Job 1-20, Volume 17 (17) (Word Biblical Commentary) [Reissue ed.] 9780310521907, 0310521904

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WORD BIBLICAL COMMENTARY

Editorial Board O ld Testament Editor: Nancy L . deClaissé-Walford (2011 - ) New Testam ent Editor: Peter H. Davids (2013 - )

Past Editors General Editors Ralph P. Martin (2012 - 2013) Bruce M. Metzger (1997 - 2007)

David A. H ubbard (1977 - 1996) Glenn W. Barker (1977 - 1984)

Old Testament Editors: Jo h n D. W. Watts (1977 - 2011)

Jam es W. Watts (1997 - 2011)

New Testament Editors: Ralph P. Martin (1977 - 2012)

Lynn Allan Losie (1997 - 2013)

Volumes 1 2 3 4 5 6a

Genesis 1 - 1 5 ............... Gordon J. W enham Genesis 16 - 5 0 ............. Gordon J. W enham Exodus................................... Jo h n I. Durham L ev itic u s............................... Jo h n E. Hartley N u m b e rs................................... Philip J. Budd D euteronom y 1:1 - 21:9, 2nd ed. . . D uane L. Christensen 6b D euteronom y 21:10 - 3 4 :1 2 ........... D uane L. Christensen 7a Joshua 1-12, 2nd e d ................Trent C. Butler 7b Joshua 13-24, 2nd e d ..............Trent C. Butler 8 J u d g e s ......................................Trent C. Butler 9 Ruth - E sth er...................... Frederic W. Bush 10 1 Samuel, 2nd e d ................ Ralph W. Klein 11 2 S a m u e l.................................. A. A. A nderson 12 1 Kings, 2nd e d ...................... Simon J. Devries 13 2 Kings............................................. T. R. Hobbs 14 1 Chronicles Roddy Braun 15 2 Chronicles Raymond B. Dillard 16 Ezra, N e h e m ia h ........... H . G. M. Williamson 17 Jo b 1 - 20 David J. A. Clines 18a Jo b 21 - 37 David J. A. Clines 18b Jo b 38 - 42 David J. A. Clines 19 Psalms 1 - 50, 2nd ed Peter C. Craigie, Marvin E. Tate 20 Psalms 51 - 1 0 0 ......................Marvin E. Tate 21 Psalms 101 - 150, rev ed Leslie C. Allen 22 Proverbs Roland E. M urphy 23a Ecclesiastes Roland E. M urphy 23b Song o f Songs/L am entations . . . .D uane H. Garrett, Paul R. House 24 Isaiah 1 - 33, rev ed Jo h n D. W. Watts 25 Isaiah 34 - 66, rev e d Jo h n D. W. Watts 26 Jerem iah 1 - 25 Peter C. Craigie, Page H. Kelley, Joel F. D rinkard Jr. 27 Jerem iah 26 - 52 ................Gerald L. Keown, Pamela J. Scalise, Thomas G. Smothers

aforthcoming as of 2014 aain revision as of 2014

28 Ezekiel 1 - 1 9 ............................ Leslie C. Allen 29 Ezekiel 20 - 4 8 .......................... Leslie C. Allen 30 Daniel Jo h n E Goldingay 31 H osea -J o n a h a a ....................Douglas Stuart 32 Micah - Malachiaa ..................Ralph L. Smith 33a Matthew 1 - 13..................Donald A. H agner 33b Matthew 14 - 28............... Donald A. H agner 34a Mark 1 - 8:26aa R obert A. Guelich 34b Mark 8:27 - 16:20 ................... Craig A. Evans 35a Luke 1 - 9:20 Jo h n Nolland 35b Luke 9:21 - 18:34......................Jo h n Nolland 35c Luke 18:35 - 24:53....................Jo h n Nolland 36 John, 2nd ed George R. Beasley-Murray 37a Acts 1 - 14a .........................Stephen J. Walton 37b Acts 15 - 28a Stephen J. Walton 38a Romans 1 - 8 Jam es D. G. D unn 38b Romans 9 - 1 6 ...................James D. G. D unn 39 1 C orinthiansa Andrew D. Clarke 40 2 Corinthians, rev e d Ralph P. Martin 41 Galatians Richard N. Longenecker 42 Ephesians Andrew T. Lincoln 43 Philippians, rev ed Gerald F. Hawthorne, rev by Ralph P. Martin 44 Colossians, Philem onaa . . . Peter T. O'Brien 45 1 & 2 Thessaloniansa a ..................F. F. Bruce 46 Pastoral Epistles William D M ounce 47a Hebrews 1 - 8 .......................... William L. Lane 47b Hebrews 9 - 13........................William L. Lane 48 Jam es Ralph P. Martin 49 1 Peter J. Ramsey Michaels 50 Jude, 2 P eteraa Richard J. Bauckham 51 1, 2, 3, John, rev ed Stephen S. Smalley 52a Revelation 1 - 5 David E. Aune 52b Revelation 6 - 1 6 .......................David E. Aune 52c Revelation 17 - 2 2 ................... David E. Aune

71WORD BIBLICAL COMMENTARY Job 1 -2 0

DAVID J. A. CLINES General Editors: David A. Hubbard, Glenn W. Barker Old Testament Editor: John D. W. Watts New Testament Editor: Ralph P. Martin

ZONDERVAN Job 1-20, Volume 17 Copyright © 1989 by Word, Incorporated. Previously published as Job 1-20. Formerly published by Thomas Nelson, now published by Zondervan, a division of HarperCollinsChristian Publishing. Requests for information should be addressed to: Zondervan, 3900 Sparks Dr. SE, Grand Rapids, Michigan 49546 This edition: ISBN 978-0-310-52190-7 The Library of Congress has cataloged the original edition as follows: Library of Congress Control Number: 2005295211 The author’s own translation of the Scripture text appears in italic type under the heading Translation. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

To my son Jeremy veritate et virtute

Contents Editorial Preface Testimonia Author s Preface Abbreviations INTRODUCTION I. O r i e n t a t i o n t o t h i s B o o k II. O r i e n t a t i o n t o t h e B o o k o f J o b A. The Book of Job in Its Present Form 1. Shape 2. Argum ent 3. Readings B. The Book of Job in Historical Perspective 1. Origins 2. The History of the Book of Job 3. The Book of Job and Ancient Near Eastern Literature 4. The Book of Job and Biblical Wisdom Literature III. O r i e n t a t i o n t o B o o k s a b o u t J o b 1. Bibliographies of Works on Job 2. Commentaries and Translations 3. The Book as a Whole 4. Philology, Text Criticism 5. The Ancient Versions 6. Literary Aspects 7. Motifs, Theological Elements 8. Job and Its Influence 9. Sources and Composition 10. Date and Authorship 11. The Ancient Literary Context, Including the Hebrew Bible TEX T AND COMMENTARY The Prologue (1:1-2:13) The First Cycle (3:1-11:20) Jo b ’s First Speech (3:1-26) Eliphaz’s First Speech (4:1-5:27) Jo b ’s Second Speech (6:1-7:21) Bildad’s First Speech (8:1-22) Jo b ’s T hird Speech (9:1-10:22) Zophar’s First Speech (11:1-20) The Second Cycle (12:1-20:29) Jo b ’s Fourth Speech (12:1-14:22) Eliphaz’s Second Speech (15:1—35) Jo b ’s Fifth Speech (16:1-17:16) Bildad’s Second Speech (18:1—21) Jo b ’s Sixth Speech (19:1-29) Zophar’s Second Speech (20:1-29)

v iii ix x XV

x x ix x x ix x x x iv x x x iv x x x iv x x x v ii x lv ii lv i lv ii lv ii lix lx lx iii lx iv lx iv lx x x iv xci x c iii xcvi x c v iii civ c x ii c x ii c x iii

1 67 106 155 197 213 253 274 340 367 403 426 471

Editorial Preface

T he launching of the Word Biblical Commentary brings to fulfillment an enterprise of several years’ planning. T he publishers and the m embers of the editorial board met in 1977 to explore the possibility of a new comm entary on the books of the Bible that would incorporate several distinctive features. Prospecfive readers of these volumes are entitled to know what such features were intended to be; whether the aims of the comm entary have been fully achieved time alone will tell. First, we have tried to cast a wide net to include as contributors a num ber of scholars from around the world who not only share our aims, but are in the main engaged in the ministry of teaching in university, college, and seminary. They represent a rich diversity of denom inational allegiance. T he broad stance of our contributors can rightly be called evangelical, and this term is to be understood in its positive, historic sense of a com m itm ent to Scripture as divine revelation, and to the truth and power of the Christian gospel. Then, the commentaries in our series are all commissioned and written for the purpose of inclusion in the Word Biblical Commentary. Unlike several of our distinguished counterparts in the field of comm entary writing, there are no translated works, originally written in a non-English language. Also, our comm entators were asked to prepare their own rendering of the original biblical text and to use those languages as the basis of their own comments and exegesis. W hat may be claimed as distinctive with this series is that it is based on the biblical languages, yet it seeks to make the technical and scholarly approach to a theological understanding of Scripture understandable by—and useful to—the fledgling student, the working minister, and colleagues in the guild of professional scholars and teachers as well. Finally, a word must be said about the form at of the series. T he layout, in clearly defined sections, has been consciously devised to assist readers at different levels. Those wishing to learn about the textual witnesses on which the translation is offered are invited to consult the section headed Notes. If the readers’ concern is with the state of m odern scholarship on any given portion of Scripture, they should turn to the sections on Bibliography and Form and Structure. For a clear exposition of the passage’s m eaning and its relevance to the ongoing biblical revelation, the Comment and concluding Explanation are designed expressly to meet that need. T here is therefore som ething for everyone who may pick up and use these volumes. If these aims come anywhere near realization, the intention of the editors will have been met, and the labor of our team of contributors rewarded. General Editors:

David A. Hubbard Glenn W. Barker† Old Testam ent: John D. W. Watts New Testam ent: Ralph P. Martin

Testimonia

The Book of Job is a fireball. It destroys the neat arrangem ent devised by some adherents of the religion of Israel to reject painful questions. It disturbs the harmony of biblical teaching about God’s plan; it makes room for chance, for the irrational. It refuses to soften what everyone seeks to control, suffering, and misfortune. It opposes the clarity of a moral order as the law of history. C. Duquoc and C. Floristán, Job and the Silence of God

W here Job squats awkwardly upon his ashpit, Alone on his denuded battlefield, Scraping himself with blunted Occam Razors He sharpened once to shave the Absolute . . . Eliphaz, Zophar, Bildad rise together, Begin to creak a wooden sarabande; “Glory to God,” they cry, and praise his Name In epigrams that trail off in a stammer. Suave Death comes, final as a H andel cadence, And snaps their limbs like twigs across his knees, Silenus nods, his finger to his nose. W. H. Auden, Thomas Epilogises Some comforters have but one song to sing, and they have no regard to whom they sing it. Jo h n Calvin T he author of the Book of Job knows what people think, what people say in whispers—and not ju st in Israel. Christian Duquoc, “Demonism and the Unexpectedness of G od” De tous les livres de l’A nden Testam ent, JO B est le plus sublime, le plus poignant, le plus hardi . . . , le plus énigmatique, le plus decevant et . . . le plus rebutant. Paul Claudel [God to Job, in the afterlife] You realize by now the part you played To stultify the Deuteronomist And change the tenor of religious thought. Robert Frost, A Masque of Reason

T he Book of Job is the Song of Songs of scepticism, and in it terrifying serpents hiss their eternal question: Why? Heinrich Heine Avoue que tu étais un grand bavard. Voltaire, Dictionnaire Philosophique

Author’s Preface

“If I have seen further, it is by standing on the shoulders of giants.” T hus Isaac Newton, leaving the question open w hether he himself was a dwarf on giants’ shoulders (as is the case is some form ulations of this ancient saying), or whether he himself was a giant on giants’ shoulders. Fortunately the question of gigantism does not arise in the present context of a comm entary on Job where the m odern com m entator is being perpetually cut down to size by the towering achievement of the Joban author. “I f I have seen fu rth er” expresses nicely too my ambivalence about the novelties in these volumes, putting the decision squarely in the reader’s court; caveat emptor, and let the reader understand. It will be a surprise to some to know that the greatest anxiety of this com m entator on a biblical book has been the thought, whenever he believes he has stumbled upon a fresh and preferable interpretation of his text, that he cannot with any probability have been the first person in twenty-five hundred years to understand his author aright, and that he is consequently m uch m ore likely wrong than right. T here have been giants among comm entators on Job. Not only the intrinsic quality of the book, but also the perceptiveness, ingenuity and tetchiness of scholars of heroic stature have made the exegesis of the book a titanomachic battlefield. Fohrer’s commentary is to my mind the finest, in imagination and theological sensitivity head and shoulders above the nevertheless outstanding work of Dhorme (sometimes overpraised as the best comm entary on any book of the Bible). In the next rank I would put Duhm, Driver and Gray, Gordis and (the most recent) Habel. After them , Andersen, Pope, T errien, Peake, Davidson, Hólscher, Weiser, Delitzsch, Horst, and Budde all have their distincfive contributions to make and the serious com m entator must read every word (well, almost) of them all. On the text I appreciated in addition de Wilde and Sicre Diaz (in Alonso Schokel’s commentary). It is a m atter of regret to me that my rhythm of working did not leave me leisure to read extensively in the great scholars of an earlier age, Dillmann, Hitzig, Schlottmann, and the others, though I turned to them and others often enough when either my eighteen or so desk companions or my own imagination did not supply an exegesis that satisfied me. T here have been two books more valuable to me than any commentary, and more often handled: the lexicon and the concordance. W hether this signals some grand theory of intertextuality or simply some pragmatic habit I have fallen into, I don’t rightly know; but I know I was constantly surprising myself with what precisions, what assurances, what better readings, em erged almost of their own accord from the systematic study of the words themselves. Not that a commentary should rem ain on the level of words; single-minded concentration on words is the strength, and the weakness, of the work of Dhorme. My intent has always been to understand every detail in the context of the total book, and I can testify that to keep in motion a perpetual interplay between the part and the whole has been the greatest intellectual pleasure of the entire work.

Author’s Preface

XI

I have always, dear reader, had an implied reader present to my mind; not you, perhaps, because my implied reader is a composite of real people, significant others, whom I would not be so unkind as to m ention by name. Let us say that among them is a Hebraist eager to challenge my philological decisions, a committed Old Testam ent theologian, left of center, who will pick up every word to do with society, psychology, and God, a friend who will recognize immediately the sentences addressed directly to her and her religious sensibilities but published freely like messages in the personal columns of The Times, a picker up of trifles who will dip in here and there and whom I hope to seduce into reading on, and an enthusiast who will quite properly thank me less for what I have said than for the hares I have set running in his mind. This implied reader of the subjoined Enigma Variations is also of course an ideal reader, for upon none of my friends (nor, come to think of it, my enemies) would I actually wish to impose the task of reading this book right through. So along with the handful of readers, implied, ideal, or actual, who will properly speaking read these books, there will be a larger clientele who will use them; such too have been in the forefront of my mind. Among the features of this commentary that I hope will prove to be userfriendly is the constant reference in the textual notes to several English versions. I have suspected that one of the reasons why persons in their right mind might want to pick up a commentary on Job is to find out why the standard English versions of the text under study differ so amazingly from one another, and whether at any particular instance it can be argued that one rendering is better than others. (I have inevitably found, incidentally, that to weigh the alternative renderings of fifteen English versions of every line has been a most constructive process for me as a Hebraist and critic, leading sometimes, admittedly, to a state of palsied indecision but more often to a sharpened perception of the text.) For the user’s convenience too, though also out of conviction, I have most often tried to say near the beginning of the comm ent on any verse what I think it is in general about and how I think it connects up with what precedes it, and only then how that general sense is supported by the actual words in their actual sequence. But occasionally, and especially when I have come to a famous crux, I have written a kind of stream of consciousness comm entary that starts with the problem and only by stages, like a detective story except that I lay no red herrings, moves toward my preferred solution. For one other feature of the commentary that users will, I hope, appreciate I can take no credit at all but must myself thank the editors for their conception of a piece of Explanation at every chapter’s end (or so). U nder that heading I have tried hard to stand a little way off from the text to ask what has been going on and what it all means. Any user of this commentary who reads nothing more than the Explanations would have the gist of the perspective adopted here. W riting a commentary on Job is nearly as dangerous as composing a ninth symphony. Many commentators reveal in their prefaces the real losses and anguishes they have endured in the course of writing, though, like Job, most of them have not actually died in the process. But even if one does not suffer objectively any more than the average biblical com m entator or the average hum an being, living for day after m onth after year with the powerful, insistent and imaginative depiction of suffering and its significance sensitizes the com

x ii

A u t h o r ’s P r e f a c e

m entator to one’s own experiences and to the signs of suffering that spring up everywhere in the world about. Nevertheless, I am glad to report, I have rarely wished to assent to the most frequent comment made to this com m entator by friends, relatives and acquaintances: How depressing to spend your days with Job, that book of unrelieved gloom! The truth is, and no one who spends m ore than half a hour with this commentary will be very surprised to learn it, that increasingly my response has been: On the contrary! Job represents the vitality of the hum an spirit which refuses to be humiliated, not even by God, and especially not by theologians! Reading and close-reading the Book of Job, the most intense book theologically and intellectually of the Old Testam ent, has been a perennially uplifting and not infrequently euphoric experience. T he craftsm anship in the finest details, the rain of m etaphor, the never-failing imagination of the poet, is surpassed only by the variety and delicacy of the theological ideas and the cunning of this most open of texts at confronting its readers with two new questions along with any answer. W hat is going on in commentaries and comm entary writing? I am asking myself this all the time. Reading in M ontaigne one day, I chanced on this passage (Florio’s translation): T h ere’s more adoe to enterpret interpretations, than to interpret things: and more bookes upon bookes, then upon any other subject. We doe but enter-glose [intergloss] our selves. All swarmeth with commentaries: O f A uthors their is great penury. Is not the chiefest and most famous knowledge of our ages, to know how to understand the wise? . . . [The latest] is got-up but one inch above the shoulders of the last save one (bk 3, ch 13; Everyman ed., 3:327).

This is good knockabout stuff, in its last sentence incidentally taking a sideswipe at the aphorism with which, in one of its forms, this preface opened (though Robert K. Merton, in his otherwise estimable, and exhaustive, On the Shoulders of Giants: A Shandean Postscript [New York: Free Press, 1965] seems to know nothing of the Montaigne passage). It suitably shames the com m entator, for a minute or two, and leads him (that is, me) to sobering reflections on the parasitic nature of the critic com pared to the creativity of the original artist. But what it leads to wondering in the end is w hether there is such a great gulf between text and comment, w hether the work of the critic and the work of the artist are not perhaps of the same substance, w hether the work of art does not perhaps stand in need of the com m entator to ensure its survival into each new generation, and whether, religiously speaking, not ju st the author but also the reader must be inspired. If, as I believe, m eaning comes into existence at the intersection between the text and the reader, texts need readers to become meaningful, for m eaningful always means m eaningful to someone. And texts, especially classic texts, Job, Dante, and Shakespeare, need commentators to become fully themselves; if they are texts capable of being com m ented on, they in a way include their commentaries within themselves, like the iridescent feathers of a peacock’s tail, as the Irish theologian Scotus Erigena put it when he argued that Holy Scripture contains an infinite num ber of meanings within itself. So if a commentary is a kind of extension of the work itself, an afterglow of the text, its afterimage, or rather its afterlife, it must not be a

Author s Preface

xiii

mere pragmatic and functionalist explication of hard words and unfamiliar customs (like the books of Holscher and de Wilde) but must worm its way into the text, replay the text, milk it, worry it—all these images for an intimate and exhausting encounter with its imagery, its structures, its ideas. All this is leading up to a justification of the rather considerable size of this commentary, perhaps the longest on the Book of Job since Gregory the Great. Most people feel that the Book of Job is already long enough, and many find it full of windy and tedious words. I of course believe that it is exactly as long as it ought to be, ju st as Il Seraglio has exactly the right num ber of notes, despite what the prince said to Mozart. And I of course believe that this commentary contains no redundancy, and that a commentary faithful to the spirit of the Book of Job will be, like it, ample, full and voluminous. This is the time to express my thankfulness for the many people who have given their support to this author over the almost ten years this book has been in preparation. Perhaps the most im portant background to the book has been the Departm ent of Biblical Studies in Sheffield in which I have worked since 1964, and where I have enjoyed the inestimable benefit of adventurous and creative colleagues. I name them all, because in some way each has contributed to this book. They are: Loveday Alexander, Jam es Atkinson, Bruce Chilton, Philip Davies, David Gunn, David Hill, Andrew Lincoln, Ralph Martin, David Payne, Jo h n Rogerson, Peter Southwell, and Tony Thiselton. The University of Sheffield has granted me three terms of study leave that have been spent in the writing, as well as financial support from its University Research Fund for some of the costs of research. To the Master and Fellows of St Edm und’s House (now College), Cambridge, I am deeply grateful for electing me to a Visiting Fellowship in January-April 1986, and providing the ambience for the most sustained period of writing I have ever had. My own college of St Jo h n ’s has given me its hospitality on num erous occasions when I have been working at the University Library in Cambridge. T he residents and readers o f T y n d a le H o u se, C am b rid g e , h av e o fte n b e e n a stim u lu s o r a so u n d in g

board, especially at the manche Teepausen for which Tyndale is famous. I am especially grateful to several people who have contributed to the text of this work. H ugh Williamson kindly gave me ready access to his extensive bibliography on Old Testam ent texts. Helen Orchard worked on the bibliography to the Introduction. Philip Chia brought consistency to the biblical citations. H eather McKay read the greater part of the work and made many valuable suggestions for improvements. David Deboys helped especially on Septuagintal matters. And then there are the typists, Pauline Bates, Rosemarie Kossov, Jane Holden, Andy Davidson, Marcia Crookes, Betty Scholey, and Susan Halpern, and others I fear I have forgotten, who have spent precious hours of their lives on my neat but nevertheless difficult manuscripts. The Old Testam ent editor of the series, Jo h n Watts, has given me both freedom and urging in due measure, and I thank him and Pat W ienandt of Word Books for their care and attention to many matters both large and small. More than one large-scale commentary on Job has not progressed beyond the first volume; I hope not to disappoint readers, but to provide a second volume in a much shorter time than the first volume has taken. W hether it

xiv

A u t h o r ’s P r e f a c e

will “recapture T hat first fine careless rap tu re” that A. S. Peake said A. B. Davidson never could after his first volume on Job remains to be seen. In the meantime, I conclude my preface in m uch the same spirits as those of the first com m entator on Job to have had his book published in English, Theodore Beza, and quote in sympathetic vein these lines from his preface dated January 23, 1587: Seeing the troubles of these times and the dangers wherein this commonwealth now standeth . . . I am . . . m inded to expound the histories of Job, in which, as in other books of the holie Scripture, there are many darke and hard places, insomuch as I must here of necessitie sometime sayle, as it were, am ong the rocks: and yet I hope I shal not make any shipwracke.

February 28, 1989

D.J . A.C.

Abbreviations

Pe r

io d ic a l s ,

Se r

ia l s , a n d

Re f e r

ence

Wor

ks

AASOR

Annual of the American Schools of Oriental Research

AB

Anchor Bible

AcOr ACR AER A IO N

Acta orientalia Australian Catholic Record American Ecclesiastical Review Annali delVistituto orientali di Napoli Aistleitner, J., Wórterbuch der ugaritischen Sprache (Berlin: Akade-

Aistleitner

mie Verlag, 1963)

ALUOS AmCl AnatSt

Australian Journal of Biblical Archeology American Journal of Semitic Languages and Literature Alonso Schokel, L., and J. L. Sicre Diaz ,Job, comentario teológico y literario (Madrid: Cristiandad, 1983) Annual of the Leeds University Oriental Society Ami du Clergé Anatolian Studies

AnBib

Analecta Bíblica

AnBoll

Andersen

Analecta Bollandiana Andersen, F. I .,Job: An Introduction and Commentary (TOTC; Lei-

Ang A nnInternMed

Angelicum Annals of Internal Medicine

AnOr

Analecta Orientalia

ANEP

Ancient Near East in Pictures, ed. J. B. Pritchard (Princeton: Prince-

ANET

Ancient Near Eastern Texts, ed. J. B. Pritchard, 3d ed. (Princeton:

Ang AnStEbr Ant

Angelicum Annuario di studi ebraici Antonianum

ASTI

Annual of the Swedish Theological Institute

A]BA AJSL

Alonso Schókel

AOAT AOS

ATAbh ATANT ATD ATR AU LLA AU SS BA

BAC Ball BASOR

Bauer-Leander

cester: Inter-Varsity Press, 1976)

ton UP, 1954)

Princeton UP, 1969)

Alter O rient und Altes Testam ent American O riental Series Alttestamentliche A bhandlungen A bhandlungen zur Theologie des Alten und N euen Testam ents Das Alte Testam ent Deutsch

Anglican Theological Review Australasian Universities Language and Literature Association Andrews University Seminary Studies Biblical Archaeologist

Biblioteca de autores cristianos Ball, C. J., The Book of Job: A Revised Text and Version (Oxford: Clarendon, 1922) Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research Bauer, H., and P. Leander, Historische Grammatik der hebraischen Spraches des Alten Testaments (Halle: Niemeyer, 1922)

xvi

BBB BDB BCPE

A

b b r e v ia t io n s

Bonner Biblische Beitráge Brown, F., S. R. Driver, and C. A. Briggs, A Hebrew and English Lexicon of the Old Testament (Oxford: Clarendon, 1907)

BeO B E TL BHK

Bulletin du centre protestant d ’études Beer, G., textual notes to Job in BH K, 1105-54 Bibbia e oriente Bibliotheca ephemeridum theologicarum lovaniensium Biblia Hebraica, ed. R. Kittel (3d ed.; Stuttgart: W ürttem burgische

BHS

Biblia Hebraica Stuttgartensia, ed. K. Elliger and W. R udolph (Stutt-

Beer

Bibelanstalt, 1937)

BH T Bib

BibB BibFe

BibOr BibRes Bib Review

gart: Deutsche Bibelstiftung, 1966-67) Beitráge zur historischen Theologie

Bíblica

Biblische Beitráge Biblia y Fe

Bíblica et orientalia

BJRL

Biblical Research Bible Review Bickell, G., Das Buch Job nach Anleitung der Strophik und der Septuaginta a u f seine ursprüngliche Form zurückgeführt und in Versmasse des Urtextes übersetzt (Vienna: Karl Gerold’s Sohn, 1894) Bulletin de VInstitut Franqais dArchéologie Oriéntale Bulletin of the Institute of Jewish Studies Bibel und Kirche Bibel und Liturgie Bible Translator Bible de Jérusalem Bulletin of the John Rylands University Library of Manchester

BM ik BN BO

Beth Mikra Biblische Notizen Bibliotheca Orientalis

BSac B TB

Bibliotheca Sacra Biblical Theology Bulletin Brockelmann, C., Lexicon Syriacum (Berlin: Reuter & Reichard,

Bickell BIFAO BIJS BiKi BiLit BiTrans

BJ

BKAT Blommerde

BOT BotAT

Brockelmann Brockington

Biblischer Kommentar: Altes Testam ent Blommerde, A. C. M., Northwest Semitic Grammar and Job (BibOr 22; Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1969)

De Boeken van het O ude Testam ent Die Botschaft des Alten Testam ents

1895; 2d ed., Halle: M. Niemeyer) Brockington, L. H., The Hebrew Text of the Old Testament: The Readings Adopted by the Translators of the New English Bible (Oxford: Clarendon, 1973)

BSO AS BTS BulM us Beyrouth BurHist

Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies Bible et terre sainte Bulletin du musée de Beyrouth Buried History

BZ

Biblische Zeitschrift

BWANT

BZAW BZAW CAD CahArch

Beitráge zur Wissenschaft vom Alten und N euen Testam ent

Beihefte zur ZAW

Beihefte zur Z A W (when book title is not also cited) [Chicago] Assyrian Dictionary (Chicago: Chicago UP, 1956- ) Cahiers Archéologiques

Abbreviations CalTJ

Calvin Theological Journal

CBQ

Catholic Biblical (Quarterly CBQ M onograph Series CCAR Journal

CamB CB CBQMS

CCARJ

CCSL CenB Charles Cheyne ChrPadBl CiTom CiuD CiVit CJT CleR ColBG ColcTFu ColctMech CommSpok

XVII

Cambridge Bible Century Bible

Corpus Christianorum , Series Latina Century Bible Charles, R. H. The Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha of the Old Testament (2 vols.; Oxford: Clarendon, 1913) Cheyne, T. K .,Job and Solomon, or the Wisdom of the Old Testament (London: Kegan Paul, T rench Sc Co., 1887) Christliche Padagogische Blatter Ciencia Tomista Ciudad de Dios Citta di Vita Canadian Journal of Theology Clergy Review Collationes Brugenses et Gandavenses Collectanea Theologica Universitatis Pujen Collectanea Mechliniensia Communio (Spokane)

ConB

Coniectanea bíblica

Cone ConcRev Consjud

Concilium Concilium-Revue, French edition of Concilium Conservative Judaism Cox, D., The Triumph of Impotence: Job and the Tradition of the Absurd

Cox CQ

(Analecta Gregoriana 212; Rome: Universitá Gregoriana Editrice, 1978)

Church (Quarterly

csco

Corpus scriptorum christianorum orientalium

CSRBull CT CTA

Council fo r the Study of Religion Bulletin Cuneiform Texts from Babylonian Tablets in the British Museum H erdner, Andrée, Corpus des tablettes en cunéiformes alphabétiques découvertes a Ras-Shamra-Ugarit (Paris: Im prim erie Nationale,

CTM CuadTe CurTM

Concordia Theological Monthly Cuadernos de Teología Currents in Theology and Mission Dahood, M., Psalms I: 1—50 (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1966) Dahood, M., Psalms II: 5 1 -1 0 0 (Garden City, NY: Doubleday,

Dahood, Psalms I Dahood, Psalms II Dahood, Psalms H I Davidson

DB DBSup

Delitzsch Delitzsch, Friedrich

1963)

1968) Dahood, M., Psalms III: 10 1 -1 5 0 (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1970) Davidson, A. B., The Book of Job, with Notes, Introduction and Appendix (CamB; Cambridge: CUP, 1884) Dictionnaire de la Bible, ed. F. Vigouroux (Paris: Letouzey Sc Ané, 1895-1912) Dictionnaire de la Bible, Supplément, ed. L. Pirot and A. Robert (Paris: Letouzey Sc Ané, 1928- ) Delitzsch, Franz J., Biblical Commentary on the Book of Job, tr. F. Bolton (2 vols.; Edinburgh: T. Sc T. Clark, 1866) Delitzsch, Friedrich, Das Buck Hiob, neu iibersetzt und kurz erklart (Leipzig: J. C. Hinrichs, 1902)

xviii de Wilde Dhorme DictSpir

Dillmann DJD Doederlein Driver Driver-Gray Driver, Tenses D TT

Duhm

A b b r e v ia t io n s

Wilde, A. de, Das Buck Hiob eingeleitet, übersetzt und erlautert (OTS 22; Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1981) Dhorme, E. Le livre de Job (Paris: Gabalda, 1926), tr. H. Knight, A Commentary on the Book of Job (London: Thom as Nelson 8c Sons, 1967) Dictionnaire de spiritualité ascétique et mystique, ed. M. Viller (Paris: Beauchesne, 1932—) Dillmann, A. Hiob, 1869 (3d ed.; Leipzig: S. Hirzel, 1891) Discoveries in the Ju d ean Desert Doederlein, J. C., Scholia in libros Veteris Testamenti poéticos Jobum, Psalmos et tres Salomonis (Halle, 1779) See Driver-Gray Driver, S. R., and G. B. Gray, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Book of Job together with a New Translation (ICC; Edinburgh: T. 8c T. Clark, 1921) Driver, S. R. A Treatise on the Use of the Tenses in Hebrew and Some Other Syntactical Questions, 2d ed. (Oxford: C larendon, 1881) Dansk teologisk tidsskrift Duhm, B., Das Buch Hiob erklart (KHC; Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr,

1897)

EB

Encyclopaedia Bíblica, ed. T. K. Cheyne and J. Black (4 vols.; Lon-

don: A. and C. Black, 1899-1903)

EBB

EchB

stitute) Echter-Bibel

Encyclopedia Miqrait (Jerusalem: Bialik In-

EC

Enciclopedia Cattolica (Vatican City, 1949—)

EHAT Ehrlich

Exegetisches H andbuch zum Alten Testam ent Ehrlich, A. B., Randglossen zur hebraischen Bibel, Vol. 6: Psalmen, Sprilche, und Hiob (Leipzig: J. C. Hinrichs, 1918)

El

Eretz Israel Eitan, L, A Contribution to Biblical Lexicography (New York: Colum-

Ene Encjud EncMiq ErbAuf ERE

Encounter Encyclopaedia Judaica (Jerusalem: Macmillan, 1972) See EBB Evangelical Quarterly Erbe und Auftrag Encyclopaedia of Religion and Ethics, ed. J. Hastings (13 vols.; Edin-

EstBíb EstEcl EstFranc E TL EuntDoc E vT EvErz Exp

Estudios bíblicos Estudios Eclesiásticos Estudios Franciscanos Ephemerides Theologicae Lovanienses Euntes Docete Evangelische Theologie Evangelische Erzieher Expositor

ExpB

Expositor’s Bible

ExpT

Expository Times Fedrizzi, P., Giobbe: La Sacra Bibbia, traduta dai testi originali illustrata con note critiche e commentata (Turin: Marietti, 1972) Forschungen und Fortschritte Fohrer, G., Das Buch Hiob (KAT 16; Gütersloh: G ütersloher Ver-

Eitan

EQ

Fedrizzi

FF

Fohrer

bia UP, 1924)

burgh: T. & T. Clark, 1908-26)

lagshaus Gerd Mohn, 1963)

Abbreviations FoiTemps FolOr

La Foi et le Temps Folia Orientalia

FOTL

T he Forms of the Old Testam ent Literature

FreibRu

Freiburger Rundbrief

FRLANT Galling, Reallexikon Gard GerefTTs

Gerleman Gesenius-Buhl Gibson Gibson, E. C. S.

GJ

GKC

XIX

Forschungen zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und N euen Testam ents Galling, K., Biblisches Reallexikon (2d ed.; Tübingen: Mohr, 1977) Gard, D. H. The Exegetical Method of the Greek Translator of the Book of Job (SBLMS 8; Philadelphia: Society of Biblical Literature, 1952) Gereformeerd Theologisch Tijdschrift

Gerleman, G., textual notes to Job in B H S Gesenius, W., and F. Buhl, Hebraisches und aramaisches Handwórterbuck zum Alten Testament (17th ed.; Leipzig: Vogel, 1915) Gibson, J. C. L., Canaanite Myths and Legends (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1978) Gibson, E. C. S., The Book of Job (WC; London: M ethuen, 1899) Grace Journal Gesenius’ Hebrew Grammar, ed. E. Kautzsch and A. E. Cowley (2d

Gray

ed. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1910) Gordis, R., The Book of Job: Commentary, New Translation, and Special Notes (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1978) Grabbe, L. L., Comparative Philology and the Text of Job: A Study in Methodology (SBLDS 34; Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1977) Graetz, H., Emendationes in plerosque Sacrae Scripturae Veteris Testamentí libros (Breslau: Schlesische Buchdruckerei, 1892) See Driver-Gray

Greg

Gregorianum

Guillaume

Guillaume, A., Studies in the Book of Job with a New Translation (ALUOS Supp. 2; Leiden: Brill, 1968)

G uL

Geist u n d Leben

Habel H ahn

Habel, N. C., The Book of Job (London: SCM, 1985) H ahn, H. A., Commentar ilber das Buck Hiob (Berlin: J. A. Wohlgem uth, 1850)

HAR

Hebrew Annual Review

HDB

A Dictionary of the Bible, ed. J. Hastings (5 vols.; Edinburgh:

Gordis Grabbe Graetz

HAT

H andbuch zum Alten Testam ent T. & T. Clark, 1899)

Hen H ervTS

Hesse HibJ

Hitzig HKAT Holscher Hoffmann Horst Houbigant

Henoch Hervormde Teologiese Studies Hesse, F., Hiob (Zürcher Bibelkommentar; Zurich: Theologischer

Verlag, 1978)

Hibbert Journal Hitzig, F., Das Buch Hiob übersetzt und ausgelegt (Leipzig: C. F.

Winter, 1874) H andkom m entar zum Alten Testam ent Holscher, G., Das Buch Hiob (HAT; Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr [Paul Siebeck], 1937) Hoffmann, J. G. E., Hiob (Kiel: C. F. Haeseler, 1891) Horst, F., Hiob (BKAT 1; Neukirchen: Neukirchener Verlag, 1960-63) Houbigant, C. F., Biblia Hebraica cum notis criticis (Paris, 1753)

xx

Houtsma

A b b r e v ia t io n s

Houtsma, Μ. T., Textkritische Studien zum Alten Testament: I. Das Buck Hiob (Leiden: Brill, 1925)

HS

Hebrew Studies

HSAT

Die Heilige Schrift des Alten Testam ents (4th ed.; Tübingen, 1922-23) H arvard Semitic Museum; H arvard Semitic M onographs

HSM H TR HUCA IB

Harvard Theological Review Hebrew Union College Annual Hupfeld, H., Quaestionum in Jobeidos locos vexatos specimen: Commentatio (Halle: E. Anton, 1853) The Interpreter’s Bible, ed. G. A. Buttrick (12 vols.; Nashville:

IBD

Illustrated Bible Dictionary, ed. J. D. Douglas et al. (3 vols.; Leicester:

H upfeld

ICC IDB IDBS

Abingdon, 1951-57)

Inter-Varsity, 1980) International Critical Com m entary Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible, 4 vols., ed. G. A. Buttrick (Nashville: Abingdon, 1962) IDB, Supplementary volume, ed. K. Crim (Nashville: Abingdon, 1976)

IEJ IndJT Int Interp ISBE

Israel Exploration Journal Indian Journal of Theology Interpretation Interpreter The International Standard Bible Encyclopedia, ed. G. W. Bromiley

IT(¿ IZ T JA A R JA N E SC U

Irish Theological Quarterly Internationale Zeitschrift fu r Theologie, Germ an edition of Concilium Journal of the American Academy of Religion Journal of the Ancient Near Eastern Society of Columbia University Janzen, J. G .,Job (Interpretation; Atlanta: Jo h n Knox, 1985) Journal of the American Oriental Society The Jerome Bible Commentary, ed. R. E. Brown et al. (London:

(4 vols., rev. ed.; G rand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1979- )

Janzen

JA O S JB C JB L

JBLMS

JB R JC S JD Th JE T S JewEnc JH I JM E O S JN E S

Joü o n

Geoffrey Chapm an, 1968)

Journal of Biblical Literature Journal of Biblical Literature M onograph Series Journal of Bible and Religion Journal of Cuneiform Studies Jahrbiicher fiir deutsche Theologie Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society Jewish Encyclopedia Journal of the History of Ideas Journal of the Manchester Egyptian and Oriental Society Journal of Near Eastern Studies Joüon, P., Grammaire de l’hébreu biblique (Rome: Pontifical Biblical

Institute, 1947) JP O S JPsychJud JPsychTheol JQ R JP T h JR JS J JS O T

JSO TSup

Journal of the Palestine Oriental Society Journal of Psychology and Judaism Journal of Psychology and Theology Jewish Quarterly Review Jahrbiicher fiir protestantische Theologie Journal of Religion Journal fo r the Study of Judaism Journal fo r the Study of the Old Testament Journal fo r the Study of the Old Testament, Supplem ent Series

Abbreviations JS P JS S JT S Jud JüdSH R Z

KAT KatBl

KB

KB3 KEH KHC(AT) King Kissane KKAT Knox Konig KTU

XXI

Journal fo r the Study of the Pseudepigrapha Journal of Semitic Studies Journal of Theological Studies Judaica Jüdische Schriften aus hellenistischer und romischer Zeit (Giitersloh)

Kom m entar zum Alten Testam ent, ed. E. Sellin Katachetische Blatter

Koehler, L., and W. Baum gartner, Lexicon in Veteris Testamenti libros (Leiden: Brill, 1953) Koehler, L., and W. Baum gartner, Hebraisches und aramaisches Lexikon zum Alten Testament (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1967—) Kurzgefasstes exegetisches H andbuch zum Alten Testam ent Kurzer H and-C om m entar (zum Alten Testam ent) King, E. G., The Poem of Job; Translated in the Metre of the Original (Cambridge: CUP, 1914) Kissane, E. J., The Book of Job Translated from a Critically Revised Hebrew Text with Commentary (Dublin: Browne 8c Nolan, 1939) Kurzgefasster Kom m entar zu den Heiligen Schriften Alten und N euen Testam ents [Knox, R.], The Holy Bible: A Translation from the Latin Vulgate in the Light of the Hebrew and Greek Originals (London: Burns, Oates 8c W ashbourne, 1945-49) Kónig, E., Historisch-kritisches Lehrgebaude der hebraischen Sprache: 3. Historisch-Comparative Syntax der hebraischen Sprache (Leipzig: Hinrichs, 1897) Dietrich, M., O. Loretz, and J. Sanmartín, Keilalphabetische Texte aus Ugarit (AOAT 24; Kevelaer and Neukirchen: Butzon 8c Bercker, 1976)

KuD

Kerygma und Dogma

KV Lam parter

Korte Verklaring Lam parter, H., Das Buch der Anfechtung, iibersetzt und ausgelegt (BotAT; Stuttgart: Calwer, 1951) Lane, E. W., An Arabic-English Lexicon (London: Williams 8c Norgate, 1863-93) Larcher, C., Le Livre de Job (BJ; Paris: Cerf, 1950)

Lane Larcher LCQ Les

Lévéque

Lutheran Church Quarterly Lesonenu Lévéque, J., Job et son Dieu: Essai d ’exégése et dethéologie

biblique

Levy

(Paris: Gabalda, 1970) Levy, J., Neuhebraisches und chaldaisches Wórterbuch iiber die Talmudim und Midraschim (4 vols.; Leipzig: Brockhaus, 1876—89)

LingBib LTP LTQ LTR

Lingüistica Bíblica Laval théologique et philosophique Lexington Theological Quarterly Lexington Theological Review

LUÁ

Lunds Universitets Arsskrift

M AA

Medelelingen der koninklijke nederlandse Akademie van Wetenschappen,

Merx MethQR MGWj

Amsterdam Merx, A., Das Gedicht von Hiob: Hebraischer Text, kritisch bearbeitet und iibersetzt, nebst sachlicher und kritischer Einleitung (Jena: M auke’s Verlag, 1871)

Methodist Quarterly Review Monatsschrift fü r Geschichte und Wissenschaft des Judentums

A b b r e v ia t io n s

XXII

Michaelis Michel MittSeptU Moffatt MP M TZ

M urphy Muss-Arnoldt MVAG NCB NBD NedG TT NedTTs

N ICOT

Michaelis, J. D., “Varianten im Buch H iob” (in his Orientalische und exegetische Bibliothek 7 [1774] 217-47; 8 [1775] 179-224) W. L. Michel, Job in the Light of Northwest Semitic, Vol. 1 (Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1987) Mitteilungen des Septuaginta-U nternehm ens Moffatt, J., A New Translation of the Bible (London: H odder 8c Stoughton, 1926) Monatsschrift fu r Pastoraltheologie Miinchener Theologische Studien Murphy, R. E., Wisdom Literature: Job, Proverbs, Ruth, Canticles, Ecclesiastes and Esther (FOTL 13; G rand Rapids: Eerdmans,

1981) Muss-Arnoldt, W., A Concise Dictionary of the Assyrian Languages (Berlin: R euther 8c Reichard, 1905) Mitteilungen d er vorderasiatisch-agyptischen Gesellschaft New Century Bible The New Bible Dictionary, ed. J. D. Douglas (London: IVF, 1962) Nederduitse Gereformeerd Teologiese Tydskrif Nederlands Theologisch Tijdschrift

New International Com m entary on the Old Testam ent

N ID N T T

The New International Dictionary of New Testament Theology, ed. C.

NJDTh NRT NTT

Neue Jahrbiicher fu r deutsche Theologie Nouvelle Revue Théologique Norsk Teologisk Tidsskrift

OBO OED OLP

Olshausen

OLZ Or OrChr OrdKor

OTL OTS O TW SA PalCl

Payne Smith Peake

PEFQS PEQ

Perles II

Brown (2 vols.; G rand Rapids: Eerdm ans, 1979)

Orbis Biblicus et Orientalis Murray, J. A. H., New English Dictionary on Historical Principles (Oxford, 1888-1928) Orientalia Lovaniensia Periodica Olshausen, J., Hiob erklart (KEH; Leipzig: S. Hirzel, 1852) Orientalische Literaturzeitung Orientalia Oriens Christianas Ordens-Korrespondenz

Old Testam ent Library

Oudtestamentische Studien Die Ou Testamentiese Werkgemeenskap in Suid-Afrika Palestra del Clero Payne Smith, R., Thesaurus Syriacus (2 vols.; Oxford: Clarendon,

1879-1901) Peake, A. S .,Job, Introduction, Revised Version with Notes, and Index (CB; Edinburgh: T. C. 8c E. C. Jack, 1905) Palestine Exploration Fund, Quarterly Statement Palestine Exploration (Quarterly Perles, F., Analekten zur Textkritik des Alten Testaments (N.F.; Le-

ipzig: Engel, 1922)

Peters

Perspectives in Religious Studies Perspectiva Teológica Peters, N., Das Buch Hiob iibersetzt und erklart (Münster: Aschen-

PG

Patroloviae Cursus Completus, Series Graeca, ed. 1. P. Migne (Paris,

PL

Patrologiae Cursus Completus, Series Latina, ed. J. P. Migne (Paris,

PerspRelSt PerspT

dorff, 1928)

1857-66, 1894) 1844-80)

Abbreviations PO Pope PO TT PrAmAcJewRes Prot QDAP RA

Ravisi RazF RB RBibArg RBiblt RCatalT RE REArmén RÉJ

Reiske

x x iii

Patrología Orientalis Pope, M .,Job (AB; G arden City, NY: Doubleday, 1965; 3d ed., 1973) Peoples of Old Testament Times, ed. D. J. Wiseman (London: OUP, 1973) Proceedings of the American Academy of Jewish Research Protestantesimo (Quarterly of the Department of Antiquities in Palestine Revue dAssyriologie Ravasi, G., Giobbe, traduzione e commento (Rome: Borla, 1979—84) Razón y Fe Revue biblique Revista Bíblica, Buenos Aires Rivista bíblica italiana Revista Catalana de Teología Realencyklopadie fü r protestantische Theologie und Kirche, ed. J. J.

Herzog (3d ed.; Leipzig: J. C. Hinrichs, 1896-1913) Revue des Etudes Arméniennes Revue des Etudes Juives Reiske, J. J., Coniecturae in Jobum et Proverbia Salomonis (Leipzig,

Reuss

1779) Renan, E., Le livre de Job, traduit de Vhébreu (Paris: Calmann Lévy, 1860) Reuss, E., Hiob (Braunschweig: Schwetschke, 1888)

RevApol RevArch RevEcclLiege RevÉtls RevExp RevNouv RevQ RGG

Revue Apologétique Revue Archéologique Revue ecclésiastique de Liege Revue des études islamiques Review and Expositor Revue Nouvelle Revue de Qumran Die Religion in Geschichte und Gegenwart, ed. K. Galling (6 vols.;

RHE RHPR RHR

Revue d ’histoire ecclésiastique Revue d ’histoire et de philosophie religieuses Revue de l’histoire des religions Richter, H. Studien zu Hiob: Der Aufbau des Hiobbuches dargestellt an den Gattungen des Rechtslebens (Berlin: Evangelische Verlags-

RicR RivB

Ricerche Religiose Rivista Bíblica

Rosenmüller Rowley

Rosenmüller, E. F. C., Scholia in Vetus Testamentum: Editio secunda auctior et emendatior, Pars V: Jobus (Leipzig: J. A. Barth, 1824) Rowley, Η. H .,Job (NCB; Thom as Nelson Sc Sons, 1970)

RQ RR RRel

Restoration Quarterly Review of Religion Review fo r Religious

Renan

Richter

Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr, 1957—65)

anstalt, 1959)

RS RSPT RSO RTAM RTL RUO SAB

Ras Shamra Revue des sciences philosophiques et théologiques Rivista degli studi orientali Recherches de théologie ancienne et médiévale Revue théologique de Louvain Revue de VUniversité d ’Ottawa Sitzungsberichte der Deutschen Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Berlin

x x iv

SacDoc

A b b r e v ia t io n s

Sacra Doctrina

SANT

Studien zum Alten und N euen Testam ent

SBFLA

Studii Biblici Franciscani Liber Annuus

SBL SBLDS SBLMS SBLSCS SBOT SBT

Society of Biblical Literature Society of Biblical Literature Dissertation Series Society of Biblical Literature M onograph Series Society of Biblical Literature Septuagint and Cognate Studies Sacred Books of the Old Testam ent Studies in Biblical Theology

ScEs

Science et esprit

Schultens

Schultens, A., Liber Iobi cum nova versione ad hebraeum fontem et commentario perpetuo (Leiden: J. Luzac, 1787)

SchwTZ ScrHieros SEA Sef Sem

Schweizerische Theologische Zeitschrift Scripta Hierosolymitana Svensk Exegetisk Ársbok Separad Semítica

Sicre Diaz

Alonso Schókel, L., and J. L. Sicre Diaz ,Job, comentario teológico y literario (Madrid: Cristiandad, 1983) Siegfried, C. [G. A.], The Book of Job: Critical Edition of the Hebrew Text (SBOT; Baltimore: Johns Hopkins UP, 1893)

Siegfried SJT

Scottish Journal of Theology

Skehan

Skehan, P. W., “Strophic Patterns in the Book of Jo b ,” CBQ 23 (1961) 125—42 (= Studies in Israelite Poetry and Wisdom, CBQMS 1 [1971] 96-113) Snaith, N. H., The Book of Job: Its Origin and Purpose (SBT 2/11; London: SCM, 1968) Society for Old Testam ent Study M onograph Series

Snaith SOTSMS SR

Studies in Religion!Sciences religieuses

SSEA

Society for the Study of Egyptian Antiquities

ST StAns

Studia theologica Studia Anselmiana

St ANT STDJ Stevenson Stier

StLuke

Strahan

Studien zum Alten und N euen Testam ent Studies on the Texts of the Desert of Ju d ah Stevenson, W. B., The Poem of Job: A Literary Study with a New Translation (London: OUP, 1947) Stier, F., Das Buch Ijjob hebraisch und deutsch: Uebertragen ausgelegt und mit Text- und Sacherlauterungen versehen (Munich: Kósel, 1954)

St Luke’s Journal of Theology Strahan, J., The Book of Job Interpreted (Edinburgh: T. &: T. Clark,

1913)

StSemNed SW JT

Szczygiel

Studia Semítica Nederlandica Southwestern Journal of Theology Szczygiel, P., Das Buch Job, iibersetzt und erklart (HSAT; Bonn:

Tarb TBT

Tar biz The Bible Today

TBii

Theologische Biicherei

TDig TDNT

Theology Digest Theological Dictionary of the New Testament, ed. G. Kittel and G.

Hanstein, 1931)

Friedrich, tr. G. W. Bromiley (10 vols.; G rand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1964—76)

Abbreviations TDO T

T errien Textual Notes

XXV

Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament, ed. G. J. Botterweck

and H. Ringgren (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1974—) Terrien, S. L .,Job (Commentaire de l’Ancien Testam ent 13; Neuchátel: Delachaux et Niestlé, 1963) Textual Notes on the New American Bible (Paterson, N J: St. Anthony’s Guild, n.d. [pp. 325—451 of some editions])

TGI TGUOS

Theologie und Glaube Transactions of the GlasgowUniversity

ThB

Theologische Biicherei

ThBl Theol THW AT

Theologische Blatter Theology Theologisches Handwórterbuch zum Alten Testament, ed. E. Jenni and

ThEx ThZ TLZ

Theologische Existenz Heute Theologische Zeitschrift Theologische Literaturzeitung

Oriental Society

C. W estermann (Munich: Kaiser, 1971)

TO TC

Tyndale Old Testam ent Commentaries

TP M TPQ TQ TRev TRu TS TSK TTijd TTKi TTod T TQ T TZ

Theologische-Praktische Monatsschrift Theologische-Praktische Quartalschrift Theologische Quartalschrift Theologische Revue Theologische Rundschau Theological Studies Theologische Studien und Kritiken Theologische Tijdschrift Tidskrift for Teologi og Kir che Theology Today Tiibinger Theologischer Quartalschrift Trierer theologische Zeitschrift

TU Tur-Sinai

Texte und U ntersuchungen Tur-Sinai, N. H., The Book of Job: A New Commentary (Jerusalem: Kiryath-Sepher, 1957)

TV(ers) TZ UF USQR

Van Seims VD VF VigChr

Voigt Volz von Soden VS VT

VTSup Watson WC

Theologische Versuche Theologische Zeitschrift Ugarit Forschungen Union Seminary (Quarterly Review Van Seims, A., Job: Die Prediking van het O T (2 vols.; Nijkerk:

Callenbach, 1982-83)

Verbum Domini Verkiindigung und Forschung Vigiliae Christianae Voigt, C., Einige Stellen des Buches Hiob (Leipzig: W. Drugulin,

1895) Volz, P. Weisheit (Das Buch Hiob, Spriiche und Jesus Sirach, Prediger) (Gottingen: Vandenhoeck 8c Ruprecht, 1911; 2d ed., 1921) Soden, W. von, Akkadisches Handwórterbuch (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 1965-71)

Vie spirituelle Vetus Testamentum V T Supplements

Watson, W. G. E. Classical Hebrew Poetry: A Guide to Its Techniques (JSOTSup 26; Sheffield: J SOT, 1984) W estminster Commentaries

xxvi

A b b r e v ia t io n s

Webster Weiser W estermann WMANT WO Wor

Webster, E. C. “Strophic Patterns in Job 3 -2 8 ,” J SO T 26 (1983) 33-60 Weiser, A., Das Buck Hiob iibersetzt und erklart (ATD; Gottingen: Vandenhoeck 8c Ruprecht, 1951) W estermann, C., The Structure of the Book of Job: A Form-Critical Analysis, tr. C. A. Muenchow (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1981) Wissenschaftliche M onographien zum Alten und N euen Testament

W right

Die Welt des Orients Worship (Collegeville, Minn.) Wright, G. Η. B., The Book of Job (London: Williams and Norgate,

W TJ WuD WZ W ZKM

Westminster Theological Journal Wort und Dienst Wissenschaftliche Zeitschrift . . . Wiener Zeitschrift filr die Kunde des Morgenlandes

1883)

Yellin

Yellin, D.,

ZA ZAW ZD MG ZDPV ZeichZt ZKT ZRGG ZST Z TK ZZ B ib l

ic a l

Gen Exod Lev Num Deut Josh

J udg

Ruth 1-2 Sam 1-2 Kgs 1-2 Chr Ezra Neh Esth Job Ps Prov Eccl Cant Isa Je r Lam Ezek

(Jerusalem, 1927)

Zeitschrift filr Assyriologie Zeitschriftfiir die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft Zeitschrift der deutschen morgenlandischen Gesellschaft Zeitschrift des deutschen Palastina-Vereins Die Zeichen der Zeit Zeitschrift fiir katholische Theologie Zeitschrift fiir Religions- und Geistesgeschichte Zeitschrift fiir die systematische Theologie Zeitschrift fiir Theologie und Kir che Zwischen den Zeiten (i n

c l u d in g

A po c r

Genesis Exodus Leviticus Numbers Deuteronomy Joshua Judges Ruth 1-2 Samuel 1-2 Kings 1-2 Chronicles Ezra Nehemiah Esther Job Psalm Proverbs Ecclesiastes Canticles Isaiah Jerem iah Lamentations Ezekiel

y ph a l

) Bo o k s

Dan Hos Joel Amos Obad Jonah Mic Nah Hab Zeph Hag Zech Mai Tob Jd t Wisd Ecclus Bar 1-2 Macc Matt Mark

Daniel Hosea Joel Amos Obadiah Jonah Micah N ahum Habakkuk Zephaniah Haggai Zechariah Malachi Tobit Ju d ith Wisdom of Solomon Ecclesiasticus or T he Wisdom of Jesus son of Sirach Baruch 1-2 Maccabees Matthew Mark

Abbreviations Luke Jo hn Acts Rom 1-2 Cor Gal Eph Phil Col 1-2 Thess

Luke John Acts Romans 1-2 Corinthians Galatians Ephesians Philippians Colossians 1-2 Thessalonians

x x v ii

1-2 Tim Titus Phlm Heb Jam es 1-2 Pet 1-2-3 Jo h n Ju d e Rev

1-2 Tim othy Titus Philemon Hebrews Jam es 1-2 Peter 1 -2 -3 Jo h n Ju d e Revelation

b. Bat .

Baba Bathra

Q u m r a n a n d R a b b in ic L it e r a t u r e

1QH 1QM IQS 1 lQ tgJob b.

Hymn Scroll from Q um ran War Scroll from Q um ran Manual of Discipline Targum of Job from Q um ran, Cave 11 Babylonian Talm ud

Gen. Rabb. Midr.

Genesis Rabbah Midrash

M oced Qat. Pss. Sol. T .Job

M oced Qatan Psalms of Solomon Testament of Job

NEB

New English Bible New International Version New Jerusalem Bible New Jewish Publication Society Version Revised Standard Version Revised Version Today’s English Version,

M o d e r n T r a n s l a t io n s A SV AV BJ GNB JB JP S K JV NAB

American Standard Version Authorized Version, King Jam es Version Bible de Jérusalem Good News Bible, t e v Jerusalem Bible Jewish Publication Society version of the Bible King Jam es Version, Authorized Version New American Bible

N IV N JB N JP S RSV r v t e v

GNB TOB

T raduction Oecum énique de la Bible

inf intrans juss mase niph pass p erf pers pi ptep sg subj suff vb

infinitive intransitive jussive masculine niphal passive perfect person plural participle singular subject suffix verb

H ebr ew Gr a mma r

abs acc consec coh constr fem fut gen haplog hiph hithp hithpo hoph im pf impv

absolute accusative consecutive cohortative construct feminine future genitive haplography hiphil hithpael hithpolal hophal imperfect imperative

x x v iii

T

ext u a l

Akk. Aq Arab. Aram. Ass. Eg· G Germ. Heb. Hitt. K Lat. LXX

M is c e l

ANE cf. chap(s). col(s). ct. CUP dittogr ed(s). ET EVV frag. fit

A b b r e v ia t io n s

FS lit. mg ms(s) n. n.d. N.F. N.R. ns

No t

es

Akkadian Aquila Arabic Aramaic Assyrian Egyptian Greek translation of the OT, Septuagint, LXX German Hebrew Hittite Kethibh, consonantal Hebrew text of O T Latin Septuagint, Greek translation of the OT

ΜΗ MT OG OL Pesh Q Rashi Symm Syr Tg Theod Ugar. Vg

Mishnaic Hebrew Masoretic Text Old Greek Old Latin Peshitta, Syriac version of the O T Qere, Masoretic vocalized Hebrew text of O T Com m entary printed in Rabbinic Bibles Symmachus Syriac version of the OT, Peshitta T argum Theodotion Ugaritic Vulgate

l a neous

Ancient Near East compare chapter(s) column(s) contrast Cambridge University Press dittograph(y) edition; edited by: editor(s) English Translation English versions fragm ent fo rte , perhaps Festschrift literally margin manuscript(s) note no date Neue Folge, new series Nieuwe Reeks, new series new series

NT OT OUP opp. ong. P· pi. postbib. prp q .v .

repr. sc.

si v .l . s .v .

tr. UP v(v)

v .l .

vol(s).

