1 Is there not an appointed time to man upon earth? are not his days also like the days of an hireling?
2 As a servant earnestly desireth the shadow, and as an hireling looketh for the reward of his work:
3 So am I made to possess months of vanity, and wearisome nights are appointed to me.
4 When I lie down, I say, When shall I arise, and the night be gone? and I am full of tossings to and fro unto the dawning of the day.
5 My flesh is clothed with worms and clods of dust; my skin is broken, and become loathsome.
6 My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle, and are spent without hope.
7 O remember that my life is wind: mine eye shall no more see good.
8 The eye of him that hath seen me shall see me no more: thine eyes are upon me, and I am not.
9 As the cloud is consumed and vanisheth away: so he that goeth down to the grave shall come up no more.
10 He shall return no more to his house, neither shall his place know him any more.
11 Therefore I will not refrain my mouth; I will speak in the anguish of my spirit; I will complain in the bitterness of my soul.
12 Am I a sea, or a whale, that thou settest a watch over me?
13 When I say, My bed shall comfort me, my couch shall ease my complaints;
14 Then thou scarest me with dreams, and terrifiest me through visions:
15 So that my soul chooseth strangling, and death rather than my life.
16 I loathe it; I would not live alway: let me alone; for my days are vanity.
17 What is man, that thou shouldest magnify him? and that thou shouldest set thine heart upon him?
18 And that thou shouldest visit him every morning, and try him every moment?
19 How long wilt thou not depart from me, nor let me alone till I swallow down my spittle?
20 I have sinned; what shall I do unto thee, O thou preserver of men? why hast thou set me as a mark against thee, so that I am a burden to myself?
21 And why dost thou not pardon my transgression, and take away my iniquity? for now shall I sleep in the dust; and thou shalt seek me in the morning, but I shall not be.
1 Is there not an appointed time H6635 to man H582 upon earth? H776 are not his days H3117 also like the days H3117 of an hireling? H7916
2 As a servant H5650 earnestly desireth H7602 the shadow, H6738 and as an hireling H7916 looketh H6960 for the reward of his work: H6467
3 So am I made to possess H5157 months H3391 of vanity, H7723 and wearisome H5999 nights H3915 are appointed H4487 to me.
4 When I lie down, H7901 I say, H559 When shall I arise, H6965 and the night H6153 be gone? H4059 and I am full H7646 of tossings to and fro H5076 unto the dawning of the day. H5399
5 My flesh H1320 is clothed H3847 with worms H7415 and clods H1487 of dust; H6083 my skin H5785 is broken, H7280 and become loathsome. H3988
6 My days H3117 are swifter H7043 than a weaver's shuttle, H708 and are spent H3615 without H657 hope. H8615
7 O remember H2142 that my life H2416 is wind: H7307 mine eye H5869 shall no more H7725 see H7200 good. H2896
8 The eye H5869 of him that hath seen H7210 me shall see H7789 me no more: thine eyes H5869 are upon me, and I am not.
9 As the cloud H6051 is consumed H3615 and vanisheth away: H3212 so he that goeth down H3381 to the grave H7585 shall come up H5927 no more.
10 He shall return H7725 no more to his house, H1004 neither shall his place H4725 know H5234 him any more.
11 Therefore I will not refrain H2820 my mouth; H6310 I will speak H1696 in the anguish H6862 of my spirit; H7307 I will complain H7878 in the bitterness H4751 of my soul. H5315
12 Am I a sea, H3220 or a whale, H8577 that thou settest H7760 a watch H4929 over me?
13 When I say, H559 My bed H6210 shall comfort H5162 me, my couch H4904 shall ease H5375 my complaint; H7879
14 Then thou scarest H2865 me with dreams, H2472 and terrifiest H1204 me through visions: H2384
15 So that my soul H5315 chooseth H977 strangling, H4267 and death H4194 rather than my life. H6106
16 I loathe H3988 it; I would not live H2421 alway: H5769 let me alone; H2308 for my days H3117 are vanity. H1892
17 What is man, H582 that thou shouldest magnify H1431 him? and that thou shouldest set H7896 thine heart H3820 upon him?
