Job 7
Commentary from 6 fathers
Or as a servant that fears his master, and one who has grasped a shadow? or as a hireling waiting for his pay?
ἢ ὥσπερ θεράπων δεδοικὼς τὸν Κύριον αὐτοῦ καὶ τετευχὼς σκιᾶς; ἢ ὥσπερ μισθωτὸς ἀναμένων τὸν μισθὸν αὐτοῦ;
и҆лѝ ꙗ҆́коже ра́бъ боѧ́йсѧ гдⷭ҇а своегѡ̀ и҆ ᲂу҆лꙋчи́въ сѣ́нь; и҆лѝ ꙗ҆́коже нае́мникъ жды́й мзды̀ своеѧ̀;
2–3Not only is this life painful, but it is also frightful, because, after being wounded, I am now in the condition to fear the blows of the Lord. This is why I jump from one place to another in fright, like those slaves who are threatened by their master. In addition, every day, like laborers who wait for their wages—and the wages are all their wealth and hope for nourishment—I also wait for the reward of my endurance, but I never meet it, because a long time and many months have passed. In those days I have exhausted myself in waiting for an empty hope.
Homilies on Job 10.7.2-3
As a servant earnestly desireth the shadow, and as an hireling looketh for the end of his work, so am I made to possess months of vanity, and I have numbered me wearisome nights.
The hireling longs for his days to pass the quicker, that he may attain without delay to the reward of his toil; and so the days of man imbued with a knowledge of the Truth and of the things of eternity, are justly compared to 'the days of an hireling,' because he reckons the present life to be his road, not his country, a warfare, not the palm of victory, and he sees that he is the further from his reward, the more slowly he is drawing near to his end. Moreover we must bear in mind, that the hireling spends his strength in labours that belong to others, yet procures for himself a reward that is his own. Now it is uttered by the Redeemer's voice, My Kingdom is not of this world. All we, then, who being endued with the hope of heaven, wear ourselves out with the toiling of the present life, are busied in the concern of another. For it often happens that we are even compelled to serve the sons of perdition, that we are constrained to give back to the world what belongs to the world, and we are spent indeed with another man's work, yet we receive a reward of our own, and by this, that we manage uncorruptly the interests of others, we are made to arrive at our own. In reverse of which, 'Truth' saith to certain persons, And if ye have not been faithful to that which is another man's, who shall give you that which is your own. Moreover it is to be remembered, that an hireling anxiously and heedfully looks to it, that never a day pass clear of work, and that the expected end of the time should not come empty for his rewarding. For in his earnestness of labour he sees what he may get in the season of recompense. Thus when his work advances, his assurance in the reward is increased, but when the work is at a stand-still, his hope sickens in respect of the recompense. And hence each of the Elect reckoning his life as the days of an 'hireling,' stretches forward to the reward the more confident in hope, in proportion as he holds on the more stoutly for the advancement of labour. He considers what the transitory course of the present life is, he reckons up the days with their works. He dreads lest the moments of life should pass void of labour. He rejoices in adversity, he is recruited with suffering, he is comforted by mourning, in that he sees himself to be more abundantly recompensed with the rewards of the life to come, the more thoroughly he devotes himself for the love thereof by daily deaths. For it is hence that the citizens of the Land above say to the Creator of it in the words of the Psalmist, Yea, for Thy sake are we killed all the day long. Hence Paul says, I die daily, brethren, for your glory. Hence he says again, For the which cause I also suffer these things; but I am not confounded, for I know Whom I have believed, and am persuaded that He is able to keep that which I have committed unto Him against that day. Therefore holy men for all the labours which they now exercise, while committing them to 'Truth,' already hold so many pledges of their recompense shut up in the chamber of hope. Yet oppressive heat is now felt under toil, that one day refreshment may be had in rest.
Since for 'a servant to desire the shadow,' is after the heat of trial and the sweat of labour to seek the cool of eternal repose. Which shadow that servant desired, who said, My soul thirsteth for God, the living God; when shall I come and appear before God? And again, Woe is me that I sojourn in Mesech. Who as if after hard toil retreating from the heat, and seeking a covering that he might attain the rest of coolness, says again, For I will enter into the place of the wonderful Tabernacle, even to the house of God. Paul panted to lay hold of this 'shadow,' having a desire to depart and to be with Christ. This shadow they had already attained unto in the fulness of the desire of their hearts, who said, We which have borne the burthen and heat of the day. Now he that is said to 'desire' the shadow, is rightly styled 'a servant,' in that each one of the Elect, so long as he is bound fast by the condition of frailty, is held in under the yoke of corruption, in its exercising dominion over him, as though under the harrassing effect of heat; which same person, when he is stripped of corruption, is then made known to himself as free and at rest. And hence it is well said by Paul also, Because the creature itself also shall be delivered from the bondage of corruption, into the glorious liberty of the children of God. For the Elect are now, pressed down by the penalty of a corrupt state, but then they are exalted high by the glory of an incorrupt. And in the same degree that, relatively to the burthens of our present constraint, there is nought of liberty now manifested in the sons of God, relatively to the glory of the liberty to ensue, nought of servitude will then appear in the servants of God. And so the servile garb of corruption being cast off, and the nobility of liberty bestowed, the creature is turned into the gloriousness of the sons of God, in that in being united to God by the Spirit, it is proved as it were to have surmounted and overcome this very thing, that it is a created being. Now he that still 'desires the shadow' is 'a servant,' in that so long as he is subject to the heat of temptation, he is bearing on his shoulders the yoke of a wretched condition, and it is rightly added there, and as an hireling looks for the reward of his work.
For an hireling, when he looks at the work to be done, at once resigns his spirit in consequence of the length and burthensomeness of the labour; but when he recalls his sinking spirit to take thought of the reward of his work, he immediately sets afresh his vigour of mind for the exercising of his labour, and what he reckoned a grievous burthen in respect of the work, he esteems light and easy on the grounds of the recompense. Thus, thus, do each of the Elect, when they meet with the crosses of this life, when insults upon their good name, losses in their substance, pains of the body are brought upon them, reckon the things grievous, which they are tried with; but when they stretch the eyes of the mind to the view of the heavenly country, by comparison with their reward they see how light is all they undergo. For that which is shewn to be altogether insupportable for the pain, is by forecasting reflection rendered light for the recompense. It is hence that Paul is always being lifted up bolder than himself against adversities, in that 'as an hireling he looketh for the end of his work.' For he accounts what he undergoes to be a heavy burthen, but he reckons it light in consideration of the reward. For he does himself declare how great the burthen is of what he suffers, in that he bears record that he was 'in prisons more abundantly, in stripes above measure, in deaths oft,' &c. who 'of the Jews five times received folly stripes save one.' Who was 'thrice beaten with rods, once stoned, thrice suffered shipwreck, a night and a day was in the deep of the sea; who endured perils of waters, of robbers, of his own countrymen, of the heathen, in the city, in the wilderness, in the sea, among false brethren; 'who in weariness and painfulness, in fastings often, in cold and nakedness,' had labour and toil, who sustained 'fights without, within fears,' who declares himself pressed down above strength, saying, that we were pressed out of measure, above strength, insomuch that we were weary even of life. But in what sort he wiped off him the streams of this hard toil with the towel of his reward, he himself tells, when he says, For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared, with the glory to come, which shall be revealed in us. Thus, 'as an hireling, he looketh for the end of his work,' who while he considers the increase of the reward, reckons it of no account that he labours well nigh spent. But it is well added, So am I made to possess months of vanity, and wearisome nights have I numbered me.
For the Elect serve the Creator of things, and yet are often driven to straits by the want of things; they hold fast in God by love, and yet they lack the supports of the present life. So they who do not aim at present objects by their actions, as to the profits of the world, spend 'months of vanity.' Moreover they are subject to 'wearisome nights,' in that they bear the darkness of adversity not only to the extent of want, but oftentimes to the anguish of the body. For to undergo contempt and want is not hard to virtuous minds; but when adversity is turned to the paining of the flesh, then surely wearisomeness is felt from pain. It may also be not unsuitably interpreted, that each one of the Saints as a hireling spends 'months of vanity,' in that he now already bears the toil, but does not yet hold the reward; the one he undergoes, the other he looks for; but 'he numbers him wearisome nights,' in that by exercising himself in virtuous habits, he is accumulating upon his own head the ills of the present life: for if he does not aim to advance in spirit, he finds the things of the world perchance less galling to him.
Morals on the Book of Job, Book 8
Therefore, since the whole position of Eliphaz is undermined by these arguments, Job intends to strengthen them and demonstrates them efficaciously from reason. For clearly, each thing rests when it attains its ultimate end. So once the human will has attained its ultimate end, it must rest in that and must not be moved to desire anything else. Our experience is contrary to this in the present life. For man always desires the future as though he were not happy with the things he has in the present. So clearly the ultimate end is not in this life, but this life is ordered to another end like warfare is ordered to victory and the hired man's day is ordered to his pay. Note however that what we have now is not sufficient in this present life, but desire tends to the future for two reasons. First because of the afflictions of the present life, and so he introduces the example of the slave desiring the shade, saying "Like the slave," worn out from the heat, "he sighs for the shade," which refreshes him. Second, from the defect of the perfect final good one does not possess here. So he uses the example of the hired man saying, "or the workman, for the end to his work." For the perfect good is the end of man.
Commentary on Job
So have I also endured months of vanity, and nights of pain have been appointed me.
οὕτως κἀγὼ ὑπέμεινα μῆνας κενούς, νύκτες δὲ ὀδυνῶν δεδομέναι μοί εἰσιν.
та́кожде и҆ а҆́зъ жда́хъ мцⷭ҇ы тщы̀, нѡ́щи же болѣ́зней даны̀ мѝ сꙋ́ть.
So am I made to possess months of vanity, and I have numbered me wearisome nights.
Yet, if this sentence be referred to the voice of Holy Church, the meaning thereof is traced out with a little more particularity. For she herself has 'months of vanity,' who in her weak members has to bear earthly actions running on to nought without the meed of life. She 'numbers to herself wearisome nights,' in that in her strong members she bears manifold afflictions. For in this life there be some things that are hard, and some that are empty, and some that are both hard and empty at one and the same time. For from love of the Creator to be tried with the afflictions of the present life, is hard indeed, but not empty. For love of the present world to be dissolved in pleasures, is empty indeed, but not hard. But for the love of that world, to be exposed to any adversities, is at one and the same time both empty and laborious, in that the soul is at once 'afflicted by adversity, and not replenished with the compensation of the reward. And so in those who being now placed within the pale of Holy Church, still let themselves out in the pursuit of their pleasures, and are thenceforth not enriched with the fruit of good works, she passes 'months of vanity,' in that she spends the periods of life without the gift of the reward. But in those who, being devoted to everlasting aims, meet with the crosses of this world, 'she numbers herself wearisome nights,' in that she as it were in the obscurity of the present life undergoes the darkness of woe. But in those who at one and the same time love this transitory world, and yet are wearied with its contradiction, she sustains at once 'days of vanity,' and 'wearisome nights,' in that neither does any recompense coming after reward their lives, and, yet present affliction straitens them. But it is rightly that she never says that she has 'days,' but 'months of vanity' in these. For by the name of 'months,' the sum and total amount of days is represented, and so by the 'day,' we have each individual action set forth: but by 'months,' the conclusion of those actions is implied. But it often happens that when we do anything in this world, being buoyed up by the eager intentness of our hope, this particular thing that we are about, we never think empty; but when we are come to the end of our doings, failing to obtain the object of our aims, we are grieved that we have been labouring for emptiness, and so we spend not only days, but likewise 'months of vanity,' in that not in the beginning of our actions, but only at the end, we bethink ourselves that we have been toiling in earthly practices without fruit. For when trouble follows upon our actions, it is as if the months of vanity of our life were brought home to us: in that it is only in the consummation of our actions that we learn, how vain was all our toil therein.
But because in the sacred word sometimes 'night' is put for ignorance, according to the testimony of Paul, who saith to his disciples instructed in the life to come; Ye are all the children of the light, and the children of the day; we are not of the night, nor of darkness. To which words he prefixed, But ye, brethren, are not in darkness, that that day should overtake you as a thief. In this place the voice of Holy Church may be understood in the person of those of her members, who after the darkness of their state of ignorance are brought back to the love of righteousness, and being enlightened by the rays of truth, wash out with their tears all that they have done amiss. For every one that has been enlightened looks back to see how polluted all that was that he laboured at, in love with the present life. And therefore Holy Church, in the case of these, in whom there is a return to life, compares her toils to 'a servant' in a state of heat, and to 'an hireling longing for the end of his work,' in the words, As a servant earnestly desireth the shadow, and as an hireling looketh for the end of his work; so am I made to possess months of vanity, and wearisome nights have I numbered me. For in drawing the comparison there are two things which he premised, as also in the describing of weariness there are two which he thereupon added. For to the one oppressed with heat he gave 'months of vanity,' in that in proportion as the refreshing of eternity is more the object of our desire, it is more clearly seen how vainly we spend our labour for this life. But to the one in expectance he brought in 'wearisome nights,' in that the more that at the end of our works we look at the reward we are to have given us, the more we lament that we so long knew nothing of the thing that we now aim at. And hence the very solicitude of the penitent is carefully set forth, so that it is said, 'that he numbered to himself wearisome nights,' in that the more truly we return to God, the more exactly we consider, while we grieve over them, those toils which we underwent in this world from ignorance. For as everyone finds that to become more and more sweet which he desires of the things of eternity, so that which he was undergoing for the love of the present world, is made appear to him proportionably burthensome.
