約伯記註釋 第 1 章 第 3/19 段

the people taken captive by him

Who else, then, cursed sin and annihilated it in himself, and who subdued the intelligible sea-monster, but the Word of God who condescended to become man for our sake? He it is who, as a figure of sin, cursed the fig tree, as we have been taught in the Gospels.

For that he is not speaking of some perceptible sea-monster, we have heard in the Catholic Epistles:

'For every kind of beast and bird, of reptile and sea creature, is tamed, and has been tamed, by mankind.'

But if man has both subdued and does subdue the beasts and the sea-monsters, how could Scripture speak of God as one who has not yet subdued the sea-monster of the sea, but is about to master it—‘he who is about to subdue the great sea-monster’? And what great thing would it be for God to master a sea-monster of the sea? It is clear, then, that these things were said to the righteous man concerning sin and the devil.

'Let the stars of that night be darkened; let it wait for light and it not come, and let it not see the morning star rise.'

'Let it not give,' he says, 'its own light'—that is to say:

let the stars of that night not shine

'Stars,' properly speaking, are those made up of many individual stars, such as the Pleiades and the Bear:

'But let it not even wait,' he says, that is:

let it not persist in shining, nor complete its own course; and let no light succeed that night.

For by 'the morning star rising' he means either the star of dawn or the sun, as bringing on the dawn.

'Of sin,' he says—which indeed he calls 'night'—'let its seeming delights and beauties be utterly effaced, and let evil never overcome virtue.'

For this is what 'let it not come to light' means, that is:

let the delights of sin be exposed for what they are, that they are darkness, and let them have no power to deceive, nor to pretend that they possess anything good.

And 'let it not see the morning star rising' he says not as a wish, but declares this as an actual fact:

Can sin endure the morning star rising in our souls?

And the morning star is the Word concerning the Lord, which illumines our soul, as Peter, the foremost of the apostles, taught—and as we still have it—when he set down his second epistle, saying: 'And we have the prophetic word made more sure, to which you do well to pay attention, as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts.'

He says, then, that sin cannot remain in souls once they have been deemed worthy to be illumined by the morning star, that is, by the divine Word.

For when the light shines forth, the darkness withdraws.

'because it did not shut the doors of my mother's womb'

'Because,' he says, 'it did not prevent me from being born'—although it was not really the night's place to prevent him from coming forth from the womb; but what he says throughout has this sense: that it would have been better not to be born.

'I curse,' he says, 'sin, because the impulses of my resolve were not restrained, but I even travailed with sin and gave birth to it'—that is to say:

I actually did the deed, by tasting of the forbidden tree.

'for it would have removed trouble from my eyes'

'For if I had not been born,' he says, 'I would not have fallen into my present misfortunes.'

'For were it not for sin,' he says, 'and the transgression that took place, corruption and diseases would not have befallen mankind.'

'Why did I not die in the womb, or come out of the belly and perish at once? For thus it would have been better either not to be born at all, or, having been born, to die immediately.'

For it is good either that no base thought should be conceived in us at all, or, if one should arise, that it be effaced at once.

'Why did knees receive me? Why did I suck at the breasts?' Thus, he says, I ought neither to have been set upon a nurse's knees, nor to have partaken of milk, so that I might even be kept alive.

'For why,' he says, 'did I not stumble or trip as I went to taste of the forbidden tree?'

'And why did I make any advance in wickedness?' For this is what 'I sucked at the breasts' means, that is: I grew in the ways of evil.

'For now I would have lain down and been quiet, I would have slept and been at rest.' For if I had not been born, he says, or, having been born, had died at once, I would not have come to the experience of these terrible things.

'with kings and counsellors of the earth, who gloried in their swords; or with princes, rich in gold, who filled their houses with silver.'

From these words we are taught not to be proud on account of power, or wealth, or wisdom, since even kings and the counsellors of the earth—that is:

those who take pride in wisdom and counsel, and those who glory in their swords, that is:

in offices, in positions of power, in trophies won against enemies; and besides these, even those rich in gold undergo the death common to all.