18 And that thou shouldest visit H6485 him every morning, H1242 and try H974 him every moment? H7281
19 How long H4100 wilt thou not depart H8159 from me, nor let me alone H7503 till I swallow down H1104 my spittle? H7536
20 I have sinned; H2398 what shall I do H6466 unto thee, O thou preserver H5341 of men? H120 why hast thou set H7760 me as a mark H4645 against thee, so that I am a burden H4853 to myself?
21 And why dost thou not pardon H5375 my transgression, H6588 and take away H5674 mine iniquity? H5771 for now shall I sleep H7901 in the dust; H6083 and thou shalt seek me in the morning, H7836 but I shall not be.
1 Is there not a warfare to man upon earth? And are not his days like the days of a hireling?
2 As a servant that earnestly desireth the shadow, And as a hireling that looketh for his wages:
3 So am I made to possess months of misery, And wearisome nights are appointed to me.
4 When I lie down, I say, When shall I arise, and the night be gone? And I am full of tossings to and fro unto the dawning of the day.
5 My flesh is clothed with worms and clods of dust; My skin closeth up, and breaketh out afresh.
6 My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle, And are spent without hope.
7 Oh remember that my life is a breath: Mine eye shall no more see good.
8 The eye of him that seeth me shall behold me no more; Thine eyes shall be upon me, but I shall not be.
9 As the cloud is consumed and vanisheth away, So he that goeth down to Sheol shall come up no more.
10 He shall return no more to his house, Neither shall his place know him any more.
11 Therefore I will not refrain my mouth; I will speak in the anguish of my spirit; I will complain in the bitterness of my soul.
12 Am I a sea, or a sea-monster, That thou settest a watch over me?
13 When I say, My bed shall comfort me, My couch shall ease my complaint;
14 Then thou scarest me with dreams, And terrifiest me through visions:
15 So that my soul chooseth strangling, And death rather than `these' my bones.
16 I loathe `my life'; I would not live alway: Let me alone; for my days are vanity.
17 What is man, that thou shouldest magnify him, And that thou shouldest set thy mind upon him,
18 And that thou shouldest visit him every morning, And try him every moment?
19 How long wilt thou not look away from me, Nor let me alone till I swallow down my spittle?
20 If I have sinned, what do I unto thee, O thou watcher of men? Why hast thou set me as a mark for thee, So that I am a burden to myself?
21 And why dost thou not pardon my transgression, and take away mine iniquity? For now shall I lie down in the dust; And thou wilt seek me diligently, but I shall not be.
1 Is there not a warfare to man on earth? And as the days of an hireling his days?
2 As a servant desireth the shadow, And as a hireling expecteth his wage,
3 So I have been caused to inherit months of vanity, And nights of misery they numbered to me.
4 If I lay down then I said, `When do I rise!' And evening hath been measured, And I have been full of tossings till dawn.
5 Clothed hath been my flesh `with' worms, And a clod of dust, My skin hath been shrivelled and is loathsome,
6 My days swifter than a weaving machine, And they are consumed without hope.
7 Remember Thou that my life `is' a breath, Mine eye turneth not back to see good.
8 The eye of my beholder beholdeth me not. Thine eyes `are' upon me -- and I am not.
9 Consumed hath been a cloud, and it goeth, So he who is going down to Sheol cometh not up.
10 He turneth not again to his house, Nor doth his place discern him again.
11 Also I -- I withhold not my mouth -- I speak in the distress of my spirit, I talk in the bitterness of my soul.
12 A sea-`monster' am I, or a dragon, That thou settest over me a guard?
13 When I said, `My bed doth comfort me,' He taketh away in my talking my couch.
14 And thou hast affrighted me with dreams, And from visions thou terrifiest me,
15 And my soul chooseth strangling, Death rather than my bones.
16 I have wasted away -- not to the age do I live. Cease from me, for my days `are' vanity.
17 What `is' man that Thou dost magnify him? And that Thou settest unto him Thy heart?
18 And inspectest him in the mornings, In the evenings dost try him?
19 How long dost Thou not look from me? Thou dost not desist till I swallow my spittle.
20 I have sinned, what do I to Thee, O watcher of man? Why hast Thou set me for a mark to Thee, And I am for a burden to myself -- and what?
21 Thou dost not take away my transgression, And cause to pass away mine iniquity, Because now, for dust I lie down: And Thou hast sought me -- and I am not!