Morals on the Book of Job, Book 8
"So I have passed empty months," for I considered the past months passed empty for me, because I did not obtain final perfection in them. "And nights," i.e. when I should have been resting from my afflictions. "I have counted sleepless," i.e. I considered them sleepless because I was delayed in them from the attainment of my end.
Commentary on Job
Whenever I lie down, I say, When [will it be] day? and whenever I rise up, again [I say] when [will it be] evening? and I am full of pains from evening to morning.
ἐὰν κοιμηθῶ, λέγω· πότε ἡμέρα; ὡς δ᾿ ἂν ἀναστῶ, πάλιν· πότε ἑσπέρα; πλήρης δὲ γίνομαι ὀδυνῶν ἀπὸ ἑσπέρας ἕως πρωΐ.
А҆́ще ᲂу҆снꙋ̀, глаго́лю: когда̀ де́нь; є҆гда́ же воста́нꙋ, па́ки: когда̀ ве́черъ; и҆спо́лненъ же быва́ю болѣ́зней ѿ ве́чера до ᲂу҆́тра.
When I lie down, I say, When shall I arise? and again I look for the evening.
For in the night, day is desired, in the day, evening is longed for; in that grief will not let the things that are before us give satisfaction, and while it saddens the heart in the experience of the present, it is ever stretching it to something beyond in expectation, as it were by a consolatory longing. But because at one and the same time the afflicted mind is drawn out in desire, and yet its grief, even though beguiled by longings, is not ended; it is rightly added, And I shall be filled with pains even until the darkness.
But we shall make out these words more exactly and more applicably, if we go back to the order of the foregoing interpretation. For by sleep the torpor of inaction, and by rising the exercising of action, is represented. By the name of the evening moreover, because it accords with sleep, we have set forth again the desire of inaction. But Holy Church, as long as she is leading a life of corruption, never ceases to bewail the inconveniences of her condition of mutability. For man was created for this end, that, with mind erect, he might mount to the citadel of contemplation, and that no touch of corruption should cause him to swerve from the love of his Maker; but herein, that he moved the foot of his will to transgression, turning it away from the innate stedfastness of his standing, he immediately fell away from the love of his Creator into himself. Yet in forsaking the love of God, that true stronghold of his standing, he could not stand fast in himself either; in that by the impulse of a slippery condition of mutability, being precipitated beneath himself through corruption, he also came to be at strife with himself. And now, in that he is not secured by the stedfastness of his creation, he is ever being made to vary by the fit of alternating desire, so that both at rest he longs for action, and when busied pants for rest. For because the stedfast mind, when it might have stood, would not, it is now no longer able to stand even when it will, in that in leaving the contemplation of its Creator, it lost the strength of its health, and wherever placed is ever seeking some other place through uneasiness. And so in setting forth the fickleness of the human mind, let him say, When I go to sleep, I say, When shall I arise? and again I shall look for the evening. As if it were expressed in plain words; 'Nothing it receives sufficeth the mind, in that it has lost Him, Who might have truly sufficed to it. Thus in sleep I long for rising, and at rising I look for evening, for both when at rest I aim at the employment of action, and when employed I look for the inaction of repose.'
Which nevertheless may be understood in another sense also, For to sleep is to lie prostrate in sin. For if the designation of 'sleep' did not denote sin, Paul would never say to his disciples, Awake, ye righteous, and sin not. And hence too he charges his hearer, saying, Awake, thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give thee light. And again; That now it is high time for us to arise out of sleep. Hence too Solomon upbraids the sinner, saying, How long wilt thou sleep, O sluggard? Therefore each one of the Elect, when he is oppressed with the sleep of sin, strives to rise to keep the watch of righteousness. But often when he has risen he feels himself lifted up by the greatness of his virtuous attainments. And hence after attainments in virtue he desires to be tried with the adversities of the present life, lest he fall the worse from presumption in his virtuous achievements. For if he had not known that he was preserved more effectually by trial, the Psalmist would never have said, Examine me, O Lord, and prove me. And so it is well said here, When I go to sleep, I say, When shall I arise? and again I shall look for the evening; in that both in the sleep of sin, we look for the light of righteousness, and when successes in virtuous attainments elevate the mind, adversity is wanted for our aid, so that when the soul is exalted above what it ought to be in rejoicing at its own excellencies, it may be established by sorrow coming forth, through the encounters of the present life. Hence it is not said, I shall dread the evening, but, I shall look for. For we 'look for' favourable things, we dread those that are adverse to us. And so the good man 'looks for evening,' in that when he needs to be tried with affliction, adversity itself is made success to him.
By the designation of 'evening' there may also be understood the tempting of sin, which oftentimes assaults the mind the sharper, in proportion as the spirit transports it higher to the regions above. For never in this life is sin so entirely abandoned in the practising of righteousness, that we continue without flinching in the self-same righteousness; in that although right principle does already drive out sin from the dwelling of the heart, yet the very sin, that is so banished, taking her seat at the doors of our thought, knocks for it to be opened to her. And this Moses too conveyed in spiritual signification, when he described the parts of time being made in a bodily way, saying, And there was light, and adding soon after, And the evening was made. For the Maker of all things foreseeing man's guilt, then exhibited in Time what now passes in the human mind. For the light draws on to eventide, in that the shades of temptation follow the light of righteousness. But because the light of the Elect is not put out by temptation, not night; but evening, is recorded as made. Since it often happens, that in the heart of the righteous temptation shades the light of righteousness, but it does not put an end thereto; it forces it to the paleness of a flickering state, but does not utterly quench it. And so the Elect both after sleep long for the rising, and after rising look for evening, in that they use both to awake from sin to the light of righteousness, and when placed in that same light of righteousness, they are ever making themselves ready to encounter the snares of temptation; which same they do not dread, but look for, as they are not ignorant that even trials promote the interest of their righteousness.
But with whatever degree of virtue they may have striven against their corruption, they cannot have entire health, until the time that the day of their present life is ended. And hence it is added, And I shall be full of pains even until the darkness. For one while adversities burst upon them, at another time successes themselves beguile them by insidious joviality; at one time evil propensities making head stir up a war of the flesh, at another time being brought under, they invite the mind to pride. Therefore the life of good man is full of pains even until the darkness, in that so long as the period of their state of corruption is going on, it is shaken by tribulation both internal and external; nor does it experience assurance of health, saving when it leaves behind it for good the day of temptation.
Morals on the Book of Job, Book 8
He next explains how his months have been empty and his nights sleepless adding, "If I sleep," when it was time for sleeping at night, "I say, 'When will I arise,'" longing for day. "And again," when day has come, "I wait for the evening," as he is always tending to the future in his desire. This desire is indeed the common experience of all men living on earth, but men feel it more or less in the measure in which they are affected by either sorrows or joys. For he who lives in joy, desires the future less; but he who lives in sorrow, desires it more. So Job passionately shows this desire for the future is in him as he continues, "I will be filled with pain until dark," for because of these pains, the present time is tedious for me and I desire the future more.
Commentary on Job
And my body is covered with loathsome worms; and I waste away, scraping off clods of dust from my eruption.
φύρεται δέ μου τὸ σῶμα ἐν σαπρίᾳ σκωλήκων, τήκω δὲ βώλακας γῆς ἀπὸ ἰχῶρος ξύων.
Мѣ́ситсѧ же моѐ тѣ́ло въ гноѝ черве́й, ѡ҆блива́ю же грꙋ́дїе землѝ, гно́й стрꙋжа̀.
My flesh is clothed with worms and clods of dust: my skin is dried up and shrunken.
But we shall make out these words more exactly and more applicably, if we go back to the order of the foregoing interpretation. For by sleep the torpor of inaction, and by rising the exercising of action, is represented. And hence this same cause of these pains is brought in immediately afterwards, when it is said, My flesh is clothed with corruption and foulness of dust. For, as we have said a little above, man wilfully forsook his innate stability, and plunged himself into the abyss of corruption: and hence now he either goes slipping in impure works, or defiled by forbidden thoughts. For, so to speak, being judicially bowed down beneath its own sin, our nature its very self is put out of the pale of nature, and, when let loose, it is carried even to the length of bad works, while, being held in, it is dimmed by the pressing imagination of bad works. Thus in the fulfilment of a forbidden deed, 'corruption' taints the flesh, while in the lightness of evil thought, dust as it were rises up before the eyes. By consenting to evil practices we are wasted with corruption, but by suffering in the heart the images of evil deeds, we are defiled with the stains of dust; and so he says, My flesh is clothed with foulness of dust. As if it were in plain words; 'The carnal life that I am subjected to, either the corruption of wanton practice defiles, or the cloud of wretched thought compasses about in the recollection of evil ways.
And yet if we take this in the voice of the Holy Church Universal, doubtless we find her at one time sunk to the earth by the 'corruption' of the flesh, at another time by 'the defilement of dust.' For she has many in her, who whilst they are devoted to the love of the flesh, turn corrupt with the putrefaction of excess. And there are some that keep indeed from the gratification of the flesh, yet grovel with all their heart in earthly practices. So let Holy Church say in the words of one of her members, let her say what she undergoes from either sort of men, My flesh is clothed with corruption, and the defilements of dust. As if she told in plain words, saying, 'There are very many that are members of me in faith, yet these are not sound or pure members in practice: in that either being mastered by foul desires, they run out in the rottenness of corruption; or, being devoted to earthly practices, they are besmeared with dust. For in those, whom I have to endure, that are full of wantonness, I do plainly lament for the flesh turned corrupt; and in those, whom I suffer from, that are seeking the earth, what else is this but that I carry it defiled with dust?'
And hence it is properly added at the same time concerning both sorts; My skin is dried up and shrivelled. For in the body of the Church, those that are devoted to outward concerns alone are suitably called 'the skin,' which same by becoming dry is contracted, in that the soul of carnal men, while their hearts are set on present objects, and covet what is close at hand, have no mind, as it were, to be made to stretch out after the things of the future world in longsuffering. These, while they disregard the richness of the interior hope, are dried up that they become shrivelled; in that if hopelessness did not parch their hearts, the fever of a little mind would never contract them. Thus it was this contraction that the Psalmist dreaded, when in fear of the drought of the same he said, May my soul be satisfied as with marrow and fatness. For the soul is 'satisfied with marrow and fatness,' when it is refreshed by the infusion of heavenly hope against the heat of present longings. And so the 'skin' being dried up shrivels, when the heart being given to outward objects, and dried up in hopelessness, is not stretched out in love of its Creator, but is folded up into itself, so to say, by wrinkled thought.
But it is to be considered that carnal minds only delight in present things, because they never weigh well how transitory the life of the flesh is. For if they regarded the speed of its flight, they would never love it even when it smiled upon them. But Holy Church, in her elect members, daily minds how quick a flight belongs to outward things, and therefore she sets firm the foot of serious purpose in the interior.
Morals on the Book of Job, Book 8
Blessed Job had demonstrated above that the consolation in which Eliphaz offered the promise of happiness in this earthly existence was unfitting. He first demonstrated this from the general condition of the life of man on the earth. Now he intends to demonstrate that the same consolation is unfitting considering his own individual condition. He proposes two things which preclude his hoping for prosperity on earth. The first is the weakness of the body which he was suffering. When one is limited by grave weakness of body, nothing can happen which can make him happy in this life, and so he says, "Decay clothes my flesh," as if to say: My body is covered on all sides with infectious sores like a body is covered on all sides by a garment. Since wounds tended in the beginning heal, he shows that his sores were neglected when he says, "and the filth of dust," for they were not tended in the proper way because he was literally sitting in a dung heap, as the text already shows. (2:8) One can sometimes hope for health even if his sores have been neglected because he has a strong constitution. But Job lacked the natural strength, and so he says, "my skin is dried up and wrinkled," because the natural moisture has already been exhausted in it either by old age or by weakness. So there seems to be no place in this life where I can expect to find happiness anymore.
Commentary on Job
And my life is lighter than a word, and has perished in vain hope.
ὁ δὲ βίος μού ἐστιν ἐλαφρότερος λαλιᾶς, ἀπόλωλε δὲ ἐν κενῇ ἐλπίδι.