New T estam ent Old Testam ent Oxford University Press opposite (to) original, originally page plate postbiblical proposition , suggested (of a textual em endation) quod vide , which see reprinted scilicet, that is to say si vera lectio, if the reading is correct sub verbo , und er that word translate(d); translator University Press verse(s) varia lectio, alternative reading volume(s)

Introduction: I. Orientation to This Book Mega biblion, mega kakon; a big book is a big evil. The proverb is true for the reader almost as much for as for the writer. These first pages are intended to enable readers to use this book for their own purposes, and not to foreswear it for its forbiddingness. By way of Introduction, there is, following this orientation to the commentary itself, an Orientation to the Book of Job, so that one may read, as one runs, in the space of a few pages, “what the book is all about.” It will not therefore be necessary to read the entire commentary to find out what this com m entator thinks, in general, the book is “all about.” If a thing is worth saying, it is worth saying briefly. T here are, however, two drawbacks to finding out what the Book of Job is all about. T he first is that no one can say, and certainly not this commentator, what the Book of Job is all about, not even given unlimited space and time. For it is a part of the Book’s greatness that whenever we think we have it mastered, it surprises us with new angles that we realize we haven’t yet properly taken into consideration. The second drawback is that “what the book is all about”—which is to say, its meaning—varies from reader to reader. For meanings are not properties of books, but are understandings created in the minds of readers who are intent upon reading books. And as many readers, as many readings. This realization does not have to lead to despair of making sense of Job or to abandonm ent of the quest for superior and more persuasive meanings. But it does put the reader and the reader’s concern in a very much more prom inent place than is customary. In line with this emphasis on the reader, the second part of the Orientation sketches some particular readings of Job that might be generated by a sample of readers with particular stances and commitments—for example, feminists, materialists, vegetarians, and Christians. T here is not a lot in this Orientation about the traditional questions usually dealt with in Introductions to commentaries—date, authorship, sources, and the like. This is because I regard these questions as mostly extrinsic to the book itself and therefore to the question of m eaning or interpretation, which is always for me the primary question. No doubt there are many interesting things to be said about how the Book of Job may have developed into the book it now is. But I must confess to having spent almost all my time on the book as it now is, without thinking very much about how it came to be in its present form. O f its author or date of composition I frankly know nothing, and my speculations are not likely to be worth more than the many guesses that already exist. However, I do admit that it would be doctrinaire to rule out these questions altogether, and I agree that my reading of the book as it now stands does make some historical judgm ents, such as the assumptions that the book is written by a Hebrew or Jew several centuries before the Christian era. So the reader curious about such matters will find in the Orientation some few remarks on strictly historical or genetic matters. T he third part of this Introduction is an Orientation to Works about the

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Book of Job—which is to say, a Bibliography. Unlike bibliographies in most commentaries, even those in the W ord Biblical Com m entary series, this is intended to be a reasonably comprehensive bibliography. It does not contain only items I have read or seen, though I think I have seen most that are in Sheffield, Cambridge University Library or the British Library in the British Museum, London. It does not usually include works in languages with which I have no familiarity. There are several reasons why I decided to compile such a bibliography. 1. There is no such bibliography anywhere in print. 2. I thought it was im portant to consider the quantity—and the range—of works that have been inspired by the Book of Job. T here are certainly more on the Book of Psalms, but I would be surprised if there were more on any other book of the Old Testam ent. T he existence of these works is in itself a commentary on the Book of Job. 3. I became increasingly dissatisfied with restricting my horizon to the socalled scholarly works. Scholars quote scholars and create their own canon of approved literature on the Book of Job. Those writings that are not soon cited by commentators do not generally get cited by subsequent commentators. If a writer on Job has been dead for m ore than a hundred years, or wrote in a language other than English, French, or German, or addressed people who were not scholars, or was published by a publishing house committed to a particular religious viewpoint—it is very unlikely that the views of that author will be taken into any account by the writer of a scholarly commentary. I should know, because that is to a large extent what I too have been doing throughout this commentary. O f course, when it comes to technical questions about philology, unscholarly remarks can be safely ignored. But when it is a m atter of large-scale interpretation, of the m eaning of the book as a whole and not just of a particular word or verse, one does not need to be a technically trained scholar to have valuable insights. So my “undiscrim inating” bibliography, which includes sermons and works of popular devotion alongside vast works of erudition, is m eant as a kind of atonem ent for the principle of scholarly apartheid which reigns elsewhere in the commentary. 4. The writings on Job of older commentators, including the Fathers of the Christian church and the oldest Jewish interpreters, are listed here deliberately. For I came to understand that there can be no serious distinction between “interpretation” and the “history of interpretation.” At the m om ent of publication of this commentary it becomes part of the “history of interpretation” and no different in principle—however much in content and quality—from those of Chrysostom, Rashi, Oecolampadius, Schultens, and the others. One day I was browsing in the 1,500-page comm entary of Sebastian Schmidt (1670); when I read his heartfelt comm ent on the last verse of Job, Nihil in hoc v. difficultatis, “Nothing of difficulty in this verse,” that unique blend of disappointm ent and relief only known to long-distance comm entators, I knew it would be an insult to him and a sign of small-mindedness in myself if he, and the hundreds of honest workers like him, were om itted from my bibliography. The history of a work’s “reception,” we are belatedly coming to realize, is part of the m eaning of the work. In the Commentary proper, the design followed is of course that of the editors, themselves standing in the tradition of the Biblischer Kom m entar se

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ries. First comes the Bibliography to each section; in the case of the dialogues of Job, each speech forms a section. Why, I have asked myself, does the bibliography come first? To impress the reader with how much homework the comm entator has done, or how m uch the reader would have to put in before becoming qualified to utter a sentence of one’s own on the m eaning of the text? I should hope not. I came eventually to regard it as a confession of the limitations of the commentator: in signaling the tradition in which the commentator stands, that is, the academic, textual, linguistic, orientalist, Christian-theological (for the most part) authorities the author has consulted, what is being silently admitted is the relative absence of influence from rhetoric, poetry, literature, psychology, philosophy, and the relative subjugation of the au th or’s individuality in the interests of a common “objective” language of discourse. Nevertheless, the literary genre of the “confession” can also be turned to good use, and I hope it will be. On a more practical note, I should say that, on the whole, items in the pericope bibliographies throughout the book will not be found in the general bibliography of the Introduction, and vice versa. Bibliographical items that are referred to once only within a pericope commentary have a full citation at that place; only if an item is referred to more than once will it appear in the bibliography. Next comes the Translation. It is m eant to be reasonably literal. No indications of m eter are given because the whole subject of Hebrew m eter is too vexed for simple decisions to be made, and in any case it is hard to see any interpretational significance in the notation of meter. I have not m anaged to use inclusive language in the translation; committed though I am to its use in my own writing—and it is employed throughout the commentary proper—it is not always possible, in my experience, to conform the writing of another person to a gender-free style. For example, in the depictions of the “wicked m an” in chap. 18, there is no reason to think that the words should refer only to males; on the other hand, there is no reason to doubt that the author so intended. One option that I have not taken is to convert all the references to the “wicked m an” into plurals, for the poetic image of the evildoer would be weakened if I did so. A word about my analysis of strophes is in order. By leaving a line of space between certain lines of the poetry, I am presenting an interpretational decision about how I view the structure of the poem. I am not necessarily affirming that the poet intended the structure or composed in strophes. Sometimes, especially when several strophes in sequence have the same num ber of lines, there is reason to suppose that the author was consciously shaping the poem. But on the whole, the strophic analysis is no m ore than a patterning device of our own that expresses our sense of coherence and difference. In the Notes I have had two main purposes before me. First, to justify my own translation of the Hebrew text, noting where I have adopted emendations of the text or new suggestions for meanings of the Hebrew words. Second, to explain and evaluate the translations offered by the dozen or so English translations I have always had open before me, from the Authorized Version (King James) down to the New International Version and the new Jewish Publication Society version. Since the versions differ am ong themselves greatly, I thought that one of the responsibilities of a com m entator on the Hebrew text was to explain to the English reader how this enorm ous variety in transía-

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tion can have been possible, and to attem pt to make judgm ents on the relative validity of the individual translations. On this m atter, as on all the topics covered in the Notes, I have always tried to make a judgm ent rather than simply record the opinions of others. In the relatively few cases where no evaluative comm ent is made, the mere recording of an opinion means that I did not accept it but was too bored to go on saying so. As far as the ancient versions go, I did not attem pt to explain or evaluate them in the same way, partly because they have often enough been studied in their own right (see Bibliography, sect. 5), and partly because their translations are necessarily of less interest to the English-speaking reader. I have therefore referred to them only when they promised to shed some light on the Hebrew text. Such a piecemeal use of the ancient versions is theoretically im proper from a text-critical point of view, I know, but I hope it has not been seriously misleading. The Comment proper is in constant tension between the part and the whole. Believing as I do that verse by verse interpretation can be an abuse of the text, and that what appears in many commentaries as a worthily thorough and detailed interpretation can be in fact a steadfast and systematic refusal to confront the prim ary questions of m eaning, I have had to be in movem ent all the time between the smallest detail and the larger wholes. My norm al m ethod has been to set down first my understanding of the larger unit, whether the chapter, the strophe or the verse, and then to support that interpretation with a more detailed treatm ent of the individual sentences and words. At every point I have tried to be conscious of the book as a whole, and of how the sentence under consideration contributes to the total work. At every point also I have been asking how this sentence is connected, in thought, with the previous sentences, and how the argum ent of the speaker is being developed. Readers of commentaries approach them with different needs, so the structure of the comment has been designed to make it easy for a reader to find what is needed, whether a detailed rem ark on an individual word or phrase, or a general account of the sweep of a speech. Much of the commentary is written from the point of view of the character speaking the lines. It is valuable, I think, to attem pt to sympathize with the characters, Eliphaz, Bildad, and the rest, not exactly in order to recreate them as plausible characters psychologically speaking, but to appreciate the force of their argum ents. But I speak sometimes in the comm entary itself with the voice of Job, or the voice of the implied author, or in my own voice. Speaking in my own voice is what I understand the last section, the Explanation, to be intended for. H ere I try to savor what has been going on in the speech, evaluate it as warmly and respectfully as I can, and then to make no secret about what I myself think about it. T he Book of Job of course lends itself to such a degree of personal involvement by the com m entator—or indeed by any reader—for it propounds many ideas that are in conflict with one another and in so doing compels the reader to make personal evaluations. Job and Zophar cannot both be right about the moral order of the universe, so the book makes a critical dem and of the reader in a way that, say, Romans, does not. T he reader who wants nothing more from this book than a quick survey of what it is saying in its sequential unfolding should be able to gain that by reading the Explanations at the end of each section one after another. A nother way of

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surveying the book is presented in the O rientation to the book in this Introduction; there the argum ent of the book is reviewed, not in the sequence in which it appears in the book itself, but from the standpoint of the individual characters in the book (including the narrator). Reading both the orientation and the expositions should then provide something of a stereoscopic view of the Book of Job as a whole. The rest is work for the microscope.

Introduction: II. Orientation to the Book of Job Select Bibliography of Works in English C

o m m e n t a r ie s

:

Andersen, F. I. Job. TOTC. Leicester: Tyndale, 1976. Clines, D. J. A. “Jo b .” In A Bible Commentary for Today, ed. G. C. D. Howley. London: Pickering & Inglis, 1979. 559—592 [2d ed. in The International Bible Commentary, ed. F. F. Bruce. Basingstoke, Hants: Marshall Pickering, 1986. 520-51.] Dhorme, E. A Commentary on the Book of Job. London: Thom as Nelson 8c Sons, 1967. Gordis, R. The Book of Job: Commentary, New Translation, and Special Notes. New York: Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1978. Habel, N. C. The Book of Job. OTL. London: SCM, 1985. Pope, Μ. H. Job. AB. 3d ed. G arden City, NY: Doubleday, 1973. Rowley, Η. H. Job. NCB. Thom as Nelson 8c Sons, 1970. Terrien, S. “T he Book of Job: Introduction and Exegesis.” In The Interpreters Bible. New York and Nashville: Abingdon, 1954. 3:877-1198.

O

t h e r

W

o r k s

:

Barr, J. “T he Book of Job and Its M odern Interpreters.” BJRL 54 (1971-72) 28—46. Clines, D. J. A. “T he A rguments of Jo b ’s T hree Friends.” In Art and Meaning: Rhetoric

in Biblical Literature, ed. D. J. A. Clines, D. M. Gunn, and A. J. Hauser. JSO T Sup 19. Sheffield: JSO T , 1982. 199—214. Gordis, R. The Book of God and M an: A Study of Job.

Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1965. Tsevat, M. “T he M eaning of the Book of Jo b .” In The Meaning of the Book of Job and Other Biblical Studies. New York: Ktav, 1980. 1—37. Westermann, C. The Structure of the Book of Job: A Form-Critical Analysis, tr. C. A. Muenchow. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1981.

As I have already said, I plan to offer first an orientation to the present form of the Book of Job, attem pting to understand the book as a coherent whole. Only later in this section will other questions, about the origins and growth of the book during the time of its composition, be examined. However tentative may be our assessments of the meanings of the book in its present form, at least we are dealing with a piece of literature that has actual existence; studies of origins, influences, authorship, date, and purpose, on the other hand, no m atter how technically accomplished, must be to a large extent necessarily speculative. A . T h e B o o k o f J o b in It s P r e s e n t F o r m 1. S h

a pe

We cannot begin to com prehend the Book of Job piecemeal, beginning at the first verse or opening the book at random . W hat we need to do, with this book more than many others, is to start by identifying and becoming familiar with its shape.

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T he shape of a book, as of anything, is not an intrinsic property of the object itself, but a design in the mind of the observer. W ithout any arbitrariness, different readers of the book may discern different shapes in it, esteeming and highlighting this part or that part in varying degrees. Even the one reader may see more than one way of grasping the overall shape of the work. Here are three ways of seeing shape in the Book of Job. a. Framework and Core We may distinguish between the framework of the book and its core or center, using the image of a painting surrounded by a frame. T he book itself suggests this view of its shape through its use of prose and poetry. T he framework of the book is prose, the core is poetry; and since the framework is naive (or so it seems) and the core is sophisticated, the distinction between the relatively cheap and unim portant frame of a painting and the painting itself sounds a convincing analogy. We can also distinguish framework from core by noticing that the framework of Job is narrative and the core is didactic poetry. T he book as a whole is thus both a narrative and an argument, or, perhaps more precise, an argument set within the context of a narrative. We may represent it diagrammatically as follows: 1:1-2:13 3:1—42:6 42:7-17

Framework: Core: Framework:

prose poetry prose

narrative argum ent narrative

b. Exposition, Complication, Resolution A somewhat different shape emerges if we pay m ore close attention to the narrative thread that runs throughout the book. T he analysis of shape given above, though valid in general, ignored the fact that there is a certain am ount of prose narrative within the poetry, and it paid little attention to the content of the narrative. If we now emphasize the narrative elements, noting especially the marks of closure em bedded in the narrative, we may discern an alternative structure. The narrative of the Book of Job begins with God afflicting Job in order to discover whether Jo b ’s piety depends only upon his prosperity; will Job still loyally worship God if God deprives Job of all his possessions? By 2:10 we find that Job is unshakable in his piety. “In all this, Job did not sin with his lips,” says the narrator. So, to all appearances, the story is over; no further developm ent of the plot is required by the story, and we have reached a point of closure. T he narrative continues, nevertheless. We soon learn that Job feels more than he has said, and we soon find him “cursfing] the day of his birth” (3:1). This more aggressive behavior of Job will continue for many chapters, with Job dem anding that God cease his unreasonable treatm ent of him. Thereafter Job challenges God to a lawsuit, that is, to justify his actions legally. W hen he has finally delivered his challenge, and his oath that he is innocent of any cause for which God could be punishing him, we reach a second point of closure, the narrator’s sentence, “T he words of Job are ended” (31:40).

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In the third segment of the book, a fourth friend, Elihu, lectures Job in speeches to which Job has no opportunity to reply before a dramatic turn is taken in the narrative: God himself responds to Job—not by answering Jo b ’s challenge, but by issuing a challenge of his own to Job. W hat right has Job to dictate how the universe should be run? Job admits in the end that he has no right to question God’s actions, and he withdraws his case against God (42:3). God shows he is free either to afflict or to bless by showering Job with wealth and extending his life. The final point of closure comes with Jo b ’s death, “an old man, and full of days” (42:17). These three segments of the book, which we have identified from the story line and from the marks of closure, may now be analyzed as the three basic elements that are to be found in every story: exposition, complication, resolution. In the exposition the scene is set, the characters are introduced, and all the necessary conditions for the plot are established. In the complication, the characters encounter difficulties or dangers, and tensions em erge that excite the reader’s curiosity as to how they can possibly be resolved. T he resolution portrays how the narrative problem posed by the story is solved. T he three segments are further distinguished from one another by another device of the narrative: new characters are introduced at the beginnings of each of the segments. In the first it is Job (1:1—3); in the second it is the three friends who come to commiserate with Job (2:11-13); in the third it is the fourth friend Elihu, who is angered by the speeches of the other friends (32:1-5), and m ore especially God himself, who enters the scene in 38:1. T he shape of the book from these perspectives can now be displayed diagrammatically: 1:1—2:10 2:11-31:40 32:1—42:17

God afflicts Job Job challenges God God challenges Job

exposition complication resolution

new character: Job new characters: 3 friends new characters: Elihu, God

c. Prologue, Dialogue, Epilogue Yet another way of viewing the shape of the book follows the indications given by the book itself about the speakers. T he whole book may be seen as a series of speeches, the narrator speaking in prologue and epilogue, and the characters in the dialogue. Thus: I Prologue (1:1-2:13) N arrator II Dialogue (3:1-42:6) 1 Job and the three friends, First Cycle Job (3:1-26) Eliphaz (4:1-5:27) Job (6:1-7:21) Bildad (8:1-22) Job (9:1-10:22) Zophar (11:1-20) 2 Job and the three friends, Second Cycle Job (12:1-14:22) Eliphaz (15:1-35)

Orientation to the Book of Job

3

4

5

III Epilogue (42:7-17)

XXXV11

Job (16:1-17:16) Bildad (18:1-21) Job (19:1-29) Zophar (20:1-29) Job and the three friends, T hird Cycle Job (21:1-34) Eliphaz (22:1-30) Job (23:1-24:25) Bildad (25:1-6) Job (26:1-14) Job (27:1-28:28) Job (29:1-31:40) Elihu Elihu (32:1-33:33) Elihu (34:1-37) Elihu (35:1-16) Elihu (36:1-37:24) Y a h w e h a n d jo b Yahweh (38:1-40:2) Job (40:3-5) Yahweh (40:&-41:34) Job (42:1-6)

N arrator

This analysis alerts us to different realities in the book. First, the n arrator’s words enclose those of all the characters, at first predisposing the reader to certain views of how all of the speakers in the dialogue are to be heard, and at the end leaving the narrator’s perspective upperm ost in the reader’s mind. Second, it is Job who for the most part initiates conversation; he speaks and the friends reply to him. Indeed, after Bildad’s third speech the friends do not speak again, but Job speaks three times without any intervention by them, as if they have faltered and he has gained new energy. Elihu speaks four times, without receiving any reply from Job, as if Job is no longer listening; is he waiting for someone else to speak? W hen Yahweh speaks, it is he and not Job who takes the initiative; though Job has sum m oned Yahweh to speak, Yahweh’s speeches are less a reply than a new approach. Third, all the speaking moves toward silence: Job, who has done most of the talking, in the end lays his hand on his m outh (40:4—5); the friends run out of steam and do not even finish the third cycle of speeches. T he question has to be raised: what has all this talk achieved? Is the real resolution to the problem of the book a verbal one at all, or is it perhaps only a resolution when Yahweh too stops speaking and actually does something about Jo b ’s suffering by “restoring] the Jo b ’s condition” (42:10)? 2. A

r g u m e n t

We have distinguished between the narrative of the framework of Job and the argum ent of the poetry that forms the core of the book. But this distinction is not wholly valid. For we have been able to speak of the narrative of the book as a whole, that is, of a narrative that does not only frame the book, but

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which runs through it. And we can now speak of the argum ent not ju st of the speeches in which the characters are obviously arguing with one another, but of the book as a whole, narrative and speeches included. What is “the argum ent” of the book? It is the view the book takes of the principal issue it is addressing. We may either suppose, with most readers of the Book of Job, that the m ajor question in it is the problem of suffering. O r we may suggest that the chief issue is the problem of the moral order of the world, of the principles on which it is governed. Each of these issues will provide us with a different perspective from which to consider the book. a. The Problem of Suffering To understand the book well, it is first of all im portant to know what exactly is the problem of suffering according to the book. Many think that the essential question about suffering is, Why suffering? T hat is to say, W hat is its origin and cause, or, more personally, Why has this suffering happened to me? These are serious questions, but the Book of Job gives no satisfactory answer to them. It is true that this question about the origin or cause of suffering is ventilated in the book, and partial answers to it are given by the friends. They say that suffering comes about sometimes as punishm ent for sins, sometimes as a warning against comm itting sin in the future, and sometimes, as in Jo b ’s case, for no earthly reason at all, but for some inscrutable divine reason. In the end, however, readers cannot discover from the book any one clear view about what the reason for their own particular suffering may be, nor any statem ent about the reason for hum an suffering in general; for the book is entirely about the suffering of one particular and unique individual. A second problem about suffering is whether there is such a thing as innocent suffering. The intellectual background of the book is obviously one in which cut-and-dried theologies of guilt and punishm ent have prevailed; for all the friends of Job, in their different ways, insist that if Job is suffering he must in some way be deserving of his suffering. It is still today a natural hum an tendency to ask, when one is suffering, W hat have I done to deserve this? T he Book of Job, while of course it does not deny the possibility that sometimes suffering is richly deserved by the sufferer, speaks out clearly against the idea that such is always the case. Job is an innocent sufferer, whose innocence is not only asserted by himself (6:30; 9:15), but is attested to by the narrator (1:1), and above all by God (1:8; 2:3; 42:7-8). Nevertheless, even this question about the possibility of innocent suffering and the answer to it given by the book are not the primary issue in the book’s concern with suffering. The third, and essential, problem of suffering in the Book of Job may be said to be a more existential one, namely: In what way am I supposed to suffer? Or, W hat am I to do when I am suffering? To such questions the book gives two different but complementary answers. T he first is expressed in the opening two chapters. Here Jo b ’s reaction to the disasters that come upon him is a calm acceptance of the will of God; he can bless God not only for what he has given but also for what he has taken away (1:21; 2:10). Sufferers who can identify with Jo b ’s acceptance of his suffering, neither ignoring the reality of suffering by escaping into the past, nor so preoccupied with present

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grief as to ignore past blessing, are fortunate indeed. T he patient Job of the prologue is a model for sufferers. But Job does not rem ain in that attitude of acceptance. Once we move into his poetic speeches, from chap. 3 onward, we encounter a mind in turmoil, a sense of bitterness and anger, of isolation from God and even persecution by God. Job makes no attem pt to suppress his hostility toward God for what has happened to him; he insists that he will “speak in the anguish of [his] spirit” and “complain in the bitterness of [his] soul” (7:11). W hat makes this protesting Job a model for other sufferers is that he directs himself constantly toward God, whom he regards as the one who is responsible, both immediately and ultimately, for his suffering. It is only because Job insists on response from God that God enters into dialogue with Job. Even though Jo b ’s intellectual questions about the justice of his suffering are never adequately answered, he himself in the end is satisfied, as a sufferer, by his encounter with God. Viewed as an answer to the problem of suffering, then, the argum ent of the Book of Job is: By all means let Job the patient be your model so long as that is possible for you; but when equanimity fails, let the grief and anger of Job the im patient direct itself and yourself toward God, for only in encounter with him will be the tension of suffering be resolved. b. The Moral Order of the World A nother way of stating the argum ent of the book is to see it as addressing the question whether there is any moral order in the world; that is to say, whether there is any rule whereby goodness is rewarded and wickedness is punished. T he belief that there is an exact correspondence between one’s behavior and one’s destiny is known as the doctrine of retribution. In one form or another it is shared by most hum an beings, not ju st religious people, since it is the foundation of most people’s childhood upbringing: certain behavior will earn you rewards, while certain other behavior will bring pain or disaster. T here is indeed a mismatch between this principle, which we seem to require in some form or other for the world to have coherence, and the realities that contradict the principle; and to this mismatch both the narrator and the characters of the Book of Job turn their attention. Each of them has a distinctive standpoint on this question of retribution or the m oral order. (1) Narrator. The narrator in fact founds the whole story upon the doctrine of retribution. Job, the wealthiest of all orientals, is equally the most pious; there is no coincidence here, the narrator means to say. “T hat m an was blameless and upright, fearing God and turning away from evil” (1:1)—that is deed. And here is consequence: “And there were born to him seven sons and three daughters [the perfect family], and he had 7,000 sheep, 3,000 camels,” and so on (1:2). Here in the first two sentences of the book we find spelled out the doctrine of retribution, wearing its more acceptable face: piety brings prosperity. Into that prosperity there then breaks on one day the most terrible of calamities: Job loses all he has—which is not only his children and his wealth, but worse than that, his social significance and, worse still, his reputation as a righteous man. For the other, and m ore unlovely, side of this principle of world order is that suffering is caused by sin. Up to this m om ent Job himself has believed in retribution, but now, unshak-

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ably convinced that he has done nothing to deserve his misery, he is launched on a quest for another moral order. The doctrine has failed the test of reality— reality, that is, as he experiences it. Jo b ’s three friends, too, find their dogma challenged by Jo b ’s experience, for they have always taken Job at face value, as a pious man. After all, he is a conspicuous testimony to the validity of the dogma: his exceptional piety has brought about his exceptional wealth, has it not? It does not take them long, however, to decide against Job and in favor of the dogma, though they each restate it differently. W hat the friends have in common is their unquestioning belief that suffering is the result of sin. T heir doctrine of retribution, that sin produces punishm ent, is also reversible: see a man suffering and you can be sure he has deserved it. T here is no doubt in their minds of the order: Jo b ’s misery is by the book. But there is room for difference of opinion over what precisely Jo b ’s sufferings signify. (2) Eliphaz. Eliphaz, the first friend, starts from the assum ption that the innocent never suffer perm anently: “W hat innocent m an ever perished, where were the upright ever annihilated?” (4:7). For him Job is essentially one of the innocent, so whatever wrong Job has done m ust be comparatively trivial, and so too his suffering is bound to be soon over: Is not your piety your source of confidence? Does not your blameless life give you hope? (4:6)

he asks. Job is blameless on the whole, pious in general. Eliphaz’s search for order leads him to nuance in this way the concept of innocence; that is how he can explain the mismatch between theory and experience. Even the most innocent of hum ans, like Job, must expect to suffer deservedly on occasion. (3) Bildad. T he second friend, Bildad, is if anything even m ore convinced of the doctrine of retribution, for he has ju st now seen a compelling exemplification of it. Jo b ’s children have died, cut off in their prime; it is the classical picture of the fate of the wicked: Your sons sinned against him, so he has abandoned them to the power of their guilt. (8:4)

T he very fact that Job still lives is proof that he is no gross sinner, like his children. However serious his suffering, it is not as bad as it m ight be; therefore his sin is not as serious as he may fear. (4) Zophar. Now whereas Eliphaz has set Jo b ’s suffering in the context of his whole life (his suffering is ju st a tem porary pinprick), and Bildad has set it in the context of the fate of his family (the children are dead, Job is not), Zophar, the third friend, perceives no such context for Jo b ’s pain. T he fact is, he would say, that Job is suffering, and suffering is inevitably the product of sin. To contextualize Jo b ’s suffering and try to set it in proportion is ultimately to trivialize it. Zophar is for principle rather than proportion; the bottom line is that Job is a sinner suffering hard at this m om ent for his sin.

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Since Job refuses to acknowledge his sin, claiming, . . . My doctrine is pure, I am clean in your sight, [O God]. (11:4)

it follows that he is a secret sinner. In fact, if only the truth were known, it would no doubt transpire that Job is a worse sinner than anyone suspects: If only God would speak, if only he would open his lips to you, if only he would tell you the secrets of his wisdom . . . you would know that God exacts of you less than your guilt deserves. (11:5-6)

For all his talk about divine secrets, “higher than heaven—what can you do? deeper than Sheol—what can you know?” (11:8), Zophar holds a theology of the essential knowability of God. God’s wisdom is not of a different kind from hum an wisdom; it only means that he knows more about hum ankind than anyone realizes, and that means more about their sins. W here there is suffering but no visible reason, we can be sure, says Zophar, that God’s wisdom holds the reason. W hat is more, it will not be some mysterious, ineffable, transcendental reason, but a reason that could easily be com prehended by a hum an being “if only God would open his lips.” So while we cannot always be sure why God is punishing people, we can be sure that when they are suffering he is punishing them for some reason or another, never without cause or gratuitously. Zophar has in addition a more distinctive contribution to make: it concerns the role of God’s mercy in the outworking of the principle of retribution. Job might be tem pted to think that even though there is doubtless no escape from the working of the law of retribution, perhaps he could appeal for mercy to soften its blows. But what you must know, says Zophar, is that “God has already overlooked part of your sin” (11:6). Any mercy that God is going to allow to tem per justice has already been taken into account when the law of retribution comes into play. Discounts for mercy’s sake are included in the price you pay. (5) Elihu. A nother participant in the dialogue enters only after the first three friends have completed all they have to say. Elihu, the young man, at first “timid and afraid to declare [his] opinion” (32:6), in the end intervenes, realizing that “it is not the old that are wise” but rather “it is the spirit in a man, the breath of the Almighty, that makes him understand” (32:8-9). His point about retribution is that it is not some balancing mechanism in the universe that operates ruthlessly and inescapably, but rather is a channel by which God speaks to humans. Suffering is not so much a mystery; it is more a revelation. Sometimes, for example, God speaks in visions of the night, in terrifying nightmares, to warn people against committing sins they are contemplating. At other times, a person may be . . . chastened with pain upon his bed and with continual strife in his bones. (33:19)

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like Job. The purpose of such suffering is not retribution, but to lead to confession by the sinner, one’s restoration by God, and one’s public praise of God (33:27). The other friends, and Job, have been narrow-m inded in their view of retribution as a tit-for-tat process. Look to its design, says Elihu, and you will find that it is an instrum ent of divine communication. For these four theologians, the retribution principle stands unshaken by Jo b ’s experience. Eliphaz has allowed a redefinition of “innocent” to m ean “well, hardly ever wicked,” Bildad has stressed that the law of retribution has a certain sensitivity (if you are not extremely wicked, you don’t actually die), while Zophar has declared that the principle of retribution is not at all a rigorous quid pro quo, for a percentage of the punishm ent that should light upon you has already been deducted for mercy’s sake. Even Elihu, while recognizing that there are more im portant theological truths than strict retribution, still affirms its validity. (6) Job. By contrast with the friends’ singleminded and static positions, Jo b ’s mind is confused, flexible, and experimental. In every one of his eleven speeches he adopts a different posture, psychologically and theologically. In the end he admits that he has nothing to rely upon, not even God—nothing except his conviction of his own innocence. His first religious instinct is to accept what has happened to him as God’s doing, and to bless God even for calamity: “Yahweh has given, and Yahweh has taken away; blessed be Yahweh’s nam e” (1:21; cf. 2:10). But his second thoughts are more reflective and theological, because he realizes that order has collapsed about him. W hen in chap. 3 he wishes he had never been born, it is not mainly because he is suffering from his physical illness and from the grief of bereavement; he is expressing a psychic reaction to disorder. Since it is too late now to strike his birthdate out of the calendar—which is the first thought that occurs to him (3:6)—in his second speech he cries out for God to kill him and so put an end to his disorientation: O that it would please God to crush me, that he would let loose his hand and cut me off! (6:8)

W hen nothing makes sense any longer, and especially when the most fundamental moral order of all—the principle of retribution—is subverted, and disproportion reigns, there is nothing to live for: Am I the sea, or a sea-monster? . . . I loathe my life, I would live no longer. (7:12, 16)

Even so, to have nothing to live for, and to live without order, does not mean for Job that he can have no desire. In his third speech he openly desires what he lacks: a declaration that he is innocent. It is a desire impossible of fulfillment, but it his desire all the same. How can a man be declared innocent by God? If one took him to court [to prove one’s innocence] one could not answer one in a thousand of his questions. (9:2—3)

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T he problem with God is not ju st that he is superwise and superpow erful (9:19); it is rather that he is by settled design hostile to his creation. As Job puts it, sardonically: “Being God, he never withdraws his anger” (9:13). The ancient myths were right, thinks Job, when they recounted that the first thing God ever did was to create the world by slaying the chaos m onster, in a primeval act of aggression (9:13). Not only toward creation at large but toward Job in particular God’s attitude has been, since Jo b ’s conception, one of perpetual hostility and cruelty, masked indeed by an apparent tender concern: Your hands fashioned and made me; and now you turn about to destroy me. (9:8)

It is hopeless to seek vindication, he says; so he will not do it. But in the very act of saying to God, “It is hopeless to ask you for what I deserve,” Job is in reality dem anding what he believes he is entitled to. Something has happened to Job in expressing his hopelessness. For in his next speech (chaps. 12—14) he has moved to a decision: nevertheless, I will present my case to God. No doubt he will slay me; I have no hope; yet I will defend my ways to his face. (13:15)

His decision is more startling than that, however. He cannot defend himself against the pain which God is inflicting on him; he can only defend himself verbally. But since God is not saying anything, Job can only defend himself verbally by creating a scenario where both he and God are obliged to speak, each in his own defense. In short, Job summons God to a lawsuit! He challenges God to give an account of himself—to explain what Job has done wrong to deserve such suffering. But of course since Job believes he has done nothing wrong, implicitly he challenges God to confess that he and not Job is the criminal. This is a case that must be heard promptly, for Job does not believe he can have much longer to live, considering how God is buffeting him. If Jo b ’s name is not cleared now it never will be, and certainly not in any afterlife. For a tree there is hope, that if it is cut down it will sprout again, that its fresh shoots will not fail. T hough its root grows old in the ground and its stum p begins to die in the dust, yet at the scent of water it may bud and put forth shoots like a plant new set. But a man, when he dies, loses every power; he breathes his last, and where is he then? Like the water that has gone from a vanished lake,

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like a stream that has shrunk and dried up, Man lies down and will not rise again, till the heavens are no more he will not awake, nor be roused out of his sleep. (14:7-12)

W hat is now certain, in all the uncertainty that surrounds him, is that his word of challenge to God has been uttered—and cannot be unsaid. It is written into the heavenly record, and stands as his witness to himself in heaven. It is his own assertion of his innocence that he is referring to when he says in his fifth speech (chaps. 16-17): Even now, my witness is in heaven, my advocate is on high. It is my cry that is my spokesman; sleeplessly I wait for God’s reply. (16:19-20)

And it is the same affirmation of innocence that in his sixth speech (chap. 19) he speaks of as his “advocate”: I know that my advocate lives. (19:25)

He has in mind here no heavenly figure who will defend his cause before God, since there is none—and least of all God himself, who has proved to be nothing but his enemy. He is compelled to undertake his own defense, and leave his own affidavit to speak in his behalf. The climax to Jo b ’s defense of his own innocence and his dem and upon God that he explain for what reason he has been torm enting Job comes in the last of Jo b ’s speeches (chaps. 29—31). H ere Job reviews his past life in a final attem pt to discover whether there can be any cause in himself for the suffering he has been enduring. W hatever area of his life he considers, he can judge himself blameless. He brings his speeches to a conclusion with a mighty oath affirming his righteousness. Still working within the m etaphorical scenario of the lawsuit, he imagines himself signing a declaration: Here is my signature [to my oath of exculpation]; let the Almighty answer me! Oh, that I had the bill of indictm ent written by my adversary! (31:35)

So brief would any bill of charges against Job be, and so trivial would be the faults that could be leveled against him, that Job would be proud for all the world to see how little he had offended against God and how greatly he had fulfilled the ideal of hum an piety: Surely I would carry [the indictment] on my shoulder; I would bind it on me as a crown. I would give him an account of all my steps. Like a prince I would approach him! (31:36—37)

Jo b ’s impressive and convincing protestation of innocence poses a desperate problem for the moral order of the universe, however. For if Job is innocent, the doctrine of retribution is false. And there is no other principle available to replace it. (7) God. Only God can address the problem. He is compelled, by Jo b ’s meta-

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phor of the lawsuit and by the logic of the author’s narrative, to enter the conversation. But what divine word can both defend Jo b ’s innocence—to which God committed himself in chap. 1—and at the same time affirm the working of a moral law in the world? In reality, God’s speeches (chaps. 38—41) are rem arkable as m uch for what they omit as for what they contain. T here is, in the first place, not a word of the retributive principle here. This must m ean that it is not so fundam ental to understanding the world as all the previous characters of the book have thought. But it must also mean that it is not entirely wrong, either. If God were passionately in favor of it or violently against it, would he not have had to m ention it? In the second place, the divine speeches are notorious for their insistence on asking questions rather than giving answers, quite apart from the seeming irrelevance of the questions themselves to the fundam ental issues of the book. Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth? . . . Have you entered into the springs of the sea? . . . Do you know when the m ountain goats bring forth? . . . Is it by your wisdom that the hawk soars? (38:4, 16; 39:1, 26)

Those—and suchlike excursions into cosmology and natural history—are, amazingly enough, the substance of the divine speeches. T he purpose of God’s parade of unknown and unknowable features of the natural world can hardly be to browbeat Job with dazzling displays of his power and intelligence—for Job has not for a m inute doubted that God is wise and strong, too wise and strong indeed for hum an comfort and for his own good. Rather, God invites Job to reconsider the mystery and complexity—and the often sheer unfathom ableness—of the world that God has created. God’s questions to Job are arranged in three distinct sequences. First there is the series that focus on Jo b ’s nonparticipation in creation, such as: “Who shut in the sea with doors?” (38:8). These m ean that Job is not qualified to hold views on the nature of the universe. Second, there is the series on the m anagem ent of the world, among which we find: Have you ever in your life ordered the m orning forth? . . . Can you bind the chains of the Pleiades or loose the cords of Orion? (38:12, 31)

Job has never organized the appearance of a new day; how can he speak then about the governance of the universe? T hird, there is the sequence of questions about the animals, lion and raven, goat and hind, wild ass, ostrich, war-horse, hawk and eagle. T hrough these questions Jo b ’s gaze is deliberately fastened upon animals that serve no purpose in the hum an economy but are, instead, useless to hum ans, their habits mysterious to us. In these chapters there is no m ention of those domesticated animals, sheep, ass and camel, that Job possessed in abundance and knew the ways of. T he subject here is wild animals, the purpose of whose existence is unintelligible to hum ans. By the end of the second divine speech (40:7-41:34) the focus has come to rest upon

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two animals, Behemoth and Leviathan, hippopotam us and crocodile, symbols of primeval chaos, who of all the animal creation are supremely wild and terrible. The point must be that hippopotam us and crocodile, however alarming, are part of God’s creation. God expects Job to realize, and Job is not slow at grasping the point, that the natural order—the principles on which the world was created—is analogous to the moral order—the principles according to which it is governed. In both these orders, there is m uch that is incom prehensible to hum ans, even threatening their existence, but all of it is the work of a wise God who has made the world the way it is for his own inscrutable purposes. Innocent suffering is a hippopotam us. T he only sense it makes, it makes to God, for it is not amenable to hum an rationality. Job has no right to an explanation for his suffering, any m ore than he has a right to have the purpose of crocodiles explained to him. He is not even entitled to be told w hether he is being punished for some fault he has committed, or whether he is indeed the innocent sufferer he believes himself to be. T he order of creation sets the standard for the moral order of the universe; and that is, that God must be allowed to know what he is doing, and lies under no obligation to give any account of himself. W hat does this viewpoint expressed by the character God do to the doctrine of retribution? It neither affirms nor denies it; but it marginalizes it. In Jo b ’s case, at least, the doctrine of retribution is beside the point. We, the readers, have known from the beginning of the book that Job is innocent, for the narrator and God have both affirmed it (1:1,8; 2:3); Job himself, though suffering as if he were a wicked man, is unshakably convinced of his innocence. We and Job, therefore, know that the doctrine of retribution is not wholly true. But God never tells Job that he accepts Jo b ’s innocence; so Job never learns what God’s view of the doctrine is. All that Job learns from God is that retribution is not the issue, but w hether God can be trusted to run his world. Job capitulates. His religious instinct for reverence which prom pted his initial acceptance of his m isfortune (1:21; 2:10) had become overwhelmed by his more intellectual and theological search for meaning. But now his religion and his theology are suddenly able to cohere. He replies to God: “Who is this that darkens the [divine] design by words without knowledge?” [so you have rightly said, Yahweh]. You are right: I misspoke myself, I was beyond my limits. . . . I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear but now my eye sees you. . . . (42:3, 5)

Which means to say: I knew you, but did not know you; what I knew of your workings (through the principle of retribution) was real knowledge, but it was not the whole truth about you. T he whole truth is that you are ultimately unknowable, and your reasons are in the last analysis incomprehensible. Therefore I melt in reverence before you, and I have received my comfort, even while sitting in dust and ashes. (42:6)

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Religiously, Job finds this position acceptable, even actually comforting: to bow in awe before a mysterious God he cannot grasp, perceiving only the “outskirts of his ways” (26:14). This is the Job of the prologue, but with a difference: the religious instinct is now supported by a theological realignm ent. Now he not only feels, but also has come to believe, that it makes sense that God should not be wholly amenable to hum an reason. It was the theology of wild animals that convinced him, the inexplicability of whole tracts of the natural order, the apparent meaninglessness of creatures useless to hum ankind but unquestionably created by God nevertheless. Now he knows that was a paradigm for all knowledge of God. (8) Narrator. T he book does not conclude at this point, however. T he narrator has yet to tell us of the reversal of Jo b ’s fortunes. T here is m ore to this happy ending of the book than at first appears, for the issues of the moral governance of the world and the doctrine of retribution are still on the agenda. W hat this concluding episode does for these issues is, surprisingly, to reinstate the dogma of retribution as the principle according to which the world operates. For the story shows at its end that the righteous m an Job is also the most prosperous, ju st as he was at the beginning. Job is here described as the “servant” of the Lord, who has spoken of God “what is right,” unlike the friends (42:7—8), and when he has prayed for forgiveness of the friends’ “folly” he is rewarded with twice the possessions he had at first (42:10). It must be admitted that the ending of the book undercuts to some extent the divine speeches of chaps. 38—41. For although the Lord has implied that questions of justice and retribution are not the central ones, the narrato r’s concluding word is that after all the principle of retribution stands almost unscathed by the experience of Job. By rights, according to the principle, the innocent Job should never have suffered at all; so the principle was partially defective. Yet in the end the principle becomes enshrined in the history of Job, and he functions as a prim e witness to its general validity. Even if in every instance it does not explain hum an fates, in the main it is affirmed by the Book of Job as the truth about the moral universe. 3. R

e a d in g s

All readers of biblical texts, as of any other texts, bring their own interests, prejudices, and presuppositions with them. While they would be wrong to insist that the Bible should say what they want it to say, they would be equally wrong to think that it does not m atter, in reading the Bible, what they themselves already believe. For the combination of the reader’s own interests, values, and commitments is what makes him or her a person with identity and integrity; in no activity of life, and certainly not in reading the Bible, can one hide or abandon one’s values without doing violence to one’s own integrity. If one is, for example, a feminist pacifist vegetarian—which are quite serious things to be, even if they are modish—it will be im portant to oneself to ask what the text has to say, or fails to say, about these issues; one will recognize that the text may have little concern with such matters, but if they are a serious concern to the reader they may be legitimately put on the agenda for interpretation, that is, the m utual activity that goes on between text and reader. W hat usually happens, when we bring our questions to the text instead of

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insisting always that the text set the agenda, is that the text is illuminated in unpredictable ways. This means that one does not need to be a feminist or a Christian, for example, to find readings from these perspectives interesting. T he more readings, the more stereoscopic our picture of the Book of Job. a. A Feminist Reading A feminist reading of any text, biblical or otherwise, begins from the premise that in the history of civilization women have been regarded as inferior to men and have been excluded from positions of public influence. Assuming that we are right to reject these historic attitudes, we are now in a position to examine what effect the suppression of women has had upon literature, to what extent literature has abetted their subjection or to what extent it contains materials subversive of a social order that has been unjust to women. Biblical texts come of course from male-dom inated societies and reflect male interests; for a feminist reading it is interesting to focus on both the presence of women where they do occur in texts, and on their absence from texts where we would have expected them to occur. T he feminist reader of Job notes first that in this great work of literature all the five principal characters (including God!) are male. T he book, not surprisingly, thus subserves the outlook of an unthinkingly m ale-oriented culture that weighty m atters of intellectual and theological inquiry are the preserve of males, and that women have no place in such discussions. T he outstanding stature of the Book of Job am ong world literature only reinforces the influence of its view of women. T he role of the one woman character in the Book of Job fits exactly with the overall pattern. Jo b ’s wife functions in the narrative almost entirely as a foil to the male friends. W hereas they deliver themselves of formal, rationally argued speeches, she bursts out emotionally with a question and an imperative: “Do you still hold fast your integrity? Curse God and die” (2:9). The last time we have heard such words is on the lips of the Satan, who predicted to God that when Job lost his possessions he would indeed “curse you to your face” (1:11); at least an impression is given that she stands over against Job in much the same way as the Satan stands over against God. Is it not worse, however, that anyone should encourage another to “curse” God; and what can she be thinking of that she incites her husband to a course of action that can only result in his death? It is little w onder that Jo b ’s wife has often been seen as a counterpart to Eve, the ancestral “tem ptress.” Job himself responds to her with a statem ent of his piety, which the narrator certifies to be valid: “In all this Job did not sin with his lips” (2:10). Job is calm, reasonable, and praiseworthily m ild-m annered in his reproof of his wife; he does not reject her invitation to curse God for the blasphemy it is, but merely invokes her sense of dignity as he comments upon her suggestion as words like those of “the foolish women,” whoever they are. She is put in her place again with an unanswerable rhetorical question: “If we receive good at the hand of God, should we not also accept harm ?” (2:10). This is not all that may be said about her intervention, however. If in the second half of her speech she echoes the Satan’s words, in the first half she uses God’s: her husband Job is “hold[ing] fast his integrity” (cf. 2:3). It is not

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clear whether she is casting doubt on the reality of Jo b ’s claim to integrity, but she obviously questions the wisdom of m aintaining it when the evidence of the great disasters that have befallen them is that God accounts Job a most dreadful sinner. Since she, Job himself and all the friends have been uncritical believers in the doctrine of retribution, it is nothing strange if she too should draw the obvious conclusions from recent events. A feminist approach alerts us to a further aspect of her attitude also. Though the androcentric narrator has excluded her from parts of the narrative where she rightly belongs, as when he notes that “there were born to [Job] seven sons and three daughters” (1:2)—as though such were possible in her absence— by introducing her at all, even as a m inor character, he opens the way to our rereading the whole of the narrative from her perspective. From her point of view, it must be said, despite her husband’s somewhat excessive scrupulosity, rising early in the m orning after his children’s birthday feasts to offer sacrifices in case any of them had inadvertently blasphem ed God (1:5), the net result of his way of life has been that she has now been robbed of her ten children, of her income, of her social standing, and must for the foreseeable future live with a husband afflicted with “loathsome sores” all over his body (2:7). At the m om ent that she speaks, no one is disputing—not even Job—that he is to blame for the calamities that have befallen the homestead. God has sent the harm, but the husband has incurred it. Jo b ’s wife has therefore, to the best of her knowledge, been terribly wronged by her husband, but must go on m aintaining her loyalty to him despite the guilt by association that now attaches to her. And although the family income has been reduced to zero, she is not exempted from the responsibility of m anaging her household and providing hospitality for leisured friends of her husband who come to “console” him—but ignore her and her quite comparable degree of suffering (2:11— 12). H er only hope of release from a life of penury and disgrace is the death of her husband and a return to the security of her parents’ family. Jo b ’s wife is not again explicitly m entioned in the book—which has led many nonfeminist readers to suppose that she has been marginalized on the ground of her misguided intervention in chap. 2. Yet her presence is indispensable in the narrative of the restoration of Jo b ’s fortunes in chap. 42. There he acquires a new family of seven sons and three daughters, and not—we m ust assume, though the narrator does not m ention it—without the cooperation of his wife (there are no other wives or concubines in the story). We may therefore speak of the reconciliation of Job and his wife, and of her intellectual development, no less necessary than her husband’s, from a blind faith in the doctrine of retribution to an acceptance of the possibility of innocent suffering. T here are several other points in the book which will catch the attention of the feminist reader. For example, the picture of domestic felicity with which the book opens has the daughters of Job being regularly invited to birthday parties in the houses of their brothers, “to eat and drink with them ” (1:4), a token of recognition of females by males not always encountered in the ancient world; it is noticeable, however, that the daughters do not have parties of their own to which they invite their brothers. T he m ore impressive feminist notation of 42:15 that the second set of daughters inherited property “along with” their brothers (a unique occurrence in the narrative world of the Hebrew

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Bible) is somewhat undercut by the immediately preceding rem ark that “in all the land there were no women so fair as Jo b ’s daughters”; it is implied, if not explicitly stated, that their inheritance is not because they are equally with their brothers the offspring of Job but principally because they are beauties. The major feminist question, however, for the book is w hether its principal concern is in any way a gender-determ ined one. If it is at all difficult to imagine an alternative version of the book in which all the protagonists were female and in which at the same time the principal issue arising from the loss of family, social standing and reputation was the doctrine of retribution and the justice of God, then to that extent the book, however sublime a literary work, may be defective, as yet another expression of an uncritical androcentricity. b. A Vegetarian Reading Like feminism, vegetarianism is an ideology that manifests itself in various attitudes and practices. A simple vegetarianism may avoid m eat on purely aesthetic grounds, or even as a m atter of taste or preference; but a more reasoned vegetarianism takes as its starting point the nature of animals as living beings, and develops a philosophy of the responsibility of hum ans to fellow inhabitants of the planet. Since it turns the everyday m atter of diet into a set of ethical decisions, and tends to become associated with larger questions about hum an relationship with the environm ent generally, vegetarianism is for its adherents a powerful philosophy that influences many aspects of life, including reading. A vegetarian reader will be concerned to see whether the text under consideration uncritically adopts the attitudes of a carnivorous culture toward animals, or whether in any way the text underm ines those attitudes by a more positive estimation of animals. T here are three places in the Book of Job where animals are significant. In the first, Job is depicted as the owner and guardian of large flocks of animals, 7,000 sheep, 3,000 camels, 500 yoke of oxen, and 500 she-asses (1:3). After the restoration of his fortunes he has exactly double the num ber in each category (42:12). His wealth is m easured almost exclusively in terms of his animals; so, although the animals are obviously kept not for their own sakes but for reasons of the agricultural economy in which Job is engaged, Job has no armslength relationship with the animals but is involved in a relationship of m utual dependence with them. T he text invites us to view Job as the center of a network of relationships, his family of wife and children immediately surrounding him, his “very many servants” standing between him and the animals which they tend, and, on the periphery, these vast herds of animals. T he catastrophe that befalls Job begins on the fringes of this network, oxen, asses, sheep, and camels progressively falling prey to disaster before his own children are struck down (1:14—19). Further, the purposes for which these animals are kept are equally instructive. The flocks (the term includes both sheep and goats) are kept for their wool and their milk; the oxen for plowing (they are enum erated as “pairs” or “yoke” of oxen); the camels for riding or for carrying loads; the she-asses for milk, for riding and for various kinds of farm work. T here is no eating of meat or “flesh” in the narrative world of the book. T hat does not mean of course that the author is preaching or assuming vegetarianism, but

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that an affirmative attitude to animals sits comfortably with the outlook of the book. Animals next appear in the narrative as the material of sacrifice. After every birthday celebration by his children Job offers “whole b urnt offerings,” whether of bulls, sheep, or goats, as a sin-offering. He fears that his children may in the excitement of their partying have inadvertently spoken lightly of God, and so makes the sacrifice that would have been required if they had in fact sinned (1:5). Corresponding with these animal sacrifices at the beginning of the book are the whole burnt offerings of seven bulls and seven rams at the end of the book which God commands Eliphaz to offer on behalf of himself and his two friends. T he three friends have “not spoken of [God] what is right” and have thus acted “foolishly” (42:8); so they need to offer a sin-offering to atone for their wrongdoing. Unlike most other animal sacrifices, the sinoffering was wholly consumed by fire, and no part of it was eaten by the offerer. Symbolically it represented the transfer of property from the realm of hum ans to the realm of the divine, the burning of the slaughtered animal being the means of removing the material of the animal from the earth to the sky where the deity lived. T he concept of animal sacrifice is of course aesthetically, if not also religiously, disagreeable to most people today, whether or not they are vegetarians, but at least we may allow that within the cultural codes of the book the animal is not being devalued by the practice but esteemed as a mechanism for communication between the earthly and heavenly worlds. T he point of most interest, however, from a vegetarian perspective, is that the convention of animal sacrifice, which is taken for granted by the book, is also called into question by the book. For the net effect of Jo b ’s sacrifices on behalf of his children is zero; despite the sacrifices, they are cut off in their youth by a whirlwind, a clear sign in Jo b ’s eyes of God’s displeasure. T he question is therefore implicitly raised whether the sacrifices of the friends in chap. 42 has any more efficacy than Jo b ’s sacrifices in chap. 1, and whether perhaps it is Jo b ’s prayer on behalf of his friends (42:8, 10) rather than their sacrifices that ensures their forgiveness. T he third major reference to animals is the most im portant of all. In the divine speeches of chaps. 38—41, the existence of animals proves to be the essential clue to the m eaning of the universe. It is not the domestic animals of chaps. 1-2 that are here spoken of, but the wild animals that serve no purpose in hum an economy. T heir existence prohibits a wholly anthropocentric view of the world, and confirms to hum ans that the world does not exist solely for the benefit of hum ankind. In a sense, wild animals are even more valuable for hum ans than are domesticated animals; for while tam ed animals may serve to magnify hum ans’ sense of their own im portance and mastery over their environm ent, wild animals serve to impress hum ans with the fundam ental inexplicability of the world as it has been created. T he significance of wild animals is even more pointed in the context of the divine speeches, however. For there they function as an analogy to the existence of equally inexplicable elements of the moral order of the world, namely the existence of innocent suffering and of evidence that the principle of retribution is not wholly valid. God has created the world the way it is for his own inscrutable purposes; we can only presum e that he knows what he is doing, for there are many things in the world we experience that make no sense to us. In sum, in the view of

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the Book of Job a proper estimation of the animal creation is essential for coping with certain of the riddles of hum an existence. This is a far cry from an attitude that ignores animals except as food or as pets for hum ans. c. A Materialist Reading A materialist reading of a text typically has a double focus: the first is upon the material or the socioeconomic conditions that have produced it, espedally the condition of opposed social classes that may be presum ed for every society. T he second is upon the material realities presupposed or supported by the narrative world of the text. T he form er consideration is of course a historical one, and depends to some extent upon the questions of the book’s origin that will be discussed in the second section of this chapter. If we make only the simple and uncontroversial assumptions that the society in which the book originated was composed of rich people and poor people, or that some groups in the society held power and others were relatively powerless, or that some persons lived from the profits on their capital and others from wages earned from their daily labor, we have established two socioeconomic groups in ancient Israel and thus two possible socioeconomic locations for the book. W hichever location we determ ine as the place of origin of the book will provide an im portant interpretive key for understanding, not so much the verbal m eaning of the book, but its total significance. Did the Book of Job originate am ong the wealthy? T he fact that Job is a rich m an is of course no proof that the book originated am ong the privileged classes, for poor people often tell stories about the rich. But the fact that he is wealthy and pious, indeed, the most wealthy and the most pious, suggests it strongly. For, from the perspective of the poor, it is in general hard to believe that the rich can deserve to be rich or can be both honest and rich. Equally, in the world of the rich it is assumed that the poor either are dishonest or else deserve to be poor; it is an interesting exception if it can be said, “She was poor but she was honest.” Indeed, the very problem of the book—the truth of the doctrine of retribution—may be said to be a rich person’s problem; the poor cannot afford to believe in the doctrine of retribution, because they know all too many examples of piety that does not lead to prosperity; the rich, on the other hand, are fearful that their reputation for piety may be as fragile as the prosperity which attests it. Furtherm ore, if the scholarly consensus is accepted that the Book of Job forms part of the “Wisdom” literature of ancient Israel and that such literature arose in court circles or in the educational establishments that were attached either to the court or to the religious centers, then there are historical evidences for connecting the book with the powerful rather than with the powerless in society. A materialist approach argues that literature is written, to a greater or lesser extent, to support the interests of the social class of its author. It makes a difference to our understanding of the Book of Job if we read it not ju st as a work of literary quality, nor simply as a debate am ong theologians, but as prom oting the position of the privileged. In this reading, the book functions to support those of the wealthy classes who are tem porarily impoverished or powerless, and to assure them that if they have once been in a position of

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privilege that remains their entitlement; at the same time it reassures those whose position is currently secure against any fear of calamity. T he story of Job is after all one of a wealthy m an who deserves his wealth, and who, although he loses it through no fault of his own, regains it in the end—twice over. If the readers are wealthy persons, they will be likely to believe that they deserve their wealth, and will identify with Job. If the readers are the poor and have never been wealthy they will find it difficult to identify with Job even in his poverty, not only because he once was wealthy and in that way more advantaged than the poor but because he is destined to become wealthy again—which is more than the poor in general can even hope for. If we turn now to the second focus, the world of the text as distinct from the external world in which the text was produced, we can make some observations concerning the material realities supposed or prom oted by the text. We first note that the text shows little awareness of the realities of poverty. The question is never raised how Job and his wife and his domestic servants survive now that their means of livelihood, the livestock, has been lost. There has been feasting in plenty in the days before disaster struck (1:4, 13, 18), and there will be again after the restoration of Jo b ’s wealth (42:11), but even in the period of Jo b ’s calamity no one goes hungry. We know well enough, though the author never alludes to the fact, that his visitors who sit with him for a week in silence (2:13) and thereafter engage in lengthy argum ent with him need feeding; so too do his clients, serving girls, personal manservant, and wife who are still dependent on him (19:15—17). W hen he contrasts his form er privileged existence (chap. 29) with his present unhappy state (chap. 30), it is striking that his principal concern in both pictures is with his status, as though he is not suffering at all from erosion of his means of existence. He actually depicts at one point the group of the homeless poor, who “through want and hard hunger . . . gnaw the dry and desolate ground,” collect brushwood to warm themselves and live in caves (30:3-7); but he does not identify with them, but rather insists—still striking the patronizing stance of the rich—on regarding them as “a senseless, disreputable brood” (30:8), and complains that even they are despising him. T he overwhelming concern of the character Job with status rather than survival betrays a narrator (and, no doubt, behind the narrator, an author) who knows nothing of real poverty and therefore cannot envisage poverty as a moral criticism of wealth. Jo b ’s suffering, mental and physical, is “real” enough and is realistically portrayed; for rich people can suffer pain as deeply as poor people. But rich authors cannot truly imagine poverty, and the depiction of Jo b ’s poverty is as a consequence unrealistic and unconvincing by comparison with the depiction of his suffering. A nother point at which we may observe an interesting attitude to material reality in the world of the text is the narrative of Jo b ’s restoration. We learn in chap. 42 that after his time of poverty, Job regains all his wealth, or rather double his original wealth. If we ask how this comes about, which is a vital question for any who can identify with Job in his poverty, since they cannot help being interested in escaping from poverty, it is disappointing, but not entirely surprising, to learn that “the Lord restored the fortunes of Job . . . the Lord gave Job twice as much as he had before” (42:10). To the poor, this can of course m ean that anyone can be made rich by God, but is more likely to mean: if you are poor, there is no way of ceasing to be poor, short of a miracle.

