause and to come before him and learn what those things were which he was going to say to me in reply to these, the things he was going to say. See how he obtained the very thing he prayed for.

For this came last in the book.

I wished to learn what he would say to me, and whether he would punish me in like manner. But he said these things not as one condemning himself of injustice.

Who might grant that I should find him and come to the end? that I should speak my own case, and fill my mouth with reproof?

That I might know the words which he would say to me, and perceive what he would declare to me, and whether he would come upon me with great strength, and whether he would deal with me in threatening.

For even if he should deal with me with great strength and threatening, yet nevertheless I know that truth is with him. For truth and reproof are with him.

May he bring forth the judgment to its end.

This he prayed for; this is what he means.

That an end might be put to my dreadful sufferings. Then he says that he wished these things to come about, so that he might die—not because he was now about to be judged.

For if I go to the first things, I no longer exist; and as for the last things, what do I know of him? When he acts on the left hand, I do not lay hold; he will turn to the right, and I shall not see.

For he himself already knows my way, and he has tried me as gold.

And I will go forth according to his commandments.

For I have kept his ways, and I shall not turn aside.

From his commandments I shall not depart, that I may not die.

He knows, he says, my way, and that I have always been zealous to obey him.

But who, when he judges, shall contradict him? And in my bosom, he says, I have hidden his words.

And even if he himself judged thus, who is there to gainsay him? For what he himself has willed, that also he has done.

For this reason I was zealous concerning him; and being admonished, I took thought of him.

Because of this I am eager before his face; I will consider, and be dismayed at him.

'I have not sinned,' he says, 'and what of this?' For it is not only from the power he has over sins that God may punish, but also apart from these—apart from sins, I mean.

My Lord has softened my heart, and the Almighty has been eager upon me.

For I did not know that gloom would come upon me, and that darkness would cover my face.

This did not happen according to human sequence, he says; the evil was unexpected.

I conjecture that the blow is from the hand of God. And he spoke well.

For the darkness is not common darkness, but is that of despondency.

Then again he is likewise perplexed, and says:

Why do the ungodly prosper? Why, O Lord, he says, have the ungodly escaped notice for a season? They have overstepped the boundary, and have seized the flock together with its shepherd.

They have led away the ass of the fatherless, and have taken the widow's ox in pledge.

They have turned the weak aside from the way of justice, and the meek of the earth have hidden themselves together.

And they have gone off like wild asses in the field, going out against me in their own doings.

They have reaped before the season a field that was not their own; and the bread of the poor was made sweet to their young men.

The weak have laboured in the vineyards of the ungodly without food and without wages.

They have made many to sleep naked, without garments, and have taken away the covering of their soul.

They are drenched by the showers of the mountains, and because they have no shelter, they embrace the rock.

For just as this is a matter of perplexity—why one man suffers such things unjustly—so also are those matters, so that

it is natural to be thrown into confusion and disturbed on both sides.

And they have gone off, he says, like wild asses in the field.

They have despised all, they have mocked all; no one wrongs them or does them harm.

But he has not yet made a visitation upon these things, so that he will do so hereafter, and will examine the things they have done amiss, and will not overlook them.

They have snatched away, he says, the fatherless from the breast, and have brought low the one who is cast down.

They have unjustly made the naked to sleep, and have taken away the morsel from the hungry.

In dark places they have unjustly lain in ambush; the way of the righteous they have not known.

Out of the city and out of their own houses they have cast them; and the souls of infants have groaned greatly.

But why has he not made a visitation upon these things? While they were still upon the earth, they took no knowledge; the way of righteousness they did not know, nor did they walk in its paths.

But having come to know their works, he handed them over to darkness.

Having learned their works—or because, having examined and tested—that is:

And by night, he says, he will be as a thief.

And the eye of the adulterer watched for darkness, saying:

No eye shall notice me; and he set a covering before your face.

He broke through houses in the darkness.

By day they sealed themselves up; they did not know the light, for the shadow of death is to them all together as the morning, for the shadow of death shall recognize its own tumults.

He is light upon the face of the water.

May their plantings appear dried up upon the earth.

For they have snatched away the armful of the fatherless.

Then his sin was remembered, and like the mist of dew he became unseen.

May it be repaid to him according to what he has done, and may every unjust man be crushed like an incurable tree.

They had no pity on the barren woman, nor did they show mercy to any poor woman.

But in their wrath they overthrew the helpless.

When he arises, therefore, let him not be confident of his own life.

And if he falls sick, let him not hope to be made well, but he shall fall by disease.

For his own high estate has done harm to many.

He has withered away like the tender grass in the burning heat, or like an ear of corn that has fallen of itself from the stalk.

But if it is not so, who is he that says I speak falsely, and will bring my words to nothing? THEN BALDAD THE SAUCHITE ANSWERED AND SAYS:

For what is the preamble, or the fear that comes from him? That is to say:

All things are full of fear and trembling, and there is no one who shall be able to escape that hand.