Житїе́ же моѐ є҆́сть скорѧ́е бесѣ́ды, поги́бе же во тще́й наде́жди.
My days are past more swiftly than a web is cut off by the weaver.
By a very suitable image the time of the flesh is compared to a web. For as the web advances by threads, so this mortal life by the several days; but in proportion as it grows to its bigness, it is advancing to its cutting off. For as we have also said above, whilst the time in our hands passes, the time before us is shortened. And of the whole space of our lives those portions are rendered fewer that are to come, in proportion as those are many in number that have gone by. For a web, being fastened above and below, is bound to two pieces of wood that it may be woven; but in proportion as below the part woven is rolled up, so above the part that remains to be woven is being unwound, and by the same act, by which it augments itself in growth, that is rendered less which remains. Just so with the periods of our life, we as it were roll up below those that are past, and unwind at top those that are to come, in that in the same proportion that the past become more, the future have begun to diminish. But because not even does a web suffice for the setting forth of our span of time, for the rapid course of our life surpasses the speed and quickness even of that too, it is well said in this place, My days are past away more swiftly than a web is cut off by the weaver. For to the web there is a delay of growth, but to the present life there is no delay of coming to an end. For in the one when the hand of the workman is stopped, the end of the arrival is deferred, but in this latter, because we consume without end time ending every instant, even while resting we are brought to the end of our way, and along the course of our passage, we go on even in sleeping. Therefore the Elect, seeing that the moments of the present life run past at speed, never in this journey of most rapid motion fix the purpose of their hearts. And hence it is well added upon that, And are spent without any hope.
The minds of lost sinners are bound fast with such love for the days of their present life, that they long to live for ever here in the same way. So that, if it were possible, they desire never to have the course of their life brought to an end. For they are too indifferent to take account of the future, they place all their hope in transitory things, they aim to have nothing but such objects as pass away. And while they think too much of transitory things, and never look forward to those that shall remain, the eye of their heart is so closed in insensible blindness, that it is never fixed on the interior light. Whence it often happens, that distress already shakes the frame, and approaching death cuts off the power of the breath of life, yet they never cease to mind the things that are of the world. And already the avenger is dragging them to judgment, and yet they themselves, occupied with the concerns of time, in the busy management of them, are only thinking how they may still live on in this world. In the act of leaving every thing, they dispose of all as if they were entering upon the possession of them, in that the hope of living is not broken, at the very moment when life is at an end. They are already being forced to judgment in feeling, yet they still cleave to the hold of their goods in solicitude. For by the hardened soul death is still believed to be far off, even when his touch is felt. And the soul is so separated from the flesh, that by keeping itself in excessive love for things present, when it is led to everlasting punishment, it does not know this mere thing, whither it is being led; and in leaving all that it would not love with bounds, it suddenly finds without bounds things that it never anticipated. But, on the other hand, the mind of the righteous is stretched in intentness after the eternal world, even when the present life goes smoothly along with it. It enjoys the high health of the flesh, yet the spirit is never hindered by dependence on it. No atom of death as yet breaks forth, still he daily regards it as present to him. For because life is unceasingly slipping by, the expectation of living is wholly cut short for him. Therefore it is well said of the passing days, And are spent without hope. As if it were declared in plain terms; 'I have not placed confidence of heart in the present life, in that all that is passing I have dismissed from my hopes, treading it under foot.'
Morals on the Book of Job, Book 8
The second is because the greater part of his life was already past and therefore very little time remained so he could not hope for a great deal of happiness during that time. Because of this he says, "My days have passed swifter than warp is cut off by a weaver." The life of man is in a certain sense like something woven. Just as a weaver weaving a warf joins threads to threads to arrive at the product of cloth, and when he makes a cloth he cuts it from the loom, so days are added to days to complete the life of man. When his life is completed, it is taken away. Yet he says the days of man pass away more swiftly than the cloth is cut away because the weaver rests from time to time in the work of weaving, but the time of man's life slips away continuously without interruption.
But one might object: although the greater part of his life has passed by, Job could still hope to return to the state of his past life. For some have advanced the theory that after death, when the course of many years has been completed, man returns to the same stages of life which he had lived before. For example, Plato in future times will lecture at Athens and will do the same things which he did before. So although man has lived the greater part of his life, he could hope to be restored to happiness in this earthly life. To remove this possibility, Job continues, "and they have vanished, leaving no hope behind," of returning to his former days.
Commentary on Job
Remember then that my life is breath, and mine eye shalt not yet again see good.
μνήσθητι οὖν ὅτι πνεῦμά μου ἡ ζωὴ καὶ οὐκέτι ἐπανελεύσεται ὀφθαλμός μου ἰδεῖν ἀγαθόν.
Помѧнѝ ᲂу҆̀бо, ꙗ҆́кѡ дꙋ́хъ мо́й живо́тъ, и҆ ктомꙋ̀ не возврати́тсѧ ѻ҆́ко моѐ ви́дѣти блага̑ѧ.
O remember that my life is wind.
For those men love the life of the flesh as enduring, who do not consider how infinite is the eternity of the life to come; and whereas they take no thought of the sure stedfastness of the everlasting state, they take their exile for their home, darkness for light, going for standing. Since they that know nothing of greater things can never judge rightly of the least. For the order of judging requires that we should be above that which we are striving to try. Since if the mind is not able to rise above all things, it has no certain sight at all in relation to those, by which it is surpassed. And so it is for this reason that the lost soul is inadequate to estimate the course of the present 1ife, because from love of the same it is bowed down to the admiration thereof. But holy men, in proportion as they lift their hearts towards the eternal world, bethink themselves how short-lived that is which is closed by an ending. And all that is passing is rendered worthless to their senses, forasmuch as that pours in its light through the rays of intelligence, which once received never departs. And as soon as they contemplate the infinite extent of eternity, they cease any longer to desire as great whatsoever has an end to limit it. But the mind when lifted up is carried beyond the limits of time, even when by the flesh it is held fast in time, and it looks down from a greater height on all that is to have an end, the more truly it knows the things without end. Now this very consideration of the short span of man's estate is itself an offering of singular efficacy to our Maker. Whence a sacrifice of this merit is here rightly offered together with prayer, when it is said, O remember that my life is wind. As if it were said in plain words, 'Regard with loving-kindness one that is quickly gone, in that I claim to be looked upon by Thee with greater pity, even in proportion as I myself do not turn away mine eyes from the contemplation of my short span.' But seeing that when the season of our present life is cut short, there is no more return to the work of earning our forgiveness, it is rightly added, Mine eye shall no more return to see good.
The eye of the dead 'no more returneth to see good,' in that for the setting forth of good works, the soul once snipped of the flesh knows no return. It is hence that the rich man, whom the fire of hell was devouring, knew that he could never restore himself by doing works; for he never turned himself to do good to himself, but to his brethren that were left; I pray thee, father Abraham, that thou wouldest send him to my father's house; for I have five brethren, that he may testify unto them, lest they also come into this place of torment. For hope even though unfounded is used to cheer the stricken soul; but the lost, that they may feel their woe the keener, lose even hope as to pardon. And hence when he was given over to avenging flames, he was not anxious to help himself, as we said, but his brethren, in that he knew that he would never be without the torments of those fires, the punishment of despair being superadded. Hence Solomon saith, Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might; for there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in the grave, whither thou goest. So 'the eye shall no more return to see good,' in that the soul, on meeting with its recompense, is never again recalled to tell to the account of practice. Therefore forasmuch as all that is seen is fleeting, and the things that follow are to endure, blessed Job rightly combined the two in one verse, saying, O remember that my life is wind: mine eye shall no more see good. For looking at the transitoriness of things present, he says, O remember that my life is wind. But contemplating the eternity of those that come after, he added, Mine eye shall no more return to see good.
Morals on the Book of Job, Book 8
“My eye will begin to see good again.” Here the author refers to the hope that is reserved for people in the new world.
Commentary on Job 7:7
He had already seemed to address God in the text saying, "The life of man on earth is combat." (v.1) Now to prove his point he adds, "Remember that my life is but a breath," like the wind. For as the wind passes by and does not return afterwards, so the life of man does not return when it has passed away. He continues in this vein, "and my eye will not turn back to look on good things," of the earth which I once possessed but now have lost.
Commentary on Job
The eye of him that sees me shall not see me [again]: thine eyes are upon me, and I am no more.
οὐ περιβλέψεταί με ὀφθαλμὸς ὁρῶντός με· οἱ ὀφθαλμοί σου ἐν ἐμοί, καὶ οὐκέτι εἰμὶ
Не ᲂу҆́зритъ менѐ ѻ҆́ко ви́дѧщагѡ мѧ̀: ѻ҆́чи твоѝ на мнѣ̀, и҆ ктомꙋ̀ нѣ́смь,
The eye of man shall not see me.
For 'the eye of Man' is the pity of the Redeemer, which softens the hardness of our insensibility, when it looks upon us. Hence, as the Gospel witnesses, it is said, And the Lord turned, and looked upon Peter. And Peter remembered the word of the Lord. And he went out, and wept bitterly. But the soul when divested of the flesh 'the eye of Man' doth not henceforth at all regard, in that it never delivers him after death, whom grace doth not restore to pardon before death. For hence Paul saith, Behold, now is the accepted time, behold, now is the day of salvation. Hence the Psalmist saith, For His mercy is for the present state of being; for this reason, that the man whom mercy doth not rescue now, after the present state of being, justice alone consigns to punishment. Hence Solomon saith, And if the tree fall toward the south or toward the north, in the place where the tree falleth there it shall be. For when, at the moment of the falling of the human being, either the Holy Spirit or the Evil Spirit receives the soul departed from the chambers of the flesh, he will keep it with him for ever without change, so that neither once exalted, shall it be precipitated into woe, nor once plunged into eternal woes, any further arise to take the means of escape. Therefore let the holy man, contemplating the ills of mankind, viz. how he is removed from the present world without the knowledge of his Redeemer, and buried in everlasting flames without remedy, and taking up their voice in his own person, give utterance to the words, And the eye of man shall not see me. Forasmuch as the man whom the grace of the Redeemer doth not now look upon to correct, it doth not then visit to keep from destruction. For the Lord, when He cometh to judgment, looketh on the sinner to smite, but He doth not look on him to acknowledge him in bestowing the grace of salvation. He taketh account of sins, and knoweth not the life of those that perish. Hence after that the holy man had averred that he could no more be 'seen by the eye of Man' after the present life, he rightly added at once; Thine eyes are upon me, and I shall not stand.
As though he said in plain words; 'Thou, when thou comest in severity to Judgment, both seest not, to save, and yet seest, to smite, in that him, whom Thou lookest not on in the present life with the pitifulness of Thy saving care, hereafter looking on Thou dost extinguish by Thy law of justice. For now the sinner casts away the fear of God, and yet lives, blasphemes and yet prospers, because the pitiful Creator would not in seeing punish him, whom He would rather by waiting for bring to amendment; as it is written, And winkest at the sins of men for their repentance. But when the sinner is then looked upon, he 'does not stand,' in that when the strict Judge minutely examines his deserts, the convicted sinner cannot bear up against his torments.
Not but that this likewise accords with the voice of the righteous, whose mind is ever anxiously fixed on the coming Judgment. For they have fears for every thing that they do, whilst they heedfully consider who are the persons, and before what a Judge they will have to stand. They behold the power of His Mightiness, and they consider what an amount of guilt they are tied and bound with from their own imperfection. They reckon up the evil deeds of their own doing, and multiply over against them the benefits of their Creator. They reflect how rigidly He judges wicked deeds, how minutely He examines good ones; and they foresee without a shadow of doubt that they will be lost, if they be judged apart from pity: for even this very life that we seem to live righteously is sin, if, when He takes account of our lives, the mercy of God does not make allowance for it in His own eyes. For it is hence written in this very book, Yea, the stars are not pure in His sight. For strictly judged in His sight those very persons do also bear spots of defilement, that shine bright in the purity of holiness. Therefore it is well said, Thine eyes are upon me, and I shall not stand. As if it were said in plain terms by the voice of the righteous man, 'If I be sifted with an exact scrutiny, I cannot stand up in undergoing judgment, for life cannot bear up against punishment, if the mercilessness of just retribution bears hard upon it.'
Morals on the Book of Job, Book 8
In the same way that when my life has passed I will return to see earthly goods, so I will not be seen by any eyes on earth. So he goes on, "Nor will the eye of man look on me." He posits these two things to show that he will not return to human association which consists chiefly in seeing and being seen. Since sight is the most acute of the senses, it holds a position of authority in sensitive life. Although after death he says that he will not be seen by the eyes of man, yet he confesses that he will be seen by the eye of God saying, "Your eyes" will be "on me." For the dead are seen by God who observes spiritual things, because the dead live according to the spirit, not according to the flesh which man can see with his eyes.