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Since in general such miracles of divine enriching are thin on the ground, the story of Job means: even if you are Job, there is no way of clambering out of poverty, there is nothing you can do about it; the story knows of no mechanism by which Jo b ’s stolen oxen and dead sheep can be regained. It only serves to rub in the point when we go on to read in 42:11 that after God has restored Jo b ’s fortunes, that is, when he has acquired new herds of the cattle that constitute his wealth, he is visited by all his friends and relatives, who bring him a piece of money. To him that hath is given. But when he is in need, even wealthy acquaintances do not want to know. T he narrator knows his class well, and takes for granted that no one backs a loser. T here is not a lot of encouragem ent for losers here. A final point at which a materialist perspective yields an im portant consequence for an interpretation of the book lies in the conclusion of the story of Job with the narrative of his material restoration. Many readers of the book have faulted it for the so-called naivety of its “happy ending”; after the penetrating intellectual argum entation and psychological depictions of the dialogue it seems to lower the tone of the book to retu rn to an externalized description of the newfound wealth of the protagonist. Job has in 42:2-6 pronounced himself satisfied with God’s answers; he has withdrawn his dem and that God give an account of himself, and he declares himself “com forted” (so the second verb of 42:6 should probably be understood) even while still am ong dust and ashes. But for the narrator the story must not end, and justice will not be satisfied, until Job is lifted from his ash-heap and has restored to him the goods that he has been wrongfully deprived of. Translated into m ore ideological language, the plot implies that questions of divine justice and hum an suffering cannot be adequately answered at the intellectual level but dem and affirmative action. Job requires not ju st the mental assurance that God knows what he is doing, but a public testimonial from God that, despite the evidence, Job is a righteous man. In a culture where a dogma of divine retribution is pervasive and where material prosperity has long been regarded as the most obvious sign of divine approval, Job m ust get his wealth back for his own sake and for God’s. At this point the interests of rich and poor come nearest to coinciding; for neither group will allow that the possession of goods is a m atter of no moral or religious importance, and each will argue that the divine justice cannot be fully and properly displayed when wealth am ong hum ans is unfairly distributed. The Book of Job is thus resistant to a purely existentialist or theological interpretation; the restoration of the hero’s possessions is as needful as the divine speeches for the resolution of the book. d. A Christian Reading There have of course been many Christian readings of the Old Testam ent throughout the Christian centuries, most of them building on the assum ption that the Old Testam ent conveys essentially the same teaching as the New Testam ent, but in a coded form. In traditional Christian interpretation of the Old Testam ent, for example, attention has often been focused on predictions or hints of a messiah, and even on texts that did not ostensibly speak of a messiah but could be read in reference to Christ. Job has been read typically as prefiguring the sufferings of Christ, or the tribulations of the church. And

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in medieval exegesis and iconography in particular the hgure of Job was essendally a symbol of the Christian virtue of patience. It is arguably a more appropriate Christian approach to the Old Testam ent to forswear an exclusively Christological reading, and to allow the Old and New Testam ents to confront one another, with the possibility being entertained that they may be in conflict with one another over quite im portant matters. The legitimacy of a Christian reading will then be on a similar footing to that of a feminist or a materialist reading: such a reading represents the personal ideological position of many readers, and it takes their concerns seriously by asking how they impinge upon the reading of the text. A Christian perspective on the Book of Job first attends to the very first sentence of the book, which depicts Job as “blameless and upright,” the first of these epithets also being conventionally translated as “perfect.” For a Christian reader such language, if m eant literally and seriously, is inappropriate for any hum an being; Christian theology and culture takes for granted that no one is perfect and that even the best of people can never be wholly free of sin. This perspective is part of what has been called the “introspective conscience of the West,” fueled by the Pauline convictions that “none is righteous, no, not one” and that “all have sinned” (Rom 3:10, 23). Jesus himself is said to have refused the description “good” of himself on the ground that “No one is good but God alone” (Luke 18:19 r s v ) . T he point is not some trivial verbal one, for it is fundam ental to the story of Job that Job should be a perfectly innocent person, who deserves nothing of what happens to him. If the reader believes that such a man has never existed, Job becomes for that reader not merely a nonhistorical figure but a quite fictive and unrealistic character whose experiences lie outside the realm of norm al hum an experience. And the Book of Job is then about nothing at all. Since no one wants to regard the Book of Job as a kind of science fiction, the Christian reader is obliged to qualify Jo b ’s righteousness as, not moral perfection, but an innocence that deserves better treatm ent than Job has meted out to him. Nevertheless, the Christian conscience remains unhappy at Job ’s total refusal to consider the possibility that he is in some way to blame for his misfortunes, and asks whether a person so unaware of his proclivities to sinfulness can properly be regarded as a righteous person at all. Is not Job something of a sinner in insisting so unselfconsciously that he has never sinned? In short, a Christian reading relativizes the terms in which the problem of the book is posed. A second major point at which a Christian ideology runs somewhat counter to the book is that Jo b ’s quest for meaning differs from the essentially Christian quest for salvation. If the fundam ental truth about the hum an condition is that people are sinners alienated from God, and in need of redem ption from that state, Jo b ’s concern for order in God’s governance of the universe is a quite secondary matter. If Job cannot see that hum an sinfulness, his own or others’, must be the first item on his agenda, it may be argued, he has no right to be questioning the way the universe is being run. T he book could then, from this supposedly “Christian” persepctive, be read as an extended account of Jo b ’s attem pt to evade the real question about suffering, which is hum an responsibility for hum an suffering. On the other hand, a m ore charitable Christian reading could agree to differ with the program of the Book of

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Job, and allow that the issue of guilt and responsibility, however prim ary it may be, is not the only issue, and that the question of theodicy may be legitimately raised. In some Christian traditions (such as the mystical), indeed, some value might even be allowed to Jo b ’s perception that the alienation of hum ankind and God is God’s doing rather than hum ans’. But however one handles the cleavage between a Christian orientation and the orientation of the book, it becomes clear that a Christian perspective calls into question some unexamined tenets of the book and suggests its own distinctive evaluation of the significance of the book. A Christian reading will not by any means always find itself in tension with the book, however. It will be particularly noticed by the Christian reader, for example, that the book, in dealing with the issue of innocent suffering, establishes an indispensable prerequisite for Christian theology. For if the Christian reader feels unhappy with the unself-critical Job, such a reader can only be delighted with the way the book breaks the causal nexus between sin and suffering. If Jesus is to be judged by the conventional doctrine of retribution— which the friends of Job uphold—he is the chiefest of sinners; it is only when the conception of innocent suffering propounded by the book as a whole can be invoked that any theological significance can be attributed to the death of Jesus. From a Christian perspective, moreover, the hints of a salvific quality to Jo b ’s suffering are doubly interesting: Job is able to pray for his friends, it appears, because of his experiences (42:8—9), and the restoration of his own fortunes is associated with, if not actually the consequence of, his intercession for the three friends (42:10). A final point at which a Christian reading of Job is illuminating is over the issue of the rationale according to which God governs the world. A Christian perspective identifies this as the issue of the principles of the kingdom of God, which is the central them e in the preaching of Jesus. Although the character of the kingdom of God is in contem porary Christianity not a high profile issue, it is interesting to the reader of jo b that the parables of Jesus are at pains to show that God’s rule is not always amenable to hum an rationality. Although Jesus never wants to say that God acts unjustly, he does insist that the operation of the kingdom defies many of the rules of hum an justice: in the parable of the workers in the vineyard, for example, everyone is paid the same wage though some workers have worked m uch longer hours than others (Matt 20:1-16). In other parables, as in that of the self-producing grain (Mark 4:26—29), the growth of the kingdom is hidden and mysterious, ju st as in Job the principles of God’s rule are secret from the world of hum ans. Jesus’ conviction of the presence of the kingdom of God despite the appearances, and his call for faith in a partly unknowable and partly self-communicating God, resonate with the program of the Book of Job. A Christian perspective, in some ways alien to the Hebrew book, engages the reader in critical but associative thinking and opens up a new set of significances for the book. B . T h e B o o k o f J o b in H is t o r ic a l P e r s p e c t iv e

Naturally, for the most complete understanding of any piece of literature, we need to consider all that may be known about its background, its author, and the circumstances of its composition. Unfortunately, in the case of the

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Book of Job, there is little hard evidence of this kind, and we must rely largely on intelligent speculation. 1. O

r ig in s

Most scholars today would date the composition of the Book of Job to some point between the seventh and the second centuries b c e , with the probability that a prose folktale of a pious sufferer existed long before the largely poetic book itself was written. T he story of the Book of Job is set in the patriarchal era depicted in Genesis: like Abraham, for example, Jo b ’s wealth consists of his animals and his servants (1:3; 42:12; cf. Gen 12:16), and he himself as head of his family offers sacrifices without the intervention of any priest (1:5; cf. Gen 15:9—10). Like the patriarchs of Genesis, who live 175, 180, 147, and 100 years (Gen 25:7; 35:28; 47:28; 50:26), Job lives 140 years (42:16). But the narrator is clearly depicting an archaic age and not writing of his own time. In a search for the date of composition of the book, many have observed that the them e of the suffering of the innocent is found also in Jerem iah and in the poems of the Suffering Servant of the L o r d in Second Isaiah, both of these prophetic texts stemming from the sixth century. Some have thought that the inexplicable suffering of Job may have been intended to be symbolic of the suffering of the Jews in Babylonian exile in that century, and therefore to have been composed at about that period. But the author has so convincingly located his narrative in the patriarchal world that there are no clear contemporary allusions of any kind to the period contem porary with the author. The earliest reference to Job outside the book is found in Ezek 14:14, 20, where Job is m entioned along with Noah and Danel (probably not Daniel) as an ancient hero. This sixth-century reference may well be, however, not to the Book of Job but to a more ancient folktale; so no inference about the date of the book can be drawn. There can be little doubt that the author of the book was an Israelite. It is true that Jo b ’s hom eland is depicted as N orth Arabia or possibly Edom, and in most of the book Job himself does not know God by the Israelite name Yahweh. Nor does the book refer to any of the distinctive historical traditions of the Hebrew people. But these facts only m ean that the author has succeeded well in disguising his own age and background in his creation of the character of his hero. 2.

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T here are a num ber of indications in the book that it was not all written at one time, but went through a history of composition. Some of the major elements that have been thought earlier or later than the main body of the book are the following. a. The Prologue and Epilogue Since the prologue (chaps. 1—2) and the epilogue (42:7-17) form a reasonably coherent prose narrative, and since there is some evidence that a folktale

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about jo b existed earlier than the composition of our Book of Job, it has often been argued that the prose framework o f the book existed in writing for some time before the poetic speeches were composed. Some of the differenees between the prose and the poetic sections of the book m ight be m ore easily explained, it has been thought, if we could attribute them to different authors. Thus, for example, Job is portrayed as a patient sufferer in the prologue, but as a vehement accuser of God in the dialogues; in the prologue (and epilogue) God is known by the name Yahweh, but not in the dialogues; and the cause of Jo b ’s misfortunes is recounted in the prologue but unknown in the dialogues. All these differences between the prose and poetry of the book can be better explained, however, on literary grounds. Thus, it is dramatically satisfying that Job should change from his initial acceptance of his suffering to a violent questioning of it; and, since the friends of Job are not represented as Yahweh-worshipers, it is only natural that in the dialogues the name of Yahweh should be avoided; and it is of course not surprising that the dialogues should proceed in ignorance of the events in heaven which have brought about Jo b ’s misery, for if the ultimate cause had been known, there would have been no problem for the friends to discuss. Furtherm ore, it is improbable that the prose narratives ever form ed an independent whole; for the narrative of the arrival of the three friends in 2:11—13 is plainly designed to preface the speeches, and Yahweh’s closing address to the friends (42:7—8) makes no sense unless the friends had been speaking words for which God could reproach them. If they had merely sat in sympathetic silence with Job—which is all they do according to the prose narrative (2:13)—they would not have needed to offer sacrifices to atone for their foolish words (42:8). Even if these paragraphs of narrative should be regarded merely as editorial links between the prose and the poetry, it is hard to believe that any prose tale about Job could have moved directly from Jo b ’s patient acceptance of his suffering (2:10) to Yahweh’s restoration of his fortunes (42:10) without some intervening events. It is therefore more probable that the author of the prologue and the epilogue is also the poet of the dialogues, and wrote the prose framework deliberately for its present place in the book. This is not to deny, of course, that the story of Job may be much older than the book. b. The Speeches of Elihu The great majority of critics regard the four speeches of Elihu (chaps. 32— 37) as an addition to the book after its original composition. T he main reason for this judgm ent is the absence of Elihu from both the prologue and the epilogue. While it might be replied that it could have been to the au th or’s dramatic advantage to have a fresh interlocutor enter after the conversation of Job and his friends seems to have concluded (cf. 31:40 “T he words of Job are ended”), it is hard to explain why Elihu should not be m entioned in the epilogue. The first three friends have spoken “folly” about God and Job has spoken “what is right” (42:7), but no ju dgm ent is made on the wisdom or otherwise of Elihu’s speeches. It is strange also that although Elihu’s speeches intervene between those of Job and of God, God makes no allusion to Elihu when he replies to Job. T he evidence that the Elihu speeches are secondary

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is quite strong, but it is nevertheless something of a difficulty to understand how an author wishing to expand the Book of Job would have inserted Elihu’s speeches as chaps. 3 2 —3 7 but failed to insert Elihu’s name in chap. 4 2 . W hatever the origin of the Elihu material, the interpreter of the book m ust of course come to terms with the shape of the book as we have received it, and must, if at all possible, explain the significance of Elihu’s intervention (see the comments above under Argument). c. The Poem on Wisdom T he poem of chap. 2 8 ( 2 8 : 1 - 2 8 ) , on the them e that wisdom is hidden from hum ans, who must content themselves with living according to the divine comm andm ents ( 2 8 : 2 8 ) , has also commonly been thought to be a later addition. It is somewhat strange in the m outh of Job, because he is subsequently led to a similar position only by dint of lengthy divine argum ent. It may be in fact that the third cycle of speeches (chaps. 2 1 - 3 1 ) has suffered some dislocation in the course of scribal transmission; for, as the text stands, Bildad delivers an uncharacteristically short speech in 2 6 : 1 —6 , and Zophar makes no speech at all. But even if the poem on wisdom was originally uttered by Zophar, as some suggest—and it is interesting that Zophar has already made similar points, though more prosaically, in 1 1 : 7 —2 0 —it still seems that the poem on wisdom lessens the effectiveness of the divine speeches when they come. In that case, the solution to the problem may be that Zophar is speaking only about the impossibility of knowing the particular cause of a particular misfortune, whereas God is speaking about the impossibility of hum ans’ knowing w hether a m isfortune was due to any hum an cause at all. However the issue is resolved, we must acknowledge the possibility that the Book of Job has been subject to expansions at various times. 3.

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Select Bibliography The Legend of King Keret: Gibson, J. C. L. Canaanite Myths and Legends. Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1978. 82-102 (previous ed. [1956] by G. R. Driver). P ritchard, J. B., ed. Ancient Near Eastern Texts relating to the Old Testament Γ= A N E T , 3d ed., 1969]. 142-49. A Dispute over Suicide: ANET. 405—407. The Protests of the Eloquent Peasant: AN ET. 407—10. I Will Praise the Lord of Wisdom: A N E T. 434—37. Lam bert, W. G. Babylonian Wisdom Literature. 1960. The Babylonian Job: AN ET. 589-91.

T he discovery in the present century of many works of ancient Near Eastern literature enables us to view the Book of Job within a wider context than that of the Hebrew Bible. Many individual motifs of the Book of Job are to be found in this nonbiblical literature, but no text can with any probability be regarded as a source or ancestor of the biblical book. From the realm of Canaanite culture, we have the poetic epic of Keret, a

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king who loses all his family, including his wife, in a series of natural disasters. He himself is in danger of death, but at the comm and of the god El he finds a new wife and, like Job, begets a new family. From Egypt, a text with some analogies to Job is the Dispute over Suicide, otherwise known as the Dialogue of a Man with His Soul, in which a m an debates with himself w hether in his present misery suicide is not to be preferred to life. “To whom can I speak today? I am laden with wretchedness for lack of an intimate. . . . Death is in my sight today like the odor of m yrrh, like sitting under an awning on a breezy day.” Like Job, the m an expresses his longing for someone who will take up his case in the heavenly council. A nother Egyptian text, T he Protests of the Eloquent Peasant, contains the appeal of a man who is suffering social injustice for his wrongs to be righted by the Chief Steward. Like Job, he would prefer death to being oppressed by injustice, but unlike Job he is not making his plea to heaven. From Babylonia, the most interesting parallel to the Book of Job is the work known as “I Will Praise the Lord of Wisdom” (Ludlul bel némeqi), in which a pious m an is struck down by disease; he is mocked by his friends as a wrongdoer, and his family has become hostile to him. He himself believes that he must have committed some sin, even if only inadvertently, to be so punished by God. He is troubled by his hum an inability to understand the gods: “What seems good to one, to a god may be evil. . . . W here have mankind learned the way of a god?” He describes his suffering in excruciating detail, and appeals for deliverance from it. In the end he is restored to health. An older text, from Sumer, called by its translator “Man and His God,” differs from the Book of Job on several fundam ental points, but has many elements, especially of wording, in common with Job. T he sufferer here is complaining that he is being made to suffer by God and is being scorned by his friends: “You have doled out to me suffering ever anew. . . . My friend gives the lie to my righteous word.” He begs God for mercy: “My god, you who are my father who begot me, lift up my face.” Unlike Job, this m an acknowledges that he has sinned, and the outcome is that the god “turned the m an’s suffering into joy.” The Hebrew tale of Job—which we may suppose to have existed before the book came into being—may be indebted to such texts, or at least to the traditional story material which they themselves draw upon, but the Book of Job itself seems to be a fresh and independent creation. T he other Near Eastern texts do, however, rem ind us that the issues raised by the Book of Job were not unique to Israel. 4.

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Among m odern students of the Hebrew Bible, Job is reckoned as belonging to a group of books known as “Wisdom” literature. These are the books of Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, and Job, to which may be added two other Wisdom books appearing only in the Greek Old Testam ent and now included in the Apocrypha or am ong the Deuterocanonical books: Wisdom (or, T he Wisdom of Solomon) and Ecclesiasticus (or, Sirach). They are so called because of their didactic contents; they deliberately set out to be instructional about right living or right thinking.

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These books are generally thought to have had their origin among the circles of the “wise” in Israel, who have been identified as a class of intellectuals or bureaucrats. Some of the “wise” will have been engaged in the education of the young, and others in the administration of government. In the Book of Proverbs, the narrator addresses the reader as “my son,” in the m anner of an ancient schoolmaster addressing his pupils, and Proverbs can be easily understood as a textbook for students in a scribal school. It would be a mistake, however, to limit the term “the wise” to professional wise men—in Israel as much as in any society today. So we cannot assume that Job or Ecclesiastes is the work of some professional wise man or that either reflects the views of a particular class or circle. Everything about the Book of Job, as also about Ecclesiastes, suggests that the author was writing as a unique and somewhat unorthodox individual. T he Book of Job is such an intensely intellectual work that it is hard to imagine that it had a very m uch wider appeal to its ancient readers than it has to readers of the present day; its presence in the canon of the Hebrew Bible may be as much due to happy accidents as to any deliberate preservation of the book by a class of intellectuals or administrators for whom it spoke. Even though there may be no common social background for the books of Proverbs, Job, and Ecclesiastes, it is instructive to compare them theologically, since Proverbs and Ecclesiastes are intellectually the nearest neighbors of the Book of Job. T he Book of Proverbs is, next to Deuteronomy, the most stalwart defender in the Hebrew Bible of the doctrine of retribution. In it the underlying principle is that wisdom—which means the knowledge of how to live rightly— leads to life and folly leads to death (e.g., Prov 1:32; 3:1-2, 13-18; 8:36). Everywhere it is asserted—or else taken for granted—that righteousness is rewarded and sin is punished (e.g., 11:5-6). And the world of hum ans is divided into two groups: the righteous (or, wise) and the wicked (or, foolish); which group a particular individual belongs to seems to be determ ined by u p b rin g in g and e d u c a tio n and th e re is little h o p e o r fe a r th a t a p e rs o n m ay move from one group to another. T hus there is a determinism about the outlook of Proverbs, and a rather rigid notion of cause and effect, which is reasonable enough in material designed for the education of the young but is lacking in intellectual sophistication and, to be frank, in realism. Job and Ecclesiastes introduce that needed elem ent of sophistication and realism into the philosophy of Wisdom, calling into question as they do so the universal validity of the tenets of Proverbs. Ecclesiastes does not doubt the value of the quest for wisdom: “Wisdom excels folly as light excels darkness” (Eccl 2:13). But the author insists on raising the question, W hat happens to one’s wisdom at death? Since death cancels out all values, not excepting wisdom, life cannot be m eaningful if it is made to consist of gaining something that is inevitably going to be lost. However valuable the pursuit of wisdom is, it is even better for a hum an being to regard life as an opportunity for enjoyment: “T here is nothing better for hum ans than to eat and drink and find enjoyment in all their activity” (2:24, my translation). For enjoyment is not a cumulative possession or a process leading to a goal which can then be destroyed; enjoym ent exists in the course of living along with the activity that produces it, and so it cannot be lost; it has already been acquired and used up. Ecclesiastes thus inscribes a challenging question m ark in the m argin of Proverbs.

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Job confronts the ideology of Proverbs at a different point. As we have seen, the Book of Job is an assault on the general validity of the doctrine of retribution. In the framework of the thought of Proverbs, the m an Job is an impossibility. If he is truly righteous, he finds life, and wealth, and health. If he is in pain, he is one of the wicked and the foolish. In the end, of course, the Book of Job does not completely underm ine the principle of retribution, for Job ends up pious and prosperous, but once the principle is successfully challenged, as it is in the Book of Job, even in a single case, its moral force is desperately weakened. For, once the case of Job becomes known, if a person who has a reputation for right living is found to be suffering the fate Proverbs predicts for wrongdoers, no one can point a finger of criticism; the Book of Job has established that the proper criterion for determ ining whether people are pious or not is the moral quality of their life and not the accidental circumstances of their material existence. At the same time, the book maintains that a truly religious attitude does not consist of passive resignation to m isfortune, but includes a courage to enter into confrontation with God. Even though the Book of Job dissents from the leading theological statem ent of Proverbs on retribution, it more than earns its place beside it within the corpus of “Wisdom” literature for its implicit instruction on how to live rightly when one is suffering.

Introduction: III. Orientation to Books about Job This is intended to be a reasonably comprehensive bibliography. It does not contain only items I have read or seen, though I think I have seen most that are in Sheffield University Library, Cambridge University Library or the British Library in the British Museum, London. It does not usually include works in languages with which I have no familiarity. O ther remarks about the intentions lying behind this bibliography may be found in the first part of the introduction, Orientation to this Book. Works are arranged in this sequence: 1. Bibliographies of Works on Job 2. Commentaries and Translations a. Patristic i. Greek ii. Latin iii. Syriac b. Jewish, before the 19th Century c. Christian, Medieval and pre-16th Century d. Christian, 16th to 18th Centuries e. Christian and Jewish, 19th and 20th Centuries 3. T he Book as a Whole 4. Philology, Text Criticism 5. T he Ancient Versions a. Septuagint and O ther Greek Versions b. T argum c. Vulgate and O ther Latin Versions d. Peshitta and O ther Syriac Versions e. Arabic f. Ethiopic g. Coptic 6. Literary Aspects 7. Motifs, Theological Elements 8. Job and Its Influence a. General b. Early Jewish c. Contem porary Jewish d. Islam and O ther Religions e. Early Christian f. Western Thinkers and Writers g. Literary Works Inspired by Job h. Job in Art i. Job in Music j. Job in Dance k. Job in Film 9. Sources and Composition 10. Date and A uthorship 11. T he Ancient Literary Context, Including the Hebrew Bible Little account has been taken in this bibliography of studies of Job that form part of larger works. For example, all introductions to the Old T estam ent contain treatm ents of the book, as do commentaries on the whole Bible and works on the Wisdom literature. Thus, quite apart from errors of omission, this bibliography, for all its length, is far

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from an exhaustive list of what has been written about the Book of Job. It may be regarded, however, as richly representative of the writing which the Book of Job has generated over the centuries. 1. B

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Baker, J. A. “Commentaries on Jo b .”

Theol 66 (1963) 179-85. Barr, J. “T he Book of Job and Its M odern Interpreters.” BJRL 54 (1971-72) 28-46. Conte, G. “Letture di Giobbe.” Prot 39 (1984) 93-96. Glatzer, N. H., ed. The Dimensions of Job: A Study and Selected Readings. New York: Schocken Books, 1969. Hausen, A. Hiob in der franzosischen Literatur: Zur Rezeption eines alttestamentlichen Buches. Europáische Hochschulschriften

13/17. Frankfurt: Peter Lang, 1972. 212-60. Kaminka, A. “Neueste Literatur zu den H agiographen.” M G W J 71 (1927) 289-306. Kegler, J. “H auptlinien der H iobforschung seit 1956.” In C. W estermann, Der Aufbau des Buches Hiob. 2d ed. Stuttgart: Calwer, 1977. 9-25. Kinet, D. “Der V orw urf an Gott: N euere Literatur zum Ijobbuch.” BiKi 36 (1981) 255-59. Kuhl, C. “N euere Literarkritik des Buches H iob.” T Ru N.F. 21 (1953) 163—205, 257—3 1 7 .---------. “Vom Hiobbuche und seinen Problem en.’ T Ru N.F. 22 (1954) 261-316. Lang, B. “Neue Literatur zum Buch Ijob.” T TQ 160 (1980) 4 0 42. Lods, A. “Recherches récentes sur le livre de Jo b .” R H P R 14 (1934) 501-33. Mika’el, 1921 ” [The Book of M. “.1950 Job in Periodical Review 1921-1950]; BM ik 76 (1978-79) 106-15; 77, 229-40; 78, 336-46. Müller, Η. P. “Altes und Neues zum Buch H iob.” E v T 37 (1977) 284-304. ---------. Das Hiobproblem. Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1978. Robinson, T. R. “T he T en Best Books on the Book of Jo b .” Exp 9 /4 (1925) 357—77. Sanders, P. S. Twentieth-Century Interpretations of the Book of Job: A Collection of Critical Essays. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1968. Tebbe, W. “Predigthilfe aus Kom m entaren: Neuere Literatur zum Buche Hiob.” M P 43 (1954) 156-67. Void, K. “Jobbokens problemer: Litteratur om Jobboken.” TTKi 3 (1932) 41-56. Waldow, Η. E. von. “Studien zum Buche Hiob.” VF 20 (1960—62) 215—27. Williams, R. J. “C urrent T rends in the Study of the Book of Jo b .” In Studies in the Book of Job, ed. W. E. Aufrecht. SR Supplements 16. Waterloo: Wilfrid Laurier UP, 1985. 1—27. 2. C

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Commentaries and translations in this section of the Bibliography have been arranged principally by period: Patristic; Jewish before the nineteenth century; Christian, medieval; Christian, sixteenth to eighteenth centuries; Jewish and Christian, nineteenth to twentieth centuries. Before the Renaissance, the Book of Job was given less attention than the more obviously Christological parts of the Old Testam ent. It may be that the rem arkable interest in the book since the sixteenth century is related to the growth of hum anism , and the comparative freeing of biblical study from ecclesiastical constraints. T he Book of Job, with its presentation of divergent theological views, has obviously not been entirely congenial to the proponents of dogmatic theology. Much of the greatness of the Book of Job has been its adaptability to the needs and interests of various ages. In the Renaissance, as in the Middle Ages, Job was often seen as an ethical model, an exem plar of fortitude and patience. In the Enlightenm ent, he became rational man, struggling on the side of reason and experience against dogma. T he Job of Romanticism is a figure weighed down with hum an sadness, full of restless longings for the infinite. In the twentieth century, Job becomes rath er a representative of a hum anity condem ned to an existence of absurdity. None of these readings of the book and of its central character is a misreading; rather, the convictions and concerns of different ages have revealed a dimension in the work that was not previously well

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recognized. It would be an error to suppose that the history of the interpretation of the book only teaches us that we all see in the Bible only what we want to see. It would be better to think of writings on the Book of Job as comments in a visitors’ book at a historic m onum ent, as transcriptions of an orchestral suite for the piano or flute or cello, or as gossip about a well-loved, but awkward, character of our acquaintance. a. Patristic

In the patristic period, it was apparently the Greek writers who favored the Book of Job. Besides the fragments of the commentaries of Chrysostom, Athanasius and others, there is also the Greek Catena, a collection of comments from twenty-four Greek fathers, most of whose commentaries have not otherwise survived. T he Latins seem to have been overwhelmed by the M o r a lia of Gregory the Great which exercised a vast influence in the Middle Ages not only on biblical study but on Christian ethics and theology generally. D horm e, E. A C o m m en ta ry on the B o o k o f J o b . Tr. H. Knight. London: Thom as Nelson, 1967. ccxxi—ccxxiv. G u illa u m in , M arie-L ouise. “Recherches sur l’exégése patristique de Jo b .” S tu d ia P a tr ís tic a 12/1. Ed. Elizabeth A. Livingstone. Texte und U ntersuchungen 115. Berlin: Akademie, 1975. 304-8. i. Greek A non. [Ps.-Origen]. I n J o b c o m m e n ta riu s. P G 17:371-522 [only known in Latin]. A th an asiu s (c. 296—373). F r a g m e n ta in J o b (excerpts from the Greek catena). P G

27:1343-48.

C hrysostom (c. 347—407). F r a g m e n ta in b e a tu m J o b (excerpts from the Greek catena).

P G 64:506—635. ---------. S yn o p sis sc rip tu ra e sa cra e, J o b . P G 56:361—68. ---------. I n J o b h o m ilía s I V . P G 56:563—82. See also D ieu, L. “Le ‘commentaire de S. Jean Chrysostome sur Jo b .” ’R H E 13 (1912) 640-58. H aid a c h e r, S. “Chrysostomus-Fragmente. A: Chrysostomus-fragm ente zum Buche Hiob.” Χρυσοστο ικα. S tu d i e richerche a S. G io v a n n i Crisostom o. Rome, 1908. 1:217—34. Sam ir, K., and J. L. S charpé. “Les sermons sur Job du Pseudo-Chrysostome (CPG 4564 = BHG 939d—g) dans la version paléo-russe.” O L P

9. Ed. M. Heltzer, 1978. 167-73. Sam ir, K. “Les sermons sur Job du Pseudo-Chrysostome (CPG 4564 = BHG 939d-g) retrouvés en arabe.” O L P 8. Ed. H. Sauren et al. 1977. 205-16. D idym us th e B lin d (c. 313—98). F r a g m e n ta ex ca ten is in J o b . P G 39:1119—54. Eds.: H aged o rn , D., U. H ag e d o rn , and L. K oenen. D id y m u s d e r B lin d e : K o m m e n ta r z u H io b ( T u r a P a p y r u s). Vols. 3, 4. Bonn: R. Habelt, 1985. H e n ric h s, A. D id ym o s d e r B lin d e : K o m m e n ta r zu H io b ( T u r a -P a p y r u s ). Papyrologische Texte und Abhandlungen 1, 2. 2 vols. Bonn: R. Habelt, 1968. See also M archal, G. W. D id y m e de b lin d e en z ijn in te rp reta tie v a n het boek J o b . Sneek: Doevendans, 1977. G reek C atena. Eds.: C om itolus, P., ed. C a te n a in B e a tissim u m J o b a b so lu tissim a , e q u a tu o r et v ig in ti G ra ecia e D o c to ru m e x p la n a tio n ib u s c o n te xta , a P a u lo C o m ito lo e g ra eco in la tin u m co n versa . Venice, 1587. Ju n iu s , P., ed. C a te n a G ra ec o ru m P a tr u m in b e a tu m J o b collectore N ic e ta H e ra c le a e M e tr o p o lita ex d u o b u s mss. B ib lio th eca e B o d le ia n a e co d icib u s, g ra ece, n u n c p r im u m in lu cem ed ita et la tin e v e r sa , opera et stu d io P a tr ic ii J u n i i B ib lio th e c a rii R e g ii. London, 1637 [= P G 64:505—635]. See also B e rtin i, U. “La catena greca in Giobbe.” B ib 4

(1923) 129-42.

H esy c h iu s o f Je ru sa le m (fl. c. 300). Eds.: T sch e rak ia n , C., ed. C o m m en ta ry on J o b [Armenian]. Venice, 1913. R en o u x , C. H e sy ch iu s de J e r u s a le m , H o m élies s u r J o b : V ersion a rm é n ie n n e. PO 42/1—2. T urnhout: Brepols, 1983. See also R en o u x , C. “L’Église de Sion

dans les Homélies sur Job d ’Hésychius de Jérusalem .” R É A r m é n 18 (1984) 135-46.

J u lia n o f H alica rn a ssu s (d. after 518) (attrib.). See Julian the Arian.

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J u lia n th e A rian (4th cent.). Eds.: H a g e d o rn , D. Der Hiobkommentar des Arianers Julian. Patristische Texte und Studien 14. Berlin: de Gruyter, 1973. See also F erh at, P. “Der Jobprolog des Julianos von Halicarnassos in einer arm enischen B earbeitung.” OrChr 1 (1911) 26-31. O ly m p io d o ru s o f A le x a n d ria (6th cent.). Commentarium in beatum Job (excerpts from the Greek catena). PG 9 3 : 1 1-409. Eds.: H a g e d o rn , U ., a n d D. H ag e d o rn . Olympiodor, Diakon von Alexandria: Kommentar zu Hiob. Patristische Texte und Studien 24. Berlin: de Gruyter, 1984. O rig e n (c. 185-c. 254). Ex Origene selecta in Job. PG 12:1031-50.---------. Hexaplorum quae supersunt . . . Job. PG 1 6 /1 :2 8 7 -5 7 0 .--------- . Ennarrationes in Job. PG 17:57-106. T h e o d o re o f M o p su estia (c. 350-428). In Jobum (excerpts from the Greek catena). PG 66:697-98. D raguet, R. “Un commentaire grec arien sur Jo b .” R H E 24 (1924) 38-65. See also O sieczkow ska, C. “Note sur un m anuscrit grec du livre de Job, no 62 du Musée byzantin d ’Athénes.” Byzantion 6 (1931) 223-28.

it. Latin A non. [Ps.-Origen]. In Job commentarius. PG 17:371-522. A m brose (c. 339-97). Liber de Interpellation Job et David. PL 14:793-850. See also B askin, J . R. “Job as Moral Exemplar in Ambrose.” VigChr 35 (1981) 222-31. A u g u stin e (354—430). Adnotationum in Job liber unus. PL 3 4 :8 2 5 -8 6 .---------. Sermo de eo quod scriptum est in Job, cap. 1,6. PL 38:100—106. See also Ja ck so n , M. G. StA. “Formica Dei: Augustine’s Enarratio in Psalmum 66:3 (Job as ‘God’s A nt’).” VigChr 40 (1986)

153-68.

G regory th e G re at (c. 540-604). Libri X X X V Moralium. PL 75:515-1162; 76:9-782. ---------. Excerpta ex commentario in Jobum (attrib. Bede). PL 23:1470—80. Eds.: A d riae n , M., ed. S. Gregorii M agni Moralia in lob. CCSL 143, 143A, 143B. 3 vols. T urnhout: Brepols, 1979—85. Morals on the Book of Job, Translated with Notes and Indices. 3 vols. Oxford: H. Parker, 1844—50. G illet, R ., A. d e G au d e m aris, and A. B o cagnano. Grégoire le Grand, Morales sur Job: Texte latin, introduction et notes. 4 vols. Sources chrétiennes 32, 32b, 212, 221. Paris: Cerf, 1950-75. See also C a stald elli, F. “II meccanismo psicologico del peccato nei ‘Moralia in Jo b ’ di San Gregorio M agno.” Salesianum 27 (1965) 563-605. D e A yala, L. Las flores de los Morales de Job’: Introduzione, testo critico e note. Florence: Le M onnier, 1963. S alm on, P. “Le texte de jo b utilisé par S. Grégoire dans les ‘Moralia.’” Miscellanea Bíblica et Orientalia . . . A. A. Miller. 1951. 187-94. W asselynck, R. L ’influence des Moralia in Job de S. Grégoire le Grand sur la théologie morale entre le VIE et le X IΓ siécle. Diss. Lille, 1956.---------. “Le compilations des Moralia in Job du V IIeau X IIe siécle.” R T A M 29 (1962) 5 -3 3 .---------. “Les Moralia in Job dans les ouvrages de morale du haut moyen áge latin.” R T A M 31 (1964) 5—31. See also Lathcen; Odo

of Cluny; Peter of Waltham. H ila ry (c. 315-67). Tractatus in Job [frag.]. PL 10:723-24. Je ro m e (c. 342-420). Commentarii in librum Job. PL 26:619-802. ---------. Liber Job [a translation]. PL 28:1079—1122. ---------. Liber Job. Altera versio. PL 29:61—114. --------- . (attrib.; Ps.-Philip the Presbyter). Expositio interlinearis libri Job. PL 23:1402-70. See also F ra n sen , I. Le commentaire au livre de Job du diacre Philippe. Diss. Lyon, Maredsous, 1949. L agard e, P. de. “Des Hieronymus Ü bertragung der griechischen Übersetzung des lob.” Mittheilungen. Gottingen, 1887. 2:189-237. J u lia n o f E clan a (c. 386—454). Expositio libri Jobi. PL Suppl. 1/1:1573—1679. Eds.: A m elli, A. PL Suppl. 1:1573-1679. De C o n in k , L. Iuliani Aeclanensis Expositio libri lob. CCSL 88. T urnhout: Brepols, 1977. See also V accari, A. Un commento a Giobbe di Giuliano di Eclana. Rome, 1915. W eym an, C. “Der Hiobkom m entar des Julianus von Aeclanum .” TRev (1916) 241-48. L ath cen (L aidcend, L aidgen) (d. 661). Egloga quam scripsit Lathcenfilius Baith de Moralibus Job quas Gregorius fecit. Ed. M. Adriaen. CCSL 145. T urnhout: Brepols, 1969. W alafrid Strabo (c. 808—49) (attrib.). Glossa ordinaria . . . In librum Job. PL 113:747—

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840. See also D atem a, C. “A Supposed N arrado on Jo b .” A n B o l l 103 (1985) 303—304. S tiglm ayr, H . “Der Jobkom m entar von Monte Cassino.” Z T K 43 (1919) 269^88 .

Hi. Syriac

B ar H eb rae u s (1226—86). Eds.: B e rn stein , G. H . G reg o riu s b a r H e b ra e u s: S c h o lia in lib r u m Io b i; ex codd. M S S . e m e n d a ta , d e n u o e d id it, d iffic ilio r u m lo co ru m in te rp r e ta tio n e illu s tr a v it, n o tis criticis in s tr u x it. Breslau: Typis Universitatis, 1858. S c h o lia in J o b u m . In K irsch , G. G. “Bar Hebraei scholia in Jobum ex ejus H orreo Mysteriorum, sec. cod. Bodl. A.” In C h resto m a th ie syria q u e.

Leipzig: K. Knobloch, 1836. 186—210.

E p h re m (c. 306—73). B e n ed ictu s, P. Scholies s u r J o b : E d itio n sy ria q u e et tra d u c tio n la tin e .

O pera Syriaca. Rome, 1740. 2:1-20. Ish o d a d o f M erv (9th cent.). S chliebitz, J . Is o d a d h ’s K o m m e n ta r z u m B u c h e H io b . BZAW 11. Giessen, 1907. See also V osté, J . M. “Mar Isocdad de Merw sur Jo b .” B ib 30 (1949) 305—13. V an d e n E ynde, C. C o m m en ta ire d ’I s o fd a d d e M e r v s u r VA n d e n T e sta m e n t. 3 : L iv r e des sessions. CSCO 229-30. Scriptores Syriaci 96-97. Louvain: Secrétariat du CSCO, 1962-63.

b. Jewish, before the Nineteenth Century A non. B ru c h stiic k e eines ra b b in isc h en H io b -C o m m e n ta r s : A ls M a n u s c r ip t in e in ig e n E x e m p ia r e n (from 1295). Bonn: C. Georgi, 1874. --------- . A C o m m en ta ry o n the B o o k o f J o b , f r o m a H e b re w M a n u s c r ip t in th e U n iv e rsity L ib ra r y , C a m b rid g e. Ed. W. A. Wright. London,

1905.

A braham , Isra e l ben. : [Yiddish translation]. Prague, 1791. A braham , Zeeb W olf ben. 1 . Berlin, : . Venice, 1603. A ram a, M eir b. 1777. A lshech, Μ. Isaac. . Venice, 1567. D u ran , Sim on. , and S forno, O b ad ia h b. Jaco b . .

Venice, 1589 [the two commentaries in parallel columns]. G erso n id es [Ralbag] (1288-1344). L assen, A. L. T h e C o m m en ta ry (G erso n id es) on the B o o k o f J o b : T r a n s la te d w ith In tr o d u c tio n a n d N o tes.

Publishing Co., 1946. Ib n E zra, A. (d. 1167). In

o f L e v i ben G ersom

New York: Bloch

B ib lia R a b b in ic a of Buxtorf. See also G allin er, J. A b r a h a m ib n E s r a ’s H io b k o m m e n ta r a u f se in e (fu e lle n u n te r s u c h t. Berlin: H. Itzkowski, 1901. M asnuth, S am uel b. N issim (12th cent.). . In B u b er, S. C o m m e n ta r z u J o b v o n R a b b i S a m u e l ben N is s im M a s n u th . Berlin, 1889. M eldola, J . H . [Hebrew

text with Spanish version by Jacob Lombroso]. Livorno, 1778. M enahem , Ja co b u. s. F. : . Frankfurt an der Oder, . 1765. M end elsso h n , M. B ib le C o m m en ta ry o n J o b . Berlin, 1789. M id rash . Ed. S. A. W ertheimer. 2d ed. Jerusalem , 1953. N ah m a n id e s [R am ban] (1194-1270). C havel, C. D . . Jerusalem , 1963. 1:19-28. See also Silver, D. J. “Nachm anides’ Com m entary on the Book of Jo b .” J Q R 60 (1969-70) 9-26. Q ara, D avid. See A h re n d , Μ. M. L e c o m m e n ta ire s u r J o b d e R a b b i Yoséph Q a r a : É tu d e de m éthodes p h ilo lo g iq u es et exégétiques. Hildesheim: Gerstenberger, 1978. See also A re n d [A hrend], M. “T he Commentary of R. Joseph Kara on Job and Its Relationship to Rashi’s Com m entary.” S tu d ie s in B ib le a n d E xe g esis . . . A . T o eg . 1980. 183-207 [Heb.]. R ash i [Itzhaki, R. Sam uel] (1040-1105). In B ib lia R a b b in ic a of Buxtorf. S aadia b. Jo se p h G aon (882-942). Eds.: G oodm an, L. E. T h e B o o k o f T heo d icy: T r a n s la tio n a n d C o m m en ta ry o n the B o o k o f J o b by S a a d ia h ben J o se p h a l-F a y y ü m i, T r a n s la te d f r o m the A ra b ic w ith a P h ilo so p h ic C o m m en ta ry . New Haven: Yale UP, 1988. Q ap ah , J . S e p h er Iyyob im T a r g u m U p eru s R a b b i S a ca d ia Ga?on. Jerusalem , 1970. See also R o sen th a l, E. I.

lxviii

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J . “Saadya’s Exegesis of the Book of Jo b .” In his S a a d y a S tu d ie s. Manchester: M anchester UP, 1943. 177—205. V ajda, G. “Quelques rem arques en marge de la seconde rédaction

du Commentaire de Saadia Gaon sur le livre de Jo b .” also under Ancient Versions, Arabic (sect. 4e below). Shoeib, Jo e l ibn, and A braham b. M o rdecai G alante.

RÉJ

135 (1976) 157-68. See . Venice, 1589.

c. Christian, Medieval and Pre-Sixteenth-Century A lb ert th e G reat (c. 1200-1280). P o stilla s u p e r lo b . Eds.: W eiss, M. C o m m e n ta rii in J o b : Freiburg i. Breisgau, 1904. See also Coggi, R. “II significato del libro di Giobbe secondo S. Alberto M agno.” S a cD o c 26 (1981) 105-22. J u tra s , A.-M.

P o stilla e s u p e r J o b .

“Le Comm entarius in Job d ’Albert le G rand et la Disputatio.” É tu d e s et R ec h erch e s 9 (1955) 9-20. A non. D e r m itte ld eu tsc h e p o etisch e P a r a p h r a s e des B u c h e s H io b . Ed. T. E. Karsten. Deutsche Texte des Mittelalters 21. Berlin, 191 0 .---------. M y ste r e d e la P a c ie n c e d e J o b . 15th cent. See M eiller, A., ed. L a P a cien c e d e J o b , m ystere a n o n y m e d u X V e S iecle (ms. Jir. 1 7 7 4 ) . Paris, 1971. A quinas, T hom as (c. 1225—74). E x p o sitio in lib r u m b ea ti J o b . Eds.: S a n c ti T h o m a e A q u ita n is D octo ris a n g e lic i O .P . expositio in a liq u o t V eteris T e s ta m e n ti libros et in P sa lm o s a d jectis b re v ib u s a d n o ta tio n ib u s. Parma: Fiaccadori, 1863. 1—145. ---------. E x p o s itio s u p e r J o b a d litter a m c u ra et stu d io F r a tr u m P ra e d ic a to ru m . O pera omnia 26. Rome: Ad Sanctae Sabinae, 1965.

See also Coggi, R. “L’insegnamento del libro di Giobbe. i. Sintesi dell’Expositio super lob di S. Tommaso; ii. Validitá perenne.” S a cD o c 27 (1982) 215-310. M anzanedo, M. F. “La antropología filosófica en el com entario tomaista al libro de Jo b .” A n g 62 (1985) 419—71. M ic h au d -Q u an tin , P. “L’édition critique de l’Expositio super Job de S. Thom as d ’Aquin.” R S P T 50 (1966) 407-10. K reit, J . S t. T h o m a s d A q u i n , J o b u n h o m m e p o u r n o tre tem ps. Paris: Téqui, 1982. B ede (673-735). See Gregory the Great. See also V accari, A. “Scripsitne Beda commentarium in Job?” B ib 5 (1924) 369—73. B ru n o d ’A sti (B runo o f Segni) (c. 1048—1123). E x p o s itio in J o b . P L 164:551—696. D enis th e C a rth u sia n [Denys van L eeuw en, D enys R yckel] (1402-71). E n a r r a tio in lib r u m Jo b . In D octoris ecstatici D . D io n y sii c a r tu s ia n i o p era o m n ia . Monstrolii, 1847. 4:293— 6 9 6 .--------- . D e c a u sa d iv e rsita tis e v e n to r u m h u m a n o r u m : E n a r r a tio n e s in libros J o b , T o b ia e, J u d it h , E sth e r , E sd ra e , N e h e m ia e , M a c h a b a e o ru m . Cologne, 1534. F ra n co c o rd ia , J . de. C o m m e n ta riu s s u p e r lib r u m J o b . 1441. M a rq u a rd von L in d au . See G re ifen stein , E. D e r H io b - T r a k ta t des M a r q u a r d v o n L i n d a u : Ü b e rlieferu n g , U n te r s u c h u n g u n d k ritisch e A u sg a b e . Munich: Artemis, 1979. S tam m ler, W. D e r J o b - T r a k ta t des M a r q u a r d v o n L i n d a u . 1965—66. P alm e r, N . P. “Der H iob-Traktat

M arquards von Lindau in lateinischer Ü berlieferung.” B e itr d g e z u r G eschichte d e r d e u tsch e n 104 (1982) 48-83. N icholas o f L yra (c. 1270-1340). P o stilla e p e r p e tu a e in V etu s et N o v u m T e s ta m e n tu m . Cologne, 1478. O d o o f C lu n y (879-942). E p ito m e m o r a liu m S. G reg o rii in J o b . P L 133:105-512. P e te r o f B lois (c. 1130—c. 1203). C o m p e n d iu m in J o b . P L 207:795—826. See also G ild ea,

S p ra c h e

J . L ’H y sto re J o b , a n O ld F re n c h V erse A d a p ta tio n o f C o m p e n d iu m in J o b by P e te r o f B lo is I I :

Liege: Vaillant, 1979. P e te r o f W altham (12th cent.). G ildea, J ., ed. P e te r

I n tr o d u c tio n , N o te s , G lossary.

o f W a lth a m , A rc h d e a c o n o f L o n d o n (c. 1 1 9 0 —1 1 9 6 ) , R e m e d ia r iu m c o n v e rso r u m : A syn th esis in L a tin o f Moralia in Job by G regory the G rea t. Villanova, PA: Villanova UP, 1984. P h ilip th e P resb y ter. S ich a rd u s [Sickart], J ., ed. P h ilip p i P resb yteri v ir i lo n g e e ru d itiss im i in h isto ria m lo b c o m m e n ta r io ru m lib ri tres. Basel, 1527.

R o lan d o f C rem o n a (13th cent.). See D o n d ain e, A. “Un com m entaire scripturaire de

Roland de Cremone: Le livre de Jo b .’” A r c h iv u m 37.

F r a tr u m P r a e d ic a to r u m

11 (1941) 109-

Orientation to Books about Job

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R olle, R ic h a rd , o f H am p o le (c. 1290—1349). E x p la n a tio n e s in J o b . Oxford, 1483. R u p e rt d e D eutz (c. 1070—1129). S u p e r J o b c o m m e n ta riu s. P L 168:963—1196.

d. Christian, Sixteenth to Eighteenth Centuries Among this surprisingly extensive list of books on Job (over 150 items, that is, a new book on Job every eighteen months, on average), two points stand out. First, the quantity of translations, professing to be translations from the original Hebrew. Very many of these are in verse (English and French especially, but also Germ an, Greek, Italian; such a translation could be done in a m onth, as H ugh B roughton’s title testifies: lo b . T o the K in g . A C o lo n -A g r ip p in a stu d ie o f o n e m o n e th , f o r the m etrica ll tra n s la tio n : b u t o f m a n y yeres, f o r E b re w d ifficu lties, 1610). For sheer nerve the tour de force by Jo h n Duport,

one of the translators of the Authorized Version, who turned Job into epic verse in the dialect of Hom er, deserves m ention (ΘΡΗΝΟΘΡΙΑΜΒΟΣ. S iv e L ib e r J o b G raeco c a rm in e re d d itu s , 1637). T he publication of so many versions is a testimony to the wide knowledge of Hebrew among the learned classes generally, and gives cause for wonder concerning the apparently insatiable appetite of the reading public for such works. Second, the num ber of “critical” commentaries, i.e., with detailed philological comments, often expressly based on Jewish authors, and commonly with ample evidence of knowledge of Arabic. To look simply at the earliest entries in the British Library catalogue of sixteenthcentury books of Job is both fascinating and instructive of how the book was used in this period. One is even tem pted to discern reflections of national characteristics in the titles that first appear. T he earliest work in English is not an independent work, but a translation of the commentary of the reform er T heodore Beza. T he first work published in Scotland was the daunting series of no fewer than 316 lectures on Job given by George Hutcheson to his indefatigable congregation in Edinburgh: A n E xp o sitio n o f the B o o k o f J o b : B e in g th e s u m o f cccxvi lectu res p re a c h e d in the C ity o f E d in b u r g h ,

1669). T he earliest work in French is a translation from the Hebrew, with a brief commentary by the author, Jean Pélerin, who signs himself only by the rather transparent pseudonym Le Viateur; the second item is another translation (see d ’Albiac), this time in to “F re n c h p o e try ,’’ th a t is, th e A le x a n d rin e v erses b e lo v e d o f R acin e a n d his age. T he earliest work in Germ an is a collection of sermons, T h e H isto ry o f J o b e x p o u n d e d as u s e fu l C h ristia n P r e a c h in g (J. Wildt, I obi h isto ria C h ristlic h u n d n iltz lic h P r e d ig weyss a u s s g e l e g t . . . D u r c h J o h a n W ild t . . . g e p re d ig e t . . . 1 5 5 2 ,

1558).

As in all periods of interpretation, there was a lot of derivative writing, often acknowledged in the copious title pages. But the dom inant impression is rather of vigorous and technically expert scholarship. T he period precedes the rise of critical h isto rica l scholarship; but it abounded in fine examples of linguistically and exegetically critical studies, in which dogma, allegory and ecclesiastical influence are refreshingly absent. T he work of J. J. Duguet and J. V. Bidel d ’Asfeld, E x p lic a tio n d u liv re de J o b oil, selon la m éth o d e des s a in ts P eres, Von s ’a tta c h e a des m o e u rs ren ferm ées d a n s la lettre m ém e d e J o b in w h ich , a c c o r d in g to the m e th o d o f the C h rist a n d the m o r a l p rin c ip le s c o n ta in e d in

d é c o u v r ir les m ystéres d e J é s u s -C h r is t et les regles V E c ritu re (1732), i.e., E x p la n a tio n o f the B o o k o f F a th e rs, the c o n cern is to d isc o ve r the m ysteries o f the very letter o f S c r ip tu r e , is something of an

exception that proves the rule. A prize for the most optimistically entitled book on Job should be awarded to Jo h n Brentius, the W ittenberg theologian, for his H io b c u m p its et e ru d itis Io h a n n is B r e n tii

c o m m e n ta riis a d H e b ra ic a m v e r ita te m ita tra n s la tu s , u t n u l la p o rro o bscuritas lectorem po ssit offendere (1527), i.e., J o b so tra n sla te d a c c o r d in g to the tru e H e b re w o rig in a l, w ith the p io u s a n d le a r n e d c o m m en ts o f J o h n B r e n tz , th a t n o obscurity s h o u ld a n y f u r t h e r ca u se the re a d e r to stu m b le. For such hybris, he should be sentenced to a posthum ous compilation of a

bibliography of books published on Job since 1527.

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Finally, a consolation prize is justly deserved by C. Peters for his A Critical Dissertation on the Book of Job, wherein the account given of that book by the author of The Divine Legation of Moses Demonstrated, &c. is particularly considered; the antiquity of the book vindicated; the great text (Chap, xix.25 —) explained; and a future state shewn to have been the popular belief of the ancient Jews or Hebrews (2d ed., 1757). T he course o f subsequent scholarship has declared him wrong on each of his primary assertions. Among the most im portant scholarly commentaries of this period may be m entioned, in chronological order: 1527 Brentius 1528 Bucer 1528 Titelm ann 1573 Mercerus 1582 H uerga 1584 Zúñiga 1599 Merlin

1600 1612 1625 1629 1644 1663 1670

Pineda Piscator Sanctius Bolducius Cocceius Terentius Schmidt

1720 1734 1737 1753 1779 1779 1789

M ichaelis,J. H. H offm ann Schultens Houbigant Reiske Doderlein Dathe

A bbott, G. The whole booke of Job paraphrased, or made easie fo r any to understand. London, 1640. A non. H ijr begynt dat boeck lob. Augsburg, 1480.---------. Biichlein von dem heiligen Job. Argentorati, 1498. ---------. Liber beati Job. Si patientiam, si modestiam, si constantiam in tribulationibus, infirmitatibus et adversis, si denique celibem ac beatam vitam ducere cupis librum beati Job ydumie sive Arabia legito. Paris, 1508. [The Lat. text preceded by Jero m e’s prologue.] ---------. Das Buch Hiob, nach der Hebreischen Grundsprache gottsfürchtiger und gelehrter Lehrer Auslegung: In zwólf vnd dreyzehen silbige deutsche Reime gesetzt, Sampt . . . einer kurtzen erzehlung wer dieser heilige M ann gewesen und zu welcher Zeitt ere gelebet. W ittenberg, 1638.---------. Jesu Christi Festum Natalitium . . . Insunt observationes ad librum Jobi. Tübingen, 1826.-------- . Job, un drama engiadinais del 16. secul. Nouvamaing publicho da Jakob Ulrich. C hur, 1896. A u re liu s, A. Iobus, sive de patientia liber, poética metaphrasi explicatus. London, 1632. B a rb a u ld , A n n a L aetitia. Devotional pieces, compiled from the Psalms and the Book of Job: to which are prefixed, thoughts on the devotional taste, on sects, and on establishments. London, 1775. B ellam y, D. A Paraphrase on the sacred history, or Book of Job, with observations from various authors. London, 1748. B elleau, R. Traduction en vers du livre de Job. 1576. B en serra d d e , I. de. Paraphrases sur les IX. leqons de lob. Paris, 1637. Beza, T. d e.Jobus commentario et paraphrasi illustratus. Geneva, 1583. ---------. lob expounded by Theodore Beza , partly in manner of a commentary, partly in manner of a paraphrase. Faithfully translated out of Latine into English. Cambridge, 1589 (?). See also R aitt, J . “Beza, Guide for the Faithful Life (Lectures on Job, Sermons on Song of Songs, 1587).” SJT 39 (1986) 83-107. B lackm o re, R. A Paraphrase on the Book of Job: as likewise on the Songs of Moses, Deborah, David: on four select Psalms: some chapters of Isaiah, and the third chapter of Habakkuk. [In verse.] London, 1700. B o ld u ciu s [B olduc], P. Commentaria in librum Job. 2 vols. Paris, 1629, 1637. B o u llier, D. R. Observationes miscellaneae in librum Job. Amsterdam, 1758. B ravi, B. A. Parafrasi del sacro libro di Giobbe fatta in versi italiani. Verona, 1763. B re n tiu s [B rentz], J. Hiob cum pits et eruditis lohannis Brentii commentariis ad Hebraicam veritatem ita translatus, ut nulla porro obscuritas lectorem possit offendere. Haganoae, 1527. B rett, A. Patientia Victrix: or, the Book of Job, in lyrick verse. London, 1661. B ro u g h to n , H . lob. To the King. A Colon-Agrippina studie of one moneth, fo r the metricall translation: but of many yeres, for Ebrew difficulties. In his The Works of the Great Albionean Divine, renown’d in many nations for rare skill in Salems and Athens tongues, and fam iliar acquaintance with all rabbinical learning. London, 1662. 2:247—94. B ru cio li, A. II libro di lob, tradotto dalla ebraica verita, in lingua italiana, & con nuovo commento dichiarato. Vinegia, 1534. B u cer, M. Commentarii in librum Jobi. Strasbourg, 1528. B u g en h ag en , J . Adnotationes in Jobum.