So I would have suffered nothing terrible in enduring death as the companion of my birth, and in having no part in any of the things reputed good in this life, since even those who prided themselves greatly upon such things have died just like all other men.

'or like a miscarriage that comes forth from a mother's womb, or like infants who never saw the light.'

'A miscarriage' is that which has not yet been fully formed in the womb; and by 'infant' he means one who has not yet received any perception of the good or bad things of this life.

But the explanation of these matters—why some are never even brought to term, while others, though carried to term, are born dead, and others suffer death together with their very birth—must be left to the unsearchable judgments of God.

'There the wicked ceased from the wrath of anger; there the weary in body found rest.'

He teaches us a most excellent lesson: that even though death came about on account of sin, God nevertheless also ordained it usefully and out of love for mankind.

'For even the wicked,' he says, 'those who, because of wealth and contempt bred of life, grew bold against God, cease and are checked from evil, no longer raging or being angered; and those who are in bodily anguish find an end to their pains.'

death, usefully ordained

But since other manuscripts read:

'There the wicked kindled the wrath of anger'—thus you should understand it:

'Those,' he says, 'who were not disciplined here, but persisted in impiety, draw upon themselves the punishment that comes from divine wrath.'

'And together the long-bound prisoners were at ease:'

'they did not hear the voice of the tax-collector'

'But even those,' he says, 'who died long ago, attain there to being set free from the tax-gatherers and debt-collectors and their oppressive burden'—meaning to say that:

they have come to be outside the misfortunes of this life

In a deeper sense, by 'tax-collector' he means the devil, who, not only as a tax-collector but also as a master, exacts from those who have of their own choice become subject to him, as it were a tribute, that they do what pleases him.

And so, from this bitter tax-collector, those who have departed this life are set free, no longer able to do evil.

'The small and the great are there, and the servant fearing his master.'

All, then, come to be there; and this is another benefit of death, that there is neither slave nor master there.

'For even those,' he says, 'who formerly feared their own masters, do not fear there.'

'not fearing his master'

If, then, [the reading is] 'not fearing,' the sense is plain:

But if [the reading is] 'fearing,' it is to be understood instead as:

one who formerly feared, but no longer fears in Hades.

These philosophical reflections on death—many of them—were uttered by him even as he was decaying, teeming with worms, and streaming with corrupt discharge; and as though forgetting his agonies, with the pure eye of his mind he has handed down to us these most excellent lessons; yet we ourselves do not come to a true understanding of them.

For if we kept the remembrance of death, we would become better, and we would easily despise both wealth and power, and the things reputed pleasurable in this life.

'For why is light given to those in bitterness, and life to souls in anguish?' In many places Scripture uses the phrase 'why' as an expression of entreaty, not of despair, as in: 'Why, O Lord, do you stand far off? Why do you overlook us in times of need, in affliction?' For he is not laying blame, but is entreating that he not be abandoned in his afflictions.

'Why, O God, have you cast us off forever? Why has your anger been kindled against the sheep of your pasture?'

For again, he is not laying blame, but is entreating that he not be cast off forever.

So here too this blessed man entreats, saying:

'Since you are the giver of light and life, O Lord, take away my sufferings, take away the bitterness of my soul.'

For indeed death is more to be chosen than a life full of pain.

'who long for death and do not obtain it, digging for it as for treasures, and who become overjoyed if they find it.'

Just as, he says, those who mine for gold and seek treasure rejoice if they find it, so too those in bitter pains, if they perceive that death is near, rejoice, hoping that it will be a release from their evils.

'Death is rest for a man, for God has hedged him in.'

For it is the end of life here, and it closes off the actions of men in this world, so that we can no longer do anything base.

But the labors of virtue too have their end.

For there, there are no longer contests, but crowns; no longer sweat, but rest.

So then, 'God hedged him in' is equivalent to saying:

death is both the end of the labors of virtue and a check upon wickedness.