One could take this to mean that the eyes of God consider the dead, not according to the present state, but he regards future things, as though a dead man is going to return again to the life which he lost. Therefore to exclude this he continues, "and I shall not endure," as if to say: I say that your eyes will be on me after death because afterwards, I will not be present again in the state of this earthly life.
Commentary on Job
[I am] as a cloud that is cleared away from the sky: for if a man go down to the grave, he shall not come up again:
ὥσπερ νέφος ἀποκαθαρθὲν ἀπ᾿ οὐρανοῦ. ἐὰν γὰρ ἄνθρωπος καταβῇ εἰς ᾄδην, οὐκέτι μὴ ἀναβῇ,
ꙗ҆́коже ѡ҆́блакъ ѡ҆чище́нъ ѿ небесѐ: а҆́ще бо человѣ́къ сни́детъ во а҆́дъ, ктомꙋ̀ не взы́детъ,
As the cloud is consumed and vanisheth away; so he that goeth down to hell shall come up no more.
For a cloud is suspended in the higher regions, but it is condensed and driven by the wind that it flies, and it is scattered by the heat of the sun that it vanishes. Thus, thus verily is it with the hearts of men, which by the faculty of reason bestowed upon them dart on high, but driven by the blasts of the evil spirit, they are forced hither and thither by the bad impulses of their desires, but by the searching eye of the Judge above they are melted as if by the heat of the sun, and being once consigned to the regions of woe, never return for the benefit of working. Let the holy man then, in setting forth the elevation, the career, and the eclipse of the human race, exclaim, As the cloud is consumed and vanisheth away, so he that goeth down to the grave shall come up no more. As if he spake in plain words, saying, 'In flying on high he is brought to nought, who by exalting himself is advancing to destruction, whom, if sin once force to punishment, mercy never more restores to pardon.' Hence it is yet further added, He shall return no more to his own house.
As the house of the body is a bodily habitation, so that becomes to each separate mind 'its own house,' whatsoever thing it is used to inhabit in desire. And so 'there is no more returning to his own house,' because, when once a man is given over to eternal punishments, he is henceforth no more recalled thither, where he had attached himself in love. Moreover by the designation of hell the despair of the sinner may also be set forth, of which it is said by the Psalmist, In hell, who shall confess to Thee? Whence again it is written, When the ungodly man cometh into the pit of sinners, he contemneth. Now whosoever yields himself to ungodliness, doth assuredly quit the life of righteousness by a proper death. But when a man after sin is furthermore overwhelmed by a mountain of despair, what else is this but that after death he is buried in the torments of hell? Therefore it is rightly said, As the cloud is consumed, and vanisheth alway, so he that goeth down to hell shall come up no more; in that it very often happens, that with the commission of wickedness despair also is united, and the way of returning is henceforth cut off. But the hearts of the despairing are rightly compared to clouds, in that they are at once darkened with the mists of error, and thick with the number of sins; but being consumed, they vanish away, in that being lighted up by the blaze of the final Judgment, they are scattered to the winds. 'The house' too is often understood for the dwelling-place of the heart. Hence it is said to one that was healed, Go to thine house; in that it is most meet that the sinner after pardon should turn back into his own mind, so as not to do aught a second time which may justly subject him to the scourge. But he that has 'gone down to hell,' shall no more 'ascend into his own house,' in that him, that despair overwhelms, it puts forth without from the habitation of the heart. And he cannot return back within, because when he has been ejected without, day by day he falls urged on into worse extremes.
Morals on the Book of Job, Book 8
He proves this by a comparison when he adds, "As a cloud dissolves and is gone, so he who goes down below, will not ascend." The dead are said to go down to the underworld either because they all descended to Sheol according to the soul there before the death of Christ, or because according to the flesh, they are buried under the earth. The exegesis here makes no difference for the meaning of the present text. For he only wants to say that the dead do not return to their past life and he proves this in the comparison using a sufficient proof. As Aristotle says in On Generation: a kind of circular motion appears in both corruptible and incorruptible bodies. But there is this difference. In heavenly bodies, the same one in number returns in the circular motion, as the same sun in number sets and returns at dawn. This is so because the substance is not corrupted in such a change, but only the place changes. But in the motion of generation and corruption, the same one in number does not return, but the same species does. It is clear that according to the annual circular motion of the sun, a kinds of circulation happens in the disposition of the atmosphere, for in winter there are clouds, which are dispersed later in the summer. When the winter returns again, the clouds return, yet not the identical clouds in number, but only the same in species because these clouds which existed before perish completely. It is so with men. The same men do not return in number through generation who formerly existed, but only in species.
From this the solution to the argument of those who posited a return to the same life and the same acts becomes clear. For they believed that lower things are disposed according to the motion of the heavenly spheres; hence when the same constellation returned after a very long time, they believed that the same thing would return in number. But it is not necessary that the same things return in number as has been said, but only things like them in species.
Commentary on Job
and he shall surely not return to his own house, neither shall his place know him any more.
οὐδ᾿ οὐ μὴ ἐπιστρέψῃ ἔτι εἰς τὸν ἴδιον οἶκον, οὐδ οὐ μὴ ἐπιγνῷ αὐτὸν ἔτι ὁ τόπος αὐτοῦ.
ни возврати́тсѧ во сво́й до́мъ, нижѐ и҆́мать є҆го̀ позна́ти ктомꙋ̀ мѣ́сто є҆гѡ̀.
He shall return no more to his own house, neither shall his place know him any more.
For 'the place' of man, but not a local place, the Creator Himself became, Who created him to have his being in Himself, which same place man did then forsake, when on hearing the words of the deceiver, he forsook the love of the Creator. But when Almighty God in the work of redemption shewed Himself even by a bodily appearing, He Himself, so to say, following the footsteps of His runagate, came as a place where to keep man whom He had lost. For if the Creator could not in any sense be styled 'a place,' the Psalmist, in praising God, would never have said, The children of thy servants shall dwell there. For we never say there, except when we mark out a place in a particular manner. But there are very many, who even after they have received the succour of the Redeemer, are precipitated into the darkness of despair, and they perish the more desperately, in proportion as they despise the very offered remedies of mercy. And so it is rightly said concerning him that is damned, Neither shall his place know him any more. For he is not known by his Creator in His sorer severity at the Judgment, in the same degree that he is not recalled even by His gifts to the grace of restoration. And hence it is particularly to be observed, that he does not say, 'Nor shall he know his own place any more;' but, Neither shall his place know him any more. For whereas that 'knowing' is ascribed not to the person, but to the place, the Creator Himself is manifestly set forth, by the name of 'a place,' Who, when He cometh in strictness for the final account, shall say to all that abide in iniquity, I know you not whence ye are. But the Elect severally, in proportion as they consider that lost sinners are unsparingly cut off, day by day purify themselves with greater diligence from the stains of the iniquity they have done; and when they see others on the brink of ruin grow cold in the love of life, they earnestly inflame themselves to tears of penitence.
Morals on the Book of Job, Book 8
Those men thought that a dead man, after a certain span of time not only returned to life, but also had the same possessions and houses he formerly possessed. To disprove this he says, "He will never return home again." They also held that he would do the same works he had done before and hold the same offices and dignities. To exclude this position he adds, "and his place will know him no more," i.e. he will not return again to his place. Here the term "place" means the state of a person in the manner of speaking we commonly use to say: He has a great place in this community.
It is clear from these verses that Job here does not deny the resurrection which faith asserts, but a return to carnal life which the Jews hold and certain philosophers also held. Nor is this contrary to the narration of Scripture which asserts that some men are brought back to the present state of life. For one thing is done miraculously and the other is done according to the course of nature and Job speaks in this sense here. Consider also that in saying, "Remember that my life is but a breath," he did not speak as though God could forget, but he speaks hypothetically putting himself in the position of his adversaries. For if God were to promise the goods in this earthly life to a man whose life has, as it were, already passed, he would almost seem to have forgotten that the life of man passes away like the wind which does not return.
Commentary on Job
Then neither will I refrain my mouth: I will speak being in distress; being in anguish I will disclose the bitterness of my soul.
ἀτὰρ οὖν οὐδὲ ἐγὼ φείσομαι τῷ στόματί μου, λαλήσω ἐν ἀνάγκῃ ὤν, ἀνοίξω πικρίαν ψυχῆς μου συνεχόμενος.
Оу҆́бѡ нижѐ а҆́зъ пощажꙋ̀ ᲂу҆́стъ мои́хъ, возглаго́лю въ нꙋ́жди сы́й, ѿве́рзꙋ ᲂу҆ста̀ моѧ̑ го́рестїю дꙋшѝ моеѧ̀ сотѣсне́нъ.
Therefore also I will not refrain my mouth.
For that man 'refrains his mouth,' that is ashamed to confess the evil he has done. For to put the mouth to labour is to employ it in the confession of sin done, but the righteous man doth 'not refrain his mouth,' in that forestalling the wrath of the searching Judge, he falls wroth upon himself in words of self-confession. Hence the Psalmist saith, Let us come before His Presence with confession. Hence it is delivered by Solomon, He that coveteth his sins shall not prosper, but whoso confesseth, and forsaketh them shall have mercy. Hence it is written again, The just man is first the accuser of himself. But the mouth is never opened in confession, unless at the thought of the searching Judgment the spirit is in straits from fear; and hence it is fitly said afterwards, I will speak in the anguish of my spirit.
For 'anguish of the spirit' sets the tongue in motion, so that the voice of confession is levelled against the guilt of evil practice. Moreover it is to be borne in mind, that oftentimes even the reprobate make confession of sins, but are too proud to weep for them. But the Elect prosecute with tears of severe self-condemnation those sins of theirs which they disclose in words of confession. Hence it was well that after blessed Job had pledged himself not to spare his lips, he added directly the anguish of the spirit. As if he avowed plainly, saying, 'The tongue doth in such sort tell of guilt, that the spirit is not ever let go loose amidst other things, free of the sting of sorrow; but in telling my sins, I disclose my wound, and in thinking over my sins for their amendment, I seek the cure of the wound in the medicine of sorrow.' For he that tells indeed the evil deeds he has done, but holds back from lamenting what he has told, he as it were by taking off the covering discovers the wound, but in deadness of mind he applies no remedy to the wound. Therefore it is needful that sorrow alone should wring out the voice of confession, lest the wound, being exposed, but neglected, in proportion as it is henceforth more freely touched through the knowledge of our fellowcreatures, fester so much the worse. Contrariwise the Psalmist had not only disclosed the sore of his heart, but was furthermore applying to it thus laid bare the remedy of sorrow, when he said, I acknowledge my sin unto Thee, and my iniquity will I think on. For by so 'acknowledging' he discovered the hidden sore, and by thus 'thinking on' it, what else did he, than apply a remedy to the wound? But to the mind that is distressed, and anxiously thinking on its own ills, there arises a strife in behalf of self against self. For when it urges itself to the sorrows of penitence, it rends itself with secret upbraiding. And hence it is justly added afterwards, I will converse with the bitterness of my spirit.
For when we are in trouble from dread of God's judgment, whilst we bewail some things done wrong, seeing that by the mere force of our bitterness alone we are stirred up to enter into ourselves more observantly, we find in ourselves other things also to bewail more largely. For it often happens that what escaped us in our insensibility, is made known to us more exactly in tears. And the troubled mind finds out more surely the ill that it has done and knew not of, and its conflict discovers to it in a true point of view how far it had deviated from the peace which is of truth, in that its guilt, which while secure it thought not of, it finds out in itself when disturbed. For the bitterness of penance gaining ground urgently brings home to the confounded heart the unlawful things it has committed, exhibits the Judge arrayed against them in severity, strikes deep the threats of punishment, smites the soul with consternation, overwhelms it with shame, chides the unlawful motions of the heart, and disturbs the repose of its mischievous self-security, all the good gifts that the Creator has vouchsafed to bestow upon him, all the evil that he himself has done in return for the good things of His hand, are reckoned up, how that he was created by Him in a wonderful way, that he was sustained freely and for nought, that he was endowed with the substance of reason at his creation, that he was called by the grace of his Creator, that he himself even when called refused to follow, that the pitifulness of Him that calleth did not disregard him, not even when deaf and resisting, that he was enlightened with gifts, that of his own free will, even after these gifts received, he blinded himself by wicked deeds, that he was cleared from the wrong doings of his state of blindness by the strokes of fatherly solicitude, that by means of the pains of these strokes he was restored to the joys of saving health by the remedy that mercy applied, that being subject to certain bad practices, though not of the worst sort, he does not cease to sin even in the midst of these strokes; that the grace of God even when slighted did not abandon its sinner. And thus whereas it upbraids with so much keenness the agitated mind at one time by a display of the gifts of God, another time by the reproaches of its own behaviour, the bitterness of spirit has a tongue of its own in the heart of the righteous, which speaks to it the more searchingly, in proportion as it is heard within. And hence it is not at all said, 'I will talk in the bitterness of my spirit,' but I will converse with the bitterness; in that the force of grief, which taking each sin separately, stimulates the deadened mind to lamentations, as it were shapes words of converse to it, wherein it being chidden might find itself out, and henceforth rise up with better heed to the safe keeping of itself.