Strasbourg, 1526.

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C ajetan, T. d e V. In librum lob commentarii. Rome, 1535. C alm et, A. Commentaire littéral sur le livre de Job. 1722. C alvin, J . Sermons sur le livre de Job, recueillis fidélement de sa bouche selon qu’il les preschoit. 1554. Eds.: Calvini Opera. Ed. G. Baum, E. Cunitz, and E. Reuss. Vols. 33—34. Braunschweig, 1887.-------- . Sermons upon the booke of Job, translated out of French. T r. A. Golding. London, 1 5 8 4 .---------. Sermons from Job. T r. L. Nixon, 1952. See also S ch rein e r, S usan E. “ ‘T hrough a m irror darkly’: Calvin’s sermons on Job.” CalTJ 21 (1986) 175-93. S m id, T. D. “Some Bibliographical Observations on Calvin’s Sermons sur le livre de Jo b .” Free University (Quarterly (1960) 51-56. W o u d stra, Μ. H . “T he use o f ‘example’ in Calvin’s sermons on Jo b .” Bezield verband. FS J. Kamphuis. Ed. M. Arntzen et al. 1984. 344—51. C ap p el[lu s], L. Critica sacra, sive de variis quae in sacris Veteris Testamenti libris occurrunt lectionibus libri sex. Paris, 1650.---------. Commentarii et notae criticae in Vetus Testamentum. Amsterdam, 1689. C a rp e n te r, W. A Poetical Paraphrase on the Book of Job. Rutland, 1796. C aryl, J. An Exposition with practicall Observations upon . . . the Booke of Job. 12 vols. London, 1643-66. C erm elli, A. Catena in Job ex SS. Patrum Scriptorumque ecclesiasticorum sententiis concinnata. Genes, 1636. C e ru tti [C eruti], G. II Libro di Giobbe recato dal testo Ebreo in versi italiani dal sacerdote G. Cerutti. T urin, 1759. C hapelow [C happelow ], L. A Commentary on the Book of Job, in which is inserted the Hebrew text and English translation; with a paraphrase from the third verse of the third chapter, where it is supposed the metre begins; to the seventh verse of the forty-second chapter, where it ends. 2 vols. Cambridge, 1752. C h assig n et, J .- B .J o b ou de la Fermeté [verse paraphrase]. Bibliothéque Nationale, Ms. fr. 2381, 1592. See also M ü ller, A. Un poete religieux du X V F siecle: Jean Baptiste Chassignet, 1578(?)-1635(f). Paris: R. Foulon, 1951. 45-67. C h a ste ig n ie r d e la R oche-P osai, H . L. Exercitationes in librum Job. Poitiers, 1628. C lericu s [Le C lerc], J . Veteris Testamenti Libri Hagiographi. Jobus, Davidis Psalmi, Salomonis Proverbia, Concionatrix et Canticum Canticorum. Amsterdam, 1731. C lo d iu s, J . C. Theoria et praxis linguae arabicae. Liber II. De usu linguae arabicae in libri Jobi seorsim. Leipzig, 1729. 68—230. C o d u rcu s, P. Libri lob versio nova ex hebraeo cum scholiis. Paris, 1651. [ = C o d ercu s, P. Scholia seu adnotationes in Jobum ad sermonem sacrum Ebreum adornata. Paris, 1651.] C o rd e riu s [C ordier], B .Job elucidatus. Antwerp, 1646. C occeius [Coch], J . Commentarius in librum I jobi. Franeker, 1644. C ro m m iu s, A. In Jobi historiam. Louvain, 1632. C ube, J . D. Poetische und prosaische Uebersetzung des Buches Hiob. 3 vols. Berlin, 1769-

71.

d ’A lbiac, A. [A. d u Plessis]. Le livre de lob: traduit en poésie franqoise, selon la verité Hébraique. Geneva, 1552. D athe, J . A . Jobus, Proverbia Salomonis, Ecclesiastes, Canticum Canticorum ex recensione textus hebraei et versionum antiquarum latine versi notisque philologicis et criticis illustrati. Halle, 1789. D evens, R. A Paraphrase on some parts of the Book of Job. Boston, 1795. D idacus a S tunica. In lob commentaria, quibus triplex eius editio vulgata Latina, Hebraea, et Graeca septuaginta interpretum, necnon et Chaldaea explicantur et inter se cum diferre hae editiones videntur, conciliantur, et praecepta vitae cum virtute colendae literaliter deducuntur. Toledo, 1584. D ó d erlein , J . C. Scholia in libros Veteris Testamenti poéticos Jobum, Psalmos et tres Salomonis. Halle, 1779. D ru siu s [Van d e r D riesch e], J . Nova versio et scholia in Iobum. Amsterdam, 1636. D uguet, J. J ., and J . V. B idel d ’A sfeld. Explication du livre de Job ou, selon la méthode des saints Peres, Von s’attache a découvrir les mystéres de Jésus-Christ et les regles des moeurs renfermées dans la lettre méme de VEcriture. Paris, 1732. ---------. Préface sur le livre de Job. Amsterdam, 1734. [Du P lessis, A.] See d ’Albiac, A. D u p o rt, J . ΘΡΗΝΟΘΡΙΑΜΒΟΣ. Sive Liber Job Graeco carmine redditus. Cambridge, 1637. E ckerm an n , J . C. R. Versuch einer neuen poetischen Uebersetzung des Buches Hiob, nebst einigen Vorerinnerungen und einer nachstehenden Umschreibung. Leipzig, 1778. E rsk in e, R .Job’s hymns; or, a book of songs upon the Book ofJob. Glasgow, 1753. E stiu s, G. Annotationes in praecipua ac difficiliora Sacrae Scripturae loca. Annotationes in librum Job. Douai, 1620. F ern an d ez d e P alazuelos, A. La divina providencia o historia sacra poética de Job. Versio de un filopatro expatriado, dedicada al principe de la paz. Venice, 1795. F er, J . Jobi historiae docta et catholica explicatio in C X IIII condones eleganter distributa. Cologne, 1558. F o re riu s, F. Commentarius in Job. Antwerp, 1563.

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G allo, J. Historia y diálogos de Job, con explicación literal y moral, según las versiones de Vatablo, Pagnino, el Parafrastes y los Setenta. Burgos, 1644. G arcía, J . Job evangélico. Zaragoza, 1644. G ard en , C. An Improved Version attempted of the Book of Job; a poem . . . with a preliminary dissertation and notes. Oxford, 1796. G arn ett, J . A. A Dissertation on the Book of Job, its nature, argument, age and author. London, 1749. G o rd o n , J., In Biblia Sacra cum commentariis ad sensum literae. Paris, 1632. G rey, R. Liber Jobi in versículos metrice divisus, cum versione latina Alberti Schultens, notisque ex ejus commentario excerptis, quotquot ad Divinum plane poema illustrandum . . . necessariae videbantur. Edidit, atque annotationes suas, ad metrum praecipue spectantes, adjecit Ricardus Grey. London, 1742. G ro tiu s [De G root], H . Annotationes in Vetus Testamentum. Paris, 1644. G ry n aeu s, S. Das Buch Hiob in einer poetischer Uebersetzung nach des Prof. Schultens Erklarung mit Anmerkungen von Simon Grynaus. Basel, 1767. H a rd o u in , J . Le livre de Job selon la Vulgate paraphrasé avec des remarques. Paris, 1729. H a tc h e r, R ,Jobi peroratio, pro triplici status sui colore, tribus capitulis distincta. In his Funus corporis. London, 1646. 89—112. H ea th , T. An Essay toward a new English version of the Book of Job from the original Hebrew, with a commentary, and some account of his life. London, 1756. H e n ry , M. An Exposition of the Five Poetical Books of the Old Testament; viz. Job, Psalms, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, and Solomons Song. London, 1710. H o ffm a n n , J . A. Neue Erklarung des Buches Hiob, darin das Buch selbst aus der Grundsprache mit den darin liegenden Nachdruck ins Teutsche übersetzt; hienáchst aus denen Altherümern und der morgenlandischen Philosophie erlautert; überhaupt aber die darin verborgene tieffe Wiesheit geseiget wird. Jetzo nach des Verfassers seel. Abschiede mit Fliess ubersehen, und mit einer Paraphrasi, wie auch Vorbericht von Hiobs Person, Buche und dessen Auslegern vermehret. H am burg, 1734. H o g [H ogaeus Scotus], W. Paraphrasis in Jobum poética. Auctore Gulielmo Hogaeo Scoto. London, 1682. H o ld en , L. A Paraphrase on the Books of Job, Psalms, Proverbs, and Ecclesiastes, with notes critical, historical and practical. 4 vols. London, 1763. H o ttin g e r, J . H . Liber Ijobh post textum hebraeum et versionem verbalem latinum, analysis simplex, sed accurata, omnium radicum. Zurich, 1689. H o u b ig an t, C. F. Biblia Hebraica cum notis criticis et versione latina ad notas criticas facta. 4 vols. Paris, 1753 [Unvocalized Heb. text, Latin translation, and n o tes].---------. Notae criticae in universos Veteris Testamenti libros cum hebraice, turn graecae scriptos cum integris ejusdem prolegomenis. 2 vols. Frankfurt, 1777. [The notes only, the same as in the work above]. H u elg a [H uerga], C. d e la. Commentaria in librum beati Job et in Cántica Canticorum Salomonis regis. Com plutum , Alcala, 1582. H u fn a g el, W. F. Hiob neu übersetzt mit Anmerkungen. Erlangen, 1781. H u tc h e so n , G. An Exposition of the Book of Job. Being the sum of cccxvi lectures preached in the City of Edenburgh. London, 1669. Ilg en , K. D. Jobi antiquissimi carminis Hebraici natura atque virtutes. Leipzig, 1789. Ish am , Z. Divine Philosophy: containing the Books of Job, Proverbs, and Wisdom, with explanatory notes. London, 1706. Ja n sso n iu s, J . In propheticum librum Job enarratio. Louvain, 1623. Já ra v a, F. de. Liciones de Job en castellano. Antwerp, 1550. Jo h a n n e s a Jesu -M aria. Liber Job paraphrastic e explicatus. Rome, 1611. Jo n g h e n , H . de. Brevis elucidatio litteralis libri Jobi. Antwerp, 1661. Jo u b e rt, F. Eclaircissements sur les discours de Job. Paris, 1741. K essler, C. D. Hiob aus dem hebraischen Original neu übersetzt und mit erklarenden Anmerkungen versehen zum allgemeinen Gebrauche. Tübingen, 1784. K o rtu m , R. A. Das Buch Hiob, aus dem hebraischen Grund-text auffs neue getreulich ins Teutsche übersetzt, nebst einer paraphrasi. Leipzig, 1708. L an g h o rn e, vv ·Job. A poem, in three books. London, 1760. L ausana, J . de. Moralitates in lob. Limoges, 1528. L avater, L. Liber Iobi, homiliis CXLI . . . Germánica lingua explicatus . . . ac recens . . . Latinitate donatus. Zurich, 1585.-------- . Beati Iobi fides et confessio de resurrectione mortuorum, novissime iudicio, et vita aeterna, homilía L. Lauerteri . . . illustrata; nunc primum ex Germánico . . . conversa. Zurich, 1587. [Le M aistre, I. L.] Job traduit en franqois, avec une explication tirée des saints peres, & des auteurs ecclésiastiques. Paris, 1687. L eon, F ran cisco de. Sobre el parce mihi. Pamplona, 1622. L eón, L uis P o n ce

Orientation to Books about Job

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de. Exposición de Job (1576). First published as Exposición del libro de Job. Obra posthuma del Padre Fr. L. de León. Ed. D. T. Gonzalez. Madrid, 1779. Also in Obras completas castellanas de Fray Luis de León. Ed. F. Garcia. Madrid: BAC, 1951. 791—1287. See also B aruzi, J. Luis de León, interprete du livre de Job. Cahiers de la RHPR. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1966. A rkin, A. H. La influencia de la exégesis hebrea en los comentarios bíblicos de Fray Luis de León. Madrid: Instituto ‘Arias M ontano,’ 1966. 65— 182. L ow th, R. De sacra poesi hebraeorum. Praelectiones Academicae. Oxford: Clarendon, 1753. Praelectio 37. De poemati Jobi argum ento et fine. [= Lectures on the Sacred Poetry of the Hebrews. Tr. G. Gregory. London, 1789.] L utz, R. Commentariorum, quibus beati viri lob historia . . . breviter explicatur, libri II. Basel, 1559. M anley, T. The Affliction and Deliverance of the Saints: or, the whole booke of lob, composed into English heroicall verse, metaphrastically. London, 1652. M e rceru s [M ercier], J . Commentarii in librum lob. Geneva, 1573. M erlin, P. Iiob Petri Merlini commentariis illustratus. Analytico methodo in gratiam studiosae iuventutis conscriptas. Geneva, 1599. M ichaelis, J. D. Deutsche Übersetzung des Alten Testaments mit Anmerkungen fa r Ungelehrte. Das Buch Hiob. Gottingen, 1765.---------. “Anzeige der Varianten im Buch Hiob.” In his Orientalische und exegetische Bibliothek 7 (1774) 217—47; 8 (1775) 179—224. M ichaelis, J . H . Notae in Jobum. Halle, 1720. M o ldenh aw er, D. G. Hiob. Übersetzt. 2 vols. Leipzig, 1780— 81. M ontano, A rias. Liber Ijob Chaldaice et Latine, cum notis. Paris, 1632. M organ, W. Llyvyr Job [First Welsh translation]. London, 1588. Repr. Oxford: J. G. Evans, 1888. M orillon, G. de. Paraphrase sur le livre de lob, en vers frangois. Paris, 1668. N arh am er, J . Historia Jobs 1546. Ed. Barbara Konneker and W. F. Michael. Arbeiten zur mittleren deutschen Literatur 12. Frankfurt: Lang, 1983. N ebiensis, A. J . Liber beati Job: quern nuper hebraice veritati restituit. Paris, 1520. O eco lam p ad iu s, J . In librum lob exegemata. Opus admodum eruditum, ac omnibus divinae Scripturae studiosis utile. Basel, 1532. O sorio, H . de. Paraphraseon in Job libri III. Cologne,

1579. P., R., m in iste r o f th e gospel. The Book of Job in meeter, as to several of those excellent things contain’d therein, the better to familiarize them, and to bring them the more into use, for peoples benefit, to be sung after the ordinary, and usual tunes. London, 1700. P atric k , S. The Book of Job Paraphras’d. London, 1679. ---------. The Books of Job, Psalms, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, and the song of Solomon, paraphras’d: with arguments to each chapter, and annotations thereupon. London, 1710. P éle rin , J . [Le V iateur] Texte de Hiob, translate selon la verite hebraique. Et bref commentaire du Viateur [Jean Pélerin] sur icelluy. Paris, 1530. P ete rs, C. A Critical Dissertation on the Book of Job, wherein the account given of that book by the author of The Divine Legation of Moses Demonstrated, is particularly considered; the antiquity of the book vindicated; the great text (Chap, xix.25 —) explained; and a future state shewn to have been the popular belief of the ancient Jews or Hebrews. 2d ed. London, 1757. P in ed a , J. de. Commentariorum in lob libri tredecim, adiuncta singulis capitibus sua paraphrasi, quae et longioris commentarii continet. Madrid, 1600 [usually printed in editions of the biblical commentaries of Cornelius a Lapide]. See also G arcia M oreno, A. E l sentido del dolor en el libro de Job según Juan de Pineda. Diss. Gregorian University, 19 7 7 .---------. “Juan de Pineda y el libro de Jo b .” EstBib 35 (1976) 23-47, 165-85. P isca to r, J . In librum Jobi commentarius. In quo, praeter novam versionem, versioni Tremellio-Junianae e regione adjectam, ordine & distincte proponuntur I. Analysis lógica singulorum capitum. II. Scholia in singula capita. III. Observationes locorum doctrinae e singulis capitibus depromtae. Herborn, 1612. P oix, L. de. Essai sur le livre de Job. Paris, 1768. P ole, M. Synopsis criticorum aliorumque scripturae interpretum. London, 1671. 2:1-498. P re sb y te r o f th e C h u rc h o f E ng lan d , A. A Short Paraphrase on the Book of Job with arguments to each chapter. London,

1716.

Q u evedo y V illegas, F. G. de. La constancia y paciencia del Santo Job en sus peridas endermedades y persecuciones (1641). First published 1713. Also in Obras Completas. Madrid, 1969. 1:1322—86. ---------. La providencia de Dios, padecida de los que la niegan y gozada de los que la confiesan. Doctrina estudiada en los gusanos y persecuciones de Job. Zaragoza, 1700.

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See also P iero , R. A. del. “Quevedo y Ju an de Pineda.” Modern Philology '36 (1958) 8 2 -9 1 .---------. “Two Notes on Quevedo’s Jo b .” Romanic Review 50 (1959) 9-24. R eiske, J. J . Coniecturae in Jobum et Proverbia Salomonis. Leipzig, 1779. R ezzano, F. II Libro di Giobbe, esposto in Italiana poesía, con annotazioni, dalV Abate Francesco Rezzano.

Nizza, 1781.

S anctius [Sanchez], G. In librum Iob commentarii cum paraphrasi. Lyon, 1625. S an d er, H . Das Buck Hiob zum allgemeinen Gebrauche. Frankfurt, 1780. S andys, G. A Paraphrase upon the Divine Poems. A Paraphrase upon Job. . . . London, 1638. S avonarola, G. Prediche sopra Giobbe. In Edizione Nationale delle Opere di G. Savonarola. I l l / 1-2. Rome: A. Belardetti, 1957. S chm idt, S. In librum Ijobi commentarius, in quo, cum optimis quibusque commentatoribus, turn Hebraeis turn Christianis, cohaerentia et vocabula diligenter expenduntur, et sensus studiose eruitur. Strasbourg, 1670. S c h n u rre r, C. F. Animadversiones ad quaedam loca Iobi. Tübingen, 1781. S chu lten s, A. Animadversiones philologicae in Jobum, in quibus plurima . . . ope linguae Arabicae et affinium illustrantur. Utrecht, 1708. ---------. Liber Iobi cum nova versione ad Hebraeum fontem et commentario perpetuo, in quo Veterum et Recentionum Interpretum cogitata praecipua expenduntur: genuinus sensus ad priscum linguae genium indagatur, atque ex filo, et nexu universo, argumenti nodus intricatissimus evolvitur. Leiden, 1737.---------. Commentarius in Librum Iobi. In compendium redegit et observationes criticas atque exegeticas adspersit G. I. L. Vogel. Halle, 1773—74. S chultz, J. C. F. Scholia in Vetus Testamentum. Vol. 6. N urem burg, 1792. Scott, T. The Book of Job in English verse; translated from the original Hebrew; with remarks, historical, critical, and explanatory. London, 1771. S enault, J .-F . Paraphrase sur Job. Paris, 1637.---------. A Paraphrase upon Job; written in French. London, 1648. ---------. The Pattern of Patience, in the example of holy Job: a paraphrase upon the whole book. London, 1657. S ocietá C lem e n tin a , P aris. Saggio sopra il Libro di Giobbbe secondo la nuova versione fatta su Vebreo da’ PP. della Societá Clementina di Parigi. Milan, 1774. Sotom ayor [Sotom aior], L. de. Paris, 1610. S ousa, J. d e M ello de. In librum Job paraphrasis poética. Lyon, 1615. S p an h eim iu s [Spanheim ], F. Historia Jobi, sive de obscuris historiae commentatio. Leiden, 1670. S teu ch u s, A. Enarrationes in librum Jobi. Venice, 1567. S trig eliu s, V. Liber lob, ad Ebraicam veritatem recognitus et argumentis atque scholiis illustrata. Leipzig, 1571. S ylvester, J . A divine and true tragicomedy. Iob Triumphant in his Triall: or, The Historie of his Heroicall patience, in a measured Metaphrase. In The second session of the parliament of vertues royall (continued by prorogation) for better propagation of all true pietie and utter extirpation of atheisme and hypocrisie, avarice and crueltie, pride and luxurie. In his Du Bartas: his diuine weekes, and workes. London,

1633. 886-950.

T alleo n i, Μ. Volgarizzamento in terza rima del sacro libro di Giob. Osimo, 1764. T e re n tiu s, J . Liber Ijobi, Chaldaice et Latine, cum notis, item Graece στιχηρως, cum variantibus lectionibus. Franeker, 1663. T h o m p so n , W. A poetical paraphrase on part of the Book of Job [chaps. 40—42] in imitation of the style of Milton. Dublin, 1726. [T hou, J . A. de.] Iobus, sive de constantia libri I III. poética metaphrasi explicati. Paris, 1587. T ite lm a n n , F. Elucidatio paraphrastica in Jobum. Antwerp, 1547. [= Paraphrastica Elucidatio in librum D. Iob, priore aeditione multo castigatior, adiectis annotationibus in loca difficiliora. Paris, 1550]. T u c c iu s L ucensis. Lectiones in Job. Rome, 1617. V avassor, F.Jobus brevi commentario et metaphrasi poética illustratus. Paris, 1638. W eidenbach, K. F. Das Buch Hiob aus dem hebraischen mit Anmerkungen von H. A. Schultens nach dessen Tode hrsg. und vollendet von H. Muntinghe. Aus dem hollandischen mit Zusatzen und Anmerkungen des Herrn D. und Professor I. P. Berg. Leipzig, 1797. W esley, S. Dissertationes in librum Jobi. London, 1736. W ild t, J . Iobi historia Christlich vnd niitzlich Predig weyss aussgelegt . . . Durch Johan Wildt . . . geprediget . . . 1552. Mainz, 1558. W o rth in g to n , vv . A Dissertation on the Design and Argumentation of the Book of Job. In his An Essay on the Scheme and Conduct, Procedure and Extent of M a n ’s Redemption. London, 1743.

463-527.

Y oung, E. A Paraphrase on Part of the Book of Job. London, 1719. Z am pieri, C. Giobbe esposto in ottava rima. Poema del Conte Cammillo Zampieri. Piacenza,

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1763. Z úñiga, D. de. Commentaria in librum Job, quibus triplex eius editio Vulgata Latina, Hebraica et Graeca L X X Interpretum, necnon in Chaldaea explicantur et inter se conciliantur. Toledo, 1584.

e. Christian and Jewish, Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries T he great majority of the works included here are commentaries of the conventional kind. T here are also some other works, such as chapter by chapter expositions, which also treat the Book of Job in the order of its contents. Since most of the commentaries include a new translation by the commentator, those few translations of Job that have not been accompanied by commentary are also m entioned here. No account of course is taken of translations of Job that form part of a version of the whole Bible or some large part of it. T here follows, arranged by year of publication, a personal selection of the commentaries that may be judged to have had the greatest survival value—which does not necessarily imply that they are the most important. 1851 1864 1871 1874 1884 1891 1896

Schlottmann Delitzsch Merx Hitzig Davidson Dillmann (3d ed.) Budde

1897 1904 1921 1926 1937 1960-63 1963

Duhm Peake Driver and Gray Dhorme Hólscher Horst Fohrer

1963 1965 1970 1976 1978 1981 1985

T errien Pope Rowley Andersen Gordis De Wilde Habel

A braham , Isra e l ben. . Offenbach, 1807. A dam s, H . W. The Book of Job in poetry; or, a Song in the night. New York: R. Craighead, 1864. A lonso Schókel, L., and J. L. O jed a. Job. Los Libros Sagrados 16. Madrid: Ediciones

Cristiandad, 1971. [Translation by Alonso Schókel and Ojeda, commentary by Alonso Schókel]. A lonso S chókel, L., and S icre Diaz, J . L.Job, comentario teológico y literario. Nueva Biblia Española. Madrid: Cristiandad, 1983. A n d ersen , F. I ·Job. An Introduction and Commentary. TO TC. Leicester: Tyndale Press, 1976. A nderson, H. “T he Book of Jo b .” In The Interpreter’s One-Volume Commentary on the Bible, ed. C. M. Laymon. Nashville: Abingdon, 1972. 238-52. A n d rea, Η . V. Hiob: Classisches Gedicht der Hebraer, Aus dem Grundtexte neu iibersetzt und mit Andeutungen zum tieferen Verstandniss versehen. Barmen, 1870. A non. The Book of Job, illustrated with fifty engravings from drawings by John Gilbert, and with explanatory notes and poetical parallels. London: J. Nisbet 8c Co., 1857. A rn h e im , H . Das Buck Hiob iibersetzt und vollstandig commentirt. Glogau: H. Prausnitz, 1836. A rtom , E. S. : . Tel Aviv: Yavneh, 1954. A ugé, R ·Job. La Biblia. Versió . . . i Com entan. (Montserrat) 9. Monestir de M ontserrat, 1959. A vro n in , A. See Rabinowitz, A. Z. B aethgen, F. Hiob deutsch, mit kurzen Anmerkungen fü r Ungelehrte. Gottingen: Vandenhoeck 8c Ruprecht, 1898. B all, C. J. The Book of Job: A Revised Text and Version. Oxford: Clarendon, 1922. B ao u r L orm ian , L. F. Le Livre de Job, traduit en vers frangais. Paris: Lallemand-Lépine, 1847. B arbaresi, P. II Libro di Giobbe: Versione poética. Milan, 1894. B arelli, V. 11 Libro di Giobbe: Recato in versi italiani. Como: F. Ostinelli, 1891. B arnes, A. Notes, critical, explanatory, and practical, on the Book of Job, with a new translation, and an introductory dissertation. Glasgow, 1847. B arto n , G. A. Commentary on the Book of Job. New York: Macmillan, 1911. B en M eir, E. Menschenleid und Sünde? Das Buck Hiob im Lichte neuer Kommentare iibersetzt und bearbeitet. Frankfurt, 1930. [Chaps. 1—4.] B ergan t, D ianne. Job, Ecclesiastes. O T Message 18. Wilmington: Glazier, 1982. B erkholz, C. A. Das Buck Hiob: Ein Versuch. Riga: E. Gótschel, 1859. [Translation]. B e rn a rd , Η . H . : The Book of Job, as expounded to his Cambridge pupils by the late Η. H. Ber

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nard . . . Edited, with a translation and additional notes, by . . . Frank Chance. Vol. 1. London: Hamilton, Adams 8c Co., 1864. B e rn a rd , V. L. A Sacred Poem in fo u r books: Being a paraphrase on the Book of Job. Norwich, 1800. B ertie, P. Le Poeme de Job, traduction nouvelle, introduction et notes. Paris: Rieder, 1929. B ickell, G. Das Buch Job nach Anleitung der Strophik und der Septuaginta a u f seine urspriingliche Form zurückgefUrht und in Versmasse des Urtextes Ubersetzt. Vienna: Karl Gerold’s Sohn, 1894. B leeker, L. Η . K. Job. Tekst en Uitleg. Praktische Bijbelverklaring. Groningen: Wolters, 1926. B lei, K. Job: Verklaring & DP ven een Bijbelgedeelte. Kampen: Kok, 1978, B lu m en feld , B. . Vienna, 1826. B óckel, E. G. A. Das Buch Hiob, übersetzt und . . . kurz erldutert. . . mit einer Zugabe philologischer und exegetischer Anmerkungen. H am burg, 1830. B óttch er, V. Das Buch Hiob nach Luther und der Probebibel aus dem Grundtext bearbeitet und mit Bemerkungen versehen. Leipzig: J. Lehm ann, 1885. B oileau, M. J . Le Livre inspiré de Job: Discours de ce prince d ’Idumée, des princes ses amis et de Dieu lui-méme sur Γorigine des souffranees et de la douleur ou du mal physique dans la vie terrestre. Paraphrase. Paris: V. Retaux et Fils, 1893. B ourke, Μ. M. The Book of Job: Parts 1 & 2, with a Commentary. New York: Paulist Press, 1962-63. B radley, G. G. Lectures on the Book of Job delivered in Westminster Abbey. Oxford: Clarendon, 1887. B rates, J. Job. Traducción y comentario. BAC 287. Madrid: BAC, 1969. 435—739. B rid e l, J. L. Le livre de Job, nouvellement traduit d ’apres le texte original non ponctué et les anciennes versions, notamment Varabe et la syriaque; avec un commentaire. Paris: F. Didot, 1818. B ruges, W. E. Book of Job. Bognor Regis: New Horizon, 1983. [A translation in iambic pentam eters.] B ru n o , A. Das Hohelied: Das Buch Hiob. Fine rhythmische und textkritische Untersuchung. Stockholm: Almqvist 8c Wiksell, 1956. B uber, M. Ijob verdeutscht. Frankfurt: Insel-Verlag, 1965. B ü ck ers, H . Die MakkabaerbUcher, Das Buch Job, Ubersetzt und erklart. Freiburg im Breisgau: H erder, 1939. B u d d e, K. F. R. Das Buch Hiob, Ubersetzt und erklart. HAT. Gottingen: Vandenhoeck 8c Ruprecht, 1896. 2d ed., 1913. B u llin g e r, E. W. Book of Job: Part 1, The Oldest Lesson in the World. Part 2, A Rhythmical Translation [in iambic pentam eters] with The Structure; and brief, explanatory, and critical notes. London: Eyre and Spottiswoode, 1904. B u sch, K. A. Hiob: Ein Lehrgedicht in Wechselgesprachen aus dem Alten Testament in neuen deutschen Rhythmen. Dresden: Sturm, 1935. B uskes, J . J . Job. Berne: Bosch 8c Keuning, 1935. B u tten w ieser, M. The Book of Job. London: H odder 8c Stoughton, 1922. C am inero, F. J . E l libro de Job: Versión directa del hebreo e introducción crítica. Madrid: Voluntad, 1924. C arey, C. P. The Book of Job translated . . . on the basis of the Authorized Version: explained in a large body of notes . . . and illustrated by extracts from various works . . . and a map; with six preliminary dissertations, an analytical paraphrase, and Meisner’s and Doederlein’s selection of the various readings of the Hebrew text. London: W ertheim, Macintosh 8c H unt, 1858. C arlisle, T. J . Journey with Job. G rand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1976. [Versified commentary.] C ary, O. The M an who feared God fo r Nought, being a rhythmical version of the Book of Job. London: Elliot Stock, 1898. C astelli, I). II Poema semítico del pessimismo. II libro di Job. Tradotto e commentato. Florence, 1897. C h o u raq u i, A. Iyov. La Bible traduite et présentée 15. Paris: Desclée de Brouwer, 1974. C larke, H . J. The Book of Job: A Metrical Translation with introduction and notes. London: H odder 8c Stoughton, 1880. C lines, D. J . A. “Jo b .” In A Bible Commentary fo r Today, ed. G. C. D. Howley. London: Pickering 8c Inglis, 1979. 559-92. 2d ed. in The International Bible Commentary, ed. F. F. Bruce. Basingstoke, Hants.: Marshall Pickering, 1986. 520-51. Clow , W. M cC., and W. G. J o rd a n . Job: A Little Library of Exposition, with New Studies. London: Cassell, 1928. C olem an, J . N . The Book of Job, translated from the Hebrew with notes explanatory, illustrative, and critical. London: J. Nisbet 8c Co., 1869. [C onant, T. J.] Book of Job: The common English version, the Hebrew text, and the revised version, with critical and philological notes. London: T riibner, 1856. C onsolo, B. Volgarizzamento del libro di Job, con spiegazione e comment!. Florence, 1874. C outts, F. [B. T. M.] [C outts-N evill, F. B. T.]. The Heresy of Job, with the inventions of William Blake. London: Jo h n Lane, 1907. Cow les, H . The Book of Job, with notes, critical, explanatory, and practical . . . With a new translation appended. New York: D. Appleton 8c Co., 1877. C ox, S. A Commentary on the

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Book of Job, with a translation. London: Kegan, Paul Sc Co., 1880. C ram p o n , A . Job. In La Sainte Bible. Paris, 1952. C u rry , D. The Book of Job, according to the version of 1885, with an expository and practical commentary. New York: Phillips Sc H unt, 1887. D avidson, A. B. A Commentary, grammatical and exegetical, on the Book of Job, with a transíation. Vol. 1 [chaps. 1-14]. London: Williams and Norgate, 1862. ---------. The Book of Job, with notes, introduction and appendix. CamB. Cambridge: CUP, 1884. D avidson, A. B., and H . C. O. L an ch ester. The Book of Job, with Notes, Introduction and Appendix, Adapted to the Text of the Revised Version with Some Supplementary Notes. CamB. Cambridge: CUP, 1926. D aw idow icz, D. Hebraisches Kommentar zum Ijob-Buche: Mite einer deutschen Beilage: ‘Zur Auslegung des Ijob-Buches’ von Prof. A. Berliner. Berlin: L. Lamm, 1913. ---------. . Das Buch Hiob: M it Uebersetzung und Erlauterung. Deutsche Bearbeitung (Ratsel aus dem Morgenlande). Berlin: A. Schwetschke Se Sohn, 1919. des D elebecque, E dm ée. Le Livre de Job: Traduit de l’hébreu. Paris: E. Leroux, 1914. D elitzsch, F ranz J . Das Buch Iob: M it Beitrágen von Prof. Dr. Fleischer und Consul Dr. Wetzstein, nebst einer Karte und Inschrift. Leipzig, 1864. ---------. Biblical Commentary on the Book of Job. Trans. F. Bolton. 2 vols. Edinburgh: T. Sc T. Clark, 1866. D elitzsch, F rie d ric h . Das Buch Hiob, neu übersetzt und kurz erklart: Ausgabe mit sprachlichem Kommentar. Leipzig: J. C. Hinrichs, 1902. De R ossi, G. B. II Libro di Giobbe tradotto dal testo origínale. Parma, 1812. D horm e, E. Le livre de Job. Paris: Gabalda, 1926. Tr. H. Knight. A Commentary on the Book of Job. London: Thom as Nelson Sc Sons, 1967. ---------. “Jo b .” In La Bible de la Pléiade. Paris: Gallimard, 1959. D illm an n , A. Hiob, 1869. 3d ed. Leipzig: S. Hirzel, 1891. D illon, E. J. The Sceptics of the Old Testament, Job, Koheleth, Agur, with English text translated fo r the first time from the primitive Hebrew as restored on the basis of recent philological discoveries. London: Isbister Sc Co., 1895. ---------. The Original Poem of Job, translated from the restored text. London: T. Fisher Unwin, 1905. D im m ler, E ,Job übersetzt, eingeleitet und erklart. M ünchen Gladbach: Volkvereins-Verlag, 1922. D im n en t, E. D. The Book of Job: The Poem, an Epic Version in English. New York: Fleming H. Revell, 1937. D onn, T . M. The Divine Challenge, Being a Metrical Paraphrase of the Book of Job in Four-Line Stanzas of Anapaestic Tetrameters in Rhyme. Inverness: Robt. C arruthers and Sons, 1963. D riv er, S. R. The Book of Job in the Revised Version, Edited with Introductions and Brief Annotations. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1906. D riv er, S. R., and G ray, G. B. A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Book of Job together with a New Translation. ICC. Edinburgh: T. Sc T. C lark , 1921. See also C om pston, H . F. B. “ M a rg in a l N o tes o n D riv erGray’s ‘J o b .’” E xpT 42 (1930-31) 92-93. D u h m , B. Das Buch Hiob erklart. KHC. Tübin-

gen: J. C. B. Mohr, 1897.

E b ra rd , [J. H .] A. Das Buch Hiob ais poetische Kunstwerk übersetzt und erlautert far Gebildete. London, 1858. E del, R.-F. Hebraisch-Deutsche Praparation zum Buch Hiob. LüdernscheidLobetal: Oekumenischer-Verlag, 1984. E erd m a n s, B. D. Studies in Job. 2 vols. Leiden: Burgersdijk Sc Niermans, 1939. E h rlic h , A. B. Randglossen zur hebraischen Bibel. VI. Psalmen, Sprüche, und Hiob. Leipzig: J. C. Hinrichs, 1918. [Repr. Hildesheim: Georg Olms.] 180-344. E ic h h o rn , J. G. Hiob. Leipzig: W eidmann, 1800. E llison, H . L. From Tragedy to Triumph: The Message of the Book of Job. London: Paternoster Press, 1958. [ = A Study of Job: From Tragedy to Triumph. G rand Rapids: Zondervan, 1971.] Elzas, A. The Book of Job, translated from the Hebrew text, with an introduction and notes, critical and explanatory. London: T rü b n er Sc Co., 1872. E p p in g , W ., and J. T. N elis ,Job. Roermond: Romen, 1968. E w ald, G. H . A. von. Das Buch Ijob übersetzt und erklart. Die Dichter des Alten Testaments. Gottingen: Vandenhoeck, 183 6 .---------. Commentary on the Book of Job with translation. T r. J. F. Smith. London: Williams and Norgate, 1882. F edrizzi, P. Giobbe: La Sacra Bibbia, traduta dai testi originali illustrata con note critiche e commentata. Turin: Marietti, 1972. F enton, F. The Book of Job: Translated direct from the Hebrew text into English . . . Rendered into the same metre as the original Hebrew word by word and line by line. London: Elliot Stock, 1898. F ield in g , G. H . The Book of Job: A revised text, with introduction and notes. London: Elliot Stock, 1898. F ig u eire d o , C. de. O Livro de Job em versos portuguezes. Lisbon: Livraria Ferreira, 1894. [Finch H atto n , G. J.]

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W inchilsea, E arl of. The Poem of the Book of Job done into English verse. London: Smith, : Elder & Co., 1860. F ischel, s. A. b en E p h ra im . . Lem. Lemberg, 1833. F isch m an n , N. I. berg, 1854. F o h re r, G. Das Buch Hiob ilbertragen und herausgegeben. Krefeld: ScherpeVerlag, 1948. ---------. Das Buch Hiob. KAT 16. Gütersloh: Giitersloher Verlagshaus Gerd Mohn, 1963. Fox, S. H . A Metrical Version of the Book of Job. Part 1 [chaps. 1—20]. London: C. Gilpin, 1852. F reeh o f, S. B. The Book of Job— A Commentary. New York: Union of American Hebrew Congregations, 1958. F ry ,J . A New Translation and Exposition of the very ancient Book of Job; with notes, explanatory and philological. London: Jam es

Duncan, 1827.

G aab, J . F. Das Buch Hiob. Tübingen: J. G. Cotta, 1809. G ans, A , Job vertaald en ingeleid. Leiden, 1952. G arcia C o rd ero , M., and G. P erez R o d rig u ez. “Jo b .” In Biblia comentada: Libros Sapiencales. Madrid: BAC, 1962. 1 6 -1 6 7 .---------. Libro de Job: Introducción y comentaño. Madrid: BAC, 1972. G arla n d , D. D .Job: A Study Guide. G rand Rapids: Zondervan, 1971. G en u n g , J . F. The Epic of the Inner Life: Being the Book of Job, translated anew, and accompanied with notes and an introductory essay. Boston, 1892. G ibson, E. C. S. The Book of Job. WC. London: M ethuen, 1899. G ibson, J. C. L ·Job. Daily Study Bible. Edinburgh: St Andrews Press, 1985. G ilbert, G. H . The Book of Job as Poesy. Rutland: T uttle Co., 1886. [Translation into English verse.] ---------. The Poetry of Job. Part I: A rhythmical translation of Job. Part II: Interpretation of the poem. Chicago: A. C. McClurg, 1889. G lotzbach, A. Het Boek Job: Het Hooglied. Arnhem : Van Loghum Slaterus, 1938. G ood, E. M. “Jo b .” In Harper’s Bible Commentary. Ed. J. L. Mays. San Francisco: H arper 8c Row, 1988. 407—32. G ood, J. M. The Book of Job, literally translated from the original Hebrew, and restored to its natural arrangement: with notes critical and illustrative; and an introductory dissertation on its scene, scope, language, author, and object. London: Black, Parry and Co., 1812. G ordis, R. The Book of Job: Commentary, New Translation, and Special Notes. New York: Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1978. See also his

“Observations on Problems and Methods in Biblical Research. W riting a Com m entary on Jo b . PrAmAcJewRes 41-42 (1973-74) 105-35. G raetz, Η . H . Emendationes in plerosque Sacrae Scripturae Veteris Testamenti libros. Breslau, 1892—94. G reen b erg , M., J . C. G reenfield, and N. M. Sarna. The Book of Job, A New Translation according to the Traditional Hebrew Text with Introductions. Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1980. G reen e, W. B. The Book of Job. Boston: G. C. Rand 8c Avery, 1866. [A translation.] G u ala n d i, D. Giobbe, nuova versione critica. Rome: Gregorian University, 1976. G u illau m e, A. “Jo b .” In A New Commentary on Holy Scripture, ed. C. Gore, H. L. Goudge, and A. Guillaume. London: SPCK, 19 5 1 .---------. Studies in the Book of Job with a New Translation. ALUOS Suppl. 2. Leiden: Brill, 1968. H abel, N. The Book of Job: Commentary. CamB. Cambridge: CUP, 1 9 7 5 .---------. Job. Knox Preaching Guides. Atlanta: Knox, 1 9 8 1 .---------. The Book of Job. OTL. London: SCM, 1985. H ag h e b ae rt, P. Het Boek Job, vertaald en uitgelegd. New ed. Bruges: Bayaert, 1929. H a h n , H . A. Commentar iiber das Buch Hiob. Berlin, 1850. H akam , A. : [The Book of Job, a commentary]. Jerusalem : Kook, 1970. H a lste d , O . S. The Book Called Job, from the Hebrew, with footnotes. Newark: au th o r’s own ed., 1875. H am b len , E. S. The Book of Job Interpreted, Illustrated with the Designs of William Blake. New York: Delphic Studios, 1933. [Commentary.] H an so n , A. T ., and M iriam H an so n . The Book of Job: Introduction and Commentary. Torch Bible. London: SCM, 1953. H artle y , J . E. The Book of Job. NICOT. G rand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1988. H arto m , E. S. See Artom, E. S. H a u p t, [J.] L. Hiob: Ein Gesprach iiber die góttliche Vorsehung. Ins das Deutsche iibertragen. Leipzig, 1847. H au se r, O. Das Buch Hiob: In der Übertragung von Otto Hauser. Berlin, 1909. H ayd, H . Das Buch Hiob, in gereimten Versmasse iibersetzt und mit . . . Erklarungen versehen. Munich, 1859. H eav en o r, E. S. P. “Jo b .” In New Bible Commentary Revised, ed. D. Guthrie et al. London: IVP, 1970. 421—45. H eilig ste d t, A. Commentarius im Jobum. Halle, 1847.---------. Praeparation zum Buche Hiob mit den nóthigen, die IJebersetzung und das Verstandnis des Textes erleichternden Anmerkungen. Halle, 1869. H en g sten b e rg ,

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E. W. Das Buck Hiob erlautert. Berlin, 1870. H e rrm a n n , J . Das Buck Hiob. Aus dem Grundtext ilbersetzt und mit Erlauterungen versehen. Leipzig: P. Reclam, 1900. H ertzb erg , H . W. Das Buck Hiob übersetzt und ausgelegt. Bibelhilfe für die Gemeinde. Stuttgart: J. G. Oncken, 1949. H esse, F. Hiob. Ziircher Bibelkommentar. Zürich: Theologischer Verlag, 1978. H irze l, L. Hiob, erklart. KEH. 2d ed. Leipzig: W iedmann, 1852. H itzig , F. Das Buck Hiob ilbersetzt und ausgelegt. Leipzig and Heidelberg: C. F. W inter, 1874. H o ffm an n , J . G. E. Hiob. Kiel: C. F. Haeseler, 1891. H ó lsc h e r, G. Das Buck Hiob. HAT. Tübingen: J. C. B. M ohr (Paul Siebeck), 1937.---------. Das Gedicht von Hiob und seinen drei Freunden ilbersetzt. Wiesbaden: Insel-Verlag, 1948. H o n th e im , J . Das Buck Hiob als strophisches Kunstwerk nachgewiesen, ilbersetzt und erklart. Freiburg, 1904. H o rst, F. Hiob. BKAT. Vol. 1 (chaps. 1-19). Neukirchen: N eukirchener Verlag, 1960-63. H u lm e , W. E. Dialogue in Despair: Pastoral Commentary on the Book of Job. Nashville: Abingdon, 1968. H u n t, G. The Book of Job: Translated from the Hebrew. Bath, 1825. H u p fe ld , H . Quaestionum in Jobeidos locos vexatos specimen. Commentatio. . . . Halle: E. Anton, 1853. H u rw itz (G urvits), N. The Immortal Drama of Life (The Book of Job ): The Mystery Book of More than 3000 Years, Translated from the Original. Cape Town, 1944. H u tc h in so n , R. F. Thoughts on the Book of Job. London: S. Bagster & Sons, 1875. Irw in , W. A. “Jo b .” In Peake’s Commentary on the Bible, ed. M. Black and Η. H. Rowley. London: Thomas Nelson 8c Sons, 1962. 391-408. Ja n ze n , J . G. Job. Interpretation. Atlanta: Jo h n Knox, 1985. Ja stro w , M. The Book of Job: Its Origin, Growth and Interpretation, together with a New Translation Based on a Revised Text. Philadelphia: Lippincott, 1920. Je n n in g s, W. The Dramatic Poem of Job: A Close Metrical Translation, with Critical and Explanatory Notes. London: M ethuen, 1912. Jo n e s, G. T. Sylwadan eglurhaol ac ymarferol; neu, esponiad byr ar Lyfr Job. Caerfyddin, 1818. Ju n k e r, H . Das Buch Hiob. EchB. W ürzburg: Echter Verlag, 1951. Ju s ti, K. W. Das Buch Hiob, neu ilbersetzt und erlautert. Kassel: J. J. Bohné, 1840. K ahana, A. Commentary on Job [Heb]. Tel Aviv: Mekorot, 1928. K alt, E. Das Buch Job : ilbersetzt und erlautert. Steyl: Missionsdmckerei, 1924. K aplan, J . [The Book of Job: Introduction and Commentary]. Tel Aviv: M ahbarot Lisparot, 1951. K elly, W. Notes on the Book of Job, with a new version. London: G. Morrish, 1879. K em m ler, G. Hiob oder die Weisheit der Urzeit. Cannstatt: L. Bosheuner, 1858. [Verse translation with some n otes.]---------. Hiob: oder, Kam pf und Sieg im Leiden, In dichterischen Form wiedergegeben. Calw: Verlag der Vereinsbuchhandlung, 1877. K ing, E. G. The Poem of Job: Translated in the Metre of the Original. Cambridge: CUP, 1914. K issane, E. J . The Book ofJob Translatedfrom a Critically Revised Hebrew Text with Commentary. Dublin: Browne 8c Nolan, 1939. K line, Μ. E. “Jo b .” Wycliffe Commentary. K n ab en b au er, J . Commentarius in Librum lob. Paris: P. Lethielleux, 1886. K ónig, E. Das Buch Hiob eingeleitet, ilbersetzt und erklart. Gütersloh: C. Bertelsmann, 1929. K ó n ig sb erg er, B. Hiobstudien: Exegetische Untersuchungen zum Buche Hiob nebst einer Einleitung zum Buche. Breslau: W. Koebner, 1896. K óster, F. B. Das Buch Hiob und der Prediger Salomo s nach ihrer strophischen Anordnung ilbersetzt: Nebst Abhandlungen ilber den strophischen Character dieser Bilcher, Zum Gebrauche bey akademischen Vorlesungen. Schleswig: Konigliches Taubstum m en-Institut, 1831. K roeze, J . H . Paraphrase van het boek Job. Franeker: Wever, 1946. ---------. Het Boek Job. Korte Verklaring. Kampen: J. H. Kok, 1960.--------- .H et Boek Job. C om m entaar op het OT. Kampen: J. H. Kok, 1962. K unz, U . Hiob. 1958. L am bert, F. A. Das Buch Hiob ilbertragen und herausgegeben. Berlin: Furche-Verlag, 1919. L am p arter, H . Das Buch der Anfechtung, ilbersetzt und ausgelegt. Die Botschaft des ATs. Stuttgart: Calwer, 1951. L anger, J . Das Buch Job in neuer und treuer Uebersetzung nach der Vulgata, mit fortwahrender Berilcksichtigung des Urtextes. Luxembourg, 1884. L arch e r, C. Le Livre de Job, traduit. BJ. La Sainte Bible. Paris: Cerf, 1950. L au ren s, H . Job et les Psaumes: Traduction nouvelle d ’apres l’hébreu, les anciennes versions et les plus hábiles interpretes, précédées de deux discours préliminaires et accompagnée d ’arguments et de notes. Paris: Gaume Fréres, 1839. Le B lanc d ’A m bonne, Μ. P. Le Livre de Job allégoriquement expliqué: La grande tribulation de VEglise. . . . Nantes: E. Grimaud, 1893. [Vulgate and allegorical

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explanation in parallel columns.] Lee, C. The trial of virtue, a sacred poem; being a paraphrase of the whole book of Job . . . interspersed with critical notes upon a variety of its passages. Hartford: Lincoln 8c Gleason, 1806. Lee, S. The Book of the Patriarch Job, translated from the original Hebrew . . . [with] an introduction, on the history, times, country, friends and book of the patriarch. London: Jam es Duncan, 1837. Le H ir, A. M. Le Livre de Job: Traduction sur l ’Hébreu et commentaire. Paris: Jouby 8c Roger, 1873. L eim bach, A. Das Buch Job, iibersetzt und kurz erklart. Fulda: Fuldaer Aktiendruckerei, 1911. L ero u x , P. Job, drame en cinq actes, avec prologue et épilogue, par le Prophete Isaie, retrouvé, rétabli dans son integrité, et traduit littéralement sur le texte hébreu. With Appendix, “Le Job des Églises, et le Job de M. R enan” (pp. 201-389). Grasse, 1866. L esétre, H . Le livre de Job traduit et commenté. París: Lethielleux, 1886. L evavasseur, B. M. F. Le livre de Job, traduit en vers frangais avec le texte de la Vulgate en regard; suivi de notes explicatives, ainsi que des variantes tirées des plus célebres interpretes de la Bible, et de quelques poésies frangais es du traducteur. Paris: P. Delaunay et G. Dentu, 1826. Levi, B. G. Commentary on the Book of Job. New York: Bloch, 1946. Lew is, T. The Book of Job: A Rhythmical Version with introduction and annotations, with O. Zóckler, A Commentary. Lange’s Com m entary 7. Tr. L. J. Evans. Edinburgh: T. 8c T. Clark, 1875. Ley, J . Das Buch Hiob nach seinem Inhalt, seiner Kunstgestaltung und religiósen Bedeutung. Fiir gebildete Leser dargestellt. Halle: Verlag der Buchhandlung des Waisenhauses, 1903. [Commentary.] L ods, A., and L. R a n d o n . “Jo b .” La Bible du Centenaire. Vol. 3. Paris, 1947. L ofth o u se, W. F. “Book of Jo b .” In Abingdon Bible Commentary. New York: Abingdon-Cokesbury, 1929. 483—508. L oisy, A. Le livre de Job, traduit de l’hébreu, avec une introduction. Amiens: Im prim erie RousseauLeroy, 1892. L ów enthal, M. . Hiob: Praktische Philosophic oder klare Darstellung der im Buche Hiob obwaltenden Ideen; nebst wortgetreuer, rhythmisch gegeliederter Uebersetzung und fortlaufenden Commentar. Frankfurt, 1846. L ubsczyk, H . Das Buch Ijob erlautert. Düsseldorf: Patmos, 1969. L uzzatto, S. D. II Libro di Giobbe volgarizzato ad uso degli Israeliti. Trieste: F. Marenigh, 1853. [Translation.] Luzzi, G. Giobbe tradotto dalVebraico e annotato. Florence, 1918.

M acB eath, A. The Book of Job: A Study Manual. Glasgow: Pickering and Inglis, 1967. M acK enzie, R. A. F. ‘J o b .” In Jerome Bible Commentary, 1968. 511-33. M aizel, S. . Warsaw, 1899. M aiet, A. The : : Book of Job in [2146 lines of] blank verse. Ashcott, 1880. M argolfo, P. Lamentazioni di Giobbe e di Geremia. Naples: Banzoli, 1840. M a rin e lliu s, P. P. Job, Apocalypsis, et Moysis Cantica. Ancona, 1846. M arshall, J . T. The Book of Job. An American Commentary on the Old Testam ent. Philadelphia: American Baptist Publication Society, 1904. M atinez, J . M. Job, la fe en conflicto: comentario y reflectiones sobre el libro de Job. Barcelona: CLIE, 1982. M atthes, J . C. Het Boek Job vertaald en verklaard. Utrecht, 1865. M cC arthy, C., and V. H u o n d e r. The Book of Job !Le livre de Job. Preliminary Report on the Hebrew Old Testament Project. Vol. 3. Stuttgart: United Bible Societies, 1977. M cK enna, D. L. Job. Com m unicator’s Commentary. Waco, TX: Word, 1986. M eikle, W. The Book of Job in metre, according to the most approved commentaries. Falkirk, 1869. M erx, A. Das Gedicht von Hiob: Hebraischer Text, kritisch bearbeitet und iibersetzt, nebst sachlicher und kritischer Einleitung. Jena: Mauke’s Verlag, 1871. M illet, A. Le Livre de Job traduit en vers. Lyon: Vitte 8c Perrussel, 1887. M inn, H . R. The Burden of This Unintelligible World, or, The Mystery of Suffering: Being a Rhythmical Version of the Book of Job, Annotated. Auckland: W hitcombe and Tombs, 1942. ---------. The Book of Job: A Translation with Introduction and Short Notes. Auckland: University of Auckland Press, 1965. M itch ell, S. Into the Whirlwind: A Translation of the Book of Job. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1979. M ontet, E. “Jo b .” La Bible du Centenaire. Paris: Société Biblique, 1932. 3:215—72. M ontvaillan t, A. de. Poetes bibliques. Le livre de Job mis en vers frangais. Paris: Fischbacher, 1897. M osn er, H . Hiob ins Deutsche iibersetzt und mit hebraischen Anmerkungen versehen. Halle, 1858. [Chaps. 1—11:8.] M oulton, R. G. The Book of Job, Edited with an Introduction and Notes. T he M odern Reader’s Bible. New York: Macmillan, 1906. M ow inckel, S. Diktet om Ijob og bans tu venner. Kristiania: H. Aschehough, 1 9 2 4 .---------. “Diktet om Jo b .” Det

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gamle Testamentet. 1955. 293-384. M u m fo rd , A. H . The Book of Job: A Metrical Version, with an Introductory Essay: “The Significance of the Book of Job” by A. S. Peake. London: H odder & Stoughton, 1922. M u rp h y , R. E. Wisdom Literature: Job, Proverbs, Ruth, Canticles, Ecclesiastes and Esther. FOTL 13. G rand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1981. N airn e , A. The Book of Job, edited with an introduction. Cambridge: CUP, 1935. N eim an , D. The Book of Job. A Presentation of the Book with Selected Portions Translated from the Original Hebrew Text. Jerusalem : Masada, 1972. N esfield, V. Let Cockle Grow Instead of Barley. London: A. J. David, n.d. N eu m an n , R. The Book of Job: A Metrical Translation, with a Critical Introduction. Burlington, IA: Lutheran Literary Board, 1934. N oyes, G. A. Job. A Translation in the Hebrew Rhythm. London: Luzac, 1915. --------- . A New Translation of the Book of Job. 2d ed. Boston: J. Monroe 8c Co., 1838. N oyes, G. R. An Amended Version of the Book of Job, with an introduction and notes chiefly explanatory. Cambridge, MA: Hilliard 8c Brown, 1827. O d io su s, pseud. . Das Buch I job im engeren Anschluss an den masoretischen Urtext deutsch iibersetzt und mit Erlauterungen versehen von Odiosus. Lieferung 1 [chaps. 1-14]. Berlin, 1863. O ettli, S. Das Buch Hiob erlautert fiir Bibelleser. Stuttgart: Calwer, 1908. O lsh a u sen , J . Hiob erklart. KEH. Leipzig: S. Hirzel, 1852. O sty, E., and J. T rin q u e t. Livre de Job —LEcclésiaste— Livre de la sagesse. Paris: Rencontre, 1971. O tte n so sse r, D. [Hebrew text, Yiddish translation, Hebrew commentary by Israel : b. Abraham of Lissa]. Fürth, 1805. O tto n i, J . E ·Job, traduzido em verso . . . Precedido primeiro, d ’um discurso sobre a poesía em geral, e em particular no Brasil . . . Terceiro Turn prefacio extrahido de versáo da Biblia por de Genoude. Rio de Janeiro: F. M. Ferreira, 1852. O w ens, J . J . See Watts, J. D. W. P atric k , D. Arguing with God: The Angry Poem of Job. St. Louis: Bethany, 1977. [With translation.] Peake, A. S. Job. CB. London: T. C. 8c E. C. Jack, 1904. P ete rs, N. Das Buch Hiob iibersetzt und erklart. EHAT. Münster: Aschendorff, 1928. P h ilip s, T. W. Job, A New Interpretation. London: Murby, 1937. P ix ley , J . E l libro de Job; comentario bíblico latino-americano. San José, Costa Rica: Sebila, 1982. See also S tad elm an n , L. “O livro d e jó ; a propósito de um ‘comentário bíblico latino-americano.’” PerspT 15 (1983) 407-12. P olotak, P. b en Ju d a h . . . . . Vilna, 1808. P ope, Μ. Job. ΑΒ. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1965. 3d ed., 1973. P o rte o u s, M. Job paraphrased; a poem. Maybole, 1854. P o tter, R. “Jo b .” In A New Catholic Commentary on Holy Scripture, ed. R. C. Fuller et al. London: Nelson, 1969. 417—38. P ritc h a rd , M. The Poem of Job, A Version . . . with Introduction and Notes. London: Kegan Paul, Trench, T rü b n er 8c

Co., 1903.