1 Hath not man a life of labour upon earth? and are not his days like the days of a hireling?
2 As a bondman earnestly desireth the shadow, and a hireling expecteth his wages,
3 So am I made to possess months of vanity, and wearisome nights are appointed to me.
4 If I lie down, I say, When shall I rise up, and the darkness be gone? and I am full of tossings until the dawn.
5 My flesh is clothed with worms and clods of dust; my skin is broken, and suppurates.
6 My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle, and are spent without hope.
7 Remember thou that my life is wind; mine eye shall no more see good.
8 The eye of him that hath seen me shall behold me no [more]: thine eyes are upon me, and I am not.
9 The cloud consumeth and vanisheth away; so he that goeth down to Sheol shall not come up.
10 He shall return no more to his house, neither shall his place know him again.
11 Therefore I will not restrain my mouth: I will speak in the anguish of my spirit; I will complain in the bitterness of my soul.
12 Am I a sea, or a sea-monster, that thou settest a watch over me?
13 When I say, My bed shall comfort me, my couch shall ease my complaint;
14 Then thou scarest me with dreams, and terrifiest me through visions;
15 So that my soul chooseth strangling, death, rather than my bones.
16 I loathe it; I shall not live always: let me alone, for my days are a breath.
17 What is man, that thou makest much of him? and that thou settest thy heart upon him?
18 And that thou visitest him every morning, triest him every moment?
19 How long wilt thou not look away from me, nor let me alone till I swallow down my spittle?
20 Have I sinned, what do I unto thee, thou Observer of men? Why hast thou set me as an object of assault for thee, so that I am become a burden to myself?
21 And why dost not thou forgive my transgression and take away mine iniquity? for now shall I lie down in the dust, and thou shalt seek me early, and I shall not be.
1 "Isn't a man forced to labor on earth? Aren't his days like the days of a hired hand?
2 As a servant who earnestly desires the shadow, As a hireling who looks for his wages,
3 So am I made to possess months of misery, Wearisome nights are appointed to me.
4 When I lie down, I say, 'When shall I arise, and the night be gone?' I toss and turn until the dawning of the day.
5 My flesh is clothed with worms and clods of dust. My skin closes up, and breaks out afresh.
6 My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle, And are spent without hope.
7 Oh remember that my life is a breath. My eye shall no more see good.
8 The eye of him who sees me shall see me no more. Your eyes shall be on me, but I shall not be.
9 As the cloud is consumed and vanishes away, So he who goes down to Sheol shall come up no more.
10 He shall return no more to his house, Neither shall his place know him any more.
11 "Therefore I will not keep silent. I will speak in the anguish of my spirit. I will complain in the bitterness of my soul.
12 Am I a sea, or a sea-monster, That you put a guard over me?
13 When I say, 'My bed shall comfort me, My couch shall ease my complaint;'
14 Then you scar me with dreams, And terrify me through visions:
15 So that my soul chooses strangling, Death rather than my bones.
16 I loathe my life. I don't want to live forever. Leave me alone; for my days are but a breath.
17 What is man, that you should magnify him, That you should set your mind on him,
18 That you should visit him every morning, And test him every moment?
19 How long will you not look away from me, Nor leave me alone until I swallow down my spittle?
20 If I have sinned, what do I do to you, you watcher of men? Why have you set me as a mark for you, So that I am a burden to myself?
21 Why do you not pardon my disobedience, and take away my iniquity? For now shall I lie down in the dust. You will seek me diligently, but I shall not be."
1 Has not man his ordered time of trouble on the earth? and are not his days like the days of a servant working for payment?
2 As a servant desiring the shades of evening, and a workman looking for his payment:
3 So I have for my heritage months of pain to no purpose, and nights of weariness are given to me.
4 When I go to my bed, I say, When will it be time to get up? but the night is long, and I am turning from side to side till morning light.
5 My flesh is covered with worms and dust; my skin gets hard and then is cracked again.
6 My days go quicker than the cloth-worker's thread, and come to an end without hope.
7 O, keep in mind that my life is wind: my eye will never again see good.
8 The eye of him who sees me will see me no longer: your eyes will be looking for me, but I will be gone.
9 A cloud comes to an end and is gone; so he who goes down into the underworld comes not up again.
10 He will not come back to his house, and his place will have no more knowledge of him.
11 So I will not keep my mouth shut; I will let the words come from it in the pain of my spirit, my soul will make a bitter outcry.