But other manuscripts also have this verse after 'death is rest for a man':

'whose way has been hidden from him'

The way of death has been hidden from man;

for man does not know when death will come upon him, because of its suddenness.

'For before my food comes groaning to me, and I weep, gripped by fear.'

He gives the reason for his longing for death:

'For not even without groaning,' he says, 'do I partake of food, but I weep constantly, fearing lest I have suffered utter abandonment by God.'

For to the righteous, as we have already said, bodily death is ten thousand times more preferable than to suspect that one has suffered abandonment from God.

The rational man judges it better never to have existed at all than to exist in abandonment by God.

'For the fear that I pondered has come upon me, and that which I dreaded has met me.'

The great psalmist says somewhere, singing:

'And I said in my prosperity:

I shall never be shaken forever.'

'But you turned away your face, and I became troubled.'

But the great Job, out of surpassing wisdom, did not say, even in wealth and prosperity:

'I shall never be shaken'; rather he was greatly afraid and full of dread, lest he should offend God in anything, lest he should fall outside the bounds of divine oversight.

For this reason he is now in anguish and longs for death, suspecting that he has suffered exactly what he feared, and that God, whom he longed for, has turned away from his affairs.

'I had no peace, nor was I quiet, nor did I rest, but wrath came upon me.'

'Never,' he says, 'was I free from care; I made no peace with sin, nor did I cease from doing good, fearing the wrath and aversion of God which has now come upon me.'

And Eliphaz the Temanite, answering, says: 'If one ventures a word with you in your distress, will you be grieved? Yet who could restrain the force of your words?' Overview of the chapter: These things he who lay in torments, he who became poor after being rich, he who became childless after having many children, he who was pitiable to all and cast aside, philosophized.

And he has indeed shown that he perceives his pains;

yet in the very midst of his torments he rises above the body and prophesies by divine grace, and sets forth the most excellent teaching concerning the immortality of the soul, through which he teaches that souls do not perish together with bodies, but exist in Hades.

And he instructs the rich, and consoles those in distress, saying that there is an end to all things—both to the fearful things of life and to those that seem pleasant;

and that the mystery of death was ordained by God for men both usefully and with great loving-kindness, since it both checks wickedness and brings relief from toils;

and that one ought not to grow contemptuous in times of prosperity, but rather to consider the fickleness of life and to be fearful;

and that it is better to die than to come into conflict with God.

Eliphaz and his companions, not having understood these things, but suspecting that it is blasphemy against God for a righteous man to long to be released from life, are moved by an irrational zeal;

and, their passionate part being thrown into confusion, employing an unreasonable anger against the righteous man, they go astray concerning the doctrines of providence;

and, thinking that men suffer only on account of sin, having taken up, as it were, an advocacy on behalf of God—arguing that Job is justly punished as a sinner—those who came to comfort him have instead become an addition to his pains.

They do this not out of any malice, but supposing that they were turning their friend back, making him better, and, by instilling fear, urging him toward repentance.

Therefore they are also rebuked by the Lord for not having spoken rightly, yet they are pardoned, since they uttered such things not out of any malice, but rather out of goodwill toward the righteous man and out of reverence toward God.

So then the disputation of the friends is not without benefit for us, even though it was made neither as it ought, nor at the right time, nor addressed to a person who deserved to hear such things.

For, first, we are taught not to make our exhortations haphazardly, but with much reverence and supplication toward God, that he may keep our reasonings free from error and undistorted; and that there is no benefit—rather, even harm—for one who does not judge as he ought, even if he seems to be speaking on God's behalf.

It is necessary, therefore, as I have said, to speak with the fear of God;

for the evil one is by nature accustomed to lie in wait during our conversations and to throw into confusion the passionate part of the soul, so that, our mind being darkened and turned aside from the straight path, we who have often come together for benefit may become the cause of harm to ourselves.

Eliphaz, having employed a persuasive preface, goes astray in the midst of his speech, and attempts to show that Job suffers on account of sin, and tries to convert one already converted, and to draw toward piety one who is blameless and pious and who, in the very midst of his pains, has philosophized such things.