Morals on the Book of Job, Book 8
11–12“Am I the sea, or the dragon?” That is, you have imposed a limit that the sea must not trespass, so that it might not submerge the earth. You did the same with the dragon, that it might not go out and destroy all that it met. But why do you continue to punish me so harshly, for I am a feeble man with a short life?
Commentary on Job 7:12
After Job showed that the consolation of Eliphaz promising earthly prosperity was inconsistent by arguments, he now shows the same thing by deducing arguments of unfittingness, because if he should rely on that consolation which had been given to him from the hope of earthly prosperity by Eliphaz, as has been shown, it would follow that it would be necessary for him to still remain in sadness, to utter words of sorrow and to despair entirely. This is because Eliphaz's hope is frivolous. He concludes therefore, as though arguing against this proposition, "For this reason," because to hope in earthly prosperity is vain, as has been shown. Moreover, you have nothing else with which you console me and therefore, "I", as if destitute of consolation, "will not refrain from speaking" but rather I will speak words of lamentation which my mind suggests. He continues, "in the anguish of my spirit, I will speak," that is as the trouble which I suffer impels my spirit to speak. Not only does he suffer exterior trouble, but also interior sadness conceived from it. So he continues, "I will talk in the bitterness of my soul," for I will speak vain and almost incredible words as the bitterness of my soul will supply me.
Commentary on Job
Am I a sea, or a serpent, that thou hast set a watch over me?
πότερον θάλασσά εἰμι ἢ δράκων, ὅτι κατέταξας ἐπ᾿ ἐμὲ φυλακήν;
Є҆да̀ мо́ре є҆́смь, и҆лѝ ѕмі́й, ꙗ҆́кѡ ᲂу҆чини́лъ є҆сѝ на мѧ̀ хране́нїе;
Am I a sea or a whale, that thou hast compassed me about with a prison?
Man is 'compassed about with a prison,' in that he very often both strives to mount on high by the strides of virtuous attainments, and yet is impeded by the corruption of his fleshly part. Of which same the Psalmist rightly prays that he might be divested, saying, Bring my soul out of prison, that I may praise Thy Name. But what have we set forth by the designation of 'the sea,' saving the hearts of carnal men tossed with swelling thoughts? and what by the name of 'a whale,' except our old enemy? who when in taking possession of the hearts of the children of this world he makes his way into them, does in a certain sort swim about in their slippery thoughts. But the whale is made fast in prison, in that the evil Spirit, being cast down below, is kept under by the weight of his own punishment, that he should have no power to fly up to the heavenly realms, as Peter testifies, who saith, God spared not the Angels that sinned, but cast them down to hell, and delivered them into chains of darkness to be reserved unto judgment. 'The whale' is fast bound in prison, in that he is prevented from tempting the good as much as he desires. The sea too is 'compassed about with a prison,' in that the swelling and raging desires of carnal minds, for the doing of the evil that they long for, are clogged by the straitness of their inability. For they often long to have power over their betters, yet by the Divine ordering, that regulates all things marvellously, they are made to bow beneath them. They desire, being exalted high, to injure the good, yet being brought under their power, they look for consolation from them. For the sake of fulfilling the gratification of the flesh, they covet length of years in the present life, yet they are carried off from it with haste. Concerning such it is well said by the Psalmist, And He put the waters as it were in a skin. For 'the waters are in a skin' when their loose desires, in that they find not the execution in deed, are kept down under a carnal heart. Therefore the whale and the sea are hemmed in by the close pressure of a prison, in that whether as regards the evil spirit or his followers, in whose minds he gathers himself and sets rolling therein the waves of tumultuous thoughts, the rigour of the Most High confines them, that they should have no power to accomplish the evil things that they are set upon.
But holy men, in proportion as they contemplate the Mysteries of heavenly truths with more perfect purity of heart, pant after them with daily increased ardour of affection. They long to be henceforth filled to the full at that fountain head, whence they as yet taste but a little drop with the mouth of contemplation. They long entirely to subdue the promptings of the flesh, no longer to be subject to any thing unlawful in the imaginations of the heart springing from the corruption thereof. But because it is written, For the corruptible body presseth down the soul, and the earthy tabernacle weigheth down the mind that museth upon many things, therefore they henceforth rise above themselves in purpose of mind, but being still subject to the capricious motions of their imperfect nature, they lament that they are confined in the prison-house of corruption. Am I a sea or a whale, that Thou dost compass me about with a prison? As if it were in plain words; 'The sea or the whale, i.e. the wicked and their prime mover, the Evil Spirit, because they desire to have a loose given them for the mere liberty of committing iniquity alone, are justly held bound in the prison of the punishment inflicted on them. But I, that already long for the liberty of Thine eternal state, why am I still enclosed in the prison of mine own corruption?' Not that this is either demanded in pride by the righteous, in that being inflamed with the love of the Truth they desire completely to surmount the narrow compass of their imperfect condition; nor yet that it is unjustly ordered by the Author of the just, in that in delaying the wishes of His Elect, He puts them to pain, and in paining purifies, that they may one day be the better enabled by that delay, for the receiving that they desire. But the Elect, so long as they are kept away from the interior rest, turn back into their own hearts, and being there buried from the tumults of the flesh, as it were seek a retreat of infinite delight. But therein they often feel the stings of temptation, and are subject to the goadings of the flesh, and there they meet with the hardest toils, where they had looked for perfect rest from toil.
Morals on the Book of Job, Book 8
Among other things, which embittered men usually discuss together, they are accustomed especially to search for the causes of their bitterness because there is hardly an embittered man who does not seem in his own mind to have been afflicted either very unjustly or more than is just. So Job, playing the part of an embittered man, inquires as to the cause of his affliction saying, "Am I the sea, or a whale that you surround me to lock me up?" Note here that the providence of God works in one way for rational creatures and in another way for irrational creatures. Rational creatures merit or demerit because of free will. Because of this, rewards and punishments are due to them. Irrational creatures however, neither merit rewards nor incur punishments since they do not have free will. God, however, acts in their regard to increase or restrict them on the basis of what is due to the good of the universe. From this economy God constricts the sea so that it does not occupy the whole surface of the earth, to make the earth a place for animals and the things born on land. In a similar way he constricts the whale to remain in the ocean seas because if he were in the other seas, it could harm someone. Job therefore seeks to know if there is some explanation for his affliction like the confining of the sea and the whale, namely, that he is not afflicted because of some lack of merit but because of some usefulness to others because of it.
He says that he has been surrounded to be locked up in the sense that he had been so burdened by trial that no liberation or consolation lay open to him on any side.
Commentary on Job
I said that my bed should comfort me, and I would privately counsel with myself on my couch.
εἶπα ὅτι παρακαλέσει με ἡ κλίνη μου, ἀνοίσω δὲ πρὸς ἐμαυτὸν ἰδίᾳ λόγον τῇ κοίτῃ μου.
Реко́хъ, ꙗ҆́кѡ ᲂу҆тѣ́шитъ мѧ̀ ѻ҆́дръ мо́й, произнесꙋ́ же ко мнѣ̀ на є҆ди́нѣ сло́во на ло́жи мое́мъ:
When I say my bed shall comfort me, I shall be eased in speaking with myself on my couch, then Thou scarest me with dreams, and terrifiest me through visions.
For in Holy Writ a 'bed,' a 'couch,' or 'litter,' is usually taken for the secret depth of the heart. For it is hence that under the likeness of each separate soul, the Spouse, urged by the piercing darts of holy love, says in the Song of Songs, By night on my bed I sought him, whom my soul loveth. For 'by night and on the bed is the beloved sought,' in that the appearance of the Invisible Creator, apart from every image of a bodily appearing, is found in the chamber of the heart. And hence 'Truth' saith to those same lovers of Him, The kingdom of God is within you. And again, If I go not away, the Comforter will not come. As if it were in plain words; 'If I do not withdraw My Body from the eyes of your fixed regard, I lead you not by the Comforter, the Spirit, to the perception of the unseen.' Hence it is said by the Psalmist of the just, The Saints shall be joyful in glory, they shall rejoice upon their beds; in that when they flee the mischiefs from things without, they exult in safety within the recesses of their hearts. But the joy of the heart will then be complete, when the fight of the flesh shall have ceased without. For so long as the flesh allures, because as it were the wall of our house is shaken, even the very bed is disturbed. And hence it is rightly said by that Psalmist, Thou hast made all his bed in his sickness. For when temptation of the flesh moves us, our infirmity being made to tremble disturbs even the bed of the soul. But what do we understand in this place by 'dreams' and 'visions' saving the representations of the last searching Judgment? What we already have some slight glimpse of through fear, but do not see it as it really is. Thus holy men, as we have said, ever turn back to the secret recesses of the heart, when from the world without, they either meet with successes beyond their wishes, or with adversities beyond their strength, and, wearied with their toils without, they seek as a bed, or litter, the resting-places of the heart. But whilst by certain pictures of their imagination they see how searching the judgments of God are, they are as it were disturbed in their very repose on their beds by the vision of a dream. For they behold after what sort the strict Judge cometh, Who while with the power of infinite Majesty He lights up the secret recesses of the heart, will bring back every sin before our eyes. They bethink themselves what the shame of that is, to be confounded in the sight of the whole human race, of all the Angels and the Archangels. They reflect what agony is in store after that confounding, when at one and the same time guilt shall prey upon the soul imperishably perishing, and hell fire upon the flesh unfailingly failing. When, then, the mind is shaken by so terrific a conception, what else is this but that a sad dream is presented upon the bed? Therefore let him say, When I say, My bed shall comfort me, and I shall be eased talking with myself on my couch; then Thou scarest me with dreams, and terrifiest me through visions. As if he confessed openly, saying, 'If fleeing from external things, I turn back into the interior, and am anxious in some sort to rest upon the bed of my heart, there, whilst Thou dost set me to the contemplation of Thy severity, Thou makest me to fear horribly by the mere images my foresight raises up.' Now it is well said, And I shall be eased, talking with myself in my bed, in that when we return wearied to the silence of our hearts, as it were holding converse on our beds, we handle the secret words of thought within ourselves. But this very converse of ours is turned into dread, in that thereby there is more forcibly presented to us in imagination the view, which holds out the terrors of the Judge.
Morals on the Book of Job, Book 8
Consequently he proves next that he is deprived of those remedies which ordinarily console the afflicted. One is sleep, for sorrow is mitigated after sleep. To note this he says, "If I say: 'My bed will comfort me'," in the time of sleep. Another remedy is consolation wise men give themselves by the deliberation of reason. He touches this cure when he says, "I will be relieved," from the oppression of sadness by "talking to myself," by the deliberation of reason, "on my couch." For when wise men are alone and removed from the distraction of men and commerce, then they can speak more within themselves thinking something through according to reason.
Commentary on Job
Thou scarest me with dreams, and dost terrify me with visions.
ἐκφοβεῖς με ἐνυπνίοις καὶ ὁράμασί με καταπλήσσεις.
ᲂу҆страша́еши мѧ̀ со́нїѧми и҆ видѣ́нїѧми ᲂу҆жаса́еши мѧ̀:
Then Thou scarest me with dreams, and terrifiest me through visions.
But lest anyone should be at pains to make out these words after the literal sense, it is of great importance to find out in how many ways the mind is affected by images from dreams. For sometimes dreams are engendered of fulness or emptiness of the belly, sometimes of illusion, sometimes of illusion and thought combined, sometimes of revelation, while sometimes they are engendered of imagination, thought, and revelation together. Now the two which we have named first, we all know by experience, while the four subjoined we find in the pages of Holy Writ. For except dreams were very frequently caused to come in illusion by our secret enemy, the Wise Man would never have pointed this out by saying, For dreams and vain illusions have deceived many, or indeed, Nor shall ye use enchantments, nor observe dreams. By which words it is shewn us how great an abomination they are, in that they are joined with 'auguries.' Again, excepting they sometimes came of thought and illusion together, Solomon would never have said, For a dream cometh through the multitude of business. And unless dreams sometimes had their origin in a mystery of a revelation, Joseph would never have seen himself in a dream appointed to be advanced above his brethren, nor would the espoused of Mary have been warned by the Angel in a dream to take the Child and to fly into Egypt. Again, unless dreams sometimes proceeded from thought and revelation together, the Prophet Daniel, in making out the vision of Nebuchadnezzar, would never have set out with thought as the root; As for thee, O king, thy thoughts came into thy mind upon thy bed, what should come to pass hereafter, and He That revealeth secrets maketh known to thee what shall come to pass. And soon afterwards, Thou, O king, sawest and beheld a great image. This great image, that was great, and its stature lofty, stood before thee, &c. Thus while Daniel declares in awful terms the dream about to be fulfilled, and shews in what thoughts it had its rise, it is made plain and manifest that the thing very frequently proceeds from thought and revelation combined.