12 Am I a sea, or a sea-beast, that you put a watch over me?
13 When I say, In my bed I will have comfort, there I will get rest from my disease;
14 Then you send dreams to me, and visions of fear;
15 So that a hard death seems better to my soul than my pains.
16 I have no desire for life, I would not be living for ever! Keep away from me, for my days are as a breath.
17 What is man, that you have made him great, and that your attention is fixed on him,
18 And that your hand is on him every morning, and that you are testing him every minute?
19 How long will it be before your eyes are turned away from me, so that I may have a minute's breathing-space?
20 If I have done wrong, what have I done to you, O keeper of men? why have you made me a mark for your blows, so that I am a weariness to myself?
21 And why do you not take away my sin, and let my wrongdoing be ended? for now I go down to the dust, and you will be searching for me with care, but I will be gone.
Worthy.Bible » Commentaries » Keil & Delitzsch Commentary » Commentary on Job 7
Commentary on Job 7 Keil & Delitzsch Commentary
1 Has not a man warfare upon earth,
And his days are like the days of a hireling?
2 Like a servant who longs for the shade,
And like a hireling who waits for his wages,
3 So am I made to possess months of disappointment,
And nights of weariness are appointed to me.
The conclusion is intended to be: thus I wait for death as refreshing and rest after hard labour. He goes, however, beyond this next point of comparison, or rather he remains on this side of it. צבא is not service of a labourer in the field, but active military service, then fatigue, toil in general (Isaiah 40:20; Daniel 10:1). Job 7:2 Ewald and others translate incorrectly: as a slave longs, etc. כּ can never introduce a comparative clause, except an infinitive, as e.g., Isaiah 5:24, which can then under the regimen of this כּ be continued by a verb. fin.; but it never stands directly for כּאשׁר , as כּמו does in rare instances. In Isaiah 5:3, שׁוא retains its primary signification, nothingness, error, disappointment (Job 15:31): months that one after another disappoint the hope of the sick. By this it seems we ought to imagine the friends as not having come at the very commencement of his disease. Elephantiasis is a disease which often lasts for years, and slowly but inevitably destroys the body. On מנּוּ , adnumeraverunt = adnumeratae sunt , vid., Ges. §137, 3*.
4 If I lie down, I think:
When shall I arise and the evening break away?
And I become weary with tossing to and fro unto the morning dawn.
5 My flesh is clothed with worms and clods of earth;
My skin heals up to fester again.
6 My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle,
And vanish without hope.
Most modern commentators take מדּד as Piel from מדד : the night is extended (Renan: la nuit se prolonge ), which is possible; comp. Ges. §52, 2. But the metre suggests another rendering: מדּד constr. of מדּד from נדד , to flee away: and when fleeing away of the evening. The night is described by its commencement, the late evening, to make the long interval of the sleeplessness and restlessness of the invalid prominent. In נדדים and מדד there is a play of words (Ebrard). רמּה , worms, in reference to the putrifying ulcers; and גּוּשׁ (with זעירא ) ג , clod of earth, from the cracked, scaly, earth-coloured skin of one suffering with elephantiasis. The praett . are used of that which is past and still always present, the futt. consec. of that which follows in and with the other. The skin heals, רגע (which we render with Ges., Ew., contrahere se ); the result is that it becomes moist again. ימּאס , according to Ges. §67, rem. 4 = ימּס , Psalms 58:8. His days pass swiftly away; the result is that they come to an end without any hope whatever. ארג is like κερκίς , radius , a weaver's shuttle, by means of which the weft is shot between the threads of the warp as they are drawn up and down. His days pass as swiftly by as the little shuttle passes backwards and forwards in the warp.
Next follows a prayer to God for the termination of his pain, since there is no second life after the present, and consequently also the possibility of requital ceases with death.
7 Remember that my life is a breath,
That my eye will never again look on prosperity.
8 The eye that looketh upon me seeth me no more;
Thine eyes look for me, - I am no more!