Eliphaz the Temanite says:

taking up in reply the words of Job,

'If one ventures a word with you, will you be grieved? But who could restrain the force of your words?' You know, he says, O Job, that we have never spoken grievous things to you so as to wear you out, nor have we ever despised you;

but now, since we cannot bear the harshness of your words, we have come to dispute with you.

'For you have admonished many, and have strengthened the hands of the weak; you have raised up the failing by your words, and have clothed feeble knees with courage.'

'But now trouble has come upon you and touched you, and you are dismayed.'

Remember, then, how, like a friend, you strengthened with your consoling words many who were undone by misfortunes, and how you made those fallen under despondency take courage, by setting good hopes before them.

What, then, has happened to you? How is it that you cannot bear the trouble that has come upon you, but are thrown into confusion and eager to cast off the burden? And yet you ought, remembering your own words, to philosophize not only in the misfortunes of others, but also in your own.

Observe how, in addition to his other virtues, Eliphaz testifies concerning Job that he also possessed a gift of teaching, and that he brought forth words of consolation with divine grace, so that through his exhortation he made even those in misfortune to be of good cheer.

These words of Eliphaz, then, are not yet harsh; but what follows he no longer utters in a manner befitting the character of one who consoles.

'Is not your fear rooted in folly, and your hope, and the wickedness of your way?'

'For it has been shown,' he says, 'by the facts themselves, that you said in vain that you feared God.'

For the fear of God comprises all the virtues.

But you did not possess this in purity; rather, being in wickedness, you said that you feared God and hoped in him, which is a mark of folly.

'Remember, then, who, being pure, has ever perished? Or when have the truly upright been utterly destroyed, root and all?'

'In the manner that I have seen those who plow up wickedness, and those who sow it shall reap sorrows for themselves.'

'By the command of the Lord they shall perish, and by the breath of his wrath they shall be utterly destroyed.'

That whatever a man sows, this he also reaps, is evident according to the sacred apostle, and Eliphaz spoke well in saying this.

But since one must first plow, then sow, then reap, he employed the figure of speech accordingly, in due sequence.

But this he did not understand, that the recompenses are not always given here in this life;

for many who have done wicked deeds have departed unpunished, not chastised in this present life, but reserved for the just tribunal to come.

He did not, therefore, correctly declare that the unjust are always punished here, or that the truly upright and righteous never fall into misfortunes here.

For these latter, for the most part, suffer precisely so that they may also be tested.

And 'root and all' stands for:

together with their children and possessions—which is exactly what Job suffered.

Eliphaz, then, having gone astray, speaks contrary to Scripture.

For Scripture, in speaking about Job, has said:

And though it was said that that man was true, this is in effect what he himself says:

'You are not truthful; for otherwise you would not have been destroyed root and branch.'

And 'from the breath of his wrath' means:

'The lion's strength, and the lioness's voice, and the serpents' exultant boast, were quenched;'

'the ant-lion perished for lack of prey, and the lions' cubs forsook one another.'

'But if any true word had been found in your speech, none of these things would have befallen you.'

Some say that the ant-lion is not, according to natural history, a real animal at all, but that the name is so formed merely by compounding.

But others say that it is indeed an animal, and that it is able to live without food, since God has so constituted it.

According to the literal sense, then, Eliphaz, by means of examples drawn from nature, tries to show that Job is not truthful.

'...were they appointed?' Just as, he says, these creatures keep the bounds set by nature, so also you, if you were truly genuine and your piety did not lie in words alone, none of these things would have met you.

But according to the higher/contemplative sense, the impulses of the passions are to be likened to wild beasts, and the ant-lion to the devil, who is an ant to the pious but a lion to the impious.

'If, then,' he says, 'the devil had not found food in you' — that is, if you had not been unjust — 'he would have perished,' meaning:

it would have remained inactive, and the assaults of the passions would have been quenched and dissolved.

We have expounded these things, however, not on the supposition that Eliphaz understood them in this way, but because the words are capable of being turned also toward allegory, whenever occasion calls for it.