. Jaffa, 1916. R a tn e r, I. . . . . Warsaw, 1893. R avasi, G. Giobbe, traduzione e commento. 2 vols. Rome: Borla, 1979—84. R ay m o n d , R. W. The Book of Job: Essays, and a Metrical Paraphrase. New York: Appleton 8c Co., 1878. R e ic h ert, V. E. Job with Hebrew Text and English Translation, Commentary. Soncino Books of the Bible. H indhead, Surrey: Soncino Press, 1946. R e n an , E. Le Livre de Job, traduit de l’hébreu. [with] Etude sur l’age et le caractere du poeme. Paris: Calmann Lévy, 1860. ---------. The Book of Job translated from the Hebrew with a Study upon the Age and Character of the Poem. T r. A. F. G. [H. F. Gibbons] and W. M. Tfhomson]. London: W. M. Thom son, 1899. See also C relier, H . J . Le livre de Job vengé des interprétations fausses et impies de Μ. E. Renan. Douniol, 1860. R euss, E. Hiob. Braunschweig: C. A. Schwetschke 8c Sohn, 1888. [Introduction and translation.] R icciotti, G. II libro di Giobbe. Verstone critica dal testo ebraico con introduztone e commento. Turin: Marietti, 1924. R ic h a rd so n , J . W. Out of the Whirlwind: A dramatized version of the Book of Job Based on Dr. James Mojfatt’s Translation. London: Epworth, 1936. R obin, E. “Job traduit et com m enté.” La Sainte Bible. Paris: Pirot-Clamer, 1949. 4:797—868. R ocholl, C. Das Buch Hiob, neu gedichtet. Stuttgart: Steinkopf, 1922. R odw ell, J . M. . The Book of Job, translated from the Hebrew. London: Williams 8c Norgate, 1864. R o sen feld , M. : . Lemberg, 1875. R o sen m ü ller, E. F. K. Scholia in Vetus Testamentum: Editio secunda auctior et emendatior. Pars V: Jobus R abinow itz [O b ro n in , A vronin], A. Z.

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latine vertit et annotatione perpetua illustravit. Leipzig: J. A. Barth, 1824. R ow ley, A. Ten Chapters of the Book of Job, rendered from the common translation, into verse. Boston: J. H. A. Frost, 1825. R ow ley, Η . H ·Job. NCB. Thom as Nelson & Sons, 1970. R ozelaar, M. Het Boek Job in Nederlandse verzen. Kampen: Kok, 1984. S adler, R. The Book of Ayub: known in the West as Job. London: Sheppard 8c St Joh n , 1897. [A translation with notes.] S aithw ell, P. E zra -Jo b . London: Scripture Union, 1982. Saint-M aur, H . de. Le Livre de Job: Traduction en vers. Paris, 1861. Saráo, A. Giobbe, poema eroico. Messina: Pappalardo, 1831. S ch árer, J . R. Das Buch Hiob, aus dem Grundtext metrisch iibersetzt und erklart. Bern: L. R. W althard, 1818. S chlógl, N. Das Buch Hiob, aus dem kritisch hergestellten hebraisch Urtext ins Deutsche metrisch iibersetzt und erlautert. Vienna: Orionverlag, 1916. S ch lo ttm an n , K. Das Buch Hiob verdeutscht und erlautert. Berlin: W iegandt 8c Brieben, 1851. S ch m id t, H . Hiob, das Buch vom Sinn des Leidens . . . gekiirzt und verdeutscht. Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr, 1927. S ch m id t, N. The Messages of the Poets: The Books of Job and Canticles and Some Minor Poems in the Old Testament, with Introductions, Metrical Translations, and Paraphrases. New York: Scribners, 1911. S ch ro d er, R. A. Das Buch Hiob mit Randbemerkungen. Munich: R. Piper, 1948. S chubert, L. Das Buch Hiob. Dichterische Übersetzung mit einer Erklarung. Leipzig: Klein, 1927. Schw arz, F. W. S. Das Buch Hiob. Ein Kreuz- und Trostbuch: Nach dem Hollandischen des ten Kate unter Vergleichung des biblischen Textes deutsch bearbeitet. Bremen: C. E. Müller, 1868. Schw arz, I. : . Berlin, 1868. Schw eitzer, R ·Job. La Bible et la vie. Paris: Ligel, 1966. Seitz, O. Hiob. Berlin, 1931. Sekine, M. Yob-ki chükai [A Commentary on the Book of Job]. [Japanese]. Tokyo: Kyobunkan, 1970. S ieg fried , C. The Book of Job: Critical Edition of the Hebrew Text. SBOT. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins UP, 1893. S im on, M. Hiob iibersetzt und herausgegeben. Munich: Chr. Kaiser, 1925. S m ith, E lizabeth. The Book of Job: translated from the Hebrew . . . With a preface and annotations. Bath, 1810. S naith, N. H . Notes on the Hebrew Text of Job I—VI. London: Epworth, 1945. Solom on [Baba-Jan]. [The Book of Job with Persian translation]. Jerusalem , 1895. S peyr, A. von .Job (Kommentar). Einsiedeln: Johannes-V erlag, 1972. S piess, M. Hiob metrisch uebersetzt. Buchholz: G. Adler, 1852. S p rague, Η . B. The Book of Job: The Poetic Portion Versified, with Due Regard to the Language of the Authorized Version, A Closer Adherence to the Sense of the Revised Versions, and a More Literal Translation of the Hebrew Original, with an Introductory Essay Advancing New Views and Explanatory Notes (Quoting Many Eminent Authorities. Boston: Sherman, French 8c Co., 1913. S tather, W. C. The Book of Job in English Verse. Translated from the original Hebrew; with notes, critical and explanatory. Bath: Binns 8c Godwin, 1860. S tein m an n , J . Job. Temoins cle Dieu. Paris: Cerf, 1 946.---------. Le Livre de Job. Lectio Divina. Paris: Cerf, 1955.-------- . Job. Texte frangais, introduction et commentaire. Connaitre la Bible. Bruges: : . S teuerDesclée de Brouwer, 1961. S tern b erg , S. Z. 1872 . na gel, C. “Das Buch Hiob.” Die Heilige Schrift des Alten Testaments. Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr, 1923. 2:323-89. S tevenson, W. B. The Poem of Job: A Literary Study with a New Translation. London: OUP, 1947. Stickel, J . G. Das Buch Hiob rhythmisch gegliedert und iibersetzt, mit exegetischen und kritischen Bemerkungen. Leipzig: W eidmann, 1842. S tier, F. Das Buch Ijjob hebraisch und deutsch. Uebertragen ausgelegt und mit Text- und Sacherlauterungen versehen. Munich: Kosel, 1954. Stock, J . The Book of Job: metrically arranged according to the Masora, and newly translated into English. With notes critical and explanatory. Bath, 1805. S trahan, J . The Book of Job Interpreted. Edinburgh: T. 8c T. Clark, 1913. S tra sh u n , A. D. : . vilna, 1 8 8 8 . -------- . : . Vilna, 1897. S tu d er, G. L. Das Buch Hiob fiir geistliche und gebildete Laien iibersetzt und kritisch erlautert. Bremen: M. Heinsius, 1881. S tu h lm a n n , Μ. H . Hiob, ein religióses Gedicht. Aus dem Hebraischen neu iibersetzt, gepriift und erlautert. Hamburg: F. Perthes, 1804. S utcliffe, E. F “Jo b .” In A Catholic Commentary on Holy Scripture. Ed. B. O rchard et al. London: Thos. Nelson 8c Sons, 1953. 417-41. SydenStrieker, Η . M. The Epic of the Orient: an original poetical rendering of the book of Job. Hartford: Student Publishing Co, 1894. Szczygiel, P. Das Buch Job, iibersetzt und erkldrt.

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HSAT. Bonn: Hanstein, 1931. Szold, B. : . Das Buck Hiob, nebst einem neuen Kommentar. Baltimore: H. F. Siemers, 1886. T ak am in i, A. V. II Libro di Giobbe: Versione poética. Venice, 1871. T alm id . The Book of Job and the Song of Solomon: Translated into English metre. Edinburgh, 1890. T attersall, J . The Poem of Job, rendered in English metre. London: B. Quaritch, 1897. T elles, B. O Livro de Job. Traducqao em verso. Porto: Lello 8c Irmao, 1912. T e rrie n , S. L., and P. S cherer. “Jo b .” IB. New York and Nashville: Abingdon, 1954. 3:877—1198. T e rrie n , S. L ·Job. Commentaire de ΓA nden Testam ent. Neuchátel: Delachaux et Niestlé, 1963. T h ilo , M. Das Buch Hiob neu iibersetzt und aufgefasst. Bonn: A. Marcus 8c E. Weber, 1925. T hom as, D. Problemata Mundi: The Book of job, exegetically and practically considered. Critically revised, with an introduction, by Samuel Davidson. London: Smith, Elder, 8c Co., 1878. T o rczy n er, H . Das Buch Hiob: Line kritische Analyse des ilberlieferten Hiobtextes. Vienna: Loqit, 1920. ---------. . The Book of Job Interpreted. Jerusalem : Hebrew UP, 1941. See also Tur-Sinai, N. H. T re n te p o h l, K. Das Buch Hiob, iibersetzt und metrisch bearbeitet. Vechta, 1860. T u ro ld o , D. M. Da una casa di fango (Job). Brescia: La Scuola, 1951. [Commentary, with translation of A. Vaccari.] T u r-S in ai [T orczyner], N. H . . Tel Aviv: Yavneh, 1954. --------- . The Book of Job, A New Commentary. Jerusalem : Kiryath Sepher, 1957. U m b reit, F. W. C. Das Buch Hiob, Ubersetzung und Auslegung. Heidelberg, 1824. ---------. A New Version of the Book of Job with expository notes, and an introduction, on the spirit, composition, and author of the book. Tr. 1. H. Gray. 2 vols. Edinburgh: Thom as Clark, 1836-37. V accari, A. II Libro di Giobbe e i Salmi, tradotti dai testi originali e annotati. 2d ed. Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1927. V aih in g er, J . G. Das Buch Hiob, der Urschrift gemass metrisch iibersetzt und erlautert. Stuttgart, 1842. V an C alcar, J. D. Job. Bijbels Lekespel. Assen: Van Gorcum, 1934. V an H ag en , M rs H en ry . Evenings in the Land of Uz: Short Expositions of the Book ofJob; arranged fo r family reading. 2d ed. London: W. W. Robinson, 1845. V an P ro sd ij, A. C. G. Het Boek Job. Amsterdam: S. J. B. Bakker, 1948. V an Seim s, A , Job. Prediking OT. 2 vols. Nijkerk: Callenbach, 1982-83. ---------. Job: een praktische bijbelverklaring. Tekst en Toelichting. Kampen: J. H. Kok, 1984. [Tr. J. Vriend. Job, A Practical Commentary. G rand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1985]. V iani, B. II Libro di Giobbe, recato in versi italiani e corredato di note. Rome: Osservatore Romano, 1865. V ignolo, G. Μ. II Libro di Giobbe tradotto in versi sciolti. T urin, 1902. V illa, E. Antico teatro ebraico: Giobbe, Cántico dei cantici. Milan: Polígono, 1947. V irg u lin , S. Giobbe . . . introduzione, note. Nuovissima Versione 17. Rome: Paoline, 1980. V oigt, C. Einige Stellen des Buches Hiob. Leipzig: W. Drugulin, 1895. V olck, W. “Das Buch Hiob.” In Diepoetischen Hagiographa (Buch Hiob, Prediger Salomo, Hohelied und Klagelied) ausgelegt. Ed. W. Volck and S.

Oettli. Kurzgefasster Kommentar zu Heiligen Schriften Alten und Neuen Testaments. Nordlingen: C. H. Beck, 1889. Volz, P. Hiob und Weisheit. Gottingen, 1911. ---------. Weisheit (Das Buch Hiob, Spriiche und Jesus Sirach, Prediger). Gottingen: V andenhoeck 8c Ruprecht, 1911. V u illeu m ier, H . Le livre de Job. Lausanne, 1894.

W alls, A. The Oldest Drama in the World: the Book of Job, arranged in dramatic form, with elucidation. New York: H unt 8c Eaton, 1891. W arren , C. B. A Paraphrase of Job’s Dark Days. New York: H. Harrison, 1941. W atson, R. A. The Book of Job. ExpB. London: H odder 8c Stoughton, 1892. W atts, J. D. W ., J . J. O w ens, and Μ. E. T ate. “Jo b .” In Broadman Bible Commentary. Nashville: Broadman, 1971. 22—151. W eber, J.-J. Le Livre de Job. L ’EccUsiaste. Texte et commentaire. Paris: Desclée, 1947. W eiser, A rtu r. Das Buch Hiob iibersetzt und erklart. ATD. Gottingen: Vandenhoeck 8c Ruprecht, 1951. W eiser, . Tel Aviv: Yehuda, 1950—51. W eiser, L. Das ungekiirzte Buch A sher. Hiob: Deutsch von Lazarus Weiser. Jetzt ein Buch fü r jede Seele, die Kraft trinken kann vom alten starken Geiste Hiobs, friiher bei dem gekiirzten Urtext ein unverstandenes Buch. Vienna: T a’nach-Selbstverlag, 1931. W eitzner, E. The Book of Job: A Paraphrase. New York, 1960. W elte, B. Das Buch Hiob, iibersetzt und erklart. Freiburg im Breisgau, 1849. W em yss, T. Job and his Times, or a Picture of the patriarchal age . . . a new version of that . . . poem,

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a c c o m p a n ie d w ith no tes a n d d isserta tio n s. London: Jackson & Walford, 1839. W hite, G. C. T h e D isc ip lin e o f S u ffe r in g : N i n e sh o rt re a d in g s on the history o f Jo b . [ P a r t 2 . T h e C o n v e r sa tio n [i.e., the text of Job] in b la n k verse]. London: W. Skeffington 8c Son, 1880. W ilde, A. de. H e t boek J o b , in g e le id en v e r ta a ld . W ageningen: Veenman, 1974. ---------. D a s B u c h H io b ein g eleitet, ü b e rse tzt u n d e rla u te rt. OTS 22. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1981. W ilkinson, F. H . T h e B o o k o f J o b : T r a n s la te d a n d A n n o ta te d . London: Skeffington 8c Son, 1901. W ilson, P. T h e B o o k o f J o b T r a n s la te d in to E n g lis h V erse [of various meters]. Edinburgh: Jam es Thin, 1912. W interfield, von. K o m m e n ta r ü b e r d a s B u c h lo b . Leipzig: H. Walter, 1898. W olff, C. J o b , tr a d u it et com m en té. Colmar: C. Decker, 1873. W olfson, J . . D a s B u c h H io b : M i t B e z ie h u n g a u f P sych o lo g ie u n d P h ilo so p h ic d e r a lte n H e b r a e r n e u ü b e rse tzt u n d kritisc h erla u te rt. Breslau, 1843. W ray, N. T h e B o o k o f J o b : A B ib lic a l M a ste rp ie c e In te r p r e te d a n d E x p la in e d . Boston: Hamilton Bors, 1929. W rig h t, G. H . B ateson. T h e B o o k oj J o b : A n e w , critically re v ised tra n s la tio n , w ith essays o n sc a n sio n , d a te etc. London: Williams and Norgate, 1883. W utz, F. X. D a s B u c h J o b . In E ic h sta tte r S tu d ie n . 3. Stuttgart:

Kohlhammer, 1939 [Translation and Commentary]. See also S ch ilc h er, K. “Das Buch Job und Prof. W utz.” K le r u s B l 21 (1940) 67-68, 76-77. Y ellin, D. : — . Jerusalem , 1927. Y eru sh alm i, : . Jerusalem : Eretz-Israel, 1927. E. Z óckler, O. D a s B u c h J o b : T h e o lo g isch -h o m iletisch bearbeitet. Bielefeld: Velhagen und Klasing, 1872.---------. T h e B o o k o f Jo b . Lange’s Com m entary on the Holy Scriptures. Trans. L. J. Evans. Edinburgh: T. 8c T. Clark, 1875. Z schokke, H . D a s B u c h J o b ü b e rse tzt u n d e rkla rt. Vienna, 1875. 3. T

h e

B

o o k

as a W h o l e

In this section are listed works which offer interpretations of the Book of Job as a whole but are not arranged according to the sequence of the book itself. It includes, as do all the sections of the B ib lio g ra p h y , both books and articles, and both technical and nontechnical studies. Especially in the case of this particular biblical book, the degree of technicality of a work on the subject is no kind of indicator of the value of the work for understanding the biblical text. Works that concern only a part of the Book of Job are listed in the bibliographies to the relevant chapters, and are not m entioned here. A ald ers, W. W e t, tra g ed ie, e va n g e lic , een a n d e re b e n a d e r in g v a n h e t boek J o b . T he Hague: Voorhoeve, 1979. A ked, C. F. T h e D iv in e D r a m a o f J o b . Edinburgh: T. 8c T. Clark, 1913. A llen, F. E. P ra c tic a l L e c tu res on the B o o k o f J o b . New York: Revell, 1923. A lonso S chókel, L. “Toward a Dramatic Reading of the Book of Jo b .” S e m eia 7 (1977) 45—61. See also C renshaw , J . L. “T he Twofold Search: A Response to Luis Alonso Schókel.” S e m eia 7 (1977) 6 3 -6 9 .---------. “God’s Answer to Jo b .” C o n e 169 (1983) 45-51. A rc h er, G. L. T h e B o o k o f J o b : G o d ’s A n s w e r to the P ro b lem o f U n d e se rv e d S u ffe r in g . G rand Rapids: Baker, 1982. A n d erso n , H . “A nother Perspective on the Book o f Jo b .” T G U O S 18 (1961) 43-46. A u frec h t, W. E., ed. S tu d ie s in the B o o k o f J o b . S R Supplem ents 16. Waterloo: Wilfrid L aurier University, 1985. A ugé, R. “Jo b .” E n c B ib 4 (1965) 569-78. Baab, O . “T he Book of Jo b .” I n t 5 (1951) 329-43. B ade, W. F. T h e B o o k o f J o b a n d the S o lu tio n o f the P ro b lem o f S u ffe r in g I t O ffers. 2d ed. 1914. B aker, J . A. “T he Book of Job:

Unity and M eaning.” In S tu d ia B íb lic a 1 9 7 8 . I. JSO T Sup 11. Sheffield: JSO T, 1978. 17-26. B a rth , K. H io b . Biblische Studien 49. Neukirchen-Vluyn: N eukirchener Verlag, 1966 [= K irc h lic h e D o g m a tik 4/3, 1]. B arth élem y , D. “Dieu m éconnu par le vieil homme: Jo b .” V S 105 (1961) 445-63. B arylko, J . J o b . Buenos Aires: Ejucativo Sudamericano del Congreso Judio Mondial, 1970. B atten, L. W. “T he Epilogue of the Book of Jo b .” ATR 15 (1933) 125-28. B aum er, L. “Das Buch Hiob, Versuch einer psychopathologischen D eutung.” D e r N e r v e n a r z t 28 (1957) 546—50. B au m g ártel, F. D e r H io b d ia lo g . A u fr is s u n d D e u tu n g . BZAW 4/9. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1933. B a u m g a rtn e r, F. “Das

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Buch Job im Religionsunterricht.” C h r P a d B l 54 (1931) 87—88. Beet, W. E. “T he Message of the Book of Job.” E x p 48 (1922) 111-20. B en n ett, T. M. “W hen a Righteous Man Suffers: A Teaching Outline of the Book of Jo b .” S W J T 14 (1971) 57-64. ---------. W h e n H u m a n W isd o m F a ils: A n E x p o s itio n o f the B o o k o f J o b . G rand Rapids: Baker, 1971. B ergant, D ianne. “Why Do I Suffer?” T B T 20 (1982) 341-46. B ickell, G. J o b , D ia lo g ü b e r d a s L e id e n des G erech ten . Innsbruck, 1885. B igot, L. “Job (Livre de).” D ic tio n n a ire de théologie ca th o liq u e. 1925. 8:1458—86. B illh e im er, P. E. A d v e n tu r e in A d v e rs ity . Airesford: Christian Literature Crusade, 1984. B ish o p , E. F. F. J o b , T h e P a tr ia r c h o f E a s t P a le stin e : T h e E p ic th a t T r a n s jo r d a n G a v e to the S c rip tu r e s o f the W o rld . Reigate, Surrey: George J. H ieatt and Son, 1973. B lake, B. T h e B o o k o f J o b a n d the P ro b lem o f S u ffe rin g . London: H odder and Stoughton, 1911. B o n n a rd , P. E. “Job ou fhom m e enfin exstasié.” L u m V ie 13 (1964) 15-33. S o n o ra , A. I I co n testatore d i D io : Giobbe. T urin: Marietti, 1978. Bovey, W. “T he Unjust God? Jo b ’s Problem and O urs.” H ib J 36 (1937-38) 353-64. B radley, G. G. L e c tu res o n the B o o k o f J o b D e liv e r e d in W e stm in ste r A bbey. 2d ed. Oxford: Clarendon, 1888. B ran d e n b u rg , H . D a s B u c h H io b : D e r M e n s c h in d e r A n fe c h tu n g . Giessen: B runnen, 1969. B ran d o n , S. G. F. “T he Book of Job: Its Significance for the History of Religions.” H isto ry T o d a y 2 (1961) 547-54. B reak sto n e, R. J o b : A C ase S tu d y . New York: Bookman Associates, 1964. B re n n e r, A thalya. “God’s Answer to Job.” V T 31 (1981) 129-37. B rook, Peggy. J o b : A n In te r p r e ta tio n . London: Foundational Book Co., 1967. B ru n n e r, R. D e r G o tteskn ech t: E in e A u s le g u n g des B u c h e s H io b . 3d ed. Basel: J. F. Reinhardt. G am hy, O . U n e trilo g ie b iblique s u r le d r a m e d e la vie: u n su je t, trois co n cep tio n s: J o b , Q ohéleth . . . Isaie. París: Grassin, 1973. C an talau sa, J . de. L o libre de J o b (p re se n ta c ió n e ca u sid a s). . . . Rodés: Cultura d ’oc, 1983. C e u p p en s, F. D e libro lo b q u a estio n es selectae. Rome: Collegium Angelicum, 1932. C heyne, T. K. J o b a n d S o lo m o n or the W isd o m o f the O ld

T e sta m e n t. London: Kegan Paul, T rench 8c Co., 1887.---------. “Jo b .” E B . 1901. 2:246591. C laudel, P. L e liv re d e J o b . Paris: Plon, 1946. C lin es, D. J . A. “T he Argum ents of Jo b ’s T hree Friends.” In A r t a n d M e a n in g : R h e to ric in B ib lic a l L ite r a tu r e , ed. D. J. A. Clines, D. M. Gunn, and A. J. Hauser. JSO T Sup 19. Sheffield: JS O T Press, 1982. 199—214.---------. “Jo b .” T h e B o o ks o f the B ib le. Ed. B. W. Anderson. New York: Scribners, 1989.---------. O x fo rd C o m p a n io n to the B ib le. Ed. B. M. Metzger. New York: OUP (forthcom ing).---------. “Deconstructing the Book of Jo b .” In T h e B ib le as R h e to r ic : S tu d ie s in

Biblical Persuasion and Credibility, ed. M. W a rn e r. L o n d o n : R o u tle d g e , 1989. 65—80.

---------. “T he Wisdom Books.” In C r e a tin g the O ld T e sta m e n t, ed. S. Bigger. Oxford: Blackwell, 1989. 269—91. C ocagnoc, A. M. “Job sans beauté ni éclat.” US 422 (1956) 355— 71. C o n d e r, C. R. “Illustrations of the Book of Jo b .” P E F Q S (1898) 254-61. Cook, A. T h e R o o t o f the T h in g : A S tu d y o f J o b a n d the S o n g o f S o n g s. Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1968. Cook, E. D. T h e M a n W h o H a d E v e r y th in g : J o b . Glasgow: Church Pastoral Aid, 1978. C ooper, B. Z. “Why, God: A Tale of Two Sufferers.” T T o d 42 (1986) 423-24. C o rrad o d a A rienzo. “II dolore di Giobbe.” P a lC l 37 (1958) 735-39. C ox, D. “Reason in Revolt: T he Poetic Dialogues in the Book of Jo b .” S B F L A 24 (1974) 317-28. ---------. T h e T r iu m p h o f Im p o te n ce : J o b a n d the T r a d itio n o f the A b su rd . Analecta Gregoriana 212. Rome: Universitá Gregoriana Editrice, 1978. ---------. “A Rational Inquiry into God: Chapters 4—27 of the Book of Jo b .” G reg 67 (1986) 621—58. C raigie, P. C. “Biblical Wisdom in the M odern World. III. Jo b .” C r u x 16 (1980) 7-10. C ranfield, C. E. B. “An Interpretation of the Book of Jo b .” E x p T 54 (1943) 295-98. C rook, Μ. B. T h e C ru e l G od: J o b ’s S ea rch f o r the M e a n in g o f S u ffe r in g . Boston, 1959. ______, and S. A. E liot. “Tracing Jo b ’s Story.” H ib J 60 (1962) 323-29. C ru v e ilh ie r, P. “Pour une connaissanee plus parfaite du livre de Jo b .” R e v A p o l 53 (1931) 641-67; 54 (1932) 5-27. D alzell, S.H . L esso n s in the B o o k o f Jo b . London: Stockwell, 1922. D aniélou, J. “Les quatre visages de Jo b .” E tu d e s (September 1955) 145-56. ---------. L es sa in ts p a te n s de VA n d e n T e sta m e n t. Paris: Le Seuil. 109-28 [= H o ly P a g a n s o f the O ld T e sta m e n t. Tr. F. Faber. London: Longmans, Green 8c Co., 1957. 86-102]. D avis, H . G. “T he Message of the Book of Job for Today.” L C Q 6 (1933) 131-46. D avison, W. T. “Jo b .” H D B

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2:660—71. D evine, M. T h e S to ry o f J o b : A S y m p a th e tic S tu d y o f th e B o o k o f J o b in the L ig h t o f H isto ry a n d L ite r a tu r e . London: Macmillan, 1921. D ru ck er, A. P. “T he Book of Jo b .” T h e O p en C o u rt 49 (1935) 65-78. D uhm , B. “T he Book of Jo b .” T h e N e w W o r ld (1894) 328-44.

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Berlin-Lichterfelde: Runge, 1925. K n ig h t, H . “Job. Considered as a Contribution to Hebrew Theology.” S J T 9 (1956) 63-76. K nobel, A. W. D e c a rm in is J o h i a rg u m e n to , f i n e ac d isp o sitio n e. 1835. K óberle, J . D a s R a ts e l des L e id e n s : E in e E i n f i ih r u n g in d a s B u c k H io b . Berlin-Lichterfelde: E. Runge, 1905. K raelin g , E. G. H . T h e B o o k o f the W a ys o f G od. London: SPCK, 1938. K rin etsk i, L. “Ich weiss, mein Anwalt lebt: Die Botschaft des Buches Jo b .” B iK i 20 (1965) 8-12. K u h l, C. “Hiobbuch.” R G G 3, 3:35561. K u h n , J . W a r u m bist d u so, G ott? H io b d e r F r a g e n d e . Stuttgart: Quell, 1978. L acoque, A. “Est-ce gratuitem ent que Job craint Dieu?” M é la n g e s A . N e h e r . Paris: Librairie d ’Amérique et d ’Orient, Adrien-Maisonneuve, 1975. 175-79. L ang, B. “Ein kranker sieht sein Gott; das Buch Ijob.” In W ie w ir d m a n P r o p h e t in I s r a e l? A u fs a tz e z u m A lte n T e sta m e n t. Düsseldorf: Patmos, 1980. 137-48. L arch e r, C. “Job (Le Livre de).” C a th o licism e 6,25 (1965) 899-907. L atch, E. B. In d ic a tio n s o f the B o o k o f J o b . Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott, 1889. L au rin , R. “T he Theological Structure of Jo b .” Z A W 84 (1972) 86-89. L efévre, A. “Job.” D B S u p 4:1073-98. L evenson, J . D. T h e B o o k o f J o b in Its T im e a n d in the T w e n tie th C e n tu ry. Cambridge, MA: Harvard UP, 1972. L évéque, J . J o b et so n D ie u : E ssa i d ’exégése et de théologie biblique. 2 vols. Paris: Gabalda, 1970. ---------. “Le sens de la souffrance d ’aprés le livre de Jo b .” R T L 6 (1975) 438-59. ---------. “Sofferenza e metamorfosi: Una lettura del libro di Giobbe.” C o m m u n io 33 (1977) 4—16. ---------. “Tradition and Betrayal in the Speeches of the Friends.” C o n e 169 (1983) 3 9 - 4 4 . --------- · J o b , le liv re et le m essage. Paris: Cerf, 1 9 8 5 .______, and C. K am n en g iesser. ‘J o b (Le Livre de).” D ic tS p ir 8:1201-25. L evine, B. “René Girard on Job: T he Question of the Scapegoat.” S e m eia 33 (1985) 125-33. L ew in, M. “Job J e w E n c 7:193-95. Ley, J . “Characteristik der drei Freunde Hiobs und der W andlungen in Hiobs religiosen A nm erkungen.” T S K (1900) 331-63. L ic h ten stein , A. “Toward a Literary U nderstanding of the Book of Jo b .” H S 20/21 (1979-80) 34. L in d b lo m , J . B o k e n om J o b och b a n s L id a n d e . Lund: Gleerup, 1940. L ip m sk i, E. “Le juste souffrant.” F o iT e m p s 1 (1968) 329-42. L o ad er, J. A. “Job—Answer or Enigma?” In O ld T e s ta m e n t S tu d ie s, ed. J. A. Loader and J. Le Roux. Pretoria, 1984. 2:1-38. L ong, T. G. “Job: Second Thoughts in the Land of Uz.” T T o d 45 (1988) 5—20. L ovelock, R. T . J o b : A S tu d y o f the B o o k a n d Its M e ssa g e . Birmingham: Christadelphian, 1957. L u sseau , H . “Jo b .” In I n tr o d u c tio n a la B ib le , ed. A. Robert and A. Feuillet. 2d ed. 1959. 1:642—54. B u c h e s H io b s.

M aag, V. H io b : W a n d l u n g u n d V e r a r b e itu n g des P ro b lem s in N o v e lle , D ia lo g d ic h tu n g u n d S p a tfa s s u n g e n . FRLANT 128. Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1982. M acD onald, D. B. T h e H e b re w P h ilo so p h ic G e n iu s. Princeton: Princeton UP, 1936. M cK eating, H . “T he Central Issue of the Book of Jo b .” E x p T 82 (1971) 244—47. M acK echnie, J. J o b , M o r a l H e ro , R e lig io u s E g o is t a n d M y stic . Greenock: McKelvie 8c Sons, 1925. M acK enzie, R. A. F. “T he Transform ation of Jo b .” B T B 9 (1979) 5 1 -5 7 . --------- . “T he Cultural and Religious Background of the Book of Jo b .” C o n e 169 (1983) 3-7. M aillot, A. “Job: livre paien.” F o iV ie 69 (1970) 2-15. ---------. “L’apologétique du livre de Jo b .” R H P R 59 (1979) 567-76. M arbock, J. D a s B u c h H io b . Klosterneuberg: Ósterreichisches Katholisches Bibelwerk, 1980. M arsh all, J . T. T h e B o o k o f J o b . Philadelphia: American Baptist Publication Society, 1904. M artin , A. D. “T he Book of Jo b .” E x p T 26 (1914) 75-81. M atheney, Μ. P. “Major Purposes of the Book of Jo b .” S W J T 14 (1971) 1742. M ichel, D. “Hiob: Wegen Gott gegen Gott.” In his Isra els G la u b e im W a n d e l. Berlin,

1968. 252-77. M iles, J . J . “Gagging on Job, or the Comedy of Religious Exhaustion.” 7 (1977) 71-126. See also P o lzin, R. “Jo h n A. Miles on the Book of Job: A Response.” S e m eia 7 (1977) 127-33. M iskotte, K. H . A n tw o o r d u i t h e t O n w eer. Amsterdam: Uitgevers-Maatschappij Holland, 1936. See also Ridderbos, J. M itch ell, S. “T he Book of Jo b .” T ik k u n 1 (1986) 56-64. M óller, H . S i n n u n d A u fb a u des B u c h e s H io b . Berlin: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 1955. M oore, T. W. “T he Book of Job—Revised Version Old Testam ent.” M e th Q R 23 (1986) 261-71. M organ, G. C. T h e A n s w e r s o f J e s u s to J o b . London: Marshall, Morgan and Scott, 1934. M ü ller, Η . P. H io b u n d se in e F re u n d e . Zurich, 1970.---------. D a s H io b p ro b le m : S e in e S te llu n g u n d E n ts te h u n g im A lte n O r ie n t u n d im A lte n T e sta m e n t. Ertrage der Forschung 84. Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche BuchgesellS e m eia

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schaft, 1978. M u rp h y , R. E. “Job in the New Confraternity Version.” A E R 133 (1955) 16-29. N ash, J . “Images of Jo b .” RRel 42 (1983) 28-33. N elson, C. “Job: T he Confessions of a Suffering Person.” In Spinning a Sacred Yarn, ed. A. Abernethy, C. Carlson, P. Carque et al. New York: Pilgrim, 1982. 144-48. Ñ ola, A. M. di. “Giobbe, Libro de.” EncRel 3 (1971) 212-22. O re lli, A. von. “Hiob. D eutung eines biblischen Mythos.” Reform 25 (1976) 74—82, 148—58. O bbink, Η . T. Over het Boek Job. Amsterdam, 1935. P arisi, R. La divino libro di Giobbe esposto in lezioni teologico-critico-morali. Palermo, 1843. P ate rso n , J . The Wisdom of Israel: Job and Proverbs. Bible Guides 11. London: Lutterworth, 1961. P atric k , D. “Jo b ’s Address of God.” Z A W 91 (1979) 268-82. P au lse n , A. Hiob: Ein Buck der Bibel fiir unsere Zeit gedeutet. Ham burg: Wittig, 1947. Peake, A. S. “T he Art of the Book.” In Twentieth-Century Interpretations of the Book of Job: A Collection of Critical Essays, ed. P. S. Sanders. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1968. 109-13. P h illip s, T. W ·Job: A New Interpretation. London: Murby, 1937. P lan k , K. A. “Raging Wisdom: A Banner of Defiance U nfurled.” Judaism 36 (1987) 323—30. P o lzin, R ., and D. R obertso n , eds. Studies in the Book of Job. Semeia 7. Missoula: Scholars Press, 1977. P ope, Μ. H . “Job, Book of.” IDB 2:911—24. P o p m a, K. J. De boodschap van het boek Job. Goes: Oosterbaan, 1957. P ra t, F. “Job (Livre de).” DB 3:1560-78. P u ry , R. de. Job ou I’homme révolté. Geneva: Labor et Fides, 1955. Q u in te n s, W. “De boodschap van het boek Jo b .” ColBG 15 (1969) 17-33. R eid , S. A. “T he Book of Jo b .” Psychoanalytic Review 60 (1973) 373-91. R etief, G. J. Hy het die geloof behou: Oordenkinge oor Job. Kaapstad, Pretoria, 1957. R e x ro th , K. “The Book of Jo b .” Twentieth-Century Interpretations of the Book of Job: A Collection of Cr\ cal Essays, ed. P. S. Sanders. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1968. 107-109. [= Saturu Review, 23 April 1966, 21.] R ey n ierse, J . H . “A Behavioristic Analysis of the Book of }o h .”JPsychTheol 3 (1975) 75-8 1 . R ich te r, H . Studien zu Hiob: Der Aufbau des Hiobbuches, dargestellt an den Gattungen des Rechtslebens. Berlin: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 1959. R id d erb o s, J . “Dr Miskotte over het boek Jo b .” GerefTTs 38 (1937) 5 7 -72. RiebI, M aria. In Krise und Hoffhung, Arbeitsheft zum Buck Ijob. Klosterneuberg: Osterreichisches Katholisches Bibelwerk, 1981. R o b ertso n , D. “T he Book of Job: A Literary Study.” Soundings 56 (1973) 446-69. See also E. M. G o o d .---------. “T he Book of Jo b .” In his The Old Testament and the Literary Critic. Guides to Biblical Scholarship. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1977. 33—54. R obinson, T. H . The Cross of Job. London, 1916. [= The Cross in the Old Testament. Part 1. London: SCM, 1955.] R o lla, A, Job and His Friends. London: SCM, 1 9 5 4 . ---------. “II libro di Giobbe.” In II messaggio della salvezza. 3:535—57. R ongy, H . “Le dialogue poétique du livre de Job: Le prologue du livre de Jo b .” RevEcclLiege 25 (1933—34) 96—101, 168—71. R osenb erg , D. vv .Jo b Speaks: Interpreted from the Original Hebrew Book of Job: A Poet’s Bible. New York: H arper 8c Row, 1977. Row ley, Η . H . “T he Book of Job and Its M eaning.” BJRL 41 (1958—59) 167—207. [= From Moses to Qumran: Studies in the Old Testament. London: Lutterw orth, 1963. 139—83.] R uckm an , P. S. The Book of Job. Pensacola, FL: Pensacola Bible Institute, 1978. R yckm ans, G. “De scopo auctoris sacri in libro Jo b .” ColctMech 17 (1928) 674ff. S chapiro, D. S. “A Study of the Book of Jo b .” Tradition 13 (1972) 81-99. S cafella, F. “A Reading of Jo b .” JS O T 14 (1979) 63-67. Segal, Μ. H . “ [The Book of Job].” Tarb 13 (1941—42) 73—91. Sellin, E. Das Problem des Hiobbuches. Leipzig: A. Deichert, 1 9 1 9 .---------. Das Hiobproblem: Rede. Berlin: Preussische Druckerei, 1931. Seitz, O. Hiob: Eine Betrachtung über das Leiden. Berlin. Sew ell, R. B. “T he Book of Jo b .” In Twentieth-Century Interpretations of the Book of Job: A Collection of Critical Essays, ed. P. S. Sanders. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1968. 21-35. [= The Vision of Tragedy. New Haven: Yale UP, 1959. 9—24.] S icre, J . L. “El libro de Job (entrevista con su autor).” RazF 211 (1985) 621-29. S im on, M. “Hiob.” Zeitwende 7 (1931) 159-74. Singer, R. E. Job’s Encounter. New York: Bookman Associates, 1963. Skehan, P. “Job, Book of.” New Catholic Encyclopedia 7 (1967) 999—1001. [= Studies in Israelite Poetry and Wisdom.

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Yates, K. M. “U nderstanding the Book of Jo b .” RevExp 68 (1971) 433-45. Z enger, E., and R. B ósw ald. Durchkreuztes Leben: Besinnung a u f Hiob. Frankfurt: H erder, 1976.---------. “Ijob—ein Lebensbuch fiir Leidende und Mitleidende.” Lebendige Katachese 5 (1983) 106-10. Zika, C. “Ijob.” Biblia Revuo 4 (1968) 21-34. Z im m erm an n , E. H . “T he Book of Jo b .” MethQR 16 (1979) 703-16. Z orell, F. “Ex disputatione Jobi cum amicis suis.” VD 10 (1930) 265-68, 374-78; 11 (1931) 33-37. Zuck, R. B .Job. Chicago: Moody, 1978. Z uckerm an, B. “Job, Book of.” !DBS. 479—81.

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e r s io n s

a. Septuagint and Other Greek Versions Edition: Z iegler, J. lob. Septuaginta Gottingensis 11,4. Gottingen: Vandenhoeck Sc Ruprecht, 1982.

B ickell, G. De indole ac ratione versionis alexandrinae in interpretando libro Jobi. M a rb u rg , 18 6 2 .---------. “Der ursprünglische Septuagintatext des Buches Hiob.” Z T K 10 (1886) 557—64. ---------. Das Buch Job nach Anleitung der Strophik und der Septuaginta a u f seine ursprilngliche Form zuriickgefiihrt und in Versmasse des Urtextes ubersetzt. Vienna: Karl Gerold’s Sohn, 1894. Cox, C. E. “Methodological Issues in the Exegesis of LXX Jo b .” In VI Congress of the International Organization for Septuagint and Cognate Studies. Jerusalem , 1986. SBLSCS 23. Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1987. De L ange, N. R. M. “ Some New Fragments of Aquila on Malachi and Jo b .” V T 30 (1980) 291-94. D ieu, L. “Le texte de Job du Codex Alexandrinus et ses principaux témoins.” Muséon ns 13 (1912) 223— 74. F ield, F. Origenis Hexapla quae supersunt; sive veterum interpretum Graecorum in totum V Tfragmenta. Oxford, 1871-75. 2:4-82. G am m ie, J . G. “T he Angelology and Demonology in the Septuagint of the Book of Jo b .” HUCA 56 (1985) 1 -1 9 .---------. “T he Septuagint of Job: Its Poetic Style and Relationship to the Septuagint of Proverbs.” CBQ 49 (1987) 14-31. G ard, D. H . The Exegetical Method of the Greek Translator of the Book of Job. SBLMS 8. Philadelphia: Society of Biblical Literature, 1952.---------. “T he Concept of Jo b ’s Character according to the Greek Translator of the Hebrew T ext.” JB L 72

(1953) 182—8 6 .---------. “T he Concept of the Future Life according to the Greek Transíator of the Book of Jo b .” JB L 73 (1954) 137—43. G eh m an , H . S. “T he Theological Approach of the Greek T ranslator of Job 1-15.” JB L 68 (1949) 231-40. G erlem an , G. Studies in the Septuagint. I: The Book of Job. LUÁ 43. Lund, 1946. G ray, G. B. “T he Additions in the Ancient Greek Version of Jo b .” Exp 46 (1920) 422-38. H ea ter, H . A

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CBQMS 11. W ashington, DC: Catholic Biblical Association, 1982. Je ffre y , J. ‘‘T he Masoretic Text and the Septuagint Compared, with Special Reference to the Book of Jo b .” E x p T 36 (1924-25) 70-73. O rlinsk y , H . “Some Corruptions in the Greek Text of Jo b .” /Qf? 26 (1935-36) 1 3 3 -4 5 . --------- . “Studies in the Septuagint of the Book of Jo b .” H U C A 28 (1957) 53-74; 29 (1958) 229-71; 30 (1959) 153-57; 32 (1961) 239-68; 33 (1962) 119-51; 35 (1964) 57-78; 36 (1965) 37-47. S challer, B. “Das Testam ent Hiobs und die Septuaginta-Ü bersetzung des Buches Hiob.” B ib 61 (1980) 377—406. T isse ra n t, E. “Un m anuscrit palimpseste de Jo b .” R B (1912) 481—503. ---------. “Nouvelles notes sur le m anuscrit palimpseste de Jo b .” R B (1919) 89—105. ---------. “Note additionelle sur le m anuscrit palimpseste de Jo b .” R B (1919) 500-505. W evers, J . W. “Septuagintaforschungen.” T R u 22 (1954) 85—138, 171—90 (esp. 133—34). Z iegler, J . “Der textkritische W ert der Septuaginta des Buches Hiob.” M isc e lla n e a B íb lic a B . U bach. Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1934. 2:277-96. [= S ylloge. Gottingen: Vandenhoeck 8c Ruprecht, 1971. 9 -2 8 .]---------. B e itra g e z u m g rie ch isc h en J o b . MittSeptU 18. Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1985. Z im m erm an n , L. “T he Septuagint Appendix to Jo b .” T h e S co tist (1960) 48-59. S e p tu a g in t T r a n s la tio n T e c h n iq u e in the B o o k o f J o b .

b. Targum Editions:

M iq r a o t G edolot. Vilna, 1912. Sokoloff, M. T h e T a r g u m to J o b f r o m Q u m r a n Bar lian Studies in Near Eastern Languages and Cultures. Ramat-Gan, Jerusalem: Bar-Ilan University, 1974. A n d ersen , F. I. “The Q um ran T argum of Jo b .” B u r H i s t 10,3 (1974) 77-84. A u frec h t, W. E. “Aramaic Studies and the Book of Jo b .” In S tu d ie s in the B o o k o f J o b , ed. W. E. Aufrecht. S R Supplements 16. Waterloo, Ont.: Wilfrid Laurier UP, 1985. 54—66. B acher, W. “Das T argum zu Hiob.” M G W J 20 (1871) 208-23, 283-84. B oyarín, D. “Aramaic Notes I: Column 36 of 1 lQ T g Jo b .” J A N E S C U 6 (1974) 29-33. B row nlee, W. H . “T he Cosmic Role of Angels in the 11Q T argum of J o b J S J 8 (197 7) 83-84. C aquot, A. “Un écrit sectaire de Q oum rán: Le ‘T argoum de Jo b .” ’ R H R 185 (1974) 9—27. C larke, E. C. “Reflections on Some Obscure Hebrew Words in the Biblical Job in the Light of XI Q T g Job.” In S tu d ie s in P h ilo lo g y in H o n o r o f R . J . W illia m s, ed. G. Radish et al. SSEA 3. 1982. 17-30. D elcor, M. “Le T argum de Job et l’aram éen du temps de Jésus.” In E xég ese b ib liq u e et ju d a is m e [= R S R 47 (1973)], ed. J.-E. Ménard. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1973. 78—107. Diez M acho, A. “Le T argum de Job dans la tradition sefardie.” In D e la T o r a h a u M essie: E tu d e s d ’exégese et d h e rm é n e u tiq u e bibliques offerts a H e n r i C a zelles, ed. M. Carrez et al. Paris: Desclée, 1981. 545—56. Diez M arino, L. “Manuscritos del T argum de Jo b .” H e n 4 (1982) 41—6 4 . --------- . T a r g u m de J o b ; ed ició n p r in c ip e d e l M s . V illa - A m il n . 5 de A lfo n so Z a m o ra . Bibliotheca Hispana Bíblica 8. Madrid: Consejo Superiore, 1984. D upo n tSom m er, A. “Sur llQ tg Jo b , col. XXXIII.” S e m 15 (1965) 70-74. F itzm yer, J . A. “Some Observations on the Targum of Job from Q um ran Cave 11.” C B Q 36 (1974) 503-24 [= “T he First-Century Targum of Job from Q um ran Cave XI.” In A W a n d e r in g A r a m e a n : C o llected A r a m a ic E ssays. SBLMS 25. Missoula, MT: Scholars Press, 1979. 161-82.] Fohre r, G. “4QOrNab, llQ T g Jo b und die H ioblegende.” Z A W 75 (1963) 93-97. G arcia, F. “Nuevas Lecturas de llQ tg Jo b .” S e f 36 (1976) 241-49. G ray, J . “T he Masoretic Text of the Book of Job, the T argum and the Septuagint Version in the Light of the Q um ran Targum (llQ ta rg Job).” Z A W 86 (1974) 331-50. G reenfield, J . C., and S. Shaked. “T hree Iranian Words in the T argum of Job from Q um ran.” Z D M G 122 (1972) 33-45. Jo n g e lin g , B. E e n a ram ees B o ek J o b (l l Q t g J o b ) u i t de bibliotheek v a n Q u m r a n . Exegetica. N.R. 3. Amsterdam: Bolland, 1 9 7 4 .---------. “La colonne XVI de llQ tg Jo b .” R e v Q 8 (1974) 4 1 5 -1 6 .---------. “T he Job Targum from Q um ran Cave 11 (llQ tg Jo b ).” F o lO r 15 (1974) 181—8 6 .---------. “Contributions of the Q um ran Job T argum to the Aramaic C ave X I.

Orientation to Books about Job

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Vocabulary.” /S S 17 (1972) 191-97. ---------. “D étermination et indéterm ination dans llQ T g Jo b .” In Q u m r a n . S a p iété , sa théologie et so n m ilie u , ed. M. Delcor. BETL 46. Gembloux: Duculot, 1978. 131-36. K aufm an, S. A. “T he Job T argum from Q um ran.” J A O S 93 (1973) 317-27. K utsch, E. “Die Textgliederung im hebráischen Ijobbuch sowie in 4Q Tgjob und in llQ T g Jo b .” B Z 27 (1983) 221-28. L ew in, M. T a r g u m u n d M id r a s c h z u m B u c h e H io b . Bern, 1895. M astín, B. A. “A Re-examination of an Alleged O rthographic Feature in 4Q Targum ] o h . ” R e v Q 4 \ (1982) 109; 44 (1984) 583-84. M ilik, J. T. “T argum de jo b .” In D isco veries in the J u d e a n D esert. I V . Q u m r a n G ro tte 4. Oxford: Clarendon, 1977. 2:90. M oravkeh, T. “On the Language of the Job Targum from Q um ran.” In P ro c ee d in g s 6 th W o r ld C o n g ress o f J e w is h S tu d ie s. 1977. 159-65. M orrow , F. J . “ 1 IQ T argum Job and the Masoretic T ext.” R e v Q 8 (1973) 253-56. M uraoka, T. “Notes on the Old T argum of Job from Q um ran Cave X I.” R e v Q 9 (1977) 117-25. P loeg, J. van d er. L e T a r g u m d e J o b de la G ro tte 11 de Q u m r a n (11 Q tg jo b ): P re m iere c o m m u n ic a tio n . Akademie van W etenschappen, Amsterdam. Mededelingen. Afd. Letterkunde. N.R. 25/9. Amsterdam: NoordHollandsche Uitgevers Maatschappij, 1962---------- - and A. S. van d e r W oude. L e T a r g u m de J o b de la G rotte X I de Q u m r a n . Leiden: Brill, 1971. R in g g re n , H . “Some Observations on the Q um ran Targum of Jo b .” A S T I 11 (1978) 119-26. T u in stra , E. W. H e rm e n e u tisc h e a sp ecten v a n de ta r g u m v a n J o b u i t g ro t X I v a n Q u m r a n . Diss. Groningen, 1970. V asholtz, R. “Two Notes on llQ tg Jo b and Biblical Aramaic.” R e v Q 10 (1979) 93-94. ---------. “A Further Note on the Problem of Nasalization in Biblical Aramaic, llQ tg Jo b , and lQ A pG n.” R e v Q 10 (1979) 95-96. W eiss, A. D e lib ri J o b p a r a p h r a s i ch a ld a ica . Breslau, 1873. W eiss, R. “F urther Notes on the Q um ran Targum of J o b J S S 19 (1974) 1 3 -1 8 .---------. “Recensional Variations between the Aramaic Translation of Job from Q um ran Cave 11 and the Masoretic T ext.” S h n a to n 1 (1975) 1 2 3 -2 7 .---------. T h e A r a m a ic T a r g u m o f the B o o k o f J o b [Heb.]. Tel-Aviv: Tel-Aviv UP, 1979.---------. “Divergences from the MT Reflected in the Qumran T argum of Jo b ” [Heb.]. In S tu d ie s in the T e x t a n d L a n g u a g e o f the B ib le. 1981. 240— 44. W oude, A. S. van d er. “Das Hiobtargum aus Q um ran Hóhle XI.” VTSup 9 (1962) 322-31. Y ork, A. D. “ H Q T gJob XXI 4-5 (Job 32:13).” R e v Q 9 (1977) 1 2 7 -2 9 . -----—. “Zrc rw m ?h as an Indication of the Date of 11Q T g J o b T J B L 93 (1974) 445-46. Z uckerm an, B. T h e P rocess o f T r a n s la tio n in l l Q t g J o b , A P r e lim in a r y S tu d y. Diss. Yale, 1980. ---------. “Two Examples of Editorial Modification in llQ tg Jo b .” In B ib lic a l a n d N e a r E a s te r n S tu d ie s, E ssa ys in H o n o r o f W illia m S a n fo r d L a S o r , ed. G. A. Tuttle. G rand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1978. 269-75. ---------. “T he Date of 11Q T argum Job: A Paleographic Consideration of Its V o rla g e .lí J S P 1 (1987) 57-78.

c. Vulgate and Other Latin Versions Edition:

B ib lia S a c ra j u x t a la tin a m V u lg a ta m v ersio n em .

IX.

L ib r i H e s te r et J o b .

Rome, 1951.

B a rret, L. J o b selon la V u lg a te . Toulon: Im prim erie J. d ’Arc, 1925. C aspar!, C. P. D a s

B u c h H io b ( 1 ,1 —3 8 , 1 6 ) in H ie r o n y m u s ’s U b e rs e tzu n g a u s d e r a le x a n d rin isc h e n V ersion n a c h S t G a lle n e r H a n d s c h r ift saec. V I I I . Christiana: J. Dybwad, 1893. E rbes, P. J. D ie J o b U b e rs e tzu n g des hi. H ie ro n y m u s. Diss. Freiburg im Breisgau, 1951. G ailey, J . H . J e r o m e ’s L a tin V ersio n o f J o b f r o m the G reek, C h a p ters 1 —2 6 ; Its T e x t, C h a ra c ter a n d P r o v e n ie n c e .

Diss. Princeton, 1945. Salm on, P. “Le texte de Job utilisé par S. Grégoire dans les ‘Moralia.’” S tA n s 27-28 (1951) 1 8 7 -9 4 .---------. “De quelques legons du texte du Job dans la nouvelle édition de la Vulgate.” M is c e lla n e a B íb lic a B . U bach. M ontserrat, 195354. 177-84. W ahl, O. “Der Codex Rupefucaldinus—ein bedeutsam er Textzeuge des Ijobstextes der Sacra Parallela.” In T h eo lo g ie u n d L e b e n : F estg a b e f u r G eorge S o ld i, ed. A. Bodem et al. 1983. 25-30. Z iegler, J . R a n d n o te n a u s d e r V etu s L a tin a des B u c h e s J o b in sp a n isc h e n V u lg a ta b ib e ln . Sitzungberichte der Bayerischen Akademie der Wissenschaften. Phil.-hist. Kl., 1980. H eft 2. Munich: Bayerische Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1980.

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d. Peshitta and Other Syriac Versions Edition: R ignell, L. G. Job: The Old Testament in Syriac according to the Peshitta Version. 2 / la. Leiden: Brill, 1982. B aum ann, E. “Die Verwendbarkeit der Pesita zum Buche Hiob fur die Textkritik.” Z A W 18 (1898) 305-38; 19 (1899) 15-95, 288-309; 20 (1900) 177-201, 264-307. M andl, A. Die Peschita zu Hiob. Leipzig, 1892. R ig n ell, L. G. “Notes on the Peshitta of the Book of Jo b .” A S T I 9 (1973) 98-106. S m ith L ew is, A gnes. A Palestinian Syriac Lectionary Containing Lessons from the Pentateuch, Job, Proverbs, Prophets, Acts and Epistles. London, 1897. S tenij, E. De syriaca libri Jobi interpretatione quae Peschita vocatur. Helsingfors, 1887. V osté, J.-M . “Les deux versions syriaques de la Bible d ’apres Mar Isocdad de Merw (c. 850).” Bib 33 (1952) 235-36.

e. Arabic Editions: L agarde, P. de. Psalterium Job Proverbia Arabice. Gottingen, 1876. B ach er, W. Version arabe du livre de Job de R. Saadia ben Iosef al-Fayyoümi, publiée avec des notes hébraiques par W. Bacher. Accompagnée Tune traduction franqaise d ’apres Varabe par J. Derenbourg et H. Derenbourg. Paris: Leroux, 1899. B acher, W. Moses b. Samuel Hakohez ibn Chiquitilla: Arabische Ubersetzung zum Buche Hiob nebst arabischem Kommentar. Budapest, 1909. B a u d issin , W. W. von. Translationis antiquae arabicae libri Jobi quae supersunt ex apographo codicis Musei Britannici. Leipzig: Dorffling 8c Franks, 1870. C o h n , J . : . Das Buch Hiob, übersetzt und erklart von Gaon Saadia: Nach Handschriften der Bodlejana und der Kbniglichen Bibliothek in Berlin, herausgegeben und mit Anmerkungen versehen. Altona: Bonn, 1889. E cker, R. Die arabische Job-Übersetzung des Gaon Sa’adja ben Josef al-Fajjumi nach ihrer Eigenart untersucht. Munich: Kosel, 1962. U lback, E. “An Arabic Version of the Book of Jo b .” The Open Court 46 (1932) 78286 .

/. Ethiopic P e re ira , F. Μ. E. Le livre de Job. Version Ethiopienne publiée et traduite. PO 2. Paris:

Firmin-Didot, 1905. 561—688.

g. Coptic D ieu, L. “Nouveaux fragments préhexaplaires du livre de Job en copte sahidique.” Muséon (1912) 147-80. P o rc h e r, E. (ed.). Le livre de Job: Version copte bohairique. PO 87. Paris, 1924. Repr. T urnhout: Brepols, 1974. T attam , H . The Ancient Coptic Version of the Book of Job the Just. Translated into English and Edited. London: W. Straker, 1846. 6. L i t

er a r y

A s pe c t

s

A h ro n i, R. “An Examination of the Literary Genre of the Book of Jo b ” [Heb.]. Tarb 49 (1979-80) 1-13. A ntolín, T. “El género literario del libro de Jo b .” EstBíb 6 (1947)

449-50.

Bow es, P au la J . “T he Structure of Jo b .” T B T 20 (1982) 329-33. C eresko, A. R. “T he A:B::B:A W ord Pattern in Hebrew and Northwest Semitic with Special Reference to the Book of Jo b .” UF 7 (1976) 73—88. C oo p er, A. “Narrative Theory and the Book of Jo b .” SR 11 (1982) 35—44. C ox, D. “T he Book of Job as ‘BiPolar Masai’: Structure and Interpretation.” A nt 62 (1987) 12-25. D ion, P.-E. “Formulaic Language in the Book of Job: International Background and

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Ironical Distortions.” SR 16 (1987) 187-93. D obson, J. H . “Translating Job—Prose or Poetry?” B T 23 (1972) 243-44. F einberg, C. L. “T he Poetic Structure of the Book of Job and the Ugaritic Literature.” BSac 103 (1946) 283-92. F o h re r, G. “Form und Funktion in der H iobdichtung.” ZDMG 109 (1959) 31-49 [= Studien zum Buck Hiob (1956-1979). BZAW 159. 2d ed. Berlin: de Gruyter, 1983. 60-77]. ---------. “Dialog und Kommunication im Buche Hiob.” In La Sagesse de ΓA nden Testament, ed. M. Gilbert et al. BETL 51. Leuven: Leuven UP, 1979. 219-30. [= Studien zum Buck Hiob (1956-1979). BZAW 159. 2d ed. Berlin: de Gruyter, 1983. 135-46.] Frye, J . B. “T he Use of másál in the Book of Jo b .” Semitics 5 (1977) 59-66. G ordis, R. “Quotations as a Literary Usage in Biblical, O riental and Rabbinic Literature.” HUCA 22 (1949) 157 -2 1 9 .---------. “Virtual Quotations in Job, Sum er and Qumran.” V T 31 (1981) 410-27. H abel, N. C. “T he Narrative Art of Job: Applying the Principles of Robert Alter.” JS O T 27 (1983) 101—11. H ertzb erg , H . W. “Der Aufbau des Buches Hiob.” In Festschrift Alfred Bertholet, ed. O. Eissfeldt. Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr, 1950. 233-58. H erz, J. “Formgeschichtliche U ntersuchungen zum Problem des Hiobbuches.” WZLeipzig [FS A. Alt) 3 (1953-54) 107-12 (157-62). H o ffm an , Y. “Irony in the Book of Jo b .” Immanuel 17 (1983) 7-21. H o lb ert, J. C. The Function and Significance of the Klage in the Book of Job with Special Reference to the Incidence of Formal and Verbal Irony. Diss. Southern Method1st University, 1975. H o lla n d , J . A. “On the Form of the Book of Jo b .” AJBA 1 (1972) 160-77. H o n th eim , J. Das Buch Hiob als strophisches Kunstwerk. Freiburg im Breisgau, 1904. Irw in , W. A. “Poetic Structure in the Dialogue of ] o h .”JN E S 5 (1946) 26-39. K issane, E. J. “T he Metrical Structure of Jo b .” In Twentieth-Century Interpretations of the Book of Job: A Collection of Critical Essays, ed. P. S. Sanders. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1968. 78-85. [= Kissane, Ι-lx.] K utsch, E. “Die Textgliederung im hebráischen Ijobbuch sowie in 4QTgJob und in llQ T g Jo b .” BZ 27 (1983) 221-28. Ley, J . “Die metrische Beschaffenheit des Buches Hiob.” TSK (1895) 635-92; (1897) 7—42. L ic h ten stein , A. “Irony in the Book of Jo b .” Dor 13 (1984—85) 41—42. L óhr, M. “Beobachtungen zur Strophik im Buche Hiob.” B ZA W 33 (1918) 303-21. M asinia F. “Observaciones al rededor de la poesia del Viejo Testam ento y del libro de Job en particular.” Davar 69 (1957) 46—53. N ich o lls, P. H . The Structure and Purpose of the Book of Job. Diss. Hebrew University, 1982. Peake, A. S. “T he Art of the Book.” In Twentieth-Century Interpretations of the Book of Job: A Collection of Critical Essays, ed. P. S. Sanders. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: PrenticeHall, 1968. 109—13. [= Peake, 41—45.] P erso n s, G. W. “T he Structure and Purpose of the Book of Jo b .” BSac 138 (1981) 139-57, 213-29. P o lzin , R. “T he Framework of the Book of Jo b .” Int 28 (1974) 182—200. ---------. Biblical Structuralism: Method and Subjectivity in the Study of Ancient Texts. Semeia Supplements. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1977. 57—125. P ow er, W. J. A. A Study of Irony in the Book of Job. Diss. T oronto, 1961. R eynolds, R o b erta M. Piety and Paradox: A Rhetorical Study of the King James Version of the Book of Job. Diss. University of Oregon, 1984. R ic h te r, H . Studien zu Hiob: Der Aufbau des Hiobbuches, dargestellt an den Gattungen des Rechtslebens. Berlin: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 1959. R o b ertso n , D. “T he Book of Job: A Literary Study.” Soundings 56 (1973) 446—69. ---------. “T he Book of Jo b .” In The Old Testament and the Literary Critic. Guides to Biblical Scholarship. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1977. 33-54. Saw yer, J. F. A. “T he Authorship and Structure of the Book of Jo b .” Studia Bíblica 1978: I. JSO TSup 11. JS O T Press: Sheffield, 1979. 253-57. Seitz, C. R. “Job. FullStructure, Movement and Interpretation.” Int 43 (1989) 5-17. S kehan, P. W. “Strophic Patterns in the Book of Jo b .” CBQ 23 (1961) 125-42. [= Studies in Israelite Poetry and Wisdom. CBQMS 1. 1971. 96—113.] Sm ick, E. B. “Architectonics, Structured Poems, and Rhetorical Devices in the Book of Jo b .” In A Tribute to Gleason Archer, ed. W.