9 The clouds are vanished and passed away,
So he that goeth down to Sheפl cometh not up.
10 He returneth no more to his house,
And his place knoweth him no more.
11 Therefore I will not curb my mouth;
I will speak in the anguish of my spirit;
I will complain in the bitterness of my soul.
We see good, i.e., prosperity and joy, only in the present life. It ends with death. שׁוּב with ל infin . is a synonym of הוסיף , Job 20:9. No eye ( עין femin .) which now sees me (prop. eye of my seer, as Genesis 16:13, comp. Job 20:7; Psalms 31:12, for ראני , Isaiah 29:15, or ראני , Isaiah 47:10; according to another reading, ראי : no eye of seeing, i.e., no eye with the power of seeing, from ראי , vision) sees me again, even if thy eyes should be directed towards me to help me; my life is gone, so that I can no more be the subject of help. For from Sheôl there is no return, no resurrection (comp. Psalms 103:16 for the expression); therefore will I at least give free course to my thoughts and feelings (comp. Psalms 77:4; Isaiah 38:15, for the expression). The גּם , Job 7:11, is the so-called גם talionis; the parallels cited by Michalis are to the point, Ezekiel 16:43; Malachi 2:9; Psalms 52:7. Here we first meet with the name of the lower world; and in the book of Job we learn the ancient Israelitish conception of it more exactly than anywhere else. We have here only to do with the name in connection with the grammatical exposition. שׁאול (usually gen. fem. ) is now almost universally derived from שׁאל = שׁעל , to be hollow, to be deepened; and aptly so, for they imagined the Sheôl as under ground, as Numbers 16:30, Numbers 16:33 alone shows, on which account even here, as from Genesis 37:35 onwards, שׁאולה ירד is everywhere used. It is, however, open to question whether this derivation is correct: at least passages like Isaiah 5:14; Habakkuk 2:5; Proverbs 30:15., show that in the later usage of the language, שׁאל , to demand, was thought of in connection with it; derived from which Sheôl signifies (1) the appointed inevitable and inexorable demanding of everything earthly (an infinitive noun like אלו הּ , פּקוד ); (2) conceived of as space, the place of shadowy duration whither everything on earth is demanded; (3) conceived of according to its nature, the divinely appointed fury which gathers in and engulfs everything on the earth. Job knows nothing of a demanding back, a redemption from Sheôl .
12 Am I a sea or a sea-monster,
That thou settest a watch over me?
13 For I said, My bed shall comfort me;
My couch shall help me to bear my complaint.
14 Then thou scaredst me with dreams,
And thou didst wake me up in terror from visions,
15 So that my soul chose suffocation,
Death rather than this skeleton.
16 I loathe it, I would not live alway;
Let me alone, for my days are breath.
Since a watch on the sea can only be designed to effect the necessary precautions at its coming forth from the shores, it is probable that the poet had the Nile in mind when he used ים , and consequently the crocodile by תּנּין . The Nile is also called ים in Isaiah 19:5, and in Homer ὠκεανός , Egyptian oham (= ὠκεανός ), and is even now called (at least by the Bedouins) bahhr (Arab. bahr ). The illustrations of the book, says von Gerlach correctly, are chiefly Egyptian. On the contrary, Hahn thinks the illustration is unsuitable of the Nile, because it is not watched on account of its danger, but its utility; and Schlottman thinks it even small and contemptible without assigning a reason. The figure is, however, appropriate. As watches are set to keep the Nile in channels as soon as it breaks forth, and as men are set to watch that they may seize the crocodile immediately he moves here or there; so Job says all his movements are checked at the very commencement, and as soon as he desires to be more cheerful he feels the pang of some fresh pain. In Job 7:13, ב after נשׂא is partitive, as Numbers 11:17; Mercier correctly: non nihil querelam meam levabit . If he hopes for such repose, it forthwith comes to nought, since he starts up affrighted from his slumber. Hideous dreams often disturb the sleep of those suffering with elephantiasis, says Avicenna (in Stickel, S. 170). Then he desires death; he wishes that his difficulty of breathing would increase to suffocation, the usual end of elephantiasis. מחנק is absolute (without being obliged to point it מחנק with Schlottm.), as e.g., מרמס , Isaiah 10:6 (Ewald, §160, c ). He prefers death to these his bones, i.e., this miserable skeleton or framework of bone to which he is wasted away. He despises, i.e., his life, Job 9:21. Amid such suffering he would not live for ever. הבל , like רוּח , Job 7:7.