For one must not declare that Eliphaz understood it in this way; nevertheless, the elder interpreters made use of this contemplative sense.

'Shall my ear not receive extraordinary things from him? Fear, and a nocturnal echo, a fear falling upon men; trembling and dread came upon me, and greatly shook my bones.'

'And a spirit passed over my face; my hair and my flesh bristled; I rose up and did not recognize what it was; I looked, and there was no form before my eyes, but I heard only a breeze and a voice.'

It is possible to understand the present passage according to several considerations:

for either, in order to lead Job into fear, he says:

'You must fear, O Job, and not despise God, since he punishes not only by day but also through nocturnal visions — even as I have heard others recounting the marvels concerning him, and I myself have often experienced, being terrified in sleep, that my hair stood on end, and I became all atremble, and endured a quaking in the joints of my bones, and seemed to have some spirit come upon me, and saw nothing that had taken shape, but heard only voices falling upon me softly yet with terror, and instilling trembling.'

'Fear, then,' he says, 'God, who punishes even through dreams.'

'It is fitting for you to fear God, O Job,' he says, 'the very thought of whom is fearful;'

'for indeed I too have heard elders recounting extraordinary things concerning him.'

'And I myself, whenever I call to mind the majesty of his nature, and especially how he existed in his own blessedness before making the world, and how even now he is everywhere present, yet also stands beyond the whole universe in his own transcendence and blessedness, undergo the very thing that happens to those who, in the dead of night, when deep silence holds all things in great stillness, are struck with terror by some nocturnal sound — so that shuddering and trembling befall me in such thoughts;'

'and in my mind I come to have a sense of some invisible and incomprehensible spirit;'

'but if I should press on still further in my reasonings, I recognize nothing and comprehend nothing.'

For the formlessness and incomprehensibility of God escapes the visual power of the soul, and the further one ascends in one's reasonings, the further the discovery of what is sought leaves him behind.

For while he is incomprehensible in his nature, the mind nevertheless does perceive something, as it were, of a subtle breeze and a gentle voice refreshing the intellect — the energy of God producing this perception, yet without displaying the divine nature itself.

For such contemplation is altogether unattainable, full of dread, and it makes the reasonings grow dizzy in darkness.

'Do not despise my words and my exhortation, O Job,' he says.

'For indeed I too have been deemed worthy of a divine revelation, and through dreams I beheld a vision, and I received an illumination of the Holy Spirit;'

'and I know that God is formless, simple, and incomprehensible in his nature; nevertheless, as though in a certain subtle breeze, a divine perception has come upon me.'

He says these things, perhaps, in order to make his own discourse acceptable, so that in what he is about to say he may seem worthy of belief.

In every one of these senses, he is trying to instill fear in Job and to turn him toward repentance.

'For what? Shall a mortal be pure before the Lord, or a man be blameless on account of his works?' 'And do not suppose,' he says, 'that I say these things to you as a reproach;'

nothing escapes him who knows all things.

for this is what 'before the Lord' signifies.

'If he does not put trust in his servants, and against his angels he has perceived something crooked...'

'For the angels,' he says, 'his genuine servants, are not blameless when measured against the exactness of God.'

For 'he does not trust' means:

if he should examine them according to his own exactness, he would find them not faithful in every respect.

And 'he perceived something crooked' means:

he made their nature mutable, so that through mutability it is also possible to fall under blame — which is indeed what the apostate powers have suffered, since they did not receive an immutable nature by their lot, but by their own free choice slipped away from their own standing.

By 'his servants' he means the holy angels and men.

'And as for those who dwell in houses of clay — we ourselves also being made of that same clay — he struck them like a moth, and from morning until evening they are no more; because they were unable to help themselves, they perished;'

'for he breathed upon them, and they withered; they perished because they had no wisdom.'