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Kaiser and R. Youngblood, 1986. 87-104. S n aith , N. H . “T he Introductions to the Speeches in the Book of Job: Are They in Prose or in Verse?” Textus 8 (1973) 13337. T ur-S inai, N. H . “ [The Poem of Job as a Literary Creation].” 300-305 (1954) 25 . U rb ro ck , W. “Formula and Them e in the Song-Cycle of Jo b .” In SBL Proceedings 1972, 1972. 2:459—8 7 .---------. “Oral Antecedents to Job: A Survey of Formulas and Formulaic Systems.” Semeia 5 (1976) 111-37.---------. “Job as Drama: Tragedy or Comedy?” CurTM 8 (1981) 35-40. V an d e r L ugt, P. “Stanza-Structure and W ord-Repetition in Job 3-14 .”J S O T 40 (1988) 3—38. V etter, P. Die Metrik des Buches Job. Biblische Studien 2. Freiburg in Breisgau, 1897. W ebster, E. C. “Strophic Patterns in Job 3 -2 8 .” JS O T 26 (1983) 33-60. W e sterm an n , C. Der Aujbau des Buches Hiob. Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr, 19 5 6 .---------. The Structure of the Book of Job: A Form-Critical Analysis. Tr. C. A. Muenchow. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1981. W hedbee, J . W. “T he Comedy of Jo b .” Semeia 7 (1977) 1-39. W illiam s, J . G. “ ‘You Have Not Spoken T ru th of Me’: Mystery and Irony in Jo b .” Z A W 83 (1971) 2 3 1 -5 5 .---------. “Comedy, Irony, Intercession: A Few Notes in Response.” Semeia 7 (1977) 135-45.

7.

M

o t if s

, T

h e o l o g ic a l

E

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A iu ra, T. “Wisdom Motifs in the Joban Poem.” Kwansei Gakuin University A nnual Studies 15 (1966) 1—20. A lbertz, R. Weltschópfung und Menschenschopfung, untersucht bei Deuterojesaja , Hiob und im den Psalmen. Calwer Theologische M onographien A3. Stuttgart: Calwer, 1974. A lonso Díaz, J . “L a e x p e rie n c ia de Job e n la ó rb ita del a m o r de D io s.” BibFe 1 (1975) 66-81. A rarat, N. “Concerning Jo b ’s ‘Fear of God” ’ [Heb]. BM ik 29 (1983-84) 263-78. A rc h er, G. L. The Book of Job: God’s Answer to the Problem of Undeserved Suffering.

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Kirche, FS H. Haag. Giitersloh: Mohn, 1973. 13-21. Kapusta, M. A. et al. “The Book of Job and the Modern View of Depression.” AnnlnternM ed 86 (1977) 667-72. Kardong, T. “The True Image of Job—An Existentialist Who Searches Deeper Conversion.” ColcTFu 59 (1984) 1-14. Kinet, D. “The Ambiguity of the Concepts of God and Satan in the Book of Job. Cone 169 (1983) 30-35. King, A. R. The Problem of Evil: Christian Concepts and the Book of Job. New York: Ronald Press Co., 1952. Kleinert, P. “Das spezifisch Hebráische im Buche Job.” TSK 59 (1886) 267-300. K nieschke, W. Kulturund Geisteswelt des Buches Hiob. Zeit- und Streitfragen des Glaubens, der Weltanschauung und Bibelforschung 15/9—12. Berlin-Lichterfelde: E. Runge, 1925. Konig, E. “The Problem of Suffering in the Light of the Book of Job.” E xpT 32 (1920-21) 361-63. Kópp, W. “Vom Hiobthema und der Zeit als Leiden.” TLZ 74 (1949) 389-96. K óppel, M. “Jahwe’s Allmacht und Gerechtigkeit in den Reden Hiobs.” Z A W 29 (1909) 204-14. Rubina, Veronica. “Ja-Sagen zur Wirklichkeit: Leiden und Leidbewáltigung im Buche Ijob.” KatBl 107 (1982) 743-53. Kurzweil, B. “Job and the Possibility of Biblical Tragedy.” In Arguments and Doctrines . . . A. A. Cohen. New York, 1970. 323—44. Kusenberg, K. “Das Buch Hiob: Stichworte bei meiner Lektiire.” Merkur 23 (1969) 543—46. Kutsch, E. “Hiob: leidender Gerechter—leidender Mensch.” KuD 19 (1973) 197—214. Lacocque, A. “Job and the Symbolism of Evil.” B R 24—25 (1979-80) 7-19. ---------. “Job or the Impotence of Religion and Philosophy.” Semeia 19 (1981) 33-52. Lafont, G. “L’exces du malheur et la reconnaissance de Dieu.” N R T 101 (1979) 724-39. Larue, G. A. “The Book of Job on the Futility of Theological Discussion.” The Personalist 45 (1964) 72-79. Laurin, R. “The Theological Structures of Job.” Z A W 84 (1972) 86-92. Lévéque, J. “Job, ou l’espoir déraciné.” VS 125 (1971) 287—3 0 4 .---------. “L’argument de la création dans le livre de Job.” In La création dans VOrient anden, ed. L. Derousseaux. Paris: Cerf, 1987. 261-99. Ley, J. “Das Problem im Buche Hiob und dessen Losung.” Neue Jahrbuch fu r Philosophie und Padagogie (1986) 125ff. L ichtenstein, Μ. H. “The Poetry of Poetic Justice: A Comparative Study in Biblical Imagery.”JA N E SC U 5 (1974) 255—65. L illie, W. “The Religious Significance of the Theophany in the Book of Job.” E xpT 68 (1956—57) 355—58. Lindblom , C. J. “Die Vergeltung Gottes im Buche Hiob: Eine ideenkritische Skizze.” In A. von Bulmerincq Gedenkschrift. Abhandlungen der Herder-Gesellschaft und der Herder-Instituts zu Riga 6/3, 1938. 80-97. Link, C. “Die Überwindung eines Problems: Bemerkungen zur Frage der Theodizee.” In Wenn nicht jetzt, wann dann? FS H.-J. Kraus, ed. H.-G. Geyer et al. Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1983. 339—51. Loader, J. A. “Different Reactions of Job and Qoheleth to the Doctrine of Retribution.” O TW SA 15 (1972) 43—48. Long, T. J. “Life after Death: The Biblical View.” BTod 20 (1982) 347-53. Macaluso, G. Profeti e martiri. 1. Giobbe come uomo e come Cristo. 2. II messaggio del Mahatma Gandhi. Rome: Edizione “Pensiero 8c Azione,” 1970. MacFadyen, J. E. The Problem of Pain: A Study in the Book of Job. London: James Clarke 8c Co., 1917. MacKenzie, R. A. F. “The Transformation of Job.” BTB 9 (1979) 51-57. M acleod, W. B. The Affhctions of the Righteous as Discussed in the Book of Job and the New Light of the Gospel. London: Hodder 8c Stoughton, 1911. Magonet, J. “The Problem of Suffering in the Bible.” Month 244 (1982) 311-16. Many, G. Der Rechtsstreit mit Gott (rib) im Hiobbuch. Diss. Munich, 1970. Marcus, R. “Job and God.” R R 14 (1949-50) 5-29. M arie-Paul du Christ. “Job et le mystere de la mort.” VS 422 (1956) 392-406. Maston, T. B. “Ethical Content in Job.” SW JT 14 (1971) 43—56. M attioli, A. “Le ultime ragioni dell’esistenza del male e della sofferenza in Giobbe.” La Sapienza della Croce Oggi 3 (1976) 157-87. M einhold, J. “Das Problem des Buches Hiob.” NJDTh 1 (1892) 63-109. M ichel, W. L. “Death in Job.” Dialogue 11 (1972) 183—89. M ilgrom , J. “The Cultic and Its Influence in Psalms and Job.” JQ R 58 (1967) 115-25. M óller, M. “Die Gerechtigkeit Gottes des Schópfers in der Erfahrung seines Knechtes Hiob.” TVers 6 (1975) 25-36. Moore, R. D. “The Integrity of Job.” C B Q 45 (1983) 17-31. M üller, K. “Die Auslegung der Theodizeeproblems im Buche Hiob.” ThBl 1 (1922) 73-79. M untingh, L. “Life, Death and Resurrection in the Book of Job.” O TW SA 17-18 (1974-75) 32-44. Murphy,

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Mutterschoss weg? Mit Ijob klagen lernen.” Entschluss 40 (1985) 32, 34-35. Ruprecht, E. “Leiden und Gerechtigkeit bei Hiob.” Z TK 73 (1976) 424-45. Rutler, G. W. The Impatience of Job. La Salle, IL: Sugden, 1982. Samuel, J. B. The Prophetic Character ofJob; or, The Solution of a Great Problem. Goodmayes: Hebrew Chrisdan Tesdmony to Israel, 1954. Sanders, J. A. “Suffering as a Divine Discipline in the Old Testament and Postbiblical Judaism.” Rochester Divinity School Bulletin 28 (1953) 28—33. Scammon, J. F. I f I Could Find God: Anguish and Faith in the Book of Job. Valley Forge, PA: Judson, 1974. Schárf, Rivka R. Die Gestalt des Satans im Alten Testament. Zürich: Rascher, 1948. Schim m el, J. “Job and the Psychology of Suffering and Doubt.” JPsychJud 11 (1987) 239-49. Schm idt, H. Hiob: Das Buck vom Sinn des Leidens. Gekiirzt und verdeutscht. Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr, 1927. Schm idt, P. “Sinnfrage und Glaubenskrise: Ansátze zu einer kritischen Theologie der Schópfung im Buche Hiob.” GeistL 45 (1972) 348-63. Schmitt, E. Leben in den Weisheitsbiichern, Job, Spriiche und Jesus Sirach. Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, 1954. Scholnick, Sylvia H. Fawsuit Drama in the Book of Job. Diss. Brandéis, 19 7 5 .---------. “The Meaning of mispat in the Book of Job T J B L 101 (1982) 521-29. Schwarz, W. “Naturschau im Buch Hiob.” Frankfurter Israelitische Gemeindeblatter 9 (1930—31) 337—40. Seeskin, K. “Job and the Problem of Evil.” Philosophy and Literature 11 (1987) 226—41. Seinecke, L. Der Grundgedanke des Buches Hiob. Clausthal: Grosse, 1863. Seitz, O. Hiob: Eine Betrachtung iiber das Leiden. Berlin: O. Seitz, 1931. Sekine, M. “Schópfung und Erlósung im Buche Hiob.” Von Ugarit nach Qumran, FS O. Eissfeldt. BZAW 77. Berlin: A. Topelmann, 1958. 213-23. Shapiro, D. S. “The Problem of Evil and the Book of Job.” Judaism 5 (1956) 46-52. Smick, E. B. “Mythology and the Book of J o b .”J E T S 13 (1970) 1 0 1 -8 .---------. “Another Look at Mythological Elements in the Book of Job.” W TJ 40 (1977-78) 213-28. Sockman, R. W. The Meaning of Suffering. 1961. Southwick, J. S. ‘Job, An Exemplar for Every Age.” Enc 45 (1984) 373-91. Sperka, J. S. The Book of Job: M ankind on Trial, A Modern Interpretation of the Most Perplexing Problem of All Ages. New York: Bloch, 1979. Stamm, j j · “Gottes Gerechtigkeit, das Zeugnis des Hiobbuches.” Der Grundriss. Schweizerische Reformierte Monatsschrift 5 (1943) 1—13. Stockhammer, M. Das Buch Hiob: Versuch einer Theodizee. Vienna: Europaischer Verlag, 1963.---------. “The Righteousness of Job.” Judaism 7 (1958) 6 4 - 7 1 .---------. “Theorie der Moralprobe.” ZRGG 22 (1970) 164-67. Susm an, Margarete. Das Buch Hiob und das Schicksal des jüdischen Volkes. Zurich, 1946. 2d ed. Basel: Herder, 1968. Sutcliffe, E. F. Providence and Suffering in the Old and New Testaments. Oxford, 1955. Swain, L. “Suffering in Job.” CleR 51 (1966) 624-31. Taradach, M adeleine. “De la ‘modernité’ de l’absurde chez Job á la lumiére de l’absurde chez Camus.” EstFranc 81 (1980) 155—68. Taylor, W. S. “Theology and Therapy in Job.” TTod 12 (1955-56) 451-63. Tengbom , M. Sometimes I Hurt: Reflections and Insights from the Book of Job. Nashville: Nelson, 1980. T helen, M ildred F. “Job and the Biblical Doctrine of Man .”JB R 27 (1959) 201-5. Thieberger, F. “Joña, Hiob, und das Problem der Gerechtigkeit.” Der Morgen 2 (1926) 128-40. Thom as, D. “Types of Wisdom in the Book of Job.” IndJT 20 (1971) 157-65. Thom pson, K., Jr. “Out of the Whirlwind: The Sense of Alienation in the Book of Job.” Int 14 (1960) 51—63. Torrance, J. B. “Why Does God Let Men Suffer? A Sermon on Job.” Int 15 (196) 157-63. Toynbee, A. J. “Challenge and Response: The Mythological Clue.” In Twentieth-Century Interpretations of the Book of Job: A Collection of Critical Essays, ed. P. S. Sanders. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1968. 86—97. [= A Study of History. Abridged ed. New York: OUP, 1947. 60-67. And A Study of History (original ed.). New York: OUP, 1934. 1:293-98.] Trom p, N. J. Primitive Conceptions of Death and the Nether World in the Old Testament.

BibOr 21. Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1969. Urbrock, W. J. “Reconciliation of Opposites in the Dramatic Ordeal of Job.” Semeia 5

(1976) 111-37.

Vawter, B. Job and Jonah: (Questioning the Hidden God. New York: Paulist Press, 1983. V ischer, W. Hiob: Ein Zeuge Jesu Christi. Munich: Kaiser, 1934. ---------. “Hiob, ein Zeuge Jesu Christi.” ZZ 11 (1963) 386-414. V ogels, W. “The Spiritual Growth of Job:

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A Psychological Approach to the Book of Job.” B TB 11 (1981) 7 7 - 8 0 .---------. “The Inner Development of Job: One More Look at Psychology and the Book of Job.” ScEs 35 (1983) 227-30. W agner, S. “‘Schópfung’ im Buche Hiob.” ZeichZt 34 (1980) 93-96. W aldman, N . M. “Tradition and Experience in the Book of Job.” Studies in Jewish Education and Judaica, ed. A. Shapiro and B. Cohen. 1984. 157—68. W aldner, E. “Das todeswiirdige Verbrechen der Freunde Jobs.” Seelsorger 7 (1930—31) 181—84. Watté, P. “La logique de Dieu [a propos R. Girard].” Rev nouv 83 (1986) 177—80. W eiser, A. “Das Problem der sittlichen Weltordnung im Buche Hiob: Unter Beriicksichtigung seiner Entwicklung bei den Griechen und in der israelitischen Religion.” ThBl 2 (1923) 157-64. [= Glaube und Geschichte im Alten Testament und andere ausgewdhlte Schriften. Gottingen: Vandenhoeck 8c Ruprecht, 1961. 9-19.] West, M. S. “The Book of Job and the Problem of Suffering.” E xpT 40 (1928—29) 358—64. W esterm ann, C. “The Two Faces of Job.” Cone 169 (1983) 15-22. W olfers, D. “Is Job After All Jewish?” Dor 14 (1985-86) 3 9 - 4 4 .---------. “Is Behemoth Also Jewish?” Dor 14 (1985-86) 220-27. W ood, J. “The Idea of Life in the Book of Job.” TGUOS 18 (1959-60) 29-37. W right, J. H. “Problem of Evil, Mystery of Sin and Suffering.” CommSpok 6 (1979) 140-56. W ürthwein, E. Gott und Mensch in Dialog und Gottesreden des Buches Hiob. Habilitationsschrift. Tübingen, 1938. ------ . “Gott und Mensch in Dialog und Gottesreden des Buches Hiob.” In Wort und Existenz. Gottingen, 1970. 217-95. Young, D. M. Fencing with the Promises: Report of a Project on Proper and Faithful Cursing — A Study of the Book of Job with Senior High Youth. Diss. Boston University, 1981. Zahrnt, H. Wie kann Gott das zulassen? Hiob— der Mensch im Leid. Munich: Piper, 1985. Zerafa, P. P. The Wisdom of God in the Book of Job. Rome: Herder, 1978. Zink, J. K. “Impatient Job.” JB L 84 (1965) 147-52. Zurhellen-Pfleiderer, E. “Das Hiobproblem— Vom Sinn des Leidens.” Christentum und Wirklichkeit 10 (1932) 111—18, 131—38, 154— 61. 8. J

o b

a n d

It

s

In

f l u e n c e

This section of the bibliography surveys the influence of the Book of Job on later thinking and writing. It should not be imagined that the study of the “history of interpretation,” as it is often called, is merely an interesting or optional addition to the study of the book itself. For all study of the book, including the present commentary, is itself part of the history of interpretation; every item in the whole of this bibliography could equally well be registered under the heading of “Job and Its Influence.” The present section, however, is focused upon the influence of the Book of Job on writers and thinkers who were not necessarily intent on interpreting the book, but who nevertheless have been affected by its theme and its imagination. Inevitably there is some overlap with other sections of the bibliography, but on the whole the attempt has been made to focus the present section on the effects the Book of Job has had upon other literatures, especially upon philosophy and imaginative writing.

a. General Berry, D. L. “Scripture and Imaginative Literature Focus on Job.” Journal of General Education 19 (1967) 49-79. Besserm an, L. L. The Legend of Job in the Middle Ages. Cambridge, MA: Harvard UP, 1979. Bochet, M. “Job in Literature.” Cone 169 (1983) 7 3 77. D aiches, D. God and the Poets. Oxford: Clarendon, 1984. Eltz-H offm ann, Liselotte von. “Hiob in der Dichtung.” Wege zum Menschen: Monatsschriftfiir Seelsorge, Psychotherapie und Erziehung 19 (1967) 184-94. Francisco, N ancy A. “Job in World Literature.” RevExp 68 (1971) 521—33. Frenzel, Elisabeth. “Hiob.” In Stoffe der Weltliteratur: Ein Lexikon dichtungsgeschichtlicher Langsschnitte. Stuttgart, 1962. 276—79. Friedm an, M. “The Modern Job: On Melville, Dostoievsky and Kafka.” Judaism 12 (1963) 436—55. Gerritson,

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A. “Bibliodrama about Job.” In Current Issues in Psychology of Religion, ed. J. Belzen and J. Lans. 1986. 112-23. Geyer, C.-F. “Das Hiobbuch im christlichen und nachchristlichen Kontext. Anmerkungen zur Rezeptionsgeschichte.” Kairos 28 (1986) 174—95. Gietmann, G. Parzival, Faust, Job. Freiburg, 1887. Glatzer, N. M. The Dimensions of Job: A Study and Selected Readings. New York: Schocken, 1969. Goodheart, E. “Job and Romanticism.” Reconstructionist 24 (1958) 7 - 1 2 .---------. “Job and the Modern World.” Judaism 10 (1961) 21—28. [= Twentieth-Century Interpretations of the Book of Job: A Collection of Critical Essays, ed. P. S. Sanders. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1968. 98-106.] H ausen, A. Hiob in der franzosischen Literatur: Zur Rezeption eines alttestamentlichen Buches. Europáische Hochschulschriften 13/17. Frankfurt: Peter Lang, 1972. Levenson, J. D. The Book of Job in Its Time and in the Twentieth Century. Cambridge, MA: Harvard UP, 1972. Lüth, E. “Das Buch Hiob und die Deutschen.” In A u f gespaltenem Pfad, FS Margarete Susman, ed. M. Schlossner. Darmstadt: Erato-Presse, 1964. 63ff. MacLean, H. “The Job Drama in Modern Germany.” AU LLA 2 (1954). Matthews, M. S. Issues and Answers in the Book of Job and Joban Issues in Three Twentieth-Century Writers: C. Jung, R. Frost, A. MacLeish. Diss. Florida State University, 1976. Mura, G. “Giobbe e il pensiero contemporáneo; l’esilio della parola.” Nuova umanita 1,6 (1979) 23—44; 2,7 (1980) 36— 61; 2,10-11 (1980) 29-62. O ’Hara, M. L. “Truth in Spirit and Letter: Gregory the Great, Thomas Aquinas, and Maimonides on the Book of Job.” In From Cloister to Classroom, ed. E. Elder. 1986. 47—79. Owen, J. The Five Great Sceptical Dramas of History (Prometheus Vinctus, Job, Faust, Hamlet, El Mágico). London, 1896. P in ell, J. “El Canto de los ‘Threni’ en las Misas cuaresmales de la antigua liturgia hispánica.” In Eulogia: P. Burkhard Neunheuser, ed. M. Arranz et al. 1979. 317—66. Rabory, J. Le livre de la souffrance: Le livre de Job, dans l’histoire, la théologie, la liturgie. Paris, 1917. R avisi, G. “Giobbe, nostro contemporáneo.” In his Giobbe, traduzione e commento. Rome: Borla, 1984. 185-255. Roth, j . “ [Atti-

tudes toward the Book of Job as Reflected by Jewish and Christian Thinkers: A Survey].”

BM ik 50 (1972) 306-9, 381-82. Sanders, P. S., ed. Twentieth-Century Interpretations of the Book of Job: A Collection of Critical Essays. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1968. Schubert, Beatrix. “Vom Umgang mit dem menschlichen Leiden: ein Versuch iiber Ijob in der modernen Literatur.” E rbAuf 60 (1984) 356—75. Strolz, W. “Die Hiob-Interpretation bei Kant, Kierkegaard und Bloch.” Kairos 23 (1981) 75-87.

b. Early Jewish Testament of Job. Editions: Jam es, M. R. Apocrypha Anécdota. 2d ser. Cambridge, 1897. 104—37. Brock, S. Testamentum lobi. Leiden, 1967. Kraft, R. et al. Testament of Job according to the ST Text. Missoula, MT: Scholars Press, 1974. Translation: Spittler, R. P. “Testament of Job.” In The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, ed. J. H. Charlesworth. London: Darton, Longman and Todd, 1983. 1:829—68. See also C ollins, J. J. “Structure and Meaning in the Testament of Job.” In Society of Biblical Literature: 1974 Seminar Papers, ed. G. MacRae. Cambridge, MA, 1974. 1:35-52. D elcor, M. “Le Testament de Job, la priére de Nabonide et les traditions targoumiques.” In Bibel und Qumran: Beitrage zur Erforschung der Beziehungen zwischen Bibel- und Qumranwissenschaft, Hans Bardtke zum 22.9.1966, ed. S. Wagner. Berlin: Evangelische Haupt-Bibelgesellschaft, 1968. 57-74. H orst, P. W. van der. “The Role of Women in the Testament of Job.” NedTTs 40 (1986) 273-89. Jacobs, I. “Literary Motifs in the Testament of Job.” JJS 21 (1970) 1-10. Philonenko, M. “Le Testament de Job et les Thérapeutes.” Sem 8 (1958) 51-53. ---------. “Le Testament de Job.” Sem 18 (1968) 1—77. Schaller, B. “Das Testament Hiobs.” JiidSH R Z (1979) 305—8 7 .---------. “Das Testament Hiobs und die SeptuagintaÜbersetzung des Buches Hiob.” Bib 61 (1980) 377-406. Baring-Gould, S. Legends of the Old Testament Characters from Talmud and Other Sources. London, 1871. 52-59. Baskin, Judith R. Pharaoh’s Counselors: Job, Jethro and Balaam in Rabbinic and Patristic Tradition. Brown Judaic Studies 47. Chico, CA: Scholars Press,

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1983. Carstensen, R. N. “The Persistence of the ‘Elihu’ Tradition in the Later Jewish Writings.” L T Q 2 (1967) 37-46. Fine, H. A. “The Tradition of a Patient Job.” JB L 74 (1955) 28-32. Glatzer, N. H. “The Book of Job and Its Interpreters” [mainly medieval Jewish]. In Biblical Motifs: Origins and Transformations. Philip W. Lown Institute of Advanced Judaic Studies. Studies and Texts 3. Cambridge, MA: Harvard UP, 1966. 197220. ---------. “Jüdische Ijob-Deutungen in den ersten christlichen Jahrhunderten.” FreibRu 26 (1974) 31-34. Gorringe, T. J. “Job and the Pharisees.” Int 40 (1986) 1728. Jacobs, I. The Book of Job in Rabbinic Thought. Diss. University College, London, 1970. Ravenna, A. “II caso Giobbe e la tradizione talmúdica.” R ivBiblt 7 (1959) 61— 63. Sel, M. “Job in Rabbinical Literature.” JewEnc 7:195. W jernikowski, A. Das Buch Hiob nach der rabbinischen Agada. Frankfurt, 1893.

c. Contemporary Jewish Brinker, M. “On the Ironic Use of the Myth of Job in Y. H. Brenner’s Breakdown and Bereavement.“ In Biblical Patterns in Modern Literature, ed. D. Hirsch and N. Aschkenasy. Brown Judaic Studies 77. Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1984. 115-26. G oldschm idt, H. L. “Hiob in neuzeitlichen Judentum.” Weltgesprach 2 (1967) 41-55, 71-72. Lazare, B. Le fumier de Job. Paris: Rieder, 1928. N eher, A. “Job: The Biblical M an.” Judaism 13 (1964) 37—47. [= L ’existence juive: Solitude et affrontements. Paris, 1962. Chap. 5.] R ubenstein, R. L. “Job and Auschwitz.” USQR 25 (1969-70) 421-37. Sheldon, M.

“Job, Human Suffering and Knowledge: Some Contemporary Jewish Perspectives.”

Enc 41 (1980) 229-35. Watté, P. “Job á Auschwitz: Deux constats de la perisée juive.” R T L 4 (1973) 173-90. Zafrani, H. “Une histoire de Job en judéo-arabe clu Maroc.” RevÉtlsl 36 (1968) 279-315.

d. Islam and Other Religions Apt, N. Die Hioberzahlung in der arabischen Literatur. 1. Teil. Zwei arabische Hiobshandschriften der Kgl. Bibliothek zu Berlin. 1913. C astillo Castillo, C. “Job en la leyenda musulmana.” CiuD 195 (1982) 115-30. C lines, D. J. A. “In Search of the Indian Job.” V T 33 (1983) 398—418. Fortes, M. Oedipus and Job in West African Religion. Cambridge: CUP, 1959. Jeffery, A. “Ayyub.” Encyclope'die de llslam. 1965. 13:318. K ohlbrugge, Hanna. De tijding van Job in de Bijbel en in de Koran. The Hague: J. N. Voorhoeve, 1981. Rao, S., and M. Reddy. “Job and His Satan—Parallels in Indian Scripture.” Z A W 91 (1979) 416-22. Scaltriti, G. “Giobbe tra Cristo e Zaratustra.” PalCl 34 (1955)

673-82, 721-28.

e. Early Christian G eerlings, W. “Hiob und Paulus: Theodizee und Paulinismus in der lateinischen Theologie am Ausgang des vierten Jahrhunderts.” In Jahrbuch fü r Antike und Chnstentum 24, ed. T. Klauser et al. 1981. 56-66. H anson, A. T. “Job in Early Christianity and Rabbinic Judaism.” CQ 2 (1969) 147-51. H anson, R. P. C. “St. Paul’s Quotations from the Book of Job.” Theol 54 (1950) 250-53. K niaseff, A. “The Theodicy of Job in the Byzantine Offices of Holy Week” [Gk.]. Theologia (1955) 107-23. M ichael, J. H. “Paul and Job: A Neglected Analogy.” E xpT 36 (1924—25) 67—70. N aish, J. P. “The Book of Job and the Early Christian Period.” Exp 9/3 (1925) 34-49, 94-104. Schaller, B. “Zum Textcharakter der Hiobzitate im paulinischen Schrifttum.” Z N W 71 (1980) 21—26.

f. Western Thinkers and Writers Barth, K. See M igliore, D. L. “Barth and Bloch on Job: A Conflict of Interpretations.” In Understanding the Word: Essays in Honor of Bernhard W. Anderson, ed. J. T. Butler et

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al. JSOTSup 37. Sheffield: JSOT, 1985. 265-79. And Schulw eis, Η. M. “Karl Barth’s Job: Morality and Theodicy.” JQ R 65 (1975) 156-67. B loch, E. See Chirpaz, F. “Ernst Bloch and Job’s Rebellion.” Cone 169 (1983) 23—29. Gerbracht, D. “Aufbruch zu sittlichem Atheismus: Die Hiob-Deutung Ernst Blochs.” E v T 35 (1975) 223-37. Mottu, H. “La figure de Job chez Bloch.” R T P 27 (1977) 30720. Raurell, F. “Job llegit per E. Bloch.” EstFranc 81 (1980) 403—27. See also Strolz, W., in Section 8a above. Camus, A. See Taradach, M adeleine. “De la ‘modernité’ de l’absurde chez Job á la lumiére de l’absurde chez Camus.” EstFranc 81 (1980) 155—68. Hobbes, Thom as. Leviathan, or The Matter, Forme and Power of a Common-Wealth Ecclesiasticall and Civil. London. 1651. Jaspers, K. “Hiob.” Einsichten . . . G. Krilger. Frankfurt, 1962. 86—106. Tohn o f the Cross, St. See Anon, “lob et S. lean de la Croix, choix de textes.” VS 422

(1956) 372-91.

Jung, C. G. See Broadribb, D. “Carl Jung kaj la Biblio.” Biblia Revuo 1 (1964) 13—45. H edinger, U. “Reflektionen zu C. G. Jungs Hiobinterpretation.” TZ 23 (1967) 34052. Marco, N. di. “Dio come Padre nella ‘Riposta a Giobbe’ di C. G. Jung.” Aquinas 27 (1984) 33-74. M ichaélis, E. “Le livre de Job interpreté par C. G. Jung.” R T P 3 (1953) 1 8 2 -9 5 .---------. “1st Satan die vierte Person der Gottheit?” Zeitwende 25 (1954) 368-77. Pascal, E. “Risposta a Jung.” Prot 21 (1966) 215-22. Philp, H. L. Jung and the Problem of Evil. London, 1958. 133—71. Ryan, P enelope J. An Interpretive and Critical Analysis of Carl Ju n g s Answer to Job’ as it Reflects his Psychological Theory, his Religious Understanding and Statements in Light of Christian Tradition. Diss. Fordham, 1983. W hite, V. “Jung et son livre sur Job.” VS Suppl (1956) 199—209. W ildberger, H. “Das Hiobproblem und seine neueste Deutung.” Reformatio 3 (1954) 355—63, 439—48. [= Jahwe und sein Volk. 1979. 9-27.] See also Matthews, M. S., in Section 8a above. Kant, I. See Strolz, W., in Section 8a above. Kierkegaard, S. “‘The Lord Gave, and the Lord Hath Taken Away.’” In Four Edifying Discourses (1843). In Edifying Discourses, tr. D. F. and Lillian M. Swenson. Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1942. And Edifying Discourses: A Selection, tr. P. L. Holmer. New York: Harper 8c Row, 1 9 5 8 .---------. [Constantinus, Constantin]. Repetition: An Essay in Experimental Psychology (1843). In Fear and Trembling, ed. Η. V. and Edna H. Hong. Princeton: Princeton UP, 1983. 125—231. See also M üller, Η. P. “Welt ais ‘Wiederholung’: Sóren Kierkegaards Novelle als Beitrag zur Hiob-Interpretation.” In Werden und Wirken des Alten Testaments, FS C. Westermann, ed. R. Albertz. Gottingen: Vandenhoeck 8c Ruprecht, 1980. 335—72. Mura, G. Angoscia ed esistenza, da Kierkegaard a Moltmann: Giobbe e la ‘sofferenza di Dio.’ Rome: Cittá Nuova, 1982. Wahl, J. “Soren Kierkegaard et le livre de Job.” Tire et Penser 27 (1948) 147—66. See also Strolz, W., in Section 8a above. M aim onides, M. (1135-1204). See Kravitz, L. S. “Maimonides and Job: An Inquiry as to the Method of the Moreh.” HUCA 38 (1967) 149—58. Laks, H. J. “The Enigma of Job: Maimonides and the Moderns.” JB L 83 (1964) 345-64. See also O ’Hara, M. L., in Section 8a above. M ilton, J. See Fisch, H. “Creation in Reverse: The Book of Job and Paradise Lost.” In Milton and Scriptural Tradition, ed. J. Sims and L. Ryken. 1984. 104—16. Ricoeur, P. See Crossan, J. D., ed. The Book of Job and Ricoeur’s Hermeneutics. Semeia 19. Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1981. D ornisch, Loretta. “The Book of Job and Ricoeur’s Hermeneutics.” In ibid., 3-21. Pellauer, D. “Reading Ricoeur Reading Job.” In ibid.,

73-83.

Teilhard de Chardin, P. See Franco, R. “Job y Teilhard de Chardin sobre la problema del mal.” Proyección 32 (1985) 27-41. T illich, P. See Cranford, W. J. The Doctrine of God in the Book of Job and the Systematic Theology of Paul Tillich. Diss. Baylor, 1981. Voltaire, J. “Job.” In Dictionnaire Philosophique. 1767—69. In Oeuvres completes de Voltaire. Paris: Gamier, 19:504—7. ---------. Histoire des voyages de Scarmentado. In his Romans et

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contes. Paris: Gamier. See also Senior, N. “Voltaire and the Book o f Job.” French Review

47 (1973) 340-47.

W eil, S. Atiente de Dieu: Lettres et réflexions. Paris: La Colombe, 1950. [= Waiting for God, tr. Emma Crawford. New York: Putnam, 1951.] ---------. La pesanteur et la grace.

1947.

g. Literary Works Inspired by Job A ngioletti, Giovanni Battista. Giobbe, uomo solo [drama], 1955. Anon. Mystere de la patience de Job (15th cent.). ---------. L ’Hystore Job (16th cent.). See Bates, R. C. L ’hystore Job: adaptation en vers franqais du ‘C om pendium in Job’ [of Peter o f Blois]. Yale Romanic Studies. New Haven, 1937. ---------. Historia Jobs (1546). See Karsten, T. E. Die mitteldeutsche poetische Paraphrase des Buches Hiob: aus der Handschrift des Koniglichen Staatsarchivs zu Konigsberg herausgegeben. Berlin: Weidmann, 1910. Narhauser, J. Historia Jobs 1546. Arbeiten zur mittleren deutschen Litteratur 12. Frankfurt: P. Lang, 1983. A n o n . Job [drama in Romansch], 1896. Aue, Hartmann von (13th cent.). Des arme Heinrich. See Datz, G. Die Gestalt Hiobs in der kirchlichen Exegese und der ‘Arme Heinrich ” Hartmanns von Aue. Góppinger Arbeiten zur Germanistik. Goppingen: A. Kiimmerle, 1973. Baumann, Em ile. Job le Prédestiné, roman. Paris, 1922. Beckett, Samuel. Waiting fo r Godot. 1949. See also Beckmann, H. Godot oder Hiob: Glaubensfragen in der modernen Literatur. Hamburg, 1965. Magny, O. de. “Samuel Beckett ou Job abandonné.” Monde nouveau-paru 97 (February 1956) 95. Borchardt, R udolf. Geschichte des Heimkehrenden (Das Buch Joram). 1905. Borchert, W olfgang. Draussen vor der Tiir [a novel.] Boye, Karin Maria. De sju dodssyndera [The Seven Deadly Sins] [cantata], 1941. Calderón de la Barca, Pedro. Autos sacramentales. Clem ents, C. C ·Job: A Play in One Act. New York: Samuel French, 1923. Claudel, Paul. “Réponse á Job.” In Oeuvres completes. Paris: Gallimard, 1952. 2:373-74. Dante, A. See Baur, G. “Das Buch Hiob und Dantes Gottliche Komódie.” TSK (1856) 583ff. Debout, J. [Roblot, R. I .]Job, maitre d ’école libre, comédie dramatique en trots actes. Paris, 1932. de Bruin, H .Job [Dutch epic], 1944. D esportes, P hilippe. Poesies Chrestiennes. Paris. 1598. [Including ‘Plainte de l’Autheur durant une sienne longue maladie’]. See also Pensec, H. “Philippe Desportes’ Poésies chrestiennes and the Book of Job.” Res Publica Litterarum 6 (1983) 265—73. D ostoievsky, F. See Friedman, M., in Section 8a above. Enriquez Basurto, D. See Rauchwarger, Judith. “Seventeenth-Century epic, Diego Enriquez Basurto’s El triumpho de la virtud y paciencia de Job.” Sef 40 (1980) 99— 119. Enriquez Gómez, Antonio. See Rauchwarger, Judith. “Antonio Enriquez Gómez: Epístolas tres de Job, A matter of racial atavism?” R E J 138 (1979) 69-87. Faraj, Murad. Ayyüb [a prose version in rhymed Arabic], 1950. Farrére, Claude. Job siecle xx, roman.

Paris, 1949.

Frost, Robert. A Masque of Reason. New York: Henry Holt, 1945. See also Matthews, M. S., in Section 8a above. Gelber, S. M. Job Stands Up: The Biblical Text of the Book of Job Arranged for the Theater. New York: Union of American Hebrew Congregations, 1975. G odinez, Felipe. La gran Comedia de los trabajos de Job. 1638. Goethe. Faust. See also Carriére, L. “Satan, Mephisto und die Wetten bei Hiob.” Goethe 20 (1958) 285-87. Matenko, P. “Job and Faust.” Studies in Yiddish Culture. Leiden, 1968. 75-162. Zhitlowsky, C .Job and Faust: Translated with Introduction and Notes by P. Matenko. Leiden: Brill, 1966. See also Gietmann, G., in Section 8a above. Greene, Robert. The Historie of Job. 1594. H eine, H einrich. “Hebráische Melodien.” Book 3 of Romanzero. In Heinrich Heine: Samtliche Werke, ed. H. Kaufmann. Munich: Kindler, 1964. 3:117—64. Hertz, H enri. “Ceux de Job.” In his Tragédies des temps volages. 1955. Kafka, F. See Susm an, M. “Der Hiobproblem bei Franz Kafka.” Der Morgen 5 (1929) 31—49. Suter, R. Kafkas ‘Prozess” im Lichte des ‘Buches Hiob.” Europáische Hochschulschriften 1/169. Frankfurt: P. Lang, 1976. See also Friedman, M., in Section 8a above.

Orientation to Books about Job

C1X

Kochoschka, O. Sphinx und Strohmann. 1907. Reissued as Hiob. 1917. [= Job, A Drama. In An Anthology of German Expressionist Drama, ed. W. H. Sokel. New York: Anchor, 1963. 159—71.] See also Schuly, Η. I. Oscar Kokoschka: The Painter as Playwright. Detroit: Wayne State UP, 1982. 67-88, 145-50. Kysar, Hans. Das Blumenhiob. 1909. Leivick, H . In di Tag fu n lyov [Yiddish poem], c, 1953. Leroux, P ·Job, drame en cinq actes, avec prologue et épilogue, par le Prophéte Isaie, retrouvé, rétabli dans son integrité, et traduit littéralement sur le texte hébreu. Grasse, 1866. Limentani, G. Le grande seduto. Milan, 1979. Linscheid, J. “Jobia versus God: The Book of Job Revisited” [short story]. Other Side 23

(1987) 24-27.

MacLeish, A . J.B .: A Play in Verse. London: Samuel French, 1956. See also Biem an, E. “Faithful to the Bible in Its Fashion: MacLeish’s J.B.” CSRBull 3/5 (1972) 26. Priest, J. “Job and J.B .: The Goodness of God or the Godness of Good?” Horizons 12 (1985) 265-83. T helen, M. F. “J.B .: Job and the Biblical Doctrine of ManT JB R (1959) 2015. See also Matthews, M. S. in Section 8a above. M elville, H. Moby Dick. New York, 1851. See Young, W. A. “Leviathan in the Book of Job and Moby-Dick.” Soundings 65 (1983) 388—401. See also Friedman, M., in Section

8a above.

M ilton, John. See Fulton, Pauline R. M ilton’s Use of the Book of Job in Paradise Regained’ and ‘Samson Agonistes.’ Diss. University of North Carolina, 1984. T eunissen, J.-J. Of Patience and Heroic Martyrdom: The Book of Job and M ilton’s Conception of Patient Suffering in Paradise Regained’ and ‘Samson Agonistes.’ Diss. Rochester, 1967. Morax, Rena. Job le vigneron, mystere en trois actes. Sierre, 1954. N ed, Edouard. Job le glorieux, roman. Paris, 1933. Obaldia, R ené de. Et a la fin était le bang: Comédie héroique [a play]. In his Théátre. Paris: Grasset. 6:1-194. Ponholzer, Bartholom aeus. Job, der fromme Idealist [drama], 1927. Racine, J. “Annotations du livre de Job.” In Oeuvres completes, ed. R. Picard. Paris: Pléiade, 1960. 2:699-705. R adcliffe, Ralph [Robert]. Job’s Afflictions [drama], c.1550. Roth, J. Hiob, Roman eines einfachen Mannes. Berlin: G. Kiepenheuer, 1930. [= Job: The Story of a Simple Man. Tr. D. Thompson. London:

Chatto and Windus, 1933.] Sachs, Hans [the Meistersinger]. Der Hiob [play]. 1547. Sim on, N eil. God’s Favorite: A New Comedy. New York: Samuel French, 1975. Spark, M uriel. The Only Problem [a novel]. London: Bodley Head, 1984. Stevens, J. S. A Dramatization of the Book of Job: The Problem of Human Suffering. Boston: Stratford, 1917. Tamez, Elsa. “A Letter to Job.” In New Eyes fo r Reading, ed. J. Pobee and B. Wartenberg-Potter, 1986. 50—52. W ahltuch, Marco. Giobbe [five-act tragedy], 1872. W eege, Fritz. Das Spiel Hiobs [play], 1926. W ells, H. G. The Undying Fire: A Contemporary Novel. In The Works of H. G. Wells. Atlantic ed. London: T. Fisher Unwin, 1925. 11:1—172. W iesel, Elie. “Job ou le silence révolutionnaire.” In his Célébration biblique. Paris: Seuil, 1975. 179—99. Winawer, B. The Book of Job: A Satirical Comedy. London: Dent, 1931. Wojtyla, K. [Pope John Paul II]. See also Fantuzzi, V. “II ‘Giobbe’ di Karol Wojtyla a San Miniato.” CC 136 (1985) 500-504. Gatta, E. “II Giobbe di Papa Wojtyla.” CiVit 40 (1985) 403-48. W olfskehl, K. Hiob und Die vier Spiegel: Gedichte. Hamburg: HamburgVerlag, 1950. Zapf, A d olf P hilipp. Hiob [drama], 1866.

h. Job in Art i. General See especially Réau, L. Iconographie de Part chrétien. Tome II. Iconographie de la Bible. I. A nden Testament. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1956. 310-18. Leclerq, H. “Job.” In Dictionnaire d ’Archéologie Chrétienne et de Liturgie, Paris, 1927. 7:2554—70. Budde, R· “Job· ” In Lexikon der christlichen Ikonographie. Rome, 1970. 2:407—14. R avisi, G. Giobbe: Traduzione e commento. Rome: Borla, 1984. 258—74. W eisbach, W. “L’histoire de Job dans les arts.” Gazette des Beaux-Arts (1936) 102—12. See also Durand, J. “Note sur une iconographie méconnue: le ‘saint roi Job.’” CahArch

ex

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32 (1984) 113-35. Huber, O. Hiob: Dulder oder Rebell? Byzantinische Minaturen zum Buche Hiob in Patmos, Rom, Venedig, Sinai, Jerusalem und Athos. Düsseldorf: Patmos, 1976. Le Blant, E. “D’une représentation inédite de Job sur un sarcophage d’Arles.” RevArch (1860-B) 36-44.

ii. By theme and period Job’s Trials. 13th cent. North Door of Chartres Cathedral; Door of Rheims Cathedral. 14th cent. Frescoes from St. Stephen’s Chapel, Westminster, now in British Museum. 15th cent. Master of the Legend of St. Barbara, The Story of Job (1480—83), Cologne, Wallraf-Richartz Museum. 16th cent. Peter Hugo (or Jan Mandyn), Les Epreuves de

Job, Douai Museum; Window of Troyes Cathedral; Rubens, Altarpiece of Church of St. Nicholas, Brussels (destroyed in 1695). 19th cent. William Blake, Illustrations of the Book of Job. The Three M essengers o f M isfortune. 12th cent. Chapter house of Pamplona Cathedral. 16th cent. Fresco in Campo Santo, Pisa. Death o f Job’s Children. 16th cent. Bernart van Orley, Brussels Museum. Job on the Ash-heap. In Christian art, a prefigurement of Christ awaiting crucifixion. 3rd cent. Frescoes in Catacombs, Rome, and in cemetery of St Peter and St Marcellino, Rome; Frescoes of Synagogue, Dura-Europos. 4th cent. Sarcophagus of Junius Bassus, Rome. 13th cent. North Door of Chartres Cathedral; Door depicting the Last Judgment, Notre Dame, Paris. 15th cent. Jean Fouquet, Heures d’Etienne Chevalier, Musée Condy, Chantilly. 17th cent. Giordano, Sacristy of L’Escorial, Madrid. 18th cent. Lattanzio Querena, S. Giobbe, Venice. 19th cent. Bonnat, Musée du Luxembourg, Paris. Job and H is W ife. 3rd cent. Fresco of the cemetery of St Peter and St Marcellino, Rome. 4th cent. Sarcophagus of Junius Bassus, Rome. 16th cent. Dürer, Jabach altarpiece in Stadelschen Kunstinstitut, Frankfurt and Cologne Museum; Peter Huys, Douai Museum; Windows of St Patrice and of St Romain, Rouen; Stalls of the Cathedral, Amiens. 17th cent. J. Lievens, 1631; Murillo, Parma Pinocotheca; Ribera, Parma Pinacotheca; Georges de la Tour, Musée d’Epinal. Job M ocked by H is Friends. 12th cent. Capital from the cloister of La Daurade, Musée des Augustins, Toulouse. 13th cent. Bas-relief in doorway representing the Last Judgment, Notre Dame, Paris. 15th cent. Misericord in church of Champeaux. Seine-etMarne; Jean Fouquet, Heures d’Etienne Chevalier, Musée Condy, Chantilly. 16th cent. Hieronymus Bosch, Douai Museum. 17th cent. II Calabese, Antwerp; J. Bendt, St Job’s Hospital, Utrecht. 19th cent. A. Decamps, Institute of Arts, Minneapolis. Job at the Capture o f Leviathan. 12th cent. Window representing the Crucifixion, Cathedral of Chalons-sur-Marne. Job as the Patron Saint o f M usicians. Esp. in 15th and 16th cents. Rubens, Job on the Dunghill (1612), presented to the musicians’ guild of Antwerp. See also D enis, V. “Saint Job, patron des musiciens.” Revue beige d ’archéologie et d ’histoire Part 21 (1952) 253—98. Meyer, Kathi. “Saint Job as a Patron of Music.” Art Bulletin [New York] 36 (1954) 21—31. N icholson, J. W. ‘Job.” In The New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians, ed. S. Sadie. London: Macmillan, 1980. 9:655-56.

in. By artist

Blake, W illiam . Editions: The Engravings and Related Versions of William Blake’s 1987. See also Foster, D.

Bindm an, D. William Blake’s Illustrations of the Book of Job: Material. London: William Blake Trust, 1987.---------. Colour Book of Job Designs from the Circle of John Linnell. London, S. Blake’s Job: William Blake’s Illustrations of the Book of Job. Providence, RI: Brown UP, 1966. R aine, Kathleen. The Human Face of God: William Blake and the Book of Job. London: Thames & Hudson, 1982. W right, A. Blake’s “Job”: A Commentary. Oxford: Clarendon, 1972. Fronius, Hans. Das Buch Hiob: lllustrationen von Hans Fronius. Einleitung von J. Marbóck. Klosterneuberg: Osterreichisches Katholisches Bibelwerk, 1980. [ 12 charcoal sketches.] Jaekel, W illi. Das Buck Hiob: M it originalen

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Lithographien. Berlin: E. Reiss, 1917. Tongue, C. Mary. The Book of Job: With an Introduction by G. K. Chesterton and Illustrated in Colour by C. Mary Tongue. London: Cecil Palmer and Hayward, 1916. U hrig, H . Hiob: Eine Bildexegese in 15 Federzeichnungen. Kassel: J. Stauda, 1954.

i. Job in Music Adler, H ugo Chaim. Hiob [oratorio]. 1933. Bitgood, Roberta (b. 1908). Job [cantata]. Burck, Joachim á (16th cent.). Motet. Byrd, W illiam . Cunctis diebus [motet]. In The Byrd Edition, ed. P. Brett. Vol. 3: Cantiones Sacrae (1591), ed. A. Brown. London: Stainer & Bell, 1981. 232-44. Carissim i, G .Job [oratorio]. Chiarom onte, F. Job: Drame biblique en trois actes, Poéme de J. Guilliaume. Leipzig and Brussels, 1884. Chipp. E. T ·Job: An Oratorio. London, 1875. C lem ens non Papa, J. (16th cent.). Motet. Converse, F. S. Job, Dramatic Poem fo r Solo Voices, Chorus and Orchestra. New York: H. W. Gray, n.d. C recquillon, T. (16th cent.).

Motet.

d ’Albergatti, P .Job [oratorio]. D allapiccola, Luigi. Giobbe: Sacra rapprasentazione [orato-

rio, also for stage performance]. Milan: Suvini Zerboni, 1951. First performance: Rome, 1950. Engel, Lehmann. Four Excerpts from (Job” [for voice and piano]. 1932. Franco, Fernando, of Mexico (1532-85). Parce mihi, Domine [motet]. Ed. H. Ross. New York: Peer International, 1953. Gallus [Handl], Jacobus (16th cent.). Motet. G ines Perez, J. Parce mihi, Domine [motet]. Guerrim i, Giodo. II lamento di Job, per voce de basso, archi, pianoforte e tam-tam. Riduzione dalVautore per canto e pianoforte. Milan: G. Ricordi, 1939. H andel, Georg Frideric. “I Know that My Redeemer Liveth.” Aria in Messiah (1742). Herder, R. (b. 1930). The Job Elegies [choral]. H iller, H. C. Job’s Wedding Day Song.

London: D. Davidson, 1882.

Jenkins, D ·Job: An Oratorio fo r Soli, Chorus, and Organ and Orchestra. Aberystwyth, 1903. Kósa, Gyórgy. Hiob [cantata]. 1933. La Rue, P. de (16th cent.). Motet. Lassus [Lasso], O rlando di. Sacrae lectiones ex Propheta lob (c. 1560). ---------. Lectiones sacrae novem, ex libris Hiob excerptae (c. 1582). In Two Motet Cycles for Matins fo r the Dead: Sacrae lectiones ex Propheta lob (c. 1560) and Lectiones sacrae novem, ex libris Hiob excerptae (c. 1582), ed. P. Bergquist. Madison, WI: A-R Editions,

1983.

Manneke, D. (b. 1939). Job [cantata]. M orales, L. (16th cent.). Motet. Nabokov, N icolas. Job [oratorio]. 1932. Text by Jacques Maritain. Parry, C. Η. H. Job: An Oratorio fo r Treble, Tenor, Baritone and Bass Soli, Chorus and Orchestra. London: Novello, 1892. First performance: Gloucester, 1892. Rabaud, H. Job. Oratorio. Poéme de Charles R a ff alii & Henry de Gorsse. Paris: Enoch, 1900. R ussell, W. Job, A Sacred Oratorio . . . Adapted . . . fo r the Organ or Pianoforte by S. Wesley. London, 1826. Schütz, H. Ich weiss, dass mein Erlóser lebt. Cantata in his Geistliche Chor-Musik. 1648. Senil, L. (16th cent.). Motet. Serm isy, C. de (16th cent.). Motet. Telem ann, G. (1681-1767). Ich weiss, dass mein Erlóser lebt [cantata; attrib. J. S. Bach

as Cantata 160).

Vaughan W illiam s, Ralph. Job. A Masque fo r Dancing. London, 1930.---------. The Voice of the Whirlwind [for choir and organ]. Victoria, Tom as Luis de (c. 1549-1611). Officium defunctorum: in obitu et obsequiis sacrae imperatricis [motet].

j. Job in Dance V alois, N inette de. Job: A Masque fo r Dancing in Eight Scenes. Book: Geoffrey Keynes. Music: Ralph Vaughan Williams. London, 1931. See also Beaum ont, C. W. Complete

c x ii

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Book of Ballets: A Guide to the Principal Ballets of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries.

London: Putnam. Repr. 1951. 931—35.

k. Job in Film C ollet, J. “From Job to Bergman: Anguish and Challenge.” Cone 169 (1983) 69-72. Fassbinder, Rainer W. Berlin Alexanderplatz. Vetterm ann, W illy. Hiob. Filmdichtung.

Chemnitz: M. Müller, 1928. 9. So

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a n d

C

o m p o s it io n

Alt, A. “Zur Vorgeschichte des Buches Hiob.” Z A W 55 (1937) 265-68. Brandw ein, C.

“

[The Legend of Job according to Its Various Stages].” Tarb 35 (1965-66) 1-17, i-ii. Buhl, F. “Zur Vorgeschichte des Buches Hiob.” BZAW 41 (1925) 52-61. Fohrer, G. “Vorgeschichte und Komposition des Buches Hiob.” TLZ 81 (1956) 333-36. ---------. “Zur Vorgeschichte und Komposition des Buches Hiob.” V T 6 (1956) 249-67. [= Studien zum Buche Hiob (1956-1979). BZAW 159. Gütersloh: G. Mohn, 1963. 2d ed. Berlin: de Gruyter, 1983. 1 9 -3 6 .]---------. “Überlieferung und Wandlung der Hioblegende.” Friedrich Baumgartel Festschrift. Erlangen, 1959. 41-62. [= Studien zum Buche Hiob (1956—1979). BZAW 159. 2d ed. Berlin: de Gruyter, 1983. 37—59.] Foster, F. H. “Is the Book o f Job a Translation from an Arabic Original?” AJSL 49 (1932-33) 21-45. Fullerton, K. “The Original Conclusion of Job.” Z A W 42 (1924) 116—35. Grill, W. Zur Kritik der Komposition des Buches Hiob. Tübingen: Fues’sche Buchdruckerei, 1890. G uillaum e, A. “The Unity of the Book of Job.” ALU O S 4 (1962) 26-46. H offm ann, R. E. “Eine Parallele zur Rahmenerzáhlung des Buches Hiob in 1 Chr 7,20-29?” Z A W 92 (1980) 120-32. Hurvitz, A. “The Date of the Prose Tale of Job Linguistically Reconsidered.” H T R 67 (1974) 17-34. Kautzsch, K. Das sogenannte Volksbuch von Hiob und der Ursprung von Hiob. Tübingen, 1900. Laue, L. Die Composition des Buches Hiob. Diss. Halle, 1896. Lindblom , J. La Composition du livre de Job. Lund: Gleerup, 1945.---------. “Joblegenden traditionshistoriskt undersókt.” SEA 5 (1940) 2 9 42. Maag, V. Hiob: Wandlung und Verarbeitung des Problems in Novelle, Dialogdichtung und Spatfassungen. Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1982. M üller, H .-P. Hiob und seine Freunde: Traditionsgeschichtliches zum Verstandnis des Hiobbuches. Theologische Studien 102. Zurich: EVZ-Verlag, 1970 . ---------. Das Hiobproblem: Seine Stellung und Entstehung in Alten Orient und im Alten Testament. Ertrage des Forschung 84. Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1978. P feiffer, R. H. “Edomitic Wisdom.” Z A W 3 (1926) 13-24. Reddy, Μ. P. “The Book of Job—A Reconstruction.” Z A W 90 (1978) 49-94. Sarna, N. M. “Epic Substratum in the Prose of Job” JB L 76 (1957) 13-25. Stockton, E. “Literary Development of the Book of Job.” ACR 49 (1972) 137-43. Studer, G. L. “Über die Integritát des Buches Hiob.”JP T h 1 (1875) 688-723. Terrien, S. “Le poerne de Job: drame para-rituel du nouvel-an?” VTSup 17 (1969) 220-35. T h ils, G. “De genere litterario et fontibus libri Job.” ColctMechl 31 (1946) 37—40. Torczyner, H. “Hiobdichtung und Hiobsage.” M G W J 69 (1925) 234—48, 717-33. V erm eylen, J. Job, ses amis et son Dieu: La légende de Job et ses relectures postexiliques. Studia bíblica 2. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1981. Weimar, P. “Literarkritisches zur Ijobnovelle.” B N 12 (1980) 62—80. 10. D

a t e

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Anon. “Job a-t il existé? Son livre n’est-il qu’un conte pieux pour montrer un beau modéle de patience?” AmiCl 53 (1936) 131-33. Bachar, S. “ [When Was the Book of Job Written?].” BM ik 76 (1978-79) 75-76, 122. Berger, H. “ [Was Hauran the Birthplace of Job?].” BM ik 53 (1973) 228-29, 274. B everidge. “The Date of the Book of Job.” J R A S (1919) 234. B eel, A. “Auctor et tempus conscriptionis libri Job. Analysis libri Job. De indole libri

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Job.” ColBG 33 (1922) 189-93, 241-47, 268-70. Brenner, Athalya. “The Language of the Book of Job as an Index to the Time of Its Composition” [Heb]. BM ik 24 (1978) 396-405. Endem ann, K. “Über den Verfasser des Buches Hiob.” Nach den Gesetz und Zeugnis 26 (1926) 127-36. Hurvitz, A. “The Date of the Prose-Tale of Job Linguistically Reconsidered.” H T R 67 (1974) 17-34. Lévéque, J. “La datation du livre de jo b .” Congress Volume: Vienna 1980, ed. J. A. Emerton. VTSup 32. Leiden: Brill, 1981. 206-19. Ley, J. “Die Abfassungszeit des Buches Hiob: Eine Abhandlung.” TSK 71 (1898) 34—70. M aisler, B. The Genealogy of the Sons of Nahor and the Historical Background of the Book of Job. Jerusalem: Zion, 1946. N aish, J. P. “The Book of Job and the Early Persian Period.” E xpT 9 (1925) 34-39, 94—104. P feiffer, R. H. “The Priority of Job over Is. 40-5 5 .” JB L 46 (1927) 202ff. Schmitt, G. “Die Heimat Hiobs.” ZDPV 101 (1985) 56-63. Slotki, I. W. “The Origin of the Book of Job.” E xpT 39 (1927-28) 131-34. 11.