17 What is man that Thou magnifiest him,
And that Thou turnest Thy heart toward him,
18 And visitest him every morning,
Triest him every moment?
19 How long dost Thou not look away from me,
Nor lettest me alone till I swallow down my spittle?
The questions in Job 7:17. are in some degree a parody on Psalms 8:5, comp. Psalms 144:3, Lamentations 3:23. There it is said that God exalts puny man to a kingly and divine position among His creatures, and distinguishes him continually with new tokens of His favour; here, that instead of ignoring him, He makes too much of him, by selecting him, perishable as he is, as the object of ever new and ceaseless sufferings. כּמּה , quamdiu , Job 7:19, is construed with the praet . instead of the fut.: how long will it continue that Thou turnest not away Thy look of anger from me? as the synonymous עד־מתי , quousque , is sometimes construed with the praet . instead of the fut., e.g., Psalms 80:5. “Until I swallow my spittle” is a proverbial expression for the minimum of time.
20 Have I sinned - what could I do to Thee?!
O Observer of men,
Why dost Thou make me a mark to Thee,
And am I become a burden to Thee?
21 And why dost Thou not forgive my transgression,
And put away my iniquity?
For now I will lay myself in the dust,
And Thou seekest for me, and I am no more.
“I have sinned” is hypothetical (Ges. §155, 4, a ): granted that I have sinned. According to Ewald and Olsh., אפעל־לך מה defines it more particularly: I have sinned by what I have done to Thee, in my behaviour towards Thee; but how tame and meaningless such an addition would be! It is an inferential question: what could I do to Thee? i.e., what harm, or also, since the fut . may be regulated by the praet.: what injury have I thereby done to Thee? The thought that human sin, however, can detract nothing from the blessedness and glory of God, underlies this. With a measure of sinful bitterness, Job calls God האדם נצר , the strict and constant observer of men, per convicium fere , as Gesenius not untruly observes, nevertheless without a breach of decorum divinum (Renan: O Espion de l'homme ), since the appellation, in itself worthy of God ( Isaiah 27:3), is used here only somewhat unbecomingly. מפגּע is not the target for shooting at, which is rather מטּרה (Job 16:12; Lamentations 3:12), but the object on which one rushes with hostile violence ( בּ פּגע ). Why, says Job, hast Thou made me the mark of hostile attack, and why am I become a burden to Thee? It is not so in our text; but according to Jewish tradition, עלי , which we now have, is only a סופרים תקון , correctio scribarum ,
(Note: Vid., the Commentary on Habakkuk , S. 206-208; comp. Geiger, Urschrift und Uebersetzungen der Bibel , S. 308ff.)
for אליך , which was removed as bordering on blasphemy: why am I become a burden to Thee, so that Thou shouldest seek to get rid of me? This reading I should not consider as the original, in spite of the tradition, if it were not confirmed by the lxx, εἰμὶ δὲ ἐπὶ σοὶ φορτίον .
It is not to be objected, that he who is fully conscious of sin cannot consider the strictest divine punishment even of the smallest sin unjust. The suffering of one whose habitual state is pleasing to God, and who is conscious of the divine favour, can never be explained from, and measured according to, his infirmities: the infirmities of one who trusts in God, or the believer, and the severity of the divine justice in the punishment of sin, have no connection with one another. Consequently, when Eliphaz bids Job regard his affliction as chastisement, Job is certainly in the wrong to dispute with God concerning the magnitude of it: he would rather patiently yield, if his faith could apprehend the salutary design of God in his affliction; but after his affliction once seems to him to spring from wrath and enmity, and not from the divine purpose of mercy, after the phantom of a hostile God is come between him and the brightness of the divine countenance, he cannot avoid falling into complaint of unmercifulness. For this the speech of Eliphaz is in itself not to blame: he had most feelingly described to him God's merciful purpose in this chastisement, but he is to blame for not having taken the right tone.