Now it is clear, that since dreams shift about in such a variety of cases they ought to be the less easily believed, in proportion as it less easily appears from what influencing cause they spring. For it often happens that to those, whom the Evil Spirit cuts off when awake through the love of the present life, he promises the successes of fortune even whilst they sleep, and those, whom he sees to be in dread of misfortunes, he threatens with them the more cruelly by the representations of dreams, that he may work upon the incautious soul by a different kind of influence, and either by elevating it with hope or sinking it with dread, may disturb its balance. Often too he sets himself to work upon the souls of the Saints themselves by dreams, that at least for a passing moment they may be thrown off the line of steady thought, though by their own act they straightway shake the mind clear of the delusive phantasy. And our designing foe, in proportion as he is utterly unable to get the better of them when awake, makes the deadlier assault upon them asleep. Whom yet the dispensation of the Highest in loving-kindness alone allows to do so in his malevolence, lest in the souls of the Elect their mere sleep, though nothing else, should go without the meed of suffering. Therefore it is well spoken to Him that ruleth over all, When I say, my bed shall comfort me, I shall be eased talking with myself on my couch; then Thou scarest me with dreams, and terrifiest me through visions. Surely in that God ordereth all things wonderfully, even He Himself doth that thing, which the Evil Spirit seeks to do unjustly, whilst He letteth it not be done saving justly. Now forasmuch as the life of the righteous is at once assaulted on watch by temptation, and harassed in dreaming by illusion; undergoes without the mischiefs of its corruption, and within painfully carries in itself unlawful thoughts; what may it do in order to pluck the foot of the heart out of the mazes of such numberless entanglements?
Morals on the Book of Job, Book 8
These cures too could not help him, because at the time when he should have used these remedies, other impediments like terrible dreams and horrible visions were present in him which disturbed him. To express this he continues, "Then you will frighten me with dreams," which appear to one when sleeping, and me "with visions," which appear to the one awake who has lost the use of his exterior senses, "will terrify me." Images at night are usually formed by thoughts experienced during the day and so because Job thought about sad things during the day, he was disturbed at night by similar images. For the weakness of the body contributes to the fact that people experience disturbing images when sleeping.
Commentary on Job
Thou wilt separate life from my spirit; and yet [keep] my bones from death.
ἀπαλλάξεις ἀπὸ πνεύματός μου τὴν ψυχήν μου, ἀπὸ δὲ θανάτου τὰ ὀστᾶ μου·
свободи́ши ѿ дꙋ́ха моегѡ̀ дꙋ́шꙋ мою̀, ѿ сме́рти же кѡ́сти моѧ̑.
15–16“I beg of you. Take away my life. Deliver me from my pains through death. In fact, you did not create me immortal. So … may [I] enjoy quiet and tranquility in the future. I do not demand, O Lord, anything contrary to your decree. You made me mortal, not immortal. Therefore bring me death.” Moses prayed with these same words by saying, “If that is your purpose for me, then kill me.”
Commentary on Job 7:15
So that my soul chooseth hanging and my bones death.
What is then represented by the soul but the bent of the soul, and by the bones, the strength of the flesh? Now every thing that is hung is assuredly lifted up from things beneath; therefore 'the soul chooseth hanging that the bones may die,' in that whilst the mind's intent lifts itself on high, it extinguishes all the strength of the exterior life in itself. For the Saints know it for a most certain truth, that they can never enjoy rest in the present life, and so they 'choose hanging,' in that quitting earthly objects of desire, they raise the mind on high. But whilst hung on high they inflict death on their bones, in that for love of the land above, having their loins girt in press and pursuit after virtuous attainments, all wherein they were afore time strong in the world, they load with the chain of self-abasement. It is well to mark how Paul had his soul suspended aloft, who said, Nevertheless I live: yet not I, but Christ liveth in me. And again; Having a desire to depart and to be with Christ. And, For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain. Who recalling to mind the achievements of earthly strength, reckoned up as it were so many bones in himself, saying, An Hebrew, of the Hebrews, as touching the Law a Pharisee; concerning zeal, persecuting the Church of God. But by that 'hanging' of his soul, how that he does to death these bones in himself, he immediately declares, in that he adds, But what things were gain to me, these I counted loss for Christ. Which same bones he implies were still more mercilessly dealt with to destruction in himself, when he adds, For whom I have made all things loss, and do count them but dung. But in what manner he hung without life and his bones all dead, he shews, in that he adds in that place, saying, That I may win Christ, and be found in Him, not having mine own righteousness, which is of the law, but that which is through the faith of Jesus Christ. But whereas by bringing together his declarations we have avouched Paul to have been suspended aloft dead to the world, let us now shew whether blessed Job, being filled with the same Spirit, eschews the concupiscence of the exterior life.
Morals on the Book of Job, Book 8
So, then, when consolation is refused me from every side and no way remains for me to escape so many anguishes but death, I therefore prefer death however abject to such a painful life. He then expresses this saying, "This is why my soul has chosen hanging." Lest someone should think that this decision comes from some thought opposed by stronger thoughts, he insists there is nothing in him so strong that it does not desire death. So he says, "My bones have chosen death." For bones in Scripture usually mean what is strength in man.
Commentary on Job
For I shall not live for ever, that I should patiently endure: depart from me, for my life [is] vain.
οὐ γὰρ εἰς τὸν αἰῶνα ζήσομαι, ἵνα μακροθυμήσω· ἀπόστα ἀπ᾿ ἐμοῦ, κενὸς γάρ μου ὁ βίος.
Не поживꙋ́ бо во вѣ́къ, да долготерплю̀: ѿстꙋпѝ ѿ менє̀, тще́ бо житїѐ моѐ.
I have given over hope, I will not live any longer.
There be some of the righteous, who so entertain the desire of heavenly things, that, notwithstanding this, they are not broken off from the hope of things earthly. The inheritance bestowed on them by God they keep for the supply of necessities, the honours awarded them on a temporal footing they retain; they do not covet the things of others, they make a lawful use of their own. Yet these are strangers to those same things that they have, in that they are not bound in affection to those very goods which they keep in their possession. And there are some of the righteous, who bracing themselves up to lay hold of the very height of perfection, whilst they aim at higher objects within, abandon all things without, who bare themselves of the goods possessed by them, strip themselves of the pride of honours, who by continuance in a grateful sorrow affect their hearts with longing for the things of the interior, refuse to receive consolation from those that are exterior, who whilst in spirit they drink of the inward joys, wholly extinguish in themselves the life of corporeal enjoyment. For it is said by Paul to such as these, For ye are dead, and your life it hid with Christ in God. The Psalmist spoke in their voice, when he said, My soul longeth, yea, even fainteth for the courts of the Lord. For they 'long' but do not 'faint,' who are already imbued indeed with heavenly desires, but notwithstanding are still not tired of the enjoyments of earthly objects. But he 'longeth, yea, even fainteth, for the courts of the Lord,' who whilst he desires the eternal world, doth not hold on in the love of the temporal. Hence the Psalmist saith again, My soul fainteth for Thy salvation. Hence 'Truth' bids us by His own lips, saying, If any man will come after Me, let him deny himself. And again; Whosoever he be of you that forsaketh not all that he hath, he cannot he My disciple. Thus the holy man, his soul parted from earthly objects of desire, sets himself in the number of such as those, when he saith, I have given over hope, I will not live any longer. Since for a righteous man 'to give over hope' is to quit the good things of the present life, in making choice of eternity, and to put no trust in temporal possessions. And whilst doing this, he declares that he 'will not live any longer,' in that by a quickening death he is daily killing himself to the life of passion. For be it far from us to think that the holy man should despair of the bountifulness of God's mercy, that he should withdraw the step of the heart from advancing in the interior way, that forsaking the love of the Creator he should as it were stop on the road lacking a guide, and pierced with the sword of rifling despair, be brought to ruin.
But lest we seem violently to wrest his sayings according to the caprice of our own view, we ought to form our estimate of what is promised by that which follows after. For in what sense he said this, he does himself immediately point out, in that he adds, Spare me, O Lord, for my days are nothing.
For neither do the two words agree together, I have given over hope, and, spare me. For he that 'gives over hope,' no longer begs to be spared; and he who is still anxious to be spared, is surely far from 'giving over hope.' It is on one sort of grounds then that he 'gives over hope,' and on another that the holy man prays to be spared; in that whilst he abandons the good things of this transitory life in 'giving over the hope' thereof, he rises more vigorous in hope for the securing of those that shall endure. So that in 'giving over hope,' he is the more effectually brought to the hope of pardon, who seeks the things to come so much the more determinately, in proportion as he more thoroughly forsakes those of the present time in giving up hope. And we are to take notice, that when teaching us the strength of his heart, he delivered indeed but one sentiment about himself, but in teaching it to us he has repeated it a third time. For what he had said above, My soul chooseth hanging, it was in repeating this, that he added the words, I have given over hope, and in aiming at the blessings of eternity, and putting behind those of time, he last of all brought in this, Spare me. And what he said above, And my bones death, this same it was that he added, I will not live longer, and this he delivered to end with, for my days are nothing. But he lightly considers that his 'days are nothing,' because as we have often remarked already a little above, holy men, the more thoroughly they are acquainted with things above, in the same proportion they look down upon the things of earth from a loftier height. And therefore they see that the days of the present life are 'nothing,' because they have the eyes of their illumined soul fixed in the contemplation of eternity. And when they return thence to themselves, what do they find themselves to be but dust? And being conscious of their frailty, they are in dread of being judged with severity; and when they regard the force of that vast Energy, they tremble to have it put to the test what they are.
Morals on the Book of Job, Book 8
He shows why he chooses this saying, "I have despaired," i.e. I have lost the hope which you gave me that I might enjoy earthly prosperity. He shows why he despaired adding, "I will not live longer to any purpose." Two things can be understood which he had posited above in this statement. (v.6) The greater time of his life had already passed away and that he does not return after this life to the same life which he lived on earth. This unfitting conclusion is the result of the consolation of Eliphaz for Job himself and would lead him to despair, choose death, and have no way to curb sorrow.
After Job has shown that the consolation of Eliphaz based on the promise of earthly happiness was leading him to despair and the desire for death, he shows what remains for him to hope for from God, namely, that the trial put on him should cease. He expresses this saying, "Spare me, O Lord," as if to say: I have abandoned the hope of earthly prosperity, it is sufficient that you spare me, cease to afflict me. Since the unhappiness and weakness of man usually induces another to spare him, he continues, "for my days are nothing," which seems to refer to the weakness of man and the brevity of life, both with respect to all men in general and to him in a special way because his days were almost at an end.
Commentary on Job
For what is man, that thou hast magnified him? or that thou givest heed to him?
τί γάρ ἐστιν ἄνθρωπος ὅτι ἐμεγάλυνας αὐτὸν ἢ ὅτι προσέχεις τὸν νοῦν εἰς αὐτὸν
Что́ бо є҆́сть человѣ́къ, ꙗ҆́кѡ возвели́чилъ є҆сѝ є҆го̀; и҆лѝ ꙗ҆́кѡ внима́еши ᲂу҆мо́мъ къ немꙋ̀;
17–18It is necessary, actually, to call that time “morning,” because it is entirely light and drives the night away from this life. “You judge them for the time of rest,” that is, not for the torments but for the delights and the reward. He, who is now constantly worthy of the “visit” of God, will receive then his judgment “for the rest.” He is judged with the righteous, that is, is received [in heaven] together with the righteous, so that it may be known, in accordance with them what part is assigned to him and what is his destiny. Must he be placed with the patriarchs, or the prophets, or the apostles or the martyrs?
Homilies on Job 10.7.18
What is man, that Thou shouldest magnify him? and that Thou shouldest set Thine heart upon him?