'What, then,' he says, 'must one say concerning men made of dust? For if angels, being spirits and dwelling in heaven, are not blameless when measured against the divine exactness, what should we suffer, who are earthly and dwell upon the earth? For if God should strike, we are consumed so easily, and do not even hold out a whole day, just as vegetables devoured by worms, or garments consumed by moths;'

for just as those things are, so also are we weak.

God is so powerful, and destroys with such ease whomever he wishes, that just as it is easy for a man to blow a breath, so for God it is enough merely to will, and to wither them.

He used these words figuratively, as of a wind blowing and flowers withering, in order to set forth the authority of God.

Then, so that he might not seem to be saying that God, acting purely by authority, inflicts wrath without judgment, he says:

'Men suffer these things not without cause, but because they lack wisdom' — that is:

'for the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.'

'Call out, then, if anyone will listen to you, or if you will see any of the holy angels.'

'For wrath destroys the fool, and jealous rage puts to death him who has gone astray.'

'Why, then,' he says, 'do you speak beyond your worth, being only a man? For man falls so far short of God that not only is God invisible and incomprehensible, but even if you should call upon him ten thousand times, he will not answer you.'

'But why do I speak of God, when even his ministers, the holy angels, are invisible to us?'

It belongs, then, to the wise man to ponder these things;

but as for the fool, the one who has gone astray, and the one who acts insolently against God — it is the just motion of God, that is, his zeal (meaning:

God's hatred of evil) that destroys him.

It is also possible to understand 'the fool' in a general sense as the irascible man, so that the statement becomes a general one: that for every fool and irascible man, his own wrath works out death for him.

He exhorts, therefore, that one should not act insolently against God.

'But I have seen fools taking root, yet suddenly their dwelling was devoured.'

Since it presents a difficulty for Eliphaz that the unjust often come to enjoy prosperity — and especially the case of Job himself, who was formerly in a state of prosperity — in resolving this difficulty he said that the unjust man, even if he should come into some measure of well-being and suppose that he holds his goods securely (for this is what is meant by 'taking root'), nevertheless does not remain so for long.

By 'dwelling' he means their whole household and a manner of life lived in prosperity.

Then he adduces the outcomes of the impious.

'May their sons be far from salvation.'

'May they be trampled at the gates of their inferiors, and there will be no one to deliver them.'

'For the things that they gathered, the righteous will eat, but they themselves will not be delivered from evils; may their strength be drained away.'

These things often befall the impious.

For indeed the people of the Hebrews inherited the land of promise, after its former inhabitants had been destroyed on account of impiety.

But these things do not always come to pass in the present life;

for recompenses are not entirely given in this life, but also in the age to come; therefore, since Eliphaz spoke of this without making that distinction, he has not spoken well.

The phrase 'may they be far off' is not spoken as a wish, but as something that happens without exception,

especially in the present passage of Scripture.

The word 'let them be trodden down' stands for:

'let them be crushed, let them be humbled';

for a 'kolabros' is a small pig.

'And there shall be none to deliver him' — clearly, from the poverty that besets him;

'They shall not be exempt' is similar in meaning to 'there shall be none to deliver.'

The phrase 'may their strength be drained away' stands for:

For toil shall by no means come forth from the earth, nor shall trouble spring up out of the mountains; but man is born to toil, and the young of eagles fly to the heights.

In these words he seems gently to console Job by means of a natural exhortation.

'For you ought not,' he says, 'to be vexed, seeing you are a man and one who suffers';

for to be punished does not belong to beings without feeling.

'But even the birds' — for by 'eagle' he means all birds — 'have been allotted a life less toilsome and less anxious than ours.'

Nevertheless, I will make supplication to the Lord;

and I will call upon the Lord, the Master of all, who does great and untraceable things, glorious and marvelous deeds without number;

who gives rain upon the earth, who sends water upon the land beneath heaven;

who raises up the lowly to the heights, and lifts up those who were perishing.

'Let these things,' he says, 'be as they are; but as for me, I flee for refuge to God, and take refuge in his help.'

By setting forth the transcendence of God, he leads Job toward fear, and, by presenting his own person, draws him toward repentance.