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B

ib l e

a. The Hebrew Bible A ltheim , F., and R. Stiehl. “Hiob und die prophetische Überlieferung.” In Geschichte Mittelasiens im Altertum. Berlin: de Gruyter, 1970. 131-42. Bruston, E. “La littérature sapientiale dans le livre de Job.” E T R 3 (1928) 297-305. Caquot, A. “Traits royaux dans le personnage de Job.” In maqqél sháqédh. La branche d ’amandier: Hommage a Wilhelm Vischer. Montpellier: Causse, Graille, Castelnau, 1960. 32—45. Crüsem ann, F. “Hiob und Kohelet: ein Beitrag zum Verstándnis des Hiobbuches.” In Werden und Wirken des Alten Testaments, FS C. Westermann, ed. R. Albertz. Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1980. 373-93. Dhorm e, P. “Ecclésiaste ou Job?” R B 32 (1922) 5-27. Festorazzi, F. “Giobbe e Qohelet: crisi della sapienza.” Problemi e prospettive di scienze bibliche. Brescia, 1981. 233-58. Frye, J. B. “The Use of Pentateuchal Traditions in the Book of Job.” O TW SA 17-18 (1977) 13-20. Gese, H. Lehre und Wirklichkeit in der alten Weisheit: Studien zu den Sprüchen Salomos und zu dem Buche Hiob. Tübingen: Mohr, 1958. Gordis, R. “Wisdom and Job.” In Old Testament Issues, ed. S. Sandmel. London: SCM, 1969. 213-41. [= his The Book of God and M an: A Study of Job. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1965. 31—52.] G oshen-Gottstein, Μ. H. “Ezekiel und Ijob: Zur P roblem geschichte von Bundestheologie und Gott-Mensch-Verháltnis.” In Wort, Lied und Gottesspruch, FS J. Ziegler, ed. R. Schnckenburd et al. Würzburg: Echter, 1972. 2:155—70. Kuenen, A. “Job en de lijdende knecht van Jahveh.” TTijd 7 (1873) 540-41. M acKenzie, R. A. F. “The Cultural and Religious Background of the Book of Job.” Cone 169 (1983) 3-7. M aggioni, B. Giobbe e Qohelet, la contestazione sapienziale nella Bibbia. Assisi: Cittadella, 1979. M cDonagh, Kathleen. “Job and Jeremiah: Their Approach to God.” T B T 18 (1980) 331—35. N eher, A. “Au-delá de l’épreuve Job et Abraham: des épreuves identiques.” In . Studies in Bible and Jewish History, FS J. Liver. Tel Aviv: University of Tel Aviv, 1972. 124—28. N estle, E. “David in the Book of Job.” E xpT 22 (1910) 90. N oth, M. “Noah, Daniel und Hiob in Ezekiel XIV.” V T 1 (1950) 251—60. Oberforcher, R. “Abraham, Jeremía, Ijob. Typen des von Gott beanspruchten Menschen.” BiLit 52 (1979) 183-91. P feiffer, R. H. “The Dual Origin of Hebrew Monotheism” [Job and Deutero-Isaiah]. JB L 46 (1927) 202-6. Roberts, J. J. M. “Job and the Israelite Religious Tradition.” Z A W 89 (1977) 107—14. Segal, Μ. Z. “ [Parallels to the Book of Job].” Tarb 20 (1949) 35—48. Shapiro, D. S. “The Book of Job and the Trial of Abraham.” Tradition 4 (1962) 210-20. Spiegel, S. “Noah, Daniel and Job.” Louis Ginzberg: Jubilee Volume on the Occasion of His Seventieth Birthday. New York: American Academy for Jewish Research, 1945. 1:305—35. Terrien, S. “Quel-

ques remarques sur les affinités de Job avec le Deutéro-Esaie.” VTSup 15 (1965) 295— 310. Vawter, B .Jo b and Jonah: (Questioning the Hidden God. New York: Paulist, 1985. V inton, Patricia. “Radical Aloneness: Job and Jeremiah.” T B T 99 (1978) 143-49. Volz,

cxiv

In t r o d u c t i o n

P. Hiob und Weisheit in den Schriften des Alten Testaments. Gottingen, 1921. Whybray, R. N. Two Jewish Theologies: Job and Ecclesiastes. Hull: University of Hull, 1980. Zoller, J. “Giobbe e il servo di Dio.” RicR 8 (1932) 223-33.

b. The Ancient Near East Albertson, R. G. “Job and Ancient Near Eastern Wisdom Literature.” In Scripture in Context II, ed. W. Hallo, J. Moyer, and L. Perdue. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1983. 213-30. Albertz, R. “Der sozialgeschichtliche Hintergrund des Hiobbuches und der ‘Babylonischen Theodizee’ [Ludlul bel némeqi].” In Die Botschaft und die Boten, FS

für Hans Walter Wolff, ed. J. Jeremías and L. Perlitt. Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1981. 349—72. A yuso Marazuela, T. “Los elementos extrabíblicos de Job y del Salterio.” EstBíb 5 (1946) 429-58. David, M. “Travaux et service dans l’Épopée de Gilgamesh et le livre de Job.” Revue Philosophique 147 (1957) 341-49. D ion, P.-E. “Un nouvel éclairage [Fekherye] sur le contexte culturel des malheurs de Job.” V T 34 (1984) 213-15. Finkelstein, c . “ [The Book of fob and the Wisdom of the Ancient Near East].” BMik 51 (1972) 428-38, 532. Fohrer, GU‘4QOrNab, llQ TgJob und die Hioblegende.” Z A W 34 (1963) 93-97. García de la Fuente, O. “La prosperidad del malvado en el libro de Job y en los poemas babilónicas del Justo Paciente.’” EstEcl 34 (1960) 603-16. Gray, J. “The Book of Job in the Context of Near Eastern Literature.” Z A W 82 (1970) 251-69. Griffiths, J. G. “The Idea of Posthumous Judgment in Israel and Egypt.” In Fontes atque pontes: Eine Festgabefür H. Brunner, ed. M. Gorg. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 1983. 186—204. H oyos, H. “Un texto original de los Sumerios con entonaciones del libro de Job.” R BiLit 18 (1956) 36-37. Hum bert, P. Recherches sur les sources égyptiennes de la littérature sapientale d ’Israél. Mémoires de l’Université de Neuchátel 7, 1929. Israel, S. “Hiob: Prometheus in Judáa.” Antaios 9 (1967) 369-84. Jastrow, M. “A Babylonian Parallel to the Story of Job .,,JB L 25 (1906) 135-91. Kramer, S. N. “Man and His God: A Sumerian Variation on the Job’ Motif.” VTSup 3 (1953) 170—82. Krieger, P. Weltbild und Idee des Buches Hiob, verglichen mit dem altorientalischen Pessimismus. Diss. Erlangen, 1930. Landersdorfer, S. Eine babylonische (fuelle fü r das Buch Job? Eine literar-geschichtliche Studie. Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, 1911. Loffreda, S. “Raffronto fra un testo ugaritico e Giobbe.” BeO 8 (1966) 103—16. Moran, W. L. “Rib-Hadda: Job at Byblos?” In Biblical and Related Studies Presented to S. Iwry, ed. Ann Kort and S. Morschauer. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1985. 173— 81. M üller, H.-P. “Keilschriftliche Parallelen zum biblische Hiobbuche: Moglichkeit und Grenze das Vergleichs.” Or ns 47 (1978) 360—75. ---------. Das Hiobproblem. Seine Stellung und Entstehung im Alten Orient und im Alten Testament. Ertrage der Forschung 84. Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1978. Murtagh, J. “The Book of Job and the Book of the Dead.” IT Q 35 (1968) 166-73. N ougayrol, J. “Une version ancienne du ‘juste souffrant.”’ R B 59 (1952) 2 3 7 -5 0 .---------. “(Juste) souffrant (R.S. 25.460).” Ugaritica 5 (1968) 265-83. Preuss, H. D. “Jahwes Antwort zu Hiob und die sogenannte Hiobliteratur des alten Vorderen Orients.” In Beitrage zum Alten Testamentliche Theologie, FS W. Zimmerli, ed. H. Donner et al. Gottingen: Vandenhoeck 8c Ruprecht, 1977. 323-43. Schm okel, H. “Hiob in Sumer.” FF 30 (1956) 74-76. Speiser, E. A. “The Case o f the Obliging Servant.” JC S 8 (1954) 98—105. Terrien, S. “The Babylonian Dialogue on Theodicy and the Book of J o b .” JB L 63 (1944) vi. W illiam s, P. J. “Theodicy in the Ancient Near East.” CJT 2 (1956) 14—26. W isem an, D. J. “A New Text of the Babylonian Poem of the Righteous Sufferer.” AnatSt 30 (1980) 101— 7.

c. Greek Literature B ussler, E. Hiob und Prometheus: zwei Vorkampfer der gbttlicher Gerechtigkeit. Hamburg, 1897. Frielánder, M. Griechische Philosophie im Alten Testament: Eine Einleitung in die

Orientation to Books about Job

cxv

Psalm- und Weisheitsliteratur. Berlin: G. Reimer, 1904. Fries, C. Das philosophische Gesprach von Hiob bis Plato. Tübingen, 1904. Irwin, W. A. “Prometheus and Job.1950) 30 ? // ) 90-108. R allen, H. The Book of Job as a Greek Tragedy Restored. New York: Moffat, Yard 8c Co., 1918. Kaufmann, U. M. “Expostulation with the Divine: A Note on Contrasting Attitudes in Greek and Hebrew Piety.” Int 18 (1964) 171-82. [= TwentiethCentury Interpretations of the Book of Job: A Collection of Critical Essays, ed. P. S. Sanders. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1968. 66—77.] Lindblom , J. “Job and Prometheus: A Comparative Study.” In Dragma: Martino P. Nilsson anno 1939 dedicatum. Acta Instituti Romani Regni Sueciae 2/1. Lund, 1939. 280-87. May, H. G. “Prometheus and Job: The Problem of the God of Power and the Man of Wrath.” A T R 34 (1952) 240—46. Miranda, A. A. de. “Job y Prometeo: o religión y irreligión.” Anthologia Annua 2 (1954) 207-37. M ontefiore, C. G. “The Book of Job as a Greek Tragedy Restored.” H T R 12 (1919) 219-24. Murray, G. “Prometheus and Job.” In Twentieth-Century Interpretations of the Book of Job: A Collection of Critical Essays, ed. P. S. Sanders. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1968. 56—65. [= Aeschylus: The Creator of Tragedy. Oxford: Clarendon, 1940. 87-110.] Neyrand, J. “Le livre de Job et les poémes d’Homére.” Études 59 (1922) 129—51. Paulus, J. “Le theme du juste souffrant dans la pensée grecque et hébraique.” R H R 121 (1940) 18-66. Sim on, U. “Job and Sophocles.” In Images of Belief in Literature, ed. D. Jasper. London: Macmillan, 1984. 42-51. W eiser, A. “Des Problem der sittlichen

Weltordnung im Buche Hiob: Unter Berücksichtigung seiner Entwicklung bei den Griechen und in der israelitischen Religion.” In his Glaube und Geschichte im Alten Testament und andere ausgewahlte Schriften. Gottingen: Vandenhoeck 8c Ruprecht, 1961. 9— 19. W olfson, E. R. “The Dialectic of Faith and Doubt in the Philosophy of Socrates and Piety of Job.” Dor 8 (1979-80) 197-200.

The Prologue

(1:1—2:13)

Bibliography Albright, W. F. “The Name of Bildad the Shuhite.” AJSL 44 (1927-28) 31-36. Alter, R. The Art of Biblical Narrative. London: George Allen and Unwin, 1981. Barr, J. “Hebrew TP, Especially at Job i. 18 and Neh. vii.3.” JS S 27 (1982) 177—88. Berg, W. “Gott und der Gerechte in der Rahmenerzahlung des Buches Hiob.” M T Z 31 (1981) 206-21. C lines, D. J. A. “False Naivety in the Prologue to Job.” H A R 9 (1985) 127-36. ---------. “In Search of the Indian Job.” V T 33 (1983) 398-418. Coats, G. W., ed. Saga, Legend, Tale, Novella, Fable: Narrative Forms in Old Testament Literature. JSOTSup 35. Sheffield: JSOT, 1985. Cooper, A. “Narrative Theory and the Book of Job.” SR 11 (1982) 35-44. Driver, G. R. “Ancient Lore and Modern Knowledge: 4. Earth to Earth.” In Hommages a André Dupont-Sommer, ed. A. Caquot. Paris: Librairie d’Amérique et d’Orient, 1971. 277-86. Fohrer, G. “Zur Vorgeschichte und Komposition des Buches Hiob.” V T 6 (1956) 249-67 (= Studien zum Buche Hiob [1956-1979]. BZAW 159. Berlin:

de Gruyter. 2d ed., 1983. 1 9 -3 6 ).---------. “Überlieferung und Wandlung der Hioblegende.” FS Friedrich Baumgartel. Erlanger Forschungen A 10. Erlangen, 1959 (= Studien zum Buche Hiob [1956-1979]. BZAW 159. Berlin: de Gruyter. 2d ed., 1983. 37-59). Górg, M. “Ijob aus dem Lande cUs. Ein Beitrag zur ‘theologischen Geographic.’” B N 12 (1980) 7-12. Habel, N. C. “The Narrative Art of Job: Applying the Principles of Robert Alter .”J S O T 27 (1983) 101—11. H offm ann, Y. “The Relation between the Prologue and the Speech-Cycles in Job.” V T 31 (1981) 160—70. H outm an, C. “Zu Hiob 2:12.” Z A W 90 (1978) 269—72. Hurwitz, A. “The Date of the Prose-Tale of Job Linguistically Reconsidered.” H T R 67 (1974) 17-34. Jacob, B. “Erklárung einiger Hiob-Stellen: 1,5; 1,22; 2,4; 2,10.” Z A W 32 (1912) 278-87 (278-79). Joüon, P. “Notes philologiques sur le texte hébreu de Job 1,5; 9,35; 12,21; 28,1; 28,27; 29,14.” Bib 11 (1930) 32224. Kahn, ].J o b ’s Illness: Loss, Grief, and Integration: A Psychological Interpretation. Oxford: Pergamon, 1975. Kautzsch, K. Das sogenannte Volksbuch von Hiob und der Ursprung von Hiob I, II, X L II,7—17: Ein Beitrag nach der Integritat des Buches Hiob. Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr, 1900. Lacocque, A. “Est-ce gratuitement que Job craint Dieu?” Mélanges André Neher. Ed. E. Amado Levy-Valensi, et al. Paris: Librairie d’Amérique et d’Orient. Adrien Maisonneuve, 1975. 175-79. Lohfínk, N. “Enthielten die im Alten Testament bezeugten Klageriten eine Phase des Schweigens?” V T 12 (1962) 260—77. Maag, V. Hiob. W andlung und Verarbeitung des Problems in Novelle, Dialogdichtung, und Spatfassungen. FRLANT 128. Gottingen: Vandenhoeck 8c Ruprecht, 1982. 20-90. McCormick, S. “Someone HAD to Speak! A Sermon on Job 2:13.” Int 20 (1966) 211-17. M oore, R. D. “The Integrity of Job.” CBQ 45 (1983) 17-31. O w ens, J. J. “The Prologue and the Epilogue.” RevExp 68 (1971) 457—67. Polzin, R. “The Framework of the Book of Job.” Int 31 (1974) 182-200. R icciotti, G. “‘Et nu j ’y retournerai’ (Job 1:21).” Z A W 67 (1955) 249-51. R inaldi, G. “mqnh (miqneh). Giobbe 1,3.” BeO 20 (1978) 60. R ongy, H. “Le prologue du livre de Job.” RevEcclLiege 25 (1933) 168-71. Sarna, N. M. “Epic Substratum in the Prose of Job .”JB L 76 (1957) 13-25. Schm idt, L. “De Deo.” Studien zur Literaturkritik und Theologie des Buches Joña, des Gesprachs zwischen Abraham und Jahwe in Gen 18,22ff und von H i 1. BZAW 143. Berlin: de Gruyter, 1976. Speiser, E. A. “On the Name Bildad.” JA O S 49 (1929) 360. Torczyner, H. “How Satan Came into the World.” E xpT 48 (1936-37) 563-65. Ward, E. F. de. “Mourning Customs in 1, 2 Samuel.” JJS 23 (1972) 1-27, 145-66. Weimar, P. “Literarkritisches zur Ijobnovelle.” B N 12 (1980) 6 2 80. W eiss, M. The Story of Job’s Beginning. Job 1—2: A Literary Analysis. Jerusalem: Magnes, 1983. W ensinck, A. J. Some Semitic Rites of M ourning and Religion: Studies on Their Origin and M utual Relation. Verhandelingen der Koninklijke Akademie van Wetenschappen

te Amsterdam. Afdeeling Letterkunde, Nieuwe Reeks. 18/1. Amsterdam: J. Müller, 1917.

Jo b

2

1: 1-2: 13

Translation 1There was a man in the land of Uz; Job was his name. That man was blameless and upright, a God-fearer, a shunner of evil. 2There were born to him seven sons and three daughters. 3And his substancea was: seven thousand sheep and three thousand camels and five hundred yoke of oxen and five hundred she-asses; and he had a great multitude of servants.b That man was the greatest of all the people of the East. 4His sons would go and make a feast in the house of each on his day, and they would send and invite their three sisters to eat and drink with them. 5And when the days of the feast were overaJob would sendh and hallow them. He would rise up earlyc in the morning and offer sacrifices in accord with the number of them all. For Job would say, “It may be that my children have sinned and cursedd God in their hearts!” e Thus did (Job continually. 6Now there came a day whena the sons of God came to present themselves beforeb Yahweh, and the Satan also came among them. 7And Yahweh said to the Satan, “Whence do you come?” The Satan answered Yahweh, saying, “From going to and fro in the earth, and from walking up and down in it.” 8 Yahweh said to the Satan, “Have you considered my servant Job? aThere is none like him in the earth, a man blameless and upright, a God-fearer, a shunner of evil.” 9The Satan answered Yahweh, saying, “Is it for naught that Job has feareda God? 10Have you not put a hedge about him and about his house and about all that is his on every side? You have blessed the work of his hands, and his substance is spread throughout the land. 11But put forth a your hand now and touch all that is his; surely he would curseb you to your face!” 12 Yahweh said to the Satan, “See, all that is his is in your hand; only upon himself do not put forth your hand.” And the Satan went out from the presence of Yahweh. 13Now there came a day when Job’s sons and daughters were eating, and drinking wine, in the house of their eldest brother. 14A messenger came to Job, and said, “The oxen were plowinga and the asses grazing beside them;h 15and the Sabeans fell upon them a and took them; the servants they have put to the sword; b and I alone have escapedc to tell you.” 16But while he was still speaking, another came, and said, “The fire of God fell from heaven and burned the flocks and the servants, and it has consumed them; and I alone have escaped to tell you.” 17But while he was still speaking, another came, and said, “The Chaldeans formed three bands, and made a raid against the camels and took them; and the servants they have put to the sword; and I alone have escaped to tell you.” 18But while he was stillaspeaking, another came and said, “Your sons and your daughters were eating and drinking wine in the house of their eldest brother; 19and suddenly a mighty wind came across the wilderness and struck the four corners of the house; it has fallen upon the young people, and they are dead, and I alone have escaped to tell you.” 20 Then Job rose up, and he rent his mantle, and he shaved his head, and he fell down upon the ground and did obeisance.a 21And he said, “Naked I came forth from my mother’s womb; and naked I shall return. Yahweh has given; and Yahweh has taken. May Yahweh’s name be blessed.” 22In all thisaJob did not sin or speak irreverently h of God. 2:1Now there came a day when the sons of God came to present themselves before Yahweh, and the Satan also came among them to present himself before Yahweh. 2And Yahweh said to the Satan, “Whence do you come?” The Satan answered Yahweh, saying, “From going to and fro in the earth, and from walking up and

Notes

3

down in it.” 3Yahweh said to the Satan, “Have you considered my servant Job? There is none like him in the earth, a man blameless and upright, a God-fearer, a shunner of evil. And he still maintains his integrity, even thoughayou urgedh me against him to destroy c him without cause.” d 4 The Satan answered Yahweh, saying, “Skin fo r a skin! All that a man has he will give for his life. 5But put forth your hand now and touch his bone and his flesh; surely he would curse you to your face!” 6 Yahweh said to the Satan, “See, he is in your hand; only you must preserve his life.” 7 The Satan went forth from the presence of Yahweh, and he smote Job with grievous sores from the sole of his foot unto the crown of his head. 8And Job took up a potsherd and scraped himself with it as a he sat among the ashes. 9His wife said to him, “Do you still maintain your integrity? Curse God and die!”a 10Job said to her, “Would you too speak as one of the foolish women? We indeeda accept good from God; shall we notb also accept harm?” In all this Job did not sin with his lips. 11Now when Job’s three friends heard of all this misfortune that had come upon him, they set out, each from his own home, Eliphaz from Teman, Bildad from Shuah, and Zophar from Naamah, and by consent they met in order to bring him sympathy and comfort. 12And when they lifted up their eyes from a distance and saw him, they hardly recognized him; then they lifted up their voice and wept. Each of them tore his robe, and they threw dust over their heads into the air.a 13And for seven days and seven nights a they sat with him on the ground; none of them spoke a word to him, for they saw how great his suffering^ was. Notes 1:3.a. , a collective noun generally including only cattle, most often only cows, sheep, and goats. Though the broader meaning “possessions” is not recognized by BDB, it is attested in Gen 49:32 (where is not to be read) and perhaps Gen 47:18 (and the root is “get, acquire”); cf. also G. Rinaldi, “mqnh (;miqneh): Giobbe 1,3,” BeO 20 (1978) 60. Here includes servants, so is best translated “substance” ( k j v , r v ), “possessions” (j p s ), or “property” (Pope, Gordis) rather than “cattle” (Driver, Dhorme; cf. Fohrer). 3.b. , a rare collective noun (only elsewhere in Gen 26:14) in a position in such lists at which male and female slaves are usually mentioned. The meaning “work animals” (n a b ) is unparalleled, as well as being inappropriate after such animals have been specified. 5.a. , probably an intransitive hiph “complete a circuit, come to a full end” (so BDB, KB, Fohrer, Gordis; cf. a similar use of nqp in Ug.: CTA 23:67-68; Gibson, 127). For the view that “sons” is the subject and “days of the feast” the object, see Driver, Dhorme. 5.b. Frequentative, as the verbs in v 4. 5.c. This is the conventional translation of DDIÜ hiph, but it is challenged by Pope, who remarks, “The notion of earliness does not appear to be intrinsic to its meaning,” and translates “he would get busy” (similarly Andersen: “conscientious activity, not necessarily . . . time”). It is true that frequently accompanies HDIZ3 (as here; Judg 19:5,8; 1 Sam 15:12; 29:10, 11; Isa 5:11), and that in some passages the sense appears to be “do quickly, eagerly” (so Jer 7:13, 25; 11:7; 25:4; 26:5; 29:19; 32:33; 35:14, 15; 44:4; Zeph 3:7), but in other places the sense of “early in the morning” is implied (Cant 7:13 [12]; Hos 6:4 [where it is parallel with “morning”]; Gen 20:8 [where it refers to telling a dream after waking]). Where “persistently” seems the most natural translation (as in the Jer passages), DDK) is a dead (or almost dead) metaphor (cf. KB). On the verb, see also M. Delcor, “Quelques cas de survivances du vocabulaire nómade en hébreu biblique. Leur signification,” VT 25 (1975) 307-22 (309-10). 5.d. , lit., “blessed,” a euphemism for “cursed” (see Comment). It cannot be determined whether is a scribal replacement for a verb that was found too offensive, or whether “the same psychological process postulated for a scribe may [not] well have operated for the author” (Gordis; similarly Duhm). J. J. Owens translates “they (i.e., the sons) blessed God in their hearts”

4

J o b 1: 1-2: 13

for their father’s concern (RevExp 68 [1971] 457-67), but the identical phrase in 1:11; 2:5,9 cannot be so translated. The view that means properly “salute” (as in 1 Sam 25:14), and that it may have been used in taking leave, hence “bid farewell to, renounce” (so Dillmann, Davidson, r v ), is unsupported by clear evidence. “Blasphemed” (Rvmg, j p s , n a b , n j b ) is rather vague; does it mean “spoke irreverently” or “reviled, calumniated, abused” (cf. OED, s.v.)? 5.e. P. Joiion interestingly proposed that we should restore before “in the joy of their hearts,” a euphemism for “in their drunkenness” (cf. Deut 28:47; Isa 65:14). Their ‘cursing” would then not be silent, but, more naturally, verbal (Bib 11 [1930] 322-24 [322]). 5. f. Frequentative impf. 6. a. Pope, followed by Blommerde, translates “the day arrived when the gods come and present themselves,” i.e., the day characterized by that event; other uses o f , regularly followed by waw consec and “impf,” do not support this view (see Comment). 6.b. In view of the usage of the phrase, the should not be taken as adversative (as against Rashi, comparing Isa 3:13); see also on 2:1. 8. a. The connective is , translated “for” by r v , Gordis (similarly Horst, Fohrer), but better taken as introducing a clause forming a second complement of the verb (Dhorme); so it means “that” (which may be omitted in translation). 9. a. Word order, with first, shows that the form is pf tense, not present ptcp; see Driver, Tenses, § 135 (4). 11.a. The use of the imperative as a hypothetical is recognized by the grammarians: GKC, § 11 Of, notes the use of two imperatives linked by simple waw, the first imperative containing a condition, the second “the consequence which the fulfilment of the condition will involve” (cf. Job 2:9; etc..). Driver, Tenses, §§ 150—52, offers a more thorough analysis, but does not mention our passage, perhaps because the notional apodosis is in oath form rather than a plain indicative. ll.b . Lit., “bless”; see n. 5.d. 14.a. ΓΠΙζηπ: “the fern, cannot be very satisfactorily explained” (Driver), especially when the mase suff of refers to them (though mase suffs referring to fern nouns are common enough; GKC, § 1350). The fern in Gen 33:13 refers specifically to female cattle. ] also occurs inexplicably with fern adjectives in Gen 30:43. Guillaume saw in this use of the fern further evidence of a setting of the book in the Hijaz, in that in the region of Tema and Dedan C. M. Doughty (Travels in Arabia Deserta [Cambridge: CUP, 1888] 1:152) saw cows rather than oxen plowing; but not much weight can be put on this argument. 14. b. : Driver notes that and are more commonly followed by a geographical term (cf. BDB, 391b § 5.h.3). Dahood’s suggestion (Psalms II, 354) that here means “pasture” (tr. “on their grazing plots”) is unnecessary, though does occur in parallelism with “pasturage” in Ps 95:7. 15. a. The verb is fern because its subject is the collective ; the omission of beth, or after the verb is exceptional but intelligible. 15.b. Lit., “to the mouth of the sword,” “mouth” being a dead metaphor in this common idiom, but arising from the “devouring” of the victim by the sword (cf. Deut 32:42; 2 Sam 2:26). Irrelevant to the question o f whether this is a “poetic figure” is the artifact referred to by Pope with the blade of a sword coming forth from a hilt shaped like a lion’s mouth (T. J. Meek, “Archaeology and a Point in Hebrew Syntax,” BASOR 122 [1951] 31-33; cf. Rev 1:16; 2:16; 19:15); the “sword of the mouth” (as in Rev 2:16) is an independent literary figure. 15.c. Ehrlich’s supposition (repeated by Gordis; cf. also Duhm) that the cohortative expresses the survivor’s difficulty in escaping is fanciful. 18.a. MT is usually revocalized to or , the form found in the parallel vv 16, 17. does appear as a conjunction, “while,” in 1 Sam 14:19; Ps 141:10 (BDB, 725 §11.2; KB, 681a § 8), and with a ptcp in Neh 7:3. J. Barr defends the reading “while” (JSS 27 [1982] 177-82; see also the Additional Note by J. Hughes, ibid., pp. 189-92). 20.a. / , derived by the standard lexica from , has been thought, in the light of Ug. hwy, to be derived from a root (KB3). Cf. also G. I. Davies, “A Note on the Etymology of histahawah, VT 29 (1979) 493-95 (cognate with Arab, hawa “coil up, double up”). But see J. A. Emerton, “The Etymology of histahawáh,” OTS 20 (1977) 41-55, in favor o f the derivation from . 22.a. Or, possibly, “in spite of all this,” beth concessive (cf. Driver; see BDB, 90b § II I.7). 22.b. is now usually taken as “unseemliness” (KB), and is found elsewhere only in Jer 23:13 (perhaps also Ps 109:4); the occurrence in Job 24:12 requires emendation. Cf. “what is tasteless” (6:6; also Lam 2:14). Some connect it with Arab, tifl “spittle” (Tur-Sinai, Pope). Older emendations, to “wickedness” or J “folly” (Beer; cf. BHK) or to 1 “prayer,” understood

Notes

5

here as “protest” (Ehrlich), have been rightly abandoned, though M. Dahood (“Hebrew-Ugaritic Lexicography XII,” Bib 55 [1974] 381-93 [390]) argued for the vocalization meaning “curse” as well as “prayer” (cf. 1:5 where “they sinned” is balanced by - , “and they cursed”). 2:3.a. Not a waw consec expressing “a logical or necessary consequence of that which immediately precedes,” thus “he still holdeth fast his integrity so that thou thus (as it now appears) groundlessly movedst me against him” (GKC, § 1111), for should not be linked with (see n. 2:3.d). More probably it is analogous to cases where “the action, or its results, continues into the writer’s [here the narrative’s] present” (Driver, Tenses, § 80), though whether Driver’s translation by a present tense, “and thou art enticing me,” is satisfactory is doubtful. Many versions have “although” ( r s v , n a b ; cf. n i v , Pope), which is not strictly a translation of waw consec; but Driver, Tenses, § 74/3, notes cases where two verbs in a consecutive chain are contrasted, and best translated by “and yet”; so “although” is permissible. 3.b. , “movedst” ( k j v , r v ), “moved” (r s v ), “provoked” (j b ), “enticed” (n i v ), “incited” (n e b , n a b , Pope, Gordis), is a delocutive verb, signifying an attempt to persuade rather than the act of successful persuasion; cf. “attempt to deceive” (see D. J. A. Clines and D. M. Gunn, ‘“You Tried to Persuade Me’ and ‘Violence! Outrage!’ in Jeremiah xx 7 -8 ,” VT 28 [1978] 20-27). 3.c. , lit., “swallow” (cf. Rvmg), is frequently a metaphor for general destruction. Mot, the Ugaritic god of death, “swallows” his victims (cf. N. M. Sarna, JBL 76 [1957] 13-25; and cf. also n. 8:18.a; 10:8). A. Guillaume, however (“A Note on the 75/ ”, / ns 13 [1962] 320-23; followed by KB3), insisted that we have here a II (cognate with Arab, balaga “reach, arrive at,” and so “afflict”), meaning “afflict, distress, injure.” The meaning is satisfactory but not mandatory. 3. d. “without cause” or “without success” is linked by many with the verb (Dhorme, Holscher, Rowley, Andersen; cf. Moffatt “it was idle of you to entice me”; similarly Terrien, TOB, j b ). But it is not clear that the “urging” was either baseless or futile, and is more naturally connected with the verb it accompanies, (so Horst, Fohrer, Gordis, r s v , n e b , n a b , n i v ). 4. a. Gray’s suggestion to read ^ is discussed in the Comment. For “on be alf o f” and thus equivalent to , see BDB, 126 § 2; “in exchange for” must be the sense in η second use in this verse. 8. a. The final phrase should be taken as a circumstantial clause (cf. Driver, Tenses, § 160; GKC, § 156); so n e b , n a b , n i v , Gordis. 9. a. The second imperative most probably indicates the consequence of the first (examples in GKC, § llOf); it is most improbable that the meaning is “Curse God before dying” (Dhorme, Rowley [possibly], Andersen [perhaps]; similarly Davidson). 10. a. D. N. Freedman suggested that gam means “aloud” (cited by M. Dahood, “Ugaritic Lexicography,” Mélanges Eugene Tisserant [Cittá del Vaticano: Biblioteca Apostólica Vaticana, 1964] 1:81— 104 [86 η. 17]); on gm in this meaning see also D. Beirne, “A Note on Numbers 11,4,” Bib 44 (1963) 201—3 (203). But it is better to take it as the emphatic ; see C. J. Labuschagne, “The Emphasizing Particle GAM and Its Connotations,” Studia Bíblica et Semítica (FS Th. C. Vriezen; ed. W. C. van Unnik and A. S. van der Woude [Wageningen: Veenman 8c Zonen, 1966]) 193203 (199); and cf. already B. Jacob, ZAW 32 (1912) 278-87 (279-82). lO.b. ' “not” is taken as “indeed” by F. Notscher, “we must indeed also receive evil” (“Zum emphatischen Lamed,” VT 3 [1953] 372-80 [375]). This is no more likely than the proposal that is an affirmative use of the negative particle (G. S. Glanzman, “Two Notes: Am 3,15 and Os 11,8—9,” CBQ 23 [1961] 227—33 [231—32], and G. R. Driver, “Affirmation by Exclamatory Negation, ’JANESCU 5 [1973] 107-14). 12. a. “toward heaven” is deleted by some (see Comment). Among emendations are the logical but bookish suggestion of Szczygiel, M il “because of his desolation” (hoph inf of 0 , Lev 26:34), and the interesting proposals o f Tur-Sinai, ^ “desolate” (as in Ezek 3:15, “I sat there desolate [in mourning]”; cf. Ezra 9:3, “I sat appalled [rifliKfip, poel ptep]”), and subsequently, because is not plur, ^ , hiph inf abs. Though Pope finds the idea attractive, the inf abs is not likely, and there is some distance between “sitting appalled” and “sprinkling dust appalled”; Tur-Sinai therefore argued that the word stood originally after v 13a, “they sat . . . seven days and seven nights,” but it is asking too much to believe that as well. 13. a. Duhm, finding “and seven nights” missing from the “original LXX” (Beer in BHK simply says it is lacking in LXX), would delete it as a “harmless expansion.” The evidence is rather that though the phrase was missing from the MSS used by Origen (as an annotation in the margin of the Syro-Hexaplar says) all extant MSS of LXX have it (though not always the “seven”) and editors regard it as genuine (perhaps deciding that its absence from Origen’s MSS was due to homoeoteleuton).

J o b 1: 1-2: 13

6

13.b. can be physical “pain” or mental “grief,” the former in 14:22, the pain of one’s body, and in Ezek 28:24, pain from a thorn; the latter probably in Job 16:6 (his grief is not assuaged), and in Prov 14:13 (even in laughter the heart grieves). Here, where the “suffering” is “seen”—which suggests it is external—we may be invited to wonder whether the friends really understand how Job feels.

Form / Structure / Setting The structure of this prose prologue to the book is clearly defined. There are five scenes, alternating between earth and heaven, and a sixth, pendant to those, linking the events and the prologue with the dialogues: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

On earth In heaven On earth In heaven On earth

Job’s piety (1:1-5) First dialogue of Yahweh and the Satan (1:6-12) Disasters announced to Job (1:13-22) Second dialogue of Yahweh and the Satan (2:l-7a) Personal afflictions of Job (2:7b-10)

To which is added: 6.

Arrival of Job’s friends (2:11-13)

This is a very stylized structure, tending toward the naive. Its simplicity is further emphasized by parallels between scenes. Most striking is the parallel structure of scenes 2 and 4: 1. Situation The sons of God present themselves (1:6; 2:1) 2. Complication a. Question by Yahweh (1:7a; 2:2a) b. Reply by the Satan (1:7b; 2:2b) c. Question by Yahweh (1:8; 2:3) d. Reply by the Satan (1:9-11; 2:4-5) e. Yahweh’s authorization (1:12a; 2:6) 3. Resolution The Satan goes forth (1:12b; 2:7a) The parallels here extend beyond the structure to the bulk of the wording. The scenes are with one exception clearly marked off from one another by the recurring phrase “there came a day when” (1 2:1 ;13 ,1:6 , ); the first scene does not of course need any marker of beginning. The exception to the pattern is at the juncture between the fourth and fifth scenes. That is, at the beginning of the final scene, the breaking of the formal pattern signals the impingement of the divine world upon the human; as the two scenes dissolve into one another, the tempo quickens for the finale. The simple and repetitive structure of the prologue may be termed one of its “falsely naive” features (see D. J. A. Clines, H A R 9 [1985] 127-36). In each scene there are never more than two speakers, a sign of the naivety of the depiction (in the third scene, as each messenger gives his account of disaster, he disappears from the scene as another is superimposed). The genre of the prologue (1:1-2:13) and the epilogue (42:7-17) considered as a whole should probably be designated as legend, in the form-critical sense of “edifying story,” a narrative type in which the focus is upon character rather than strictly upon event (G. W. Coats, “Tale,” in Saga, Legend, 63-64), in which we find “a virtue embodied in a deed,” in A. Jolles’ classic formulation (Einfache Formen [2nd ed.; Tübingen: Niemeyer, 1958] 23-61), with an emphasis on behavior and character worthy of imitation

Form / Structure / Setting

7

(cf. R. M. Hals, “Legend,” in Coats, Saga, Legend, 51). This designation focuses on the depiction of Job’s response to his afflictions as the appropriate response of a godly person. As Fohrer put it, “The concern of this narrative, as of the book as a whole, is not the problem of suffering, but the behavior of people in their experiencing and enduring suffering . . . not the problem of theodicy, but of human existence in suffering” (69). It is not always possible to distinguish clearly between legend and “tale”—R. E. Murphy uses the term “edifying story” (Wisdom Literature: Job, Proverbs, Ruth, Canticles, Ecclesiastes, and Esther [FOTL 13; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1981] 21)—and the typical features of the tale (Coats, “Tale,” in Saga, Legend, 63-67) may be seen here, principally the movement from exposition, through complication, resolution, dénouement, to conelusion. Here exposition is obviously 1:1—5, followed by a double complication (the two heavenly scenes and their consequences, 1:6—21 and 2:1-10). If the prologue is read without knowledge of the epilogue (and the distance that separates them invites us to keep the ultimate resolution at the back of our minds as long as possible) then a double resolution is effected in 1:20-21 and 2:10 (similarly Habel, speaking of an “apparent resolution,” p. 79). Already in 1:20—21 we are being tempted to believe that the story has reached its conclusion with Job’s “arising” (cf. R. Alter, Art of Biblical Narrative, 65). The legend as tale is, however, further “complicated” by the episode of 2:11-13, the arrival of the friends, which locates itself in the position of a dénouement or conclusion where loose ends are tied up and reconciliations effected, but which turns out to be a further disorientation. The prologue thus concludes at the opening of a new arc of tension that will not reach its resolution before 42:9. Every appearance of simplicity in this narrative breaks apart into the most intriguing subtlety. This prologue is a superb instance of the art of narration through dialogue that Alter has characterized in reference especially to 1 Sam 1 and 21 (Art of Biblical Narrative, chap. 4). The opening scene (1:1—5) we may designate a “pretemporal exposition,” first identifying the protagonist and his character, specifying his wealth, and moving then into the “iterative tense” where a repeated action (1:4—5) will form the transition from the “actionless beginning” to the narrative proper, the “singulative” tense. Job’s habitual thought, and therewith his character, is rendered by a piece of interior speech (T5). In the second scene (1:6—12) there is no narrative proper except for the framing sentences (the Satan came, the Satan left). The whole substance of this crucial narration that determines Job’s fate is contained in a five-element dialogue, of which Yahweh has the first, the middle, and the last, and the Satan the second and fourth elements. That the speeches of Yahweh open and end the conversation (it is the same in the second heavenly scene) is a signal that he is the architect and the authorizer of Job’s calamity. The first exchange (“Where have you come from?,” “From going to and fro in the earth. . . .”) draws into the dialogue material that is more for the readers’ information than for the progress of the dialogue; we need to know that the Satan has had the opportunity and the responsibility of inquiring into the case of the man Job. The second speech of Yahweh (“Have you considered Job?”) seems at first a guileless question, but hearing the response it elicits (“Does Job fear God for naught?”) we come to see that it was a provocative question, pregnant with implication. The final speech confirms that although it may seem to be the Satan who has fingered Job, it is Yahweh who is truly the hard-faced one: “All that he has is in your power”; only after the general authorization to harm Job comes the rider to protect him (“only . . .”). It is the same in the second heavenly scene. Alter has nicely remarked on how the respective speeches of Yahweh and the Satan function as “contrastive dialogue” to suggest characterization. Yahweh’s first words (“Where are you coming from?”) are almost brusque, and it is only when he is echoing the narrator’s initial depiction of Job (1:1) that he speaks a formal language. The Satan, on the other hand, “shows a fondness for verse-insets, clever citation of folksayings, argumentative positioning of syntactical members for the most persuasive ef-

8

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feet . . . he is a master of conscious rhetoric, alongside ofwhom God seems plainspoken” (Art of Biblical Narrative, 74). In the third scene dialogue again is primary as the events that constitute Job’s calamity are never narrated but reported, not shown but told. The device of the messenger speeches not only creates an atmosphere of accelerating doom, no speaker being able to conclude his report before being overtaken by the next, but also heightens the readers’ expectation for Job’s reaction by preventing Job from responding emotionally or verbally to any one calamity until he responds to them all. Strikingly, his response when it comes is initially silent (1:20), and thereafter is a monologue (1:21), or even perhaps an interior speech like 1:5. The fifth scene invites comparison on several fronts with the third: it has more narration in it than any of the others (2:7b-8), the narrator himself taking the place of the messengers of chap. 1. But the weight lies upon the dialogue of Job and his wife, her speech forming in verbal mode the third trial of Job, borrowing half its material from Yahweh (“hold fast integrity”) and half from the Satan (“curse God”), as if to make her the earthly counterpart of his heavenly assailants. Dialogue in heaven and speech on earth have spelled Job’s disaster; what will it signify that his friends on their arrival impose on themselves an unnaturally extended silence? Only the sequel of the dialogues will offer an answer to that little riddle with which the prologue concludes.

Comment 1:1—2:13 The prose prologue. T he Book of Job begins and concludes with a prose narrative relating the experiences of the righteous sufferer Job. In the prologue, the two fundam ental data indispensable for the book as a whole are presented. First, Job is a righteous man; second, he is suffering undeservedly, and that at God’s hand, or at least with God’s permission. From these data the whole issue of the book arises. But that issue appears differently to Job and to the readers of the book. To Job the issue is how to reconcile his experience of suffering with his knowledge of his innocence; to the readers the issue is rather how a righteous person is to behave when afflicted by undeserved suffering. T he difference between Job and the readers of the book is that the readers are offered the twin fundam ental data of the book as its unexaminable premise; whereas for Job the twin data are the object of unrelenting examination, for though he believes both implicitly, they spell out to him only a gigantic contradiction that imperils either his faith in God or his faith in himself—or both. T he prose prologue is divided into five scenes, the first, third, and fifth set on earth, and the second and fourth set in heaven: 1. Jo b ’s character and concern for his children’s safety (1:1-5) 2. First confrontation between the Satan and Yahweh (1:6—12) 3. Announcem ents of disasters to Jo b ’s possessions and children, and Jo b ’s response (1:13-22) 4. Second confrontation between the Satan and Yahweh (2:1-6) 5. Personal afflictions of Job, Jo b ’s response, and the friends’ response (2:713)

T he scenes are, with one exception, kept clearly distinct from one another by means of the phrase “and there was a day w hen” ( ) at the beginning

Comment

9

of the second, third, and fourth scenes (1:6, 13; 2:1). T he exception draws attention to itself: not only is the introductory phrase absent from 2:7, but, for the only time in the prologue, one of the actors moves out of his proper sphere. T he Satan, that is, though he is a character in the heavenly realm, eventually operates both on the heavenly plane and on the earthly plane; he goes “forth from the presence of Yahweh” in heaven and “afflict [s] Jo b ” on earth. T he breaking of the formal pattern signals the impingem ent of the divine world upon the hum an; and it further underscores the role of the Satan as the executor of the heavenly decision against Job. God remains in heaven, uninvolved directly in the affliction of Job; the very possibility of movem ent from the heavenly sphere to the earthly accentuates the aloofness of God, who does not engage in any such movement. So charged with implications is the fracture of the formal pattern of scenes that one is tem pted to find in this structure a pattern created only in order to be destroyed for the sake of the effect. T hat is, the simple structure of the prologue is only falsely naive; like the unsophisticated language of these chapters, the plainness of the structure suggests, not a primitive narrative mode, but a subtle artistic severity. See further, D. J. A. Clines, HAR 9 (1985) 127-36. 1—5 Job’s character. T he one thing needful in the preface to the poem of Job the righteous sufferer is that “there must be no room for the misgiving that the sufferer’s afflictions are the due reward of his deeds” (Peake). T he opening sentence establishing Jo b ’s blamelessness is given precedence over the more external description of Jo b ’s family and wealth, since it is his moral rectitude that will be put in question by events of the narrative. Reference to his children and possessions, however, functions not as a decorative addition to the portrayal of the man, but as tangible evidence of his uprightness. T he fundam ental assertion of Jo b ’s blamelessness is reverted to in the last two verses of this unit, where a cameo scene depicts how scrupulous he is to ensure that his innocence extends beyond himself to the members of his family. At the same time, by bringing the children within the ambit of the story, it prepares for the third scene, in which their fate is portrayed. 1 First things first, for this storyteller. W hat is im portant about this man is not his name or his origin. The name Job is of uncertain meaning, Uz of uncertain location; was it any different in the narrator’s time? Jo b ’s moral character is the them e of this scene, and the barest identification of the man is all that is needed. A customary form ula with which a biblical narrative book begins is “and it came to pass that” (1 ) or “and there was” ( !); thus Joshua, Judges, 1 Samuel, (2 Samuel), Ruth, Esther (also Ezekiel). Some continuity with preceding narrative is probably implied; or, in the case of a book like Ruth, which had no doubt been an entity independent of Israel’s national history, the formula forges a deliberate link with that history. H ere the opening phrase is, literally, “a m an there was” ( 10 ), the only genuine parallels to which occur at the beginnings of N athan’s parable (2 Sam 12:1) and of Joash’s fable (2 Kgs 14:9); in Esth 2:5, often cited in this connection, the similar word-order simply marks a shift of focus; similarly 1 Sam 25:2). The implication is not that what follows is a tale rather than history (Gordis) but that the subsequent narrative has no link with any stage in the course of Israel’s history (thus Konig, Syntax, § 365g). The form ulation of the opening words gives an advance warning

10

J o b 1: 1-2: 13

that the frame of reference of this story will be other than Israel’s canonical history. T he name of Jo b ’s land will be a further such signal. The importance of the name Uz lies not in where such a place is, but in where it is not. Israelites themselves may not have known its precise location, but they will have known, as we do, that it is not in Israel. The name therefore signifies that the action has a horizon that is not peculiarly Israelite. It does not mean that Job necessarily is a foreigner, for most Jews of the exilic period and beyond—if that is the time of the book’s composition—lived outside the borders of Israel, and the patriarchs themselves—since that is ostensibly the time in which the story is set—were almost as often to be found outside the land as within it. The Book of Job simply does not say whether or not Job is an Israelite; by leaving open the question of his race, the book effectively makes his experience transcend the distinction between Israelite and non-Israelite, Jew and non-Jew. We do not know that the storyteller had such a conscious intention, but such is the effect he has created. T he clearest pointer to the location of Uz is Lam 4:21, where “the land of Uz” stands parallel to “Edom ” (the only other occurrence of Uz as a place name is in J e r 25:20, where no clues to its location are given). Further support for a situation in or near Edom may be given by the occurrence of the personal name Uz in an Edomite genealogy (Gen 36:28 = 1 Chr 1:42), and by the probability that most of the personal names in Job have an Edomite origin (see on 2:11). Further, the personal name Uz is linked in Gen 22:21 with the name Buz, which appears in Je r 25:23 as a place name associated with Dedan and Tem a, towns in northwest Arabia and thus not far south of Edom. Again, the Septuagint appendix to the Book of Job preserves a tradition that the land of Job (which has become Ausitis in Greek transliteration) was located “on the borders of Idum ea and Arabia” (42:17b), which indicates the same general setting (it is not clear that this tradition rests on the faulty identification of Job with the Jobab of Gen 10:29, as claimed by Fohrer, and Snaith, Job, 45). The name Uz has also been seen in a Lihyanite tribal name, al cAu§ (B. Moritz, “Edomitische Genealogien,” Z A W 44 [1926] 81—92), and in the place name Khirbet el cI§ (so A. Musil, A rabia Petraea [Vienna: A. Holder, 1907] 2/1:337; cf. J. Simons, Geographical a n d Topographical Texts [Leiden: Brill, 1955] 25). Very m uch less probable are attem pts to situate Uz in the region of Damascus or of northern Mesopotamia (cf. Gen 10:23 [= 1 Chr 1:17] where Uz is a “son” of Aram; and the tradition in Josephus, A n t. 1.6.4, that Ouses or Ousos son of Aram was the founder of Damascus and Trachonitis). Cf. also G. A. Barton, “T he Original Home of the Story of Jo b ,” /TIL 31 (1912) 6 3 68. M. Gorg relates the name to the Egyptian term cd or c3 d , “land on the edge of the desert at the border of the regularly watered region,” locating the friends’ homes in the south, the east, and the north, as representing a global failure to com prehend Job (“Ijob aus dem Lande cU s : Ein Beitrag zur ‘theologische G eographic,”’ B N 12 [1980] 7-12). T he name Job is not attested elsewhere in Hebrew. But it is known from several extrabiblical sources as a Semitic name. In the Egyptian Execration Texts of the nineteenth century b .c . a Palestinian chieftain whose name is probably to be read Ay(y)abum is m entioned (A N E T , 329; so W. F. Albright, “The Land of Damascus between 1850 and 1750 b .c .,” B A S O R 83 [1941] 30— 36 [36]; but cf. B. Landsberger, “Assyrische Konigsliste und ‘dunkles Zeitalter,” ’

Comment

11

JCS 8 [1954] 47-73 [60 η. 126]). Longer forms Ayabi-sharri and Ayabi-ilu are identified in an eighteenth-century list of Egyptian slaves, some of whom bear Semitic names (Pap. Brooklyn 35.1446; cf. W. F. Albright, “North-west Semitic Names in a List of Egyptian Slaves from the Eighteenth Century b .c .,” JAOS 74 [1954] 223—33 [225—26]). In eighteenth-century Alalakh and sixteenthcentury Mari the name Ayyabum appears (D. J. Wiseman, The Alalakh Tablets [London: British Institute of Archaeology at Ankara, 1953] no. 11.35 [p. 38]; Η. B. Huffmon, Amorite Personal Names in the Mari Texts [Baltimore: Johns Hopkins, 1965] 103, 161). In the fourteenth-century Am arna Letters, the prince of Ashtaroth in Bashan has the name Ayyáb (letters 237, 256; ANET, 486; cf. W. F. Albright, “Two Little Understood Am arna Letters from the Middle Jordan Valley,” BASOR 89 [1943] 7-19 [11]). And in thirteenth-century Ugarit the form Ayab occurs in a list of personnel (Le palais royal d’Ugarit [Mission de Ras Shamra 7; ed. C. F.-A. Schaeffer; Paris: Im prim erie Nationale et C. Klincksieck, 1957] 2:62 [text 35 rev., line 10]). T here can be little doubt, in the light of the forms attested, that the name originally m eant “where is my father?”—though it is hard to see precisely how the Hebrew form ( iyyób) has been derived. The name probably signifies “where is my (divine) father?” and is an appeal to a deity for help. Less likely is the suggestion that it is a name given to a child whose father has died before its birth (for such names see J. J. Stamm, Die akkadische Namengebung [Leipzig: J. C. Hinrichs, 1939] 284-87). The Hebrew vocalization does not suggest such a meaning, however, and there is no hint in Old Testam ent or rabbinic sources that any particular m eaning was attached to the name, though occasional plays on the similarity of the name with the verb “to hate” (5, ayab) were made in Jewish literature (b. B. Bat. 16a; Nid. 52a). Suggestions about what the Hebrew name m ight have been thought to mean by readers or hearers of the Job story have been made nevertheless. “to hate,” the form The most obvious connection is with the root (?iyyób) being analogous to the passive participial forms (yillód) “born” and Ί iDtü (sikkór) “drunken,” and so signifying “the hated one,” “the persecuted , Hyydb, is analogous to one” (so, e.g., Gordis). Less likely is the idea that the active participial form (gibbór) “strong,” and thus signifies “the hater,” or, more precisely, since the gibbór form ation tends to signify a profession or habitual activity, “the inveterate foe.” Others have related the name to the Arabic awwáb “returning, penitent,” especially because the Koran describes Job (?ayyüb in Arabic) as awwáb (Sura 38.44). But in the same chapter David and Solomon have the same epithet applied to them also. It is better to suppose that the name Job was the traditional one for the hero of the story and that it derives from a non-Hebrew origin. Perhaps when the tale was first told the West Semitic form of the name with its implicit cry for divine help was intentionally symbolic; in the Old Testam ent context the name has no particular significanee, and nothing in the m an’s name, any more than in his character, presages his history. This headline verse finally epitomizes the character of Job. T he perfect tense of “that man was” is a frequentative, indicating the constant nature of the man, which is attested here by the narrator in his own person and in 1:8 and 2:3 as the assessment of God. Jo b ’s piety is described by two pairs of words, familiar in proverbial wisdom and in the Psalms, “blameless” and “u p

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right” (in Prov 2:21; 28:10 [29:10 doubtful]; Ps 37:37; cf. 25:21 [abstract nouns]; Prov 2:7 [one abstract noun]) and “fearing God and turning away from evil” (in Job 28:28; Prov 3:7 [cf. 14:16; 16:6]). T he language, though form ed and shaped poetically, is not peculiar, however, to any sphere of Israelite life. “Blameless” translates better than “perfect” ( k j v , r v ). But the oftenrepeated comment that the term does not m ean that Job is sinless (so Peake, Rowley, Gordis) is questionable; for the contrast in the book is almost invariably between the “righteous” and the “wicked” and there is no doubt that from the viewpoint of the author and the hero himself, Job is “righteous.” T hat the righteous are imperfect is sometimes suggested (cf. on 4:17), but in Jo b ’s case the issue is never whether his sins are serious or slight but simply whether he is a sinner or not. From perspectives other than those of the book it may seem pretentious for the author—or Job—to assert Jo b ’s blamelessness; thankfully, however, the issues of the book are posed in the simple terms of innocence and guilt, suffering deserved and undeserved, and do not become entangled in niceties about gradations of sinfulness or righteousness. T hough the cognate adjective frequently describes the sacrificial animal that is without blemish (e.g., Lev 22:18-20), there is no sign that in the ethical sense or , as here, is in any way derived from the cultic sense (as against W. Eichrodt, Theology of the Old Testament [tr. J. A. Baker; London: SCM, 1967] 2:394). And while the root has the connotation of “to be whole,” it is misleading to insist that the adjective must m ean “complete, whole, with integrity” or must indicate physical as well as moral health (cf. J. Pedersen, Israel: Its Life and Culture /- // [London: OLÍP; Copenhagen: P. B ranner, 1926] 336-37, 358-59). Gray’s explication of as implying “a character that is complete, all of a piece, not . . . one thing on the surface and another within” (similarly Gordis) falls prey to the etymologizing fallacy. T he link with “upright” indicates that the term has much the same generalized meaning. See also K. Koch, TH W AT 2:1049, § 3f. T he distinction proposed by Dhorm e between as what is intrinsically perfect and as what is perfect in relation to others cannot be sustained. And the argum ent of W. Brueggem ann, “A Neglected Sapiential Word Pair,” ZAW 89 (1977) 234-58 (238), that signifies what is health-giving in relation to the community, and characterizes a person who leads a “disciplined, coherent life according to community norm s,” does not strictly define the word, but offers an exemplification of it. T he term generally translated “upright” ( ) indicates ethical propriety in the broadest sense. It is frequently found in connection with “good” (e.g., Deut 6:18; Ps 25:8) and with “righteous” (e.g., Ps 32:11; 33:1). It certainly is a relational term, having to do with behavior toward others (cf. G. Liedke, TH W AT 1:792-93), though here no specific m eaning is relevant. T he use of in a concrete sense, for a “straight” or “level” path (e.g., Isa 26:7), misleads many into insisting upon some semantic equivalent for its moral sense, such as “straightforw ard” (cf. BOB, 449a, § 3). Nothing in the usage of the term justifies such specification, however. No special distinction is made here between morality and religion, the expression denoting religious behavior being interposed am ong three terms for ethical behavior. So whatever may be the truth of the m atter, nothing in the present text entitles us to assert that Jo b ’s fear of God was the secret of his moral and social equilibrium (as Terrien; similarly Rowley). T he “fear of God” is in