The speech of Job is directed against the unsympathetic and reproving tone which the friends, after their long silence, have assumed immediately upon his first manifestation of anguish. He justifies to them his complaint (ch. 3) as the natural and just outburst of his intense suffering, desires speedy death as the highest joy with which God could reward his piety, complains of his disappointment in his friends, from whom he had expected affectionate solace, but by whom he sees he is now forsaken, and earnestly exhorts them to acknowledge the justice of his complaint (ch. 6). But can they? Yes, they might and should. For Job thinks he is no longer an object of divine favour: an inward conflict, which is still more terrible than hell, is added to his outward suffering. For the damned must give glory to God, because they recognise their suffering as just punishment: Job, however, in his suffering sees the wrath of God, and still is at the same time conscious of his innocence. The faith which, in the midst of his exhaustion of body and soul, still knows and feels God to be merciful, and can call him “my God,” like Asaph in Ps 73, - this faith is well-nigh overwhelmed in Job by the thought that God is his enemy, his pains the arrows of God. The assumption is false, but on this assumption Job's complaints (ch. 3) are relatively just, including, what he himself says, that they are mistaken, thoughtless words of one in despair. But that despair is sin, and therefore also those curses and despairing inquiries!
Is not Eliphaz, therefore, in the right? His whole treatment is wrong. Instead of distinguishing between the complaint of his suffering and the complaint of God in Job's outburst of anguish, he puts them together, without recognising the complaint of his suffering to be the natural and unblamable result of its extraordinary magnitude, and as a sympathizing friend falling in with it. But with regard to the complaints of God, Eliphaz, acting as though careful for his spiritual welfare, ought not to have met them with his reproofs, especially as the words of one heavily afflicted deserve indulgence and delicate treatment; but he should have combated their false assumption. First, he should have said to Job, “Thy complaints of thy suffering are just, for thy suffering is incomparably great.” In the next place, “Thy cursing thy birth, and thy complaint of God who has given thee thy life, might seem just if it were true that God has rejected thee; but that is not true: even in suffering He designs thy good; the greater the suffering, the greater the glory.” By this means Eliphaz should have calmed Job's despondency, so as to destroy his false assumption; but he begins wrongly, and consequently what he says at last so truly and beautifully respecting the glorious issue of a patient endurance of chastisement, makes no impression on Job. He has not fanned the faintly burning wick, but his speech is a cold and violent breath which is calculated entirely to extinguish it.
After Job has defended the justice of his complaints against the insensibility of the friends, he gives way anew to lamentation. Starting from the wearisomeness of human life in general, he describes the greatness of his own suffering, which has received no such recognition on the part of the friends: it is a restless, torturing death without hope (Job 7:1-6). Then he turns to God: O remember that there is no second life after death, and that I am soon gone for ever; therefore I will utter my woe without restraint (Job 7:7-11). Thus far (from Job 6:1 onwards) I find in Job's speech no trace of blasphemous or sinful despair. When he says (Job 6:8-12), How I would rejoice if God, whose word I have never disowned, would grant me my request, and end my life, for I can no longer bear my suffering, - I cannot with Ewald see in its despair rising to madness, which (Job 7:10) even increases to frantic joy. For Job's disease was indeed really in the eyes of men as hopeless as he describes it. In an incurable disease, however, imploring God to hasten death, and rejoicing at the thought of approaching dissolution, is not a sin, and is not to be called despair, inasmuch as one does not call giving up all hope of recovery despair.
Moreover, it must not be forgotten that the book of Job is an oriental book, and therefore some allowance must be made of the intensity and strength of conception of the oriental nature: then that it is a poetical book, and that frenzy and madness may not be also understood by the intensified expression in which poetry, which idealizes the real, clothes pain and joy: finally, that it is an Old Testament book, and that in the Old Testament the fundamental nature of man is indeed sanctified, but not yet subdued; the spirit shines forth as a light in a dark place, but the day, the ever constant consciousness of favour and life, has not yet dawned. The desire of a speedy termination of life (Job 6:8-12) is in Job 7:7-11 softened down even to a request for an alleviation of suffering, founded on this, that death terminates life for ever. In the Talmud ( b. Bathra, 16, a ) it is observed, on this passage, that Job denies the resurrection of the dead ( המתים בתחיים איוב שׁכפר מכאן ); but Job knows nothing of a resurrection of the dead, and what one knows not, one cannot deny. He knows only that after death, the end of the present life, there is no second life in this world, only a being in Sheôl , which is only an apparent existence = no existence, in which all praise of God is silent, because He no longer reveals himself there as to the living in this world (Psalms 6:6; Psalms 30:10; Psalms 88:11-13; Psalms 115:17). From this chaotic conception of the other side of the grave, against which even the psalmists still struggle, the doctrine of the resurrection of the dead had not been set forth at the time of Job, and of the author of the book of Job. The restoration of Israel buried in exile (Ezek 37) first gave the impulse to it; and the resurrection of the Prince of Life, who was laid in the grave, set the seal upon it. The resurrection of Jesus Christ was first of all the actual overthrow of Hades.