God magnifieth man, in that He enriches him with the bountiful gift of reason, visits him with the inspiration of grace, exalts him with the greatness of imparted virtue; and whereas he is nothing in himself, yet through the bounty of His lovingkindness He vouchsafes to him to be a partaker of the knowledge of Himself. And the Lord 'setteth His heart upon man' so magnified, in that after His gifts He brings forth judgment, weighs merits with exactness, rigidly tries the weights of life, and exacts punishment from him afterwards the more strictly, in proportion as He prevents him here more bounteously by the benefit bestowed. So then let the holy man view the immensity of the Supreme Majesty, and recall the eye of reflection to his own frailty. Let him see that flesh cannot comprehend that which Truth through the Spirit teaches concerning Himself. Let him see that man's spirit, even when it is lifted up, is not able to bear the Judgment, which God holds over it, on a trial of strict recompensing, and let him say, What is man, that Thou shouldest magnify him? and that Thou shouldest set Thine heart upon him? As though he cried out in plain words, saying, 'Man is magnified with a spiritual gift, but yet he is flesh, and after Thy gifts, Thou takest strict account of his ways; yet if he be judged with pity set aside, the weight that rests over him from Thine exactness, not even the spirit that is raised to righteousness has strength to sustain, seeing that though Thy gifts draw him out beyond his own compass, yet at the inquest of Thy strict scrutiny his own frailty contracts him.'
Morals on the Book of Job, Book 8
Consequently he pursues both points. First he says of his weakness, "What is man," that is, how small a thing and frail in body, "that you lift him up," by honoring him among the other creatures or "that you turn your heart towards him," by guarding him and protecting him with special care? Here note that although all things are subject to divine providence and all things in their state receive their greatness from God, nevertheless some receive it in one way, others in another. For since all particular goods which are in the universe seem ordered to the common good of the universe as part is ordered to whole and imperfect to perfect, they are disposed by divine providence as they are ordered to the universe. Note that according to the way some things participate in perpetuity, they pertain essentially to the order of the universe. However, as they are deficient with respect to perpetuity, they pertain accidentally to the perfection of the universe and not in themselves. Therefore according as they are perpetual they are ordered by God for their own sake; but according as they are corruptible they are ordered for the sake of other things. Things which are perpetual either in individual or in species, are governed for their own sakes by God. But things which are corruptible in individual but only perpetual in species, are ordered for themselves in species by God but for the species only on account of the individual. This is the good and evil which happens to irrational animals. For example, the fact that this lamb is killed by this wolf or some such thing is not arranged by God because of the merit or demerit of this wolf or of this lamb, but because of the good of the species since its own food has been divinely ordained for the good of each species. He expresses this saying, "or because you turn your heart towards him," when you provide for him because of his own good. He does not turn his heart to the good of individual animals, but rather to the good of the species which can exist perpetually.
Commentary on Job
Wilt thou visit him till the morning, and judge him till [the time of] rest?
ἢ ἐπισκοπὴν αὐτοῦ ποιήσῃ ἕως τὸ πρωΐ καὶ εἰς ἀνάπαυσιν αὐτὸν κρινεῖς;
и҆лѝ посѣще́нїе твори́ши є҆мꙋ̀ по всѧ́ко ᲂу҆́тро и҆ въ поко́и сꙋди́ти є҆го̀ и҆́маши;
And that Thou shouldest visit him in the dawn, and try him suddenly?
Which is there of us that does not know that it is called the 'dawn,' when the night season is now changing into the brightness of light? so we too are closed in by the darkness of night, when we are dimmed by the practice of wickedness; but the night is turned into light, when the darkness of our erring state is illuminated by knowledge of the Truth. The night is turned into light, when the splendour of righteousness lights up our hearts, which the blindness of sin lay heavy upon. This dawn Paul saw rise in the minds of the disciples, when he said, The night is far spent, the day is at hand. And so the Lord 'visits us at the dawn,' in that He illumines the darkness of our state of error with the light of the knowledge of Himself, uplifts us with the gift of contemplation, exalts us to the stronghold of virtue. But it is to be observed, that after God 'visits him at the dawn,' He 'tries man suddenly,' in that both in drawing near He advances our souls to virtuous heights, and in withdrawing Himself He suffers them to be assaulted with temptation. For if after the bestowal of the gifts of virtue, she is never moved by any assault of temptation, the soul boasts that she has these of herself. Therefore that she may at one and the same time enjoy the gifts of a firm state, and humbly acknowledge her own state of infirmity, by the visitation of grace she is lifted up on high, and by the withdrawal of the same, it is proved what she is in herself. Which is well intimated to us in the history of the book of sacred reading, wherein Solomon is recorded both to have received wisdom from on high, and yet directly after that very wisdom was received, to have been assailed by the disputing of the harlots. For immediately after he had received the grace of that great enlightenment, he was exposed to the strife of base women; for that oftentimes when the visiting of the interior bounty illuminates our mind with virtues vouchsafed it, even filthy imaginations forthwith disorder it, that the soul, which being lifted up exults in the immensity of the gift, being at the same time struck by temptation, may discover what she is. So Elijah both being visited at the dawn, opened the doors of heaven by a word, and yet being 'tried suddenly,' fleeing helpless through the desert, was in dread of a single woman. Thus Paul is carried to the third heaven, and penetrating into the secrets of Paradise, he is held in contemplation; and yet when he returns to himself, travails against the assaults of the flesh, and is subject to another law in his members, by whose rebellion within him he grieves to see the law of the Spirit hard bestead. Therefore God 'visits at the dawn,' but, after this visiting, He 'tries suddenly,' in that He both lifts up by the gift vouchsafed, and by the same being for a while withdrawn, shews unaided man to himself. Which doubtless we are so long subject to, until the time, when the pollution of sin being clean taken away, we be renewed to the substance of promised incorruption.
Morals on the Book of Job, Book 8
He shows how God turns his heart towards him when he says, "You visit him at dawn," i.e. from the day of his birth you help him by your providence with things necessary for his life and glorification, whether they are corporeal or spiritual. "And immediately test him," by adversities in which he shows clearly he is disposed to virtue. As Sirach says, "The oven proves the pot of the potter and the trial of trouble proves the just man." (27:6) God is said to test a man not so he may learn what kind of man he is, but to inform others what sort of man he is and also so that he may know himself. These words of Job are not to be understood as expressing contempt for the divine concern for men, but as investigating and wondering. For if man is considered only as he appears exteriorly, he seems small, fragile and perishable. So it would be astonishing for God to have such great care for man unless he should have something hidden which makes him capable of perpetual existence. Thus by inquiry and wonder, the opinion of Eliphaz is refuted, because if there were no other life for man except life on earth, man would not seem worth such great care God has for him. Therefore the very care which God has especially for man demonstrates that there is another life of man after the death of the body.
Commentary on Job
How long dost thou not let me alone, nor let me go, until I shall swallow down my spittle?
ἕως τίνος οὐκ ἐᾷς με οὐδὲ προΐῃ με, ἕως ἂν καταπίω τὸν πτύελόν μου ἐν ὀδύνῃ;
Доко́лѣ не ѡ҆ста́виши менѐ, нижѐ ѿпꙋска́еши мѧ̀, до́ндеже поглощꙋ̀ сли̑ны моѧ̑ въ болѣ́зни;
How long wilt Thou not depart from me, nor let me alone until I swallow down my spittle.
The spittle runs into the mouth from the head, but from the mouth it is carried into the belly by being swallowed. And what is our head saving the Deity, through Whom we derive the original of our being, so as to be 'creature,' as Paul bears witness, who declares, The head of every man is Christ, and the head of Christ is God; and what is our belly, saving the mind, which, whilst it takes its food, i.e. heavenly perception, being invigorated, doth surely rule the members of the several actions. For except Holy Writ did sometimes describe the mind by the name of 'the belly,' Solomon surely would never have said, The spirit of man is the candle of the Lord, searching all the inward parts of the belly; forasmuch as whilst the grace of heavenly visitation illumines us, it discloses even all the depths of the mind that are hidden from our sight. What then is meant by the term 'spittle,' but the savour of interior contemplation, which runs down from the head to the mouth, in that issuing from the brightness of the Creator, whilst we are still set in this life, it but just touches us with a taste of revelation. And hence the Redeemer at His coming mixed the spittle with clay, and restored the eyes of him that was born blind, in that heavenly grace enlightens the carnal bent of our hearts, by a mixture of the contemplation of Itself, and from his original blindness restores man anew to perception. For whereas nature henceforth brought him forth in this place of exile, since he was banished from all the joys of Paradise, man was produced from his birth, as it were, without eyes. But, as the holy man teaches, this spittle runs into the mouth indeed, but that it should not reach into the belly, it is not swallowed down, in that the contemplation of the Divine Being grazes the sense, but does not perfectly refresh the mind, because the soul is unable perfectly to behold what as yet, the mist of corruption impeding the view, it sees by a hasty glimpse.
For see how the soul of the Elect already bears down all earthly desires beneath itself, already mounts above all the objects that it sees are of a nature to pass away, is already lifted up from the enjoyment of external delights, and closely searches what are the invisible good things, and in doing the same is carried away into the sweetness of heavenly contemplation; already very often it sees something of the interior world as it were through the mist, and with burning desire strives to the utmost to be admitted to the spiritual ministries of the Angels, feeds on the taste of the Light Incomprehensible, and being carried out of self disdains to sink back again into self; for forasmuch as the body, which is in the way to corruption, still weighs down the soul, it has not power to attach itself to the Light for long, which it sees in a momentary glimpse. For the mere infirmity of the flesh by itself drags down the soul, as it mounts above itself, and brings it down, as it aspires, to provide for low cares and wants. And so spittle flowing from the head touches the mouth, but never reaches to the belly; in that our understanding indeed is henceforth watered with the dews of heavenly contemplation, but the soul is not at all fully satisfied. For in the mouth is the taste, but fulness in the belly; and so we cannot 'swallow down our spittle,' in that we are not suffered to fill ourselves with the excellency of heavenly brightness, which we taste as yet but in a sip. But whereas this very same that we are already in some slight degree made acquainted with above us, comes from the pitifulness of One that spareth, while that we cannot as yet obtain a perfect perception of it is of the punishment of the old curse still, it is rightly said now, How long dost Thou not spare me, nor let me alone, till I swallow down my spittle? As if it were in plain words; 'Then Thou dost perfectly spare man, when Thou admittest Him to the perfect measure of the contemplation of Thee; that being transported he may behold Thy brightness in the interior, and no corruption of his flesh without should hold him back. Then 'thou lettest me alone till I swallow down my spittle, when Thou replenishest me with the savour of Thy brightness even to the very overflow of fulness, that I should never henceforth go a hungered, with but a taste of the mouth, through lack of food, but be stedfastly stayed in Thee, the belly of my interior being watered.'
Morals on the Book of Job, Book 8
Then he adds another reason that God should spare him taken from the brevity of life. He puts it in question form saying, "How long do you not spare me?" This is like saying: The time of the life of man is short and the greater part of the time of my life is already past. Therefore, what limit is expected so that you spare me if you do not spare me now so that at least I might have at least some brief time in which to rest. He shows the meaning when he says, "Won't you leave me in peace to swallow my spittle?" For one cannot swallow his saliva while he is speaking. It is necessary to pause briefly while speaking to spit out or to swallow spittle. He compares the time remaining in his life to this brief instant as if he says: If you delay in sparing me, no rest, even the rest during which someone speaking swallows his spittle will remain for me. This way of arguing presupposes the opinion of Eliphaz, because if there is no other life for man except the one on this earth, there will not remain a time when God may spare Job if God does not spare him in this life.
Commentary on Job
If I have sinned, what shall I be able to do, O thou that understandest the mind of men? why hast thou made me as thine accuser, and [why] am I a burden to thee?
εἰ ἐγὼ ἥμαρτον, τί δυνήσομαι πρᾶξαι, ὁ ἐπιστάμενος τὸν νοῦν τῶν ἀνθρώπων; διατί ἔθου με κατεντευκτήν σου, εἰμὶ δὲ ἐπὶ σοὶ φορτίον;
А҆́ще а҆́зъ согрѣши́хъ, что̀ тебѣ̀ возмогꙋ̀ содѣ́лати, свѣ́дый ᲂу҆́мъ человѣ́чь; почто́ мѧ є҆сѝ положи́лъ прекосло́вна тебѣ̀, и҆ є҆́смь тебѣ̀ бре́менемъ;
What does Job mean when he says, “What shall I be able to do for you?” What should I do in order to expiate my fault, in order to be reconciled with you? “O you who understand the human mind, why did you make me to be your accuser?” Job speaks this way not because he accuses God—God forbid!—but because what has happened to him raises a serious accusation against God. That is why he says, “You who understand the human mind.” Even if they do not speak, you know their secret thoughts and all their intimate reflections, “such a righteous man has suffered such tremendous misfortunes!” But Job does not have the attitude of a man who tries to justify himself. In fact, he has not said, “I am righteous.” Rather, they are deeply concerned about me, and that is why they have complained against you because of my trials.
Commentary on Job 7:20A-B
I have sinned; what shall I do unto Thee, O Thou Preserver of men?