Mortis seu inferni, observes Brentius, in accordance with Scriptures, ea conditio est, ut natura sua quoscunque comprehenderit tantisper teneat nec dimittat, dum Christus, filius Dei, morte ad infernum descenderit, h.e. perierit; per hunc enim devicta morte et inferno liberantur quotquot fide renovati sunt . This great change in the destiny of the dead was incomplete, and the better hope which became brighter and brighter as the advent of death's Conqueror drew near was not yet in existence. For if after death, or what is the same thing, after the descent into Sheôl, there was only a non-existence for Job, it is evident that on the one hand he can imagine a life after death only as a return to the present world (such a return does, however, not take place), on the other hand that no divine revelation said anything to him of a future life which should infinitely compensate for a return to the present world. And since he knows nothing of a future existence, it can consequently not be said that he denies it: he knows nothing of it, and even his dogmatizing friends have nothing to tell him about it. We shall see by and by, how the more his friends torment him, the more he is urged on in his longing for a future life; but the word of revelation, which could alone change desire into hope, is wanting. The more tragic and heart-rending Job's desire to be freed by death from his unbearable suffering is, the more touching and importunate is his prayer that God may consider that now soon he can no longer be an object of His mercy. Just the same request is found frequently in the Psalms, e.g., Psalms 89:48, comp. Psalms 103:14-16 : it involves nothing that is opposed to the Old Testament fear of God. Thus far we can trace nothing of frenzy and madness, and of despair only in so far as Job has given up the hope ( נואשׁ ) of his restoration, - not however of real despair, in which a man impatiently and forcibly snaps asunder the bond of trust which unites him to God. If the poet had anywhere made Job to go to such a length in despair, he would have made Satan to triumph over him.
Now, however, the last two strophes follow in which Job is hurried forward to the use of sinful language, Job 7:12-16 : Am I a sea or a sea-monster, etc.; and Job 7:17-21 : What is man, that thou accountest him so great, etc. We should nevertheless be mistaken if we thought there were sin here in the expressions by which Job describes God's hostility against himself. We may compare e.g., Lamentations 3:9, Lamentations 3:10 : “He hath enclosed my ways with hewn stone, He hath made any paths crooked; He is to me as a bear lying in wait, a lion in the thicket.” It is, moreover, not Job's peculiar sin that he thinks God has changed to an enemy against him; that is the view which comes from his vision being beclouded by the conflict through which he is passing, as is frequently the case in the Psalms. His sin does not even consist in the inquiries, How long? and Wherefore? The Psalms in that case would abound in sin. But the sin is that he dwells upon these doubting questions, and thus attributes apparent mercilessness and injustice to God. And the friends constantly urge him on still deeper in this sin, the more persistently they attribute his suffering to his own unrighteousness. Jeremiah (in Lamentations 3), after similar complaints, adds: Then I repeated this to my heart, and took courage from it: the mercies of Jehovah, they have no end; His compassions do not cease, etc. Many of the Psalms that begin sorrowfully, end in the same way; faith at length breaks through the clouds of doubt. But it should be remembered that the change of spiritual condition which, e.g., in Psalms 6:1-10, is condensed to the narrow limits of a lyric composition of eleven verses, is here in Job worked out with dramatical detail as a passage of his life's history: his faith, once so heroic, only smoulders under ashes; the friends, instead of fanning it to a flame, bury it still deeper, until at last it is set free from its bondage by Jehovah himself, who appears in the whirlwind.