Observe how he confesses the ill that he has done, but the good that he should present to God in compensation, he no where can find, in that all virtue whatever of human practice is without power to wash out the guilt of sin, except His mercifulness in sparing foster it, and not His justice in judging press hard upon it. Whence it is well said by the Psalmist, Because Thy mercy is better than the life; in that howsoever innocent it may seem to be, yet with the strict Judge our life doth not set us free, if the lovingkindness of His mercy loose not to it the debt of its guilt. Or indeed when it is said, What shall I do unto Thee? it is plainly, shewn us that those very good things, which we are commanded to practise, are not a gain to Him that imposes the command, but to ourselves. Whence it is said again by the Psalmist, My goodness extendeth not unto Thee. Now the abjectness of our destitution is set forth, when God is called the 'Preserver of men,' in that if His preserving hand defend us not in the face of the snares of the secret adversary, the eye of our heedfulness sleeps on watch, as the Psalmist again bears record, who saith, Except the Lord keep the city, the watchman waketh but in vain. For it is through ourselves, that we have been brought to the ground, but to rise again by our own strength is beyond our ability. The fault of our own will laid us low once, but the punishment of our fault sinks us worse day by day. We strive by the efforts of our earnest endeavours, to lift ourselves to the uprightness we have lost, but we are kept down by the weight of our just dues. And hence it is fitly added, Why hast Thou set me opposite to Thee, so that I am a burthen to myself?
Then did God 'set man opposite to Him,' when man forsook God by sinning. For being taken captive by the persuasions of the Serpent, he became the enemy of Him, Whose precepts he despised. But the righteous Creator 'set man opposite to Himself,' in that He accounted him an enemy by pride. And this very oppositeness of sin is itself made a weight of punishment to man, that he being wrongly free, might serve his own corruption, who while serving rightly exulted in the freedom of incorruption. For quitting the healthful stronghold of humility, he was brought by growing proud to the yoke of infirmity, and in erecting only bowed down the neck of the heart, in that he who refused to submit to the behests of God, prostrated himself beneath his own necessities; which we shall shew the better, if we set forth those burthens, first of the flesh and afterwards of the spirit, which he is made subject to after being cast down to the ground.
For to say nothing of this, that he is liable to pains, that he gasps with fever; the very state of our body, which is called health, is straitened by its own sickness. For it wastes with idleness, it faints with work; failing with not eating, it is refreshed by food so as to hold up; going heavily with sustenance, it is relieved by abstinence, so as to be vigorous; it is bathed in water, not to be dry; it is wiped with towels, not by that very bathing to be too wet; it is enlivened by labour, that it may not be dulled by repose; it is refreshed by repose, that it faint not under the exertion of labour; worn with watching, it is recruited by sleep; oppressed with sleep, it is roused to activity by watching, lest it be worse wearied by its own rest; it is covered with clothing, lest it be pierced by the hardship of cold; fainting under the heat it sought, it is invigorated by the blowing of the air. And whereas it meets with annoyances from the very quarter whence it sought to shelter itself from annoyances, being badly wounded, so to say, it sickens by its own cure. Therefore fevers set aside and pains not in action, our very breath itself is sickness, whereunto there is never wanting the necessity of administering a cure. Since whatever the comforts we seek out for occasion of life, we as it were meet with so many medicines of our sickness; but the very medicine itself too is turned into a sore, in that attaching ourselves a little too long to the remedy we sought, we are more brought down in that which we prudently provide for our refreshment. Thus was presumption to be amended, thus was pride to be laid low. For whereas we once took to us a high spirit, so every day we carry the mud that runneth down.
Our very mind too itself being banished from the secure delight of interior secresy, is now beguiled by hope, now tormented by fear; one while cast down by grief, at another time made light by a false mirth; it obstinately attaches itself to transitory objects, and is continually afflicted by the loss of them, in that it is also continually undergoing change by a course that carries it away; and being made subject to things changeable, it is also made to be at odds with its own self. For seeking what it has not got, it anxiously obtains it, and so soon as it has begun to possess the same, is sick of having obtained what it sought after. Oftentimes it loves what it once despised, and despises what, it used to love. It learns by dint of pains what are the things of eternity, but it forgets them in a moment, if it cease to take pains. It takes a long time to seek, that it may find, but a little concerning the things above, but speedily falling, back into its wonted ways, not even for a little space does it hold on in the things it has found. Desiring to be instructed, with difficulty it gets the better of its ignorance, and being so instructed it has a harder contest against the pride of knowledge; with difficulty it subjects to itself the usurping power of its fleshly part, yet it is still subject to the images of sin within, the works whereof it has already in vanquishing bound down without. It raises itself in quest of its Creator, but being thrown back, it is bewildered by the beguiling mist of corporeal attachments. It desires to survey itself, and to see how being incorporeal it bears rule over the body, and it cannot. It asks in a wonderful way what it is unable to answer itself, and remaining ignorant is at a loss under that, which it inquires with a wise purpose. Viewing itself as large and scanty at once, it knows nothing how to form a true estimate of itself, in that if it were not large it would not be seeking matters of so deep enquiry, and again if it were not little, it would at least find that which it asks of itself.
Well therefore is it said, Thou hast set me opposite to Thee, so that I am a burthen to myself, in that whilst man being banished is both subject to annoyances in the flesh, and to perplexities in the mind, surely he carries about his own self as a grievous burthen. On every side he is beset with sicknesses, on every side he is hard bestead with infirmities, that he who, having abandoned God, thought to suffice to himself for his repose, might find nought in himself but a turmoil of disquietude, and might try to fly from himself so found, but having set his Creator at nought, might not have where to fly.
Morals on the Book of Job, Book 8
Someone could object that Job was unworthy to be spared by God because his sins merit that he be afflicted even more. This follows also from the opinion of Eliphaz who thought that he was scourged because of his sins. So he continues, "I have sinned," as if to say: Given that I have sinned and because of this merited to be afflicted, still there remains a reason why you should spare me. He adds to this three reasons why God should spare him which make reference to the frailty of man. The first is taken from man's powerlessness to make satisfaction. Man can do nothing worthy from his own powers to compensate for the offense which he committed against God. This is what he means when he says, "What will I do for you, O guardian of men?" as if to say: If you have such great care for man as if you were their watchman that you require an accounting of their individual acts, my powers are not sufficient to perform some act for which you will remit my sins. If then this is expected, you would never spare me and so please spare me despite this powerlessness.
The second reason is taken from the powerlessness of man to persevere. For man cannot persevere after the corruption of human nature without the grace of God, and so it is customary even in Sacred Scripture to say that God hardens someone or blinds someone in the sense that he does not bestow the grace on him by which he may be softened and see. Job speaks here in this way saying, "Why do you pit me against you?" that is, Why did you not give me the grace of perseverance in this matter so that I might not be opposed to you by sin? For whoever sins is opposed to God, since he spurns the divine commandments which are either handed down in the written Law or naturally inscribed in human reason. Note that reason is the strongest of all the powers of the soul. A sign of this strength is that reason commands the other powers and uses them for its own end. Yet it happens that reason is somewhat absorbed at times by concupiscence, anger, or the other passions of the lower part of the soul and so a man sins. Nevertheless, the lower passions cannot hold reason bound, but rather reason always returns to its nature by which it tends to spiritual goods as its own proper end. Therefore, a kind of struggle goes on even of man against himself when reason resists him because he has sinned absorbed either by concupiscence or anger. Since a tendency to similar acts has been added to the lower powers from past sins as a result of habit, reason cannot freely make use of the lower powers to order them to higher goods or withdraw them from lower ones. Thus man becomes a burden even to himself in being opposed to God through sin. He shows this by saying, "Why have I become a burden to myself?" One sees in this that sin has its own punishment immediately. So too after this punishment, it seems man should be spared more easily.
Commentary on Job
Why hast thou not forgotten my iniquity, and purged my sin? but now I shall depart to the earth; and in the morning I am no more.
καὶ διατί οὐκ ἐποιήσω τῆς ἀνομίας μου λήθην καὶ καθαρισμὸν τῆς ἁμαρτίας μου; νυνὶ δὲ εἰς γῆν ἀπελεύσομαι, ὀρθρίζων δὲ οὐκέτι εἰμί.
почто̀ нѣ́си сотвори́лъ беззако́нїю моемꙋ̀ забве́нїѧ, и҆ ѡ҆чище́нїѧ грѣха̀ моегѡ̀; нн҃ѣ же въ зе́млю ѿидꙋ̀, ᲂу҆́тренюѧй же нѣ́смь ктомꙋ̀.
And why dost Thou not take away my transgression, and remove mine iniquity?
By which same words, what else is intimated but the desire of the expected Mediator, concerning Whom John saith, Behold the Lamb of God, Which taketh away the sin of the world. Or rather sin is then completely taken away from mankind, when our corruption is changed in the glory of incorruption. For we can never be free from sin so long as we are held fast in a body of mortality, and therefore he longs for the grace of the Redeemer, i.e. for the wholeness of the Resurrection, who is looking to have his iniquity entirely 'taken away.' Hence immediately after adding both the punishment which was his due by birth, and the Judgment which he dreads in consequence of his own doings, he proceeds, For now shall I sleep in the dust, and if Thou shalt seek me in the morning, I shall not abide.
It was said to the first man on his sinning, Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return. Now by the 'morning,' is meant that manifestation of souls, which, when the thoughts are laid bare at the coming of the Judge, is as it were brought to light after the darkness of night. Of which same morning, it is said by the Psalmist, In the morning I shall stand before Thee and shall see. Now God's 'seeking' is His searching man with a minute inquest, and, in searching, judging him with rigorous strictness. Therefore let blessed Job, surveying the miseries of man's fallen condition, see how that he is both already closely pressed by a present punishment, and in yet worse plight as concerns the future, and let him say, For now shall I sleep in the dust, and if Thou shalt seek me in the morning, I shall not abide. As if he openly lamented, saying, 'In the present life indeed I already undergo the death of the flesh, and yet still further from the Judgment to come I dread a worse death, even the doom of Thy severity. I suffer destruction for sin, yet further on coming to Judgment I dread my sins being brought up again even after my dissolution. Therefore looking at the external death, let him say, For now shall I sleep in the dust, and dreading the interior let him add, And if Thou shalt seek me in the morning, I shall not abide. For however strong in righteousness, even the very Elect by no means suffice to themselves for innocency, if they be strictly examined in Judgment. But they find it now for an alleviation of their withdrawal hence, that they know in their humility that they never can suffice. Therefore they shelter themselves under the covering of humility from the sword of such a grievous visitation, and in proportion as awaiting the terribleness of the Judge to come, they tremble with continual alarm, so there is an unceasing progress in their becoming better prepared.
Morals on the Book of Job, Book 8
The third reason is taken from the powerlessness of man to cleanse himself from sin. For man sinks into sin by himself, but it is only God's part to remit sin. So Job asks: If my punishment should not cease for as long a time as my sin remains and you alone can take away my sin. "Why do you not take away my sin?" which I have committed against God or against myself. "Why do you not take away my iniquity?" if any has been committed against my neighbor. Remember, Job does not ask questions of this kind like a rash questioner of divine judgments, but to destroy the falsity which his adversaries were eager to assert, namely that one should hope for good and evil things from God for human deeds only in this life. If this view is asserted, the whole reason for divine judgments by which he punishes men in the life for sin and remits sins in foreordaining those men in the next life to either predestination or reprobation is thrown into confusion. If there is no future life, but only the present one, there would be no reason why God should delay sparing those whom he intends to spare or justify or reward them. So Job shows his own intention clearly, continuing, "Look! Now I will sleep in the dust," as if the end of my life is almost here, when I will die and decay to dust. One cannot hope even to see tomorrow with certainty because of the uncertainty of death. So he says, "If you will look for me in the morning, I will no longer exist," for I cannot promise myself even a life until morning, much less a long span of time in which I can hope you would spare me if there will be no other life.
Consider that Job proceeds according to the manner of a debater, for whom it suffices at the beginning to disprove false opinion and afterwards to explain what he himself thinks is true. Note too that in these opening words, Job touched three reasons why someone should be afflicted in this life by God. The first is that his malice may be restrained so he cannot harm others. He touched this reason in the text, "Am I the sea or a whale that you should surround me to lock me up?" (v. 12) The second is to try man in order to manifest his virtue, and he touched this in the text, "You visit him at dawn and immediately test him." (v. 18) The third reason is to punish sinners, and he touched on this when he said, "I have sinned, what will I do for you, you guardian of men."
Commentary on Job
Is not the life of man upon earth a state of trial? and his existence as that of a hireling by the day?
ΠΟΤΕΡΟΝ οὐχὶ πειρατήριόν ἐστιν ὁ βίος ἀνθρώπου ἐπὶ τῆς γῆς καὶ ὥσπερ μισθίου αὐθημερινοῦ ἡ ζωὴ αὐτοῦ;
Не и҆скꙋше́нїе ли житїѐ человѣ́кꙋ на землѝ, и҆ ꙗ҆́коже нае́мника повседне́внагѡ жи́знь є҆гѡ̀;