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many texts an anxiety in face of the num inous, but here a respect or reverence for the divine will which is conceived as an aspect of ethical behavior. J. Becker has argued that the original sense of the term is num inous dread before the mighty deeds of God, and that the ethical “fear of God” is a later developm ent in which an echo of the num inous still lingers (Gottesfurcht im Alten Testament [AnBib 25; Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1965] 38—39). T he Psalms, however, contain many examples of the expression in a cultic and not particularly num inous context; and Elohistic passages of the Pentateuch attest the ethical usage (e.g., Gen 20:11; 22:12; Exod 1:17), so that a developmental hypothesis is doubtful. T he term is of course common in wisdom literature, though more frequently in the form “fear of Yahweh,” and its application to Job signifies his casting as the type of the ideal pious wise man. Characteristic also of wisdom theology is the instruction to “turn away from ” (Ί1Ό) evil. The teachers of wisdom plainly see their duty not only in the inculcation of good example but in warning against bad example. T he idea of “turning” belongs to the concept of life as “walking” on a “way,” which should be “straight ahead” (Prov 4:25) without “swerving” ( ) to right or left (e.g., Prov 4:27); keeping to the right way involves “turning away” (Ί ID) from taking evil paths (the expression does not m ean to abandon evil paths already followed). “The highway of the upright ( 1 ) turns away from evil” (Prov 16:17). For the expression “turn away from evil,” cf. also 1:8; 2:3; 28:28; Prov 3:7; 13:19; 14:16; 16:6, 17; Ps 34:15 [14]; 37:27, all typically sapiential. 2 Jo b ’s character, so the Hebrew delicately suggests (waw consecutive), was the precondition of his wealth in heirs and possessions. It is not a retributive theology of virtue and reward at play here, however, but the old idea of God’s blessing in which the pious have a share (Fohrer). First m entioned as the finest blessing a man can have is the imposing num ber of sons; cf. Ps 127:3, where “sons” are a “heritage” ( ) from Yahweh, i.e., a grace gift, and a “rew ard” ( DÍZ1), almost in the sense of “boon.” Cf. also Ps 128:3; 144:12. “Seven” symbolizes completeness or perfection; here (as in 42:13; Ruth 4:15; 1 Sam 2:5; cf. J e r 15:9) “seven sons” is the ideal, as often in the ancient Near East. In the Ugaritic literature, Keret has seven sons (CTA 15.2.23; Gibson, 91; Baal and Mot probably have seven pages, rather than sons, as is sometimes thought [CTA 5.5.8—9; 6.6.8; Gibson, 72,80]); cf. the seven sons and seven daughters of Niobe in Ovid, Metamorphoses 6.182—83). The ratio of seven sons to three daughters reflects the superior worth attached to sons, and although the storyteller here uncritically adopts the conventional sexual ideology, in the reversal of Jo b ’s fortunes at 42:15, he breaches convention by having Job give his daughters an inheritance on an equal footing with his sons. T he figure three in its own way symbolizes a perfect wholeness, groups of three female figures being familiar from many ancient legends and myths (three daughters of Baal [CTA 3A.1.23-25; 3C.3-4; Gibson, 46,48]; three Graces, Hesperides, Gorgons, Fates, Furies, Horae). T he proportion seven :three, am ounting to another round num ber, ten, is seen also in v 3 (7000:3000) (cf. also 1 Kgs 11:3: Solomon’s 700 wives:300 concubines). Jo b ’s wife is not m entioned am ong his blessings, not so m uch because of her ambiguous role as because it is dramatically m ore effective to postpone her appearance to the crucial jun ctu re of 2:9. 3 Jo b ’s possessions are equally the result of his uprightness and piety:

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the verb shows that the enum eration of blessings in v 2 is continued. In keeping with the patriarchal flavor of the narrative, Jo b ’s wealth is described entirely in terms of his cattle and servants (cf. Gen 12:16; 26:14; 30:43; 46:32; 1 Sam 25:2). Clearly Job also possesses plowland (cf. v 14; 5:23; 31:38) and gold (cf. 22:24; 31:24; 42:11), while the quantities of oxen (for plowing) and asses (for carrying the produce of the fields) indicate forms of wealth besides the animals (for gold and silver am ong cattle as forms of wealth in patriarchal times, cf. Gen 24:35). Though the exclusive reference here to animals creates the impression that Job is pictured as a nom ad on the patriarchal pattern, the book as a whole shows Job as a settled agriculturalist with princely rule in a “city” (cf. especially chaps. 29-31). T he term translated “sheep” (] ) includes both sheep and goats, which customarily grazed together (cf. Matt 25:32). Camels were used for carrying loads (cf. Gen 37:25; 2 Kgs 8:9) as well as riding (cf. Gen 24:10; 31:17,34; Ju d g 6:5; Isa 66:20); their presence in this list depends on the patriarchal narratives, and cannot be used as dating evidence for the story or the Book of Job (as against Fohrer, Hesse; on the date of the domestication of the camel, see K. A. Kitchen, IBD 1:228—30). Aristotle offers an ancient attestation that Arabs sometimes kept as many as three thousand camels, the num ber here ascribed to Job (De anim. hist. 9.50.5); but such a num ber would be more appropriate to Bedouin-like camel nomads than to the settled farm er Job. Oxen were yoked in pairs; and a “yoke” ( ) of land was the area a pair of oxen could plow in a day (1 Sam 14:14; Isa 5:10). Oxen were also used for pulling (2 Sam 6:6) and for carrying loads (1 C hr 12:41 [40]). She-asses rather than he-asses are m entioned because of their superior value as milk-producers and for breeding (cf. Pliny, Nat. hist. 28.50.183; 8.68.167-70); in recent centuries in Syria she-asses fetched three times the price of male asses (Wetzstein, cited by Delitzsch). She-asses are also said to be better for riding. A much smaller num ber of he-asses would need to be kept (cf. Gen 32:16 [15]). Asses were used in various farm work, for carrying burdens (e.g., Gen 42:26), plowing (Deut 22:10; Isa 30:24), and threshing (cf. ANEP, 89), as well as riding (e.g., 2 Sam 17:23). T he ass was unclean according to O T food laws (Lev 11:2—8; Deut 14:3-8), but ass’s meat was probably eaten nevertheless (cf. 2 Kgs 6:25). Such a num ber of animals would obviously require a large staff of “servants” for their tending; it is probably because the servants are required by the animals that they are m entioned last in this list and not because they were thought less valuable (for servants as the last item in such a list, cf. Gen 26:14; and from Ugarit, Le palais royal d’Ugarit [Mission de Ras Shamra 6; ed. C. F.-A. Schaeffer; Paris: Im prim erie Nationale et C. Klincksieck, 1955] 3:57, text 15.120, lines 17-19). T he servants are nevertheless classed am ong property, since they have no legal rights. T he num bers of animals, though perfectly realistic for a wealthy m an (cf. the three thousand sheep and one thousand goats of Nabal, 1 Sam 25:2), are obviously very stylized. The “round” figures seven and three, with their sum ten, are marks of the folktale style that charges superficially insignificant detail with symbolic value. Jo b ’s “greatness,” as the simple narrative style has it, is here entirely his “wealth” (for “great” as “rich,” cf. Gen 26:13; 1 Sam 25:2; 2 Sam 19:33 [32]; 2 Kgs 4:8). The expression “sons of the East” ( ) is a loose term applied

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indiscriminately to Arameans on the northern Euphrates (Gen 29:1) and inhabitants of more southerly regions like Edom, Moab and Ammon (Isa 11:14), or even Midian (cf. Ju d g 6:3). No more specific location than east of Israel can be established from the term (Fohrer and Hesse believe it pinpoints the region of Safa). T hat Jo b ’s wealth surpassed that of all the “sons of the East” does not necessarily imply that he is one of them (cf. 1 Kgs 5:10 [4:30], where Solomon’s wisdom is said to be greater than that of all the “sons of the East”), though that is a natural interpretation. O ther references to these peoples are in Gen 25:6; Je r 49:28; Ezek 25:10. 4 The narrative returns to the them e of Jo b ’s piety; one impressive example says more about the character of Job than any num ber of approbatory adjectives. At the same time the course of the narrative is advanced by this little cameo which explains how all the children of Job could happen to be together in the one place and so suffer the one fate that meets them all (1:18—19). The seven sons of Job are envisaged as princes, each with a house of his own, as royal princes have in 2 Sam 13:7, 20; 14:31, and with the wealth to prepare an elaborate feast of food and wine (v 13) that would last for some days (v 4). Despite the num ber seven, which would correspond to the days of the week, it is not m eant that Jo b ’s children indulged in year-round feasting (so Duhm, Dhorme, Holscher, Fohrer, Rowley, cf. LXX; cf. also Luke 16:19). Even if that were the case, however, no censure is implied; a life of constant festivity (Peake) would be perfectly appropriate for the idyllic character of the portrayal. But the phrase “when the days of the feast had run their course” (v 5) describes best a feast that lasts some days (cf. the seven-day feasts in Ju d g 14:10—18 and Tob 11:19, and the seven days of the cultic festivals of Passover-Unleavened Bread and Booths), rather than the weekly conclusion of a cycle of feasts. The invitation to the sisters also suggests irregular, occasional festivities rather than an unceasing round of high living. T he “day” of each brother would most naturally be his birthday (cf. “his day” in 3:1; and Hos 7:1) or perhaps is sim ply equivalent to “on his appointed day, i.e., when his turn came around” (Gordis). The occasions of the feasts are unlikely to have been annual festivals like Ingathering (as Pope), since such religious festivals would have been celebrated at the parental home. On the feast day, the sons, who are probably envisaged as unm arried (despite the prosaic rem ark of Driver: “for seven adult sons of a single m other . . . to be all unm arried would be flagrantly out of keeping with the social customs of the time and country”), would “send” and invite their sisters who, likewise unm arried, would still be living in their father’s house. The participation of daughters in the banquets is a m ark of the ancient epic character of the tale, according to N. M. Sarna, JBL 76 (1957) 24. Certainly what is depicted is a scene of domestic harm ony and high spirits which will be darkened by the tragedy soon to ensue. 5 Jo b ’s piety is scrupulous, even excessively so, if not actually neurotically anxious. It would not be absurd to see here an almost obsessional manie de perfection, a hypersensitivity to detail (E. Gutheil, in W. Stekel, Compulsion and Doubt [tr. E. Gutheil; New York: Liveright, 1949] 9; J. Kahn, Job’s Illness: Loss, Grief, and Integration. A Psychological Interpretation [Oxford: Pergamon, 1975] 18). But to some degree, as patriarchal head of a household, even of grown sons and daughters, it is reasonable enough for him to regard himself as responsible to God for their behavior, and to take the initiative in guarding against

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any sin on their part. It is not supposed that his children may have sinned openly, whether in word or deed; their festivities are obviously decorous. It is somewhat strange then that Job should fear that they may have committed the gravest sin of all, to “curse God” (a sin punishable by death; cf. 2:9; 1 Kgs 21:10). T he Hebrew, indeed, uses the norm al term for “bless” ( ), but since blessing God is no “sin,” without question we have here a euphemistic use of the verb such as we find in 1:11; 2:5,9; 1 Kgs 21:10, 13; Ps 10:3, where it prevents the connection of the divine name with a term of abuse. T he difficulty, unnoticed by most commentators, can be explained in two ways. First, the verb , conventionally translated “curse”—the verb for which “bless” no doubt stands here—means properly “despise, esteem lightly” (see C. A. Keller, TH W AT 2:643; and cf. on 5:3 [ ]). Jo b ’s concern may then be that they may have neglected or disregarded God in some way (j b “affronted” is hardly right), perhaps because of their preoccupation with pleasure—that is, that they may be guilty of a sin of omission rather than commission. This explanation, however, would give to the phrase “bless God” a different signification from what it clearly bears in 1:11; 2 :5 ,9 (a difficulty faced and accepted by Guillaume). A second explanation is perhaps m ore satisfactory, that “cursing God” is not the only sin that Job imagines his children may have committed but the extreme to which they may have descended without anyone else being aware. On this understanding, it would not be the possibility of inadvertent sin (cf. Driver) that troubles him, but the possibility of secret sin. With such an expression of Jo b ’s concern, his own still-future tem ptation would be foreshadowed. Observe, the narrator would be saying, how the man who will inconvenience himself for his children, ju st in case they may have “cursed God,” will himself soon fall into a state where his wife—and a heavenly being—will see his “cursing God” as his most reasonable behavior. Jo b ’s concern for the “holiness” of his family—by which is m eant their ritual purity and their security within the sphere of the divine protection—leads him to “send” and “hallow” his children. T here is a formal and archaizing touch in the word “send” (as there was in the same idiom in v 4); it is certainly not a m atter of Jo b ’s patriarchal dignity not perm itting him to visit his sons’ houses (Pope). W hat is probably implied is that Job summons his children to the family home in order to be present at a sacrifice intended to decontam inate them from any stain they might have incurred. No special technical term is used for sin-offering (like the of the priestly legislation, e.g., Lev 4), but a general term “(ascending) sacrifice” (again not in the technical sense of “whole burnt offering,” e.g., Lev 1). For the story’s setting in place and time lies beyond the horizon of the priestly law. For the same reason, it 1s not any priest but Job himself, as head of the family, who offers the sacrifice (cf. Gen 8:20; 22:2, 13; 31:54; 46:1)—ten, or (if the sons alone are m eant, which seems improbable) seven, animals. Some have thought the “hallowing” ( ) a ritual preparatory to the sacrifice, involving washing and changing garm ents (cf. Gen 35:2; Exod 19:10, 14; Josh 3:5; 7:13; 1 Sam 16:5); so Davidson, Peake, Driver, Horst. O thers (e.g., Dhorme), following B. Jacob (ZAW 32 [1912] 278-79), believe that of itself signifies the invitation to the sacrifice about to be perform ed (cf. “sum m on” parallel to in Joel 1:14; 2:15; 4:9 [3:9]), but this is improbable. Since the sacrifice itself is designed to remove the sin that has possibly occurred, it is most natural

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to find in the phrase “he hallowed them ” an anticipatory statem ent that is immediately thereafter amplified. In the Book of Job, sacrifice is, surprisingly, not considered as a means of communication with the deity—apart from this passage and 42:8. T he nearest approach to such actions is the reference made by Eliphaz to the paying of one’s vows (22:27). But in general, as Jo b ’s account of his innocent life silently testifies, relationship with God is principally a m atter of right behavior and not of religious exercises. In this the dialogues of the book are wholly at one with the stance of the wisdom teaching of Proverbs and Ecclesiastes; how m uch this stance represents an alternative posture in Israelite religion and how much it is consciously one-sided or legitimate only within the broader Israelite framework of history, covenant, and cult, is impossible to say. W hat is clear is that it is only in those parts of the book most obviously folkloristic and unbegotten by the wisdom tradition (the prologue and the epilogue) that sacrifice appears— as a natural, though not primary, means of contact between the hum an and the divine. This little scene, in vv 4—5, has been narrated in the typically faux naif style of our storyteller. W ithout any appearance of extravagance in the narration (no adjectives, no adverbs of quantity) the scene is rich in every aspect. T here is uninterrupted domestic felicity, to which the sisters’ presence at the festivities lends a further emphasis. There is an unbroken pattern of existence, in which the children’s absorption in pleasure is m atched by Jo b ’s devotion to their protection. There is his extraordinary scrupulousness that m ust cover even unseen sin, that must bestir itself “early in the m orning,” that must offer not one sacrifice but ten, that must never fail in its responsibility but “do so continually.” This unwavering routine, no burden to Job any more than it is to his children, is not a monotony but the ominous prelude to an irruption into the lives of all. 6-12 The Satan and God: first encounter. From the timelessness of the first scene the narrator transports us to a particular time: “there was a day.” And from the earthly sphere of the Easterners he takes us to the heavenly sphere of the divine court or council. So on the one hand this second scene sets the whole narrative in motion, and on the other hand it motivates the subsequent course of events. Here we learn what Job never learns, that his suffering had a particular cause and that it subserved a purpose. The cause of Jo b ’s suffering is unmistakably the Satan’s challenge that Jo b ’s piety is not disinterested and God’s acceptance of the challenge; the purpose of the suffering is to substantiate God’s assessment of Jo b ’s piety and so justify God’s claim to disinterested piety from hum ans. This revelation (the term is exact) of the events that lie behind Jo b ’s suffering raises very acutely the question: is the book about Job or about a suffering man? Had we only chaps. 3-42:6 we should have no doubt of the latter. Will then the traditional narrative stuff in prologue and epilogue, with its specifics of name and place and its successive particular “days” (1:6, 13; 2:1), wholly subvert our deepest impression and constrict us to a view of the book as simple biography and not “wisdom” or “instruction” except in the bygoing? Can the very indeterminacy of the m an’s name and place and time not point to a herm eneutical transposition of key that has already begun to take place in the book itself, a transform ation of an individual into an every man? There is

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“none like Jo b ,” according to the traditional tale (v 8), yet at the same time it applies to him epithets suited to every innocent sufferer. If indeed Job is everyman—and the core of the book convinces us of that—is the cause of his suffering the cause of all innocent suffering, and was the day of the heavenly dialogue not some m om ent of archaic time but a timeless day in which the same scene is perpetually reenacted? The vast bulk of the book, of course, proceeds in ignorance of such causes and purposes. There is no greater m ark of the w riter’s subtlety than that the dram a of Jo b ’s sufferings unfolding from chap. 3 to chap. 42 is never impinged on by the events in heaven as they are depicted in chaps. 1—2. We have no choice but to believe that chaps. 1—2 are the truth about the origins of Jo b ’s suffering; but we never feel that the origins are relevant to the suffering, and we never conceive the tragedy of the book to be the simple ignorance on Jo b ’s part of the events of chaps. 1—2. We even suspect that Jo b ’s suffering might have been the more had he known what we are given to know. We are not ignorant, but Job is; and the ignorance of Job belongs to the hum an condition no less than our knowledge. Jo b ’s ignorance of the causes behind his suffering is not swallowed up in our knowledge of those causes; if anything, Jo b ’s suffering in ignorance seems more m eaningful to us than our knowledge negating his ignorance. 6 From a gathering on earth (vv 4—5), the scene moves to a more m omentous gathering. It is an assembly of the heavenly council, God being pictured as a king surrounded by his courtiers, other heavenly beings neither hum an nor divine in the full sense, but “sons of God,” their being derivative from his, and their rank superhum an. T he concept of the royal council in which the king would be surrounded by his courtiers, receiving reports from them , taking counsel with them , and giving directives to them , is familiar especially from Egypt (cf. A. Erman, Life in Ancient Egypt [tr. Η. M. Tirard; London: Macmillan, 1894] 69—72, 142—44) and may be assumed equally for Israel. T he common royal practice was naturally ascribed to God also, to what extent as a fictive device and to what as a m atter of serious belief is hard to determ ine. The clearest O T analogies to this scene are 1 Kgs 22:19—22, where Yahweh is envisaged by Micaiah ben Imlah as “sitting on a throne” (the royal imagery is explicit) with his courtiers on his right hand and on his left; and Dan 7:9—14, where the “ancient of days” is seated on a throne, thousands of courtiers attend him, and a court for judgm ent is constituted. O ther allusions to the same complex of ideas appear in Ps 7:8 [7]; 29:9-10; 82:1; 89:7-8 [6-7]; 103:19; Isa 6:1-8; 40:13-14; Job 15:8. T he appropriate terms for the council are Τ1Ό and . On the divine council, see further: H. W. Robinson, “T he Council of Yahweh,” /T S 45 (1943) 151-57; F. M. Cross, “T he Council of Yahweh in Second Isaiah,”/A T S 12 (1953) 274-77; R. N. Whybray, The Heavenly Counsellor in Isaiah xl 13-14 (SOTSMS 1; Cambridge: CUP, 1971). On the same concept in ancient Near Eastern religions (e.g., the phr ilm or cdt ilm in Ugaritic or the puhur ildni in Akkadian), see Μ. H. Pope, El in the Ugaritic Texts (VTSup 2; Leiden: Brill, 1955) 48-49; W. H. Schmidt, Konigtum Gottes in Ugarit und Israel (BZAW 80; Berlin: A. Topelm ann, 2nd ed., 1966) 26-28. The “sons of God” who comprise the heavenly court are known in other Near Eastern literature, but especially in Ugaritic, where the corresponding term bn il “son of God” or dr bn 11 “family of the sons of God” or dr il “family

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of God” appears (e.g., CTA 32.16-17; 15.3.19; Gibson, 92). In Canaanite religion the sons of God (El) are envisaged as his physical descendants; but the term “sons o f” could also be used in Hebrew for members of a group belonging or adhering to, or in some way participating in the nature of, their “father” (e.g., “sons of the prophets”; cf. also BOB, 121b, § 7a). In the framework of a monotheistic religion, in which a consort of the deity could not be imagined, the latter view naturally prevailed. These heavenly beings ( [ ] , , ) are paralleled in 38:7 with the m orning stars, identified with the “host of heaven” in 1 Kgs 22:19 and called simply “gods” in Ps 82:1,6 (cf. also Gen 6:2,4; Deut 32:8 [emended]; Ps 29:1; 89:7 [6]; Dan 3:25). The same figures are known as “messengers, angels” or the “servants” of God (see on 4:18); in later Jewish and in Christian theology such references in the O T were interpreted as signifying angels (the term by which the LXX here translates “sons of God”). See further W. H errm ann, “Die G ottersohne,” ZRGG 12 (1960) 242-51; G. Cooke, “The Sons of (the) God(s),” ZAW 76 (1964) 22-47; M. Tsevat, “God and the Gods in Assembly,” HUCA 40/41 (1969-70) 123-37; C. H. W. Brekelmans, “The Saints of the Most High and T heir Kingdom,” OTS 14 (1965) 305-29. On one particular day the “sons of God” come to “present themselves” ( ) before Yahweh; the verb signifies the appearance of courtiers before their king in order to make their reports and receive instructions (cf. Prov 22:29; Zech 6:5; the same idea is represented by the more common phrase “stand before” [ ], e.g., 1 Kgs 22:21). N. M. Sarna saw in the term a fixed traditional phraseology (JBL 76 [1957] 13—25 [22—23]). No particular day of assembly is envisaged by the story, although the Targum identified the day as “the day of judgm ent at the beginning of the year” ((¿] 0 ) and the subsequent day in 2:1 as the Day of Atonement, these two days being in rabbinic ideology the days on which the destiny of hum ans is determ ined and then finally sealed. T he phrase “there came a day when” (4 - waw consecutive and “im perfect”) not infrequently introduces a scene without any stress being laid on the nature of the day (e.g., 1 Sam 14:1; 2 Kgs 4:8, 11, 18; see also n. 1:6.a). Among the “sons of God” comes the Satan. Some indeed have argued that because it is explicitly said that he came “am ong them ” ( ) he cannot have belonged to their num ber (Terrien) or that “it is because he has no right to be there that he alone is asked his business” (Andersen; cf. Dhorme, “Among the sons of God Satan has insinuated him self” ). But to be “am ong” frequently enough expresses m em bership of the group in question; thus Gen 23:10; 40:20; 2 Kgs 4:13; and cf. the common expression “from am ong” which regularly implies m embership of the group. And the fact that the Satan is singled out for God’s inquiry has no other purpose than a narrative one: in some way the dialogue of God and the Satan must be set in train; what more natural means than to have God ask of the Satan the question we may safely assume is consistently addressed to all the “sons of God” who arrive at the court with something to report? On another “day,” in another story, the Satan would be lost in the crowd of courtiers; today a dram a will unfold in which he is to play a principal part. W hat is the character and function of this m em ber of the “sons of God,” the “Satan”? We note first that the definite article appears before the term at

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each of its occurrences in the book (1:6, 7 bis, 8, 9, 12 bis; 2:1, 2 bis, 3, 4, 6, 7); this fact prevents us from identifying the figure of the Satan with “Satan” of later Jewish and Christian theology. Although the latter is clearly derived from the form er, it would be best to ignore the later developm ent of the figure when establishing the nature and role of “the Satan” in Job. Semantic approaches are valuable only to a limited extent: there is a verb ]X)ID (stn) m eaning “be, or act as, an adversary” (so BDB), or “bear a grudge, cherish animosity” (so KB); its occurrences in Ps 38:21 [20]; 71:13; 109:4, 20, 29 all refer to hum an opponents of the psalmists, and only in the manifestly quite late passage Zech 3:1 is the verb used of the activity of “the Satan.” T he noun itself QP¡¿]) is applied to hum an adversaries in 1 Sam 29:4; 2 Sam 19:23 [22]; 1 Kgs 5:18 [4]; 11:14, 23, 25; Ps 109:6 (in a legal context). It cannot be decided w hether the verb is derived from the noun (as a denominative; so BDB) or vice versa, but the well-attested usage of both verb and noun in secular settings confirms that we have to do here not with a title but with a description of function. (The verb 1 , if a variant form of ] Όίΰ, makes no difference to the discussion, since its m eaning is identical with ]DID; in that it is used of God’s hostility to Job [see 16:9; 30:21] it may represent an intentional differentiation from ]tliZJ.) In general, therefore, the usage of the terms elsewhere shows that the “Satan” here is some kind of opponent or adversary; but that m uch is obvious from the narrative itself. Further precisions about his function can come only from the story. First, is he God’s adversary or Jo b ’s? Later theological developm ent of the figure of Satan preconditions the reader to say, “God’s”; but the story here makes it evident that the Satan is Yahweh’s subordinate, presenting himself before him as one of his courtiers, responding to Yahweh’s initiatives, and powerless to act without Yahweh’s authorization. His only undelegated capacity is to “allure, incite” Yahweh (2:3), which must m ean only “attem pt to allure, etc.” (like “attem pt to persuade”; cf. D. J. A. Clines and D. M. Gunn, VT 28 [1978] 20—27). So the Satan of this story is Job’s adversary. But is he his adversary by nature, that is, because he is an adversary to hum ans generally, some kind of embodiment of superhum an hostility, or is he Jo b ’s adversary because of the way things develop? Is he perhaps called “the adversary” only proleptically (similarly T. H. Gaster, Myth, Legend, and Custom in the Old, Testament [London: Duckworth, 1969] 786)? Hesse even suggests that the Job story once called him only a “spirit” (cf. 1 Kgs 22:21), and that the term “the Satan” became attached to him only in the course of postexilic developm ent of demonology. T he narrative does not say whether he is the “Satan” by nature or by reason of this episode, but precisely because the latter is a possibility, we need to be shy of typecasting the “Satan” pictured here as the archenem y of mankind, the “adversary the devil [who] prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour” (1 Pet 5:8). T hough his question prom pts the assault on Job, and though he is the immediate instrum ent of Jo b ’s sufferings, his responsibility is certainly no greater than Yahweh’s—and is actually less, since Yahweh is under no compulsion (as far as the story is concerned) to take the slightest notice of the Satan. T he Satan, in short, is Jo b ’s adversary; from the point of view of the action, more so than Yahweh, but from the point of view of the ethics, less so than Yahweh. Many descriptions of the Satan offered by comm entators fall to the ground if the story itself is taken as the prim ary frame of reference. T he Satan is not

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“bad,” “evil,” “malevolent,” “cynical” (Peake, Gordis). We cannot say that “Satan takes his duty too seriously, until it poisons his own nature” (Rowley), or that “he has lost all faith in hum an goodness” (Peake). Nor is he here, whatever the origins of such a figure may have been, the author of all misfortune and especially illness (Holscher, 3). Nor is he primarily a legal “accuser” (G. von Rad, TDNT 2:73-74; cf. in Ps 109:6, though Fohrer denies the existence of such a figure in Israelite judicial proceedings). In Zech 3:1 the Satan appears as a potential accuser, in 1 Chr 21:1 (cf. 2 Sam 24:1) as an inciter to evil, an agent provocateur; but such is not the case here. He is “rigidly subordinated to heaven, and in all he does subserves its interests” (Davidson). W hen all that is said, the role of the Satan remains tantalizing. T he freedom with which he can address his lord, the influence he can have upon him, and the plenipotentiary powers granted him all seem more at home in a polytheistic culture than in the world of the OT. Although in the strictest sense a belief in monotheism is in no particular challenged here, the scene echoes in spirit the assembly of the gods, whether in the Mesopotamian heaven, in the Canaanite “heights of the north,” or on the Hellenic Olympus. W hether or not the scene is borrowed from non-Israelite storytelling, it gives us a rather unusual glimpse into the mythic and imaginative possibilities for depicting and understanding the divine world that are still open even when the door has been firmly closed on polytheism. Viewed as a method, whether conceptual or purely literary, whether deliberate or unconscious, for grasping the pluriformity of the divine, the conceptualization of the “sons of God” (or, “angels,” as later Christian theology would term them) is profound. W hether “sons of God” exist or not is beside the point; the point is that hum an experience of authoritative persons taking counsel and devolving functions requires a parallel arrangem ent in the heavenly sphere if God is to be viewed as knowledgeable and wise and as deciding rather than merely executing, delegating authority rather than being enm eshed in trivialities. Such a vision of God can of course become utterly one-sided, and the dignity of the divine ruler can petrify into a stubborn unapproachableness; but Old and New Testam ents alike are remarkably successful in handling the ambivalence of the official and the personal in God. Everywhere, the antinomies of transcendence and immanence present themselves in an unaccountably random pattern (e.g., the “transcendent” God of the priestly history “makes” animals and reptiles and “shuts the door” of N oah’s ark, while the “im m anent” Lord of the early church “sends” an “angel” to rescue Peter from prison), so that far from perm itting evident lines of developm ent to be traced, the material demands a constant bifocal perception. All in all, distinctions between God and God’s “angel” are rather arbitrary (see also W. Eichrodt, Theology of the Old Testament [tr. J. A. Baker; London: SCM, 1967] 2:23—27), as is witnessed by the several occasions of angel-appearanees that turn out to be theophanies, and—within the Book of Job—by the superficial contradiction between the narrative’s affirmation of the Satan’s causality of Jo b ’s suffering (1:12; 2:6—7), and the dialogue’s insistence that God is directly the author of Jo b ’s misfortunes (e.g., 6:4; 7:14; 9:17). W ithout invoking the suspect concept of “corporate personality” or of servants as the “extensions” of their m aster’s personality (as A. R. Johnson, The One and the Many in the Israelite Conception of God [Cardiff: University of Wales, 1961]; cf. J. W.

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Rogerson, “The Hebrew Conception of Corporate Personality: A Re-examination ”J TS ns 21 [1970] 1-16), we can suggest that “sons of God” or “angels” are manifestations of the divine personality, the means of execution of divine decisions, the source of the divine acquisition of knowledge of hum an affairs. T hat they are only personifications of divine attributes, powers, or dispositions is beyond the competence of any hum an to tell; but they are that at least. If this is so, the “sons of God” have theological value as an em bodim ent of God’s accumulated wisdom, continuing self-deliberation, and multifarious acts of decision. How does the “Satan” fit into such an interpretation? His function is primarily twofold: he raises the question of whether Jo b ’s piety is disinterested, and he puts into effect the divine authorization to afflict Job. Neither function is in the least inappropriate to God himself. Perhaps it puts it overdramatically to represent the Satan as a manifestation of divine doubt, an em bodim ent of the demonic wrath of God, an expression of the “dark” and sinister side of the divine personality (as R. R. Schárf, “Die Gestalt des Satans im Alten Testam ent,” in C. G. Jung, Symbolik des Geistes: Studien ilber psychische Phanomenologie [Psychologische A bhandlungen 6; Zurich: Rascher, 1948] 151—319). But Job himself experiences his suffering as manifestations of God’s wrath (see especially chap. 9), and the notion of divine uncertainty and doubt is not foreign to the O T (see further D. J. A. Clines, “Story and Poem: T he Old Testam ent as Literature and as Scripture,” Int 34 [1980] 115—27 [126]; J. G. Janzen, “M etaphor and Reality in Hosea 11,” Sem 24 [1982] 7-44). Seen in this light, the book shows Job perform ing for God a signal service (is he not repeatedly called by God “my servant Jo b ”?; cf. on v 8): he justifies God in the sight of God. It is not primarily the Satan that God has to convince that a hum an’s piety may be disinterested, but God himself. T hat is a theological reading of the story; it is not—we may suppose—the storyteller’s intention. For him, there are two heavenly personalities in uneasy confrontation; two personalities who are not equals but able to converse freely, who are neither enemies nor conspirators, neither friends nor rivals. T he tension of these two personalities can be simply accepted as a datum of the narrative, or it can be probed theologically for its hidden resonances. W hat may be stressed is that the theological reading presented here is not some fanciful psychological extrapolation from the story, but meshes with it at all its significant points. Thus if it is difficult to imagine a God who doubts himself and must test the loyalty of Job to restore his own self-confidence (theological interpretation), is it any more difficult than to imagine a God who needs to allow a “Satan” to afflict Job to see whether Jo b ’s piety is disinterested (story-line)? T he “God of the philosophers” (in Pascal’s phrase) could in an instant dismiss the question of the Satan by a categorical assurance about Jo b ’s motives; but the God of this story needs to wait for the infliction of the suffering to know Jo b ’s response. T he God of the story is more “hum an” than many would care to admit; any appropriate reading of the story will preserve that flavor. On the figure of the Satan, see further G. von Rad, TDNT 2:73-74; A. BrockUtne, “ ‘Der Feind’: Die alttestamentliche Satansgestalt im Lichte der sozialen Verháltnisse des nahen Orients,” Klio 28 (1935) 219—27; H. Torczyner (TurSinai), ExpT 48 (1936-37) 563-65; A. Lods, “Les origines de la figure de Satan, ses fonctions á la cour céleste,” in Mélanges Syriens (FS René Dussaud [Paris: P. G euthner, 1939]) 2:649-60; M. J. G ruenthaner, “The Demonology of the Old Testam ent,” CBQ 6 (1944) 6-27; R. Schárf Kluger, Satan in the Old

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Testament (Chicago: Northwestern UP, 1967); G. Wanke, TH W AT 2:821—23; T. H. Gaster, IDB 4:224-28. 7 It belongs to the naivety (superficial though that may be) of the narrato r’s style that Yahweh asks the Satan from where he comes. Such a question does not imply ignorance on God’s part (as Duhm thought); Exod 4:2, where God asks Moses, “What is that in your hand?,” is often cited as a similar case where there can be no doubt that God already knows the answer. T he question has a dramatic function in focusing upon the Satan as the one significant m em ber of the “sons of the gods”—for this narrative at any rate—and in providing an impetus for the ensuing conversation and its sequel; and it has a role-establishing function in making Yahweh the initiator of the conversation and the action that follows. Cf. especially H. Rouillard, “Les feintes questions divines dans la Bible,” VT 34 (1984) 237-42; and also L. Koehler, “Archáologisches. Nr. 16-19,” ZAW 40 (1922) 15-46 (38); B. O. Long, “Two Question and Answer Schemata,” JBL 90 (1971) 129-39. It is easy to read too much into the Satan’s reply. T he false naivety of the style indeed permits, and perhaps even encourages, various subtleties among interpreters. Duhm saw in the Satan’s response a sign that he is “the vagabond among the heavenly beings,” the one with no fixed purpose but a roving commission. Peake, to similar effect, contrasted the assignment of fixed regions to some at least of the “sons of God” (cf. Deut 32:8; Dan 10:13, 20-21; Ecclus 17:17) with the unrestricted function of the Satan. Pope notes that the verb for “roam ” (O11Ü) is applied in Akkadian to the evil eye and evil spirits that roam around looking for trouble or the opportunity to do evil; this connects with his identification of the Satan figure as analogous to the secret police of the Persian government, known as the “eyes” and “ears” of the king. Gordis sees in the short staccato reply an expression of the Satan’s “impudence before his m aster,” while Andersen finds the Satan’s reply “non-committal” and “evasive.” But the language of his reply supports none of this. T he verb ΌΊΪϋ refers predom inantly to going about for a particular purpose (Num 11:8, to search for manna; 2 Sam 24:8, to take a census; Je r 5:1, to see if a righteous man can be found in Jerusalem ; Amos 8:12, to seek a word from Yahweh; cf. 2 Chr 16:9; Ezek27:8, 26; Z ech4:10; only Dan 12:4 [polel] and Je r 49:3 [hithpolel] appear to be exceptions). T he translations “roam ing” (n a b , n i v , cf. j b ) and “strolling about” (Pope) for the next verb are altogether too casual. This second verb , though conventionally translated “walk to and fro,” very frequently means no more than its simple form “go, walk”—for example, in the sense “live, behave” (e.g., Gen 17:1; 24:40)—and it certainly does not necessarily denote aimless or haphazard movement (cf., e.g., Gen 13:17 “walk through the length and breadth of the land”). W hether the implication is that the Satan’s particular mission has been to assess the piety of hum ans, as may appear from the next verse (so Lohrer, Hesse), is hard to determine. Most probably the reason for the Satan’s movement throughout the earth is simply not specified for dramatic reasons: he has nothing to report, nothing to advise, nothing to initiate; but he has nevertheless been abroad on earth with his eyes wide open, amassing the reserve of observations which his sovereign can use as he wills. His one task has been to “set [his] m ind” upon hum an affairs, as will transpire from v 8. 8 The heavenly convocation almost seems to have as its chief function

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this narrowing of the focus of attention to the one figure Job. In the first scene, Job first appeared alone in the center of the stage (v 1); around him accumulated his possessions (vv 2-3). T he children then moved to center stage (v 4), but only to illuminate the character of Job, who eventually stepped back into the center again (v 5). In this second scene, a m ultitude who do not include Job occupy the stage (v 6), and a dialogue ensues between the two principal characters (v 7) and focuses ultimately upon the (absent) character of Job (v (3), revolves about him (vv 9—12a) and concludes with the spotlight upon the Satan (v 12b), whose function has now become wholly Job-directed. In the first scene, the movement has been from the one to the many to the one again; in the second scene, from the many to the one. And w hether the scene is set on earth or in heaven, Job is at its center. Job is God’s boast. Not only does God endorse the author’s characterization of Job in v 1, using exactly the same words, “a m an blameless and upright, a God-fearer, a shunner of evil,” but also denominates Job “my servant” and declares “there is none like him in the earth.” (It is of course equally the author’s evaluation of Job whether he expresses it in his own person in v 1 or sets it in the m outh of God in v 8, but he means to dispel any shadow of doubt that Jo b ’s piety may be only seeming and to have the God from whom Jo b ’s afflictions will stem affirm his own cognizance of Jo b ’s character.) T he term “my servant” is frequently applied to individuals by God, but not indiscriminately to all kinds of pious persons. Most often Moses is the one designated God’s servant (forty times in all), perhaps principally because of his prophetic role (cf. Num 12:7—8), the prophets also often being called servants of Yahweh, especially in Deuteronomistic phraseology (e.g., 1 Kgs 14:18; 15:29). But perhaps the use of this term for Job belongs with its application to the patriarchs, Abraham (Gen 26:24; Ps 105:6,42), Isaac (Gen 24:14; 1 Chr 16:13 [si v.l.\ contrast r s v ] ) , Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob (Exod 32:13; Deut 9:27); it would be a further example of the “patriarchal” shading of the narrative. In any case, the term signifies the “obedience, loyalty and piety of Job towards his divine master as well as God’s bond with him and claim upon him ” (Fohrer). See further W. Zimmerli, TDNT 5:665—66; C. W esterm ann, TH W AT 2:191-93. One phrase, however, in God’s description does not identify Job, but apparently isolates him: “there is none like him in the earth.” “None like him ” is a phrase usually applied to God; only here and in 2:3; 1 Sam 10:24 to hum ans. H ere it is the rhetoric of epic; it does not m ean that Jo b ’s piety is qualitatively different from that of others. This claim that there is none to compare with Job in point of piety is at bottom no more than what the narrator has already made out in his account of Job in the first scene. Again, it is possible to read this question of God’s as a taunt or provocation (Pope), as if in Job he has found the final rebuttal of the Satan’s hostile attitude to hum ankind (similarly Fohrer). But if, as has been argued above, the Satan has no specific purpose in his earthly rovings except to see and hear all he can, and if the Satan is not necessarily predisposed to enmity, God’s question can be heard as a “straight,” unloaded question arising from God’s pleasure in Job. O f course, once the next sentence is uttered, it becomes plain that the m atter of Jo b ’s piety is not as simple as it sounds; herein lies the “false” naivety of the storyteller’s style: God’s question is both guileless and pregnant

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with implication. To hear it simply as a challenge to the Satan is too sophisticated; to take it purely at its face value is to fall prey to the artful naivety of the narrative. Little should be made of the fact that it is (or appears to be) a non-Israelite who is thus described by God as his servant (as is Nebuchadrezzar in J e r 25:9) and beyond comparison. Hesse, for example, rem arks how strange such compliments about a non-Israelite must have sounded in the ears of a pious Hebrew; he attributes them to the influence of the international “wisdom” tradition that knew no national boundaries. Certainly Job is hum an being simply rather than specifically an Israelite (though the latter is not excluded), and in the ambience of the book as a whole, matters specifically Israelite are conspicuous by their absence. But the question of Jo b ’s national identity has in all probability receded into the background by this point, where the spotlight falls on the relationship of a man and his God. In all his comings and goings, has the Satan “given his attention” ( , lit., “set the heart”) to Job? O f course he has, not ju st because of Jo b ’s exemplary life (Gordis), but because of the Satan’s diligence. 9 T he Satan also implicitly assents to the assessment of Job expressed by the narrator (v 1) and God (v 8)! He cannot call into question Jo b ’s incomparable piety. Nor does he doubt its sincerity, its genuineness. W hat he must question— and what must be questioned (there is nothing “satanic” about the question)— is what the link between Jo b ’s godliness and his prosperity is. In the “false naivety” of the epic story it has not been questioned—rather taken for granted— that Jo b ’s piety has been the source of his prosperity (see on v 2); the link is causal, from piety to prosperity. In the heavenly realm, where it is the business of all to know, and not to be taken in by naive assumptions, the question is entirely proper: is the causal link perhaps rather in the reverse direction, from prosperity to piety? In a word, does Job “fear God” gratuitously ( , “for nothing, for no rew ard,” as in Gen 29:15; Isa 52:3)? Here is “wisdom” thinking at work. If the causal connection between sin and suffering can be radically examined in the book as a whole, with the result that the popular, naive preconception is overturned, why cannot the supposed causal connection between piety and prosperity be subjected to the same scrutiny? Cynicism it may seem to ask “Doth Job fear God for naught?” ( k j v ), and diabolical cynicism is what most comm entators insist on ascribing to the Satan here. But we do not yet know, and the characters of the narrative do not yet know, whether Jo b ’s piety is disinterested or not; it is a question that we all, in company with the heavenly court, would like to hear settled. Job has indeed “feared” ( , perfect tense) God up to this point, but will he prove to have the character of a “God-fearer” ( , participle) in the future? T he Satan indeed means to imply in this speech (vv 9—11) that Jo b ’s piety is not disinterested, and in this respect is properly functioning as the “Satan,” the accuser. Not the “devil” himself, he is remarkably analogous to the functionary in Christendom known as advocatus diaboli whose task is to raise objections to the canonization of a saint; his office and his appointm ent owe their existence to the body that actively supports the canonization, and his role is to ensure that no potential criticism of the candidate remains unheard and unanswered. The Satan in Job speaks more dramatically and rhetorically than a canon lawyer designated devil’s advocate, but his function may be no different. Is

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there anything at all that can be said against the exceptional piety of Job? Yes, says the Satan, his piety may be conditioned by self-interest. He does not suggest that he knows hum an nature better than God does, that he is less naive than the deity (Terrien); he voices the doubt that exists long before it is uttered. And it is a doubt, as will be shown by the reaction of Yahweh (v 12) to the Satan’s speech, that exists also in the divine mind. It will be some time before it is revealed whether Jo b ’s piety is truly gratuitous and without motivating reasons. In the end, his piety is revealed to be a kind of imitatio Dei, whose workings are equally gratuitous and inexplicable (cf. A. Lacocque, ‘“ Est ce gratuitem ent que Job craint Dieu?” ’ in Mélanges André Neher, ed. E. Amado-Valensi, et al., 175—79). 10 T he previous question has not been a rhetorical question (as against Fohrer and others), and the questions of this verse are motivations for that serious query. God has so prospered Job that piety and prosperity are inextricably entangled. Job has been surrounded as if by a thorn hedge protecting him from all m anner of harm (in Hos 2:8 [6] Yahweh uses a thorn hedge [the same verb J1ÍÜ] to block the way of idolatrous Israel toward her Baallovers). T he m etaphor is rich in psychic undertones: the act of encompassing that can be experienced as protection can be felt as constriction and stiflement (cf. on 3:23; and see Lam 3:7; and with different terminology, Job 6:9; 7:12, 15, 19; 9:18a; 12:14; 13:27; 19:6,8, 12; etc. ). Within the security of the perimeter fence about Job and his possessions there has persisted a divine blessing on the “works of his hands” (the result of agriculture, cf. Gen 5:29), such as is promised in Deuteronomic parénesis to those obedient to Yahweh (Deut 14:29; 16:15; 24:19; cf. 2:7; 15:10; and cf. Ps 90:17) and—as if to block out the negative resonances of the term “hedge”—within the hedge there has been a “breaking forth” ( “break out,” hence “overflow”) into abundance of “possessions” ( , primarily the flocks of v 3) such as is narrated of the patriarchs (the same term is used of Jacob, Gen 30:30,43; cf. also 28:14; Exod 1:12). The “you” is emphatic, not to criticize God in some way—as if to say that God has made piety altogether too easy for Job (so Fohrer, Andersen)— but to affirm the absolute security afforded Job. 11 The Satan’s language is abrupt, perem ptory. He uses the imperative voice in addressing God; he makes his prediction of Jo b ’s behavior in colloquial fashion with a “self-imprecation” (“I’ll be dam ned if he doesn’t curse you to your face”); above all “he refuses to use the conventional courtesies of court etiquette which avoided the personal pronouns by addressing a superior as ‘my lord’ instead of ‘you’ and using the deferential ‘your slave’ instead of T ” (Andersen). Andersen finds in these marks of insulting speech, as he sees them, further evidence that “the Satan does not belong to the circle of God’s respectful servants.” But we must recall what kind of court scene is depicted here. T here are none of the trappings of the oriental imperial states: no throne, no heavenly temple, no seraphim, no incense (as in Isa 6:1—4); not even a throne with the host of heaven arrayed before Yahweh on right and left, as in the much hum bler portrayal by Micaiah (1 Kgs 22:19-23). It belongs to the naivety of the Joban story, in which not one word descriptive of the heavenly scene appears, except the presence of the “sons of God,” that courtly deference is uncalled for and direct language the order of the day. It is the court of Saul rather than of

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Solomon (and certainly not of the Egyptian or Assyrian empire) that forms the model for the conversational etiquette of these scenes; perhaps even m ore accurately, it is the court of the chieftain Job himself (depicted hyperbolically in chap. 29) that is the earthly analogue of the scene. So nothing consequential can be inferred from the style of the Satan’s language. W hat of its content? T he dynamic of the conversation has the Satan propose that Job should be deprived of his prosperity and assert that Jo b ’s piety will forthwith be transform ed into hatred of God. T he proposal is cruel and unnatural, the prediction malicious speculation. Surely here is the firmest ground for calling the Satan purely hateful, cynical, and, in short, wicked. T hat is the “naive” reading of the story (and “naive” is not pejorative, for the narrative clearly engages our sympathies with Job and against the Satan). But here too a “false” naivety is in play. For the “problem ” of the prologue is the relation of piety and prosperity, and it is in no other way possible to prove that piety is not the product of prosperity than by removing the prosperity. T rue, if some poor man had been singled out for his exemplary piety, there would have been no point in depriving him of what he did not possess in order to establish a point; yet, if such had been the tale, the “problem ” might well have been whether piety is not causally related to poverty (perhaps, after all, the poor trust God because they have nothing else to trust), and the dramatic move would then have to be an enrichm ent of the poor man, to see whether his piety survived his new wealth. In either case, the “problem ” can be solved dramatically only by a reversal of fortunes. So the proposal of the Satan is, on a slightly more sophisticated reading, a necessary part of the dramatic machinery, and is not eligible for moral approval or disapproval. T here is indeed no “cause” in Job to provoke the horrible train of events that will unfold: his suffering is, on the narrative level, gratuitous (cf. on 2:3). But on the conceptual level, his suffering is indispensable if the archaic doctrine of piety leading inevitably to prosperity (as in v 2) is to be upset. And the abruptly imperative language is not the m ark of disrespect, but the idiom of colloquial speech that puts the hypothesis (protasis) as an imperative and the consequence (apodosis) as an affirmative statement. Suppose the Satan to have said, “If you should simply put forth your hand . . . then you would find he would forswear his piety”; the proposition would have been the same, but the dramatic impact much weakened (on the syntax, see further η. 1:1 l.a). All that need be recognized is that the Satan is not bullying God, and certainly not offering him a wager. T he idea of a heavenly wager has often been seen here by commentators (Hólscher, 2-3; Fohrer; Weiser; H. Gunkel, The Folktale in the Old Testament [tr. M. D. Rutter; Sheffield: Almond, 1988] 84-85), but there is nothing that is obviously at stake, such as Jo b ’s soul (Andersen). The often-cited Indian tale of King Harischandra, a pious king who suffers afflictions not dissimilar to Jo b ’s, can hardly be part of the background, but in some of its forms may itself reflect the biblical story of Job. For a full review of this and other alleged Indian parallels to the Job story, see D. J. A. Clines, VT 33 (1983) 398-418. Is the Satan then challenging God? O n the level of the story he challenges God to a trial of Job because God has taken for granted what popular thought takes for granted, that piety and prosperity are not independent of one another. On the conceptual level, the challenge is directed against this naive assumption.

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In the story as such the Satan is not more clever than God, nor does he know more than God (Driver, Fohrer); and he does not score off God; conceptoally, however, the question he voices demands to be asked, and on the conceptual level it makes no difference who asks it. T he conceptual dynamic requires God to agree to the proposal, because conceptual problems cannot be shoveled underground; the narrative dynamic of itself could have elicited all kinds of different responses from God, but here the conceptual dynamic has got the up p er hand, for this point is the hinge of the whole prologue. T he link between Jo b ’s piety and his prosperity has never been tested. It needs only God to “stretch out” ( ) his hand (a picturesque detail [Duhm]; for the hand as symbol of God’s power, cf. Exod 13:3; Deut 4:34; for the phrase “stretch out the han d ” in order to smite, cf. Exod 3:20; 9:15) and to “smite” ( , not merely “touch” as in many versions; cf. Comment on 4:5) all that is Jo b ’s, and Job will not only abandon his scrupulous piety but turn upon God and “curse” him “to (his) face,” i.e., directly, impudently, and certainly not “in his heart, secretly” (cf. v 5). The language is heightened, of course; Job cannot be, in this story, a m an of m oderate piety, nor can he lapse into lukewarm impiety. Again it is the naivety of the style that determ ines the content, and that has the Satan affirm Jo b ’s inevitable “curse” with a speechform that originated as a self-imprecation (sc. “if he does not curse you, may I myself be cursed by some dreadful [unspecified] fate”). T he “falseness” of the naivety lies in the fact that what is at stake is not the behavior of this one man Job, but the validity of the principle of reward and of the causal nexus between ethics and success. So the “test” is proposed. We are rem inded of the “testing” of Abraham (Gen 22), where the “test” is of A braham ’s loyalty to God’s comm and and to the counterm anding of God’s command. H ere the test only appears to be a test of Jo b ’s piety; it is in reality a test of w hether Jo b ’s piety stems from his prosperity. T he narrative level for a m om ent merges with the conceptual. T he test is not exactly a test of Jo b ’s motives, for despite the opinion of many commentators, it is not suggested, not even by the Satan, that prosperity is the motive of Jo b ’s piety (cf. Comment on “gratuitously” in v 9); rather, it is because the prosperity is intertwined with the piety that the prosperity must be removed in order to uncover the relationship between the two. 12 So naturally does Yahweh’s agreem ent to the proposal follow that we are compelled to pause in order to ponder its implications. Are we to condem n the figure of Yahweh here for his alacrity and cold-bloodedness (Duhm) in assenting to such a scheme? And do we find in the prohibition of harm to Jo b ’s person the one lingering sign of Yahweh’s affection for his servant? O r is it that God himself does not need to be convinced of Jo b ’s disinterested piety, but is prepared to allow the Satan to satisfy himself of its reality (Rowley), or, to put it more positively, accepts the challenge in order to vindicate his servant against the insinuations of the Satan (Peake)? O r are we to say, most improbably of all, that God assents to the trial of Jo b ’s piety in order to refine or deepen Jo b ’s faith? All these suggestions attribute to the narrative a subtlety it does not bear, at least in its essential story-line. God can agree to the proposal to “smite” all that is Jo b ’s only because he too, like everyone else, does not know what the outcome will be. The Yahweh of this tale is not the absolutely omniscient

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God of later systematic or speculative theology. He is wise beyond hum an comprehension, for his “eyes” and “ears,” like the spies of the Persian kings, are everywhere abroad, and report to him on days of assembly (cf. v 6). But not even Yahweh knows what has not yet happened; his knowledge does not encompass all possible hypothetical situations. He has confidence in Job, but not a confidence that would enable him to use Job as an object lesson to refute the Satan’s aspersions. He too has taken it for granted that he will bless the pious man; but that benign reciprocity has obscured the true relation of piety and prosperity. T he Satan has the right to ask the question, and Yahweh is in the right in having the problem probed. The alternative to such a reading of the story is worse. Affirm that Yahweh is infinitely omniscient, and you assert that Jo b ’s suffering serves only to prove God right in the eyes of one of his subordinates. Affirm that Yahweh knows that Job will not waver, and you cannot explain why Yahweh takes the slightest notice of the Satan’s questions or why he does not dismiss them out of hand from superior knowledge. If now we move beyond the story-line and essay a probe into the theological resonances of this elem ent of the story along the lines sketched in the Comment on v 6, the uncertainty in the divine world presses for a resolution. Is the problem one of heaven’s making or of earth’s? Suppose that an immutable law of retribution were heaven’s design; the question would always wait to be posed whether the retribution was no simple single process of cause and effect, but an endlessly revolving circle, with no possibility of discerning what was cause and what effect. T hat is, if the godly were always rewarded with earthly blessings which in turn prom oted greater godliness, heaven would be confronted with the perennial chicken-and-egg conundrum , and heaven itself would not know what was really happening on earth. But suppose the immutable law of retribution were only a hum an inference on the part of the “wise” (or the naive) about the m anner of heaven’s working, would not those shy of immutability in the deity crave some heaven-inspired dram a to cripple the dogma and open up space in heaven and on earth for personal freedom? In either case the trial of Job is as necessary for loosing the causal nexus between piety and prosperity as it is for establishing the independence of suffering and guilt. Yahweh delivers into the Satan’s “hand” all that Job possesses (but not the m an himself). It is understood that Yahweh has agreed to “stretch forth [his] han d ” and “smite” what is Jo b ’s, and the delegation of the actual task to the Satan is entirely what we should expect given the scene of a m onarch and his courtiers. Nothing is to be made of the fact that “Yahweh himself will not smite. He permits the Satan to do it” (Peake). This for three reasons: first, delegated permission is delegated authority and the ultimate delegator has the ultimate responsibility; second, the story does not distinguish between comm and and permission; third, if there is any significant difference between God’s part and the Satan’s part in the affliction of Job, Jo b ’s complaints against God in the speeches (always against God and never against the Satan) would be to that extent wide of the mark, a conclusion the book as a whole does not allow us to entertain. T he Satan “goes forth” ( , the correlative of “present oneself” in v 6) from the heavenly council in order to perform his task (cf. in 1 Kgs 22:22; Zech 6:5). T hat he goes “swiftly” (Duhm), “without delay” (Weiser),

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“eager” (Andersen), or “intent, like Judas, on his ghastly erran d ” (Peake), is what the narrator has no concern to say; it will indeed be another day (v 13) when the disasters strike Jo b ’s possessions (contrast perhaps 2:7). Nor is this simple notation of the Satan’s exit a mere narrative link, though it is obviously that at least. The Satan is obedient to what he perceives as his m aster’s will, be it expressed directly or apparently as only “perm ission.” 13—22 Announcement of disasters to Job, and Job’s response. The storyteller reaches the perfection of his art in this central scene of the five that form the prologue. T he contrast between the “before” and “after” of Jo b ’s state is depicted in truly dramatic fashion; for it is the simple train of events and not some convoluted chain of consequences that spells out the disaster. T he opening sentence of the scene depicts afresh the carefree life of Jo b ’s childre n already portrayed in v 4, and “leaves us to think of Job still tranquil and unexpectant of evil up to the very point when the first messenger of ill comes” (Driver). The focus is entirely upon Job, and not upon the disasters themselves, for the issues of the prologue revolve entirely about this man. Dramatically, the spotlight remains fixed upon Job, since the narrative advances only to the measure in which Job himself becomes aware of the disasters. T he device of the messengers admirably focuses concentration upon Job rather than upon the scenes of disaster, and at the same time creates an atm osphere of accelerating doom: each messenger after the first arrives before his predecessor has told his tale; each messenger is the sole survivor of the disaster he describes. The unbroken succession of messengers further heightens the tension the hearer feels concerning Jo b ’s reaction; he cannot respond emotionally to any calamity until he responds to them all; for, after all, they are in reality one and the same calamity in design and in effect. T he pattern of four disasters is also artistically conceived. T here is not only the alternation of hum an and “natural” (or “supernatural”) calamities (Sabeans, lightning, Chaldeans, whirlwind); the disasters strike from all points of the compass (south, east, north, west), and (probably) increase in intensity (one thousand oxen, five hundred asses, servants; seven thousand sheep or goats, servants; three thousand camels, servants; Jo b ’s children). Cumulatively, the disasters eliminate all of Jo b ’s possessions m entioned in vv 2—3; the very num ber four symbolizes the completeness of the ruin (on the pattern of “ascending num eration” [here 3+1], see Comment on 5:19). Enum eration of four punishments or calamities is especially well attested: in the Gilgamesh epic, four plagues that diminish m ankind are the lion, the wolf, famine, and the god of plague (11.177-85; ANET, 95); in Ezek 14:12-23 there appear famine, wild beasts, the sword, and plague (cf. also the four horns of Zech 2:1-4 [1:1821]; the four angels of Rev 9:13—15; and the seven calamities of Job 5:19). T he naivety of the style is apparent in the simplicity of the narrative and especially in its repetitiveness, the same device of the messenger being used four times, each of the reports ending with the same formula, all but the first of the reports beginning with the same formula, and the first and the last report balancing one another in contrasting a scene of tranquillity with a m om ent of disaster. The “falseness” of the naivety lies in the dramatic impact that is only heightened by the formality of the narration. Conspicuous by their absence from this catalogue of disasters are both God and the Satan. It is true that lightning is conventionally called “fire of God”

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(v 16) and that it fell “from heaven,” but the implication is not that God is directly responsible for this calamity as contrasted with the others. O n one level the reason for the absence of the heavenly figures is that the (almost) rigidly enforced distinction between the divine and earthly spheres in this prologue forbids their appearance in this episode; on a deeper level, the calamities are mute and it is for Job to discern their origin (v 21). 13 Like the “day” of v 6, this is a day of no special im port in itself, a day that will develop its m eaning as it progresses. It is the day when the children of Job are gathered in the house of the eldest; those comm entators who saw in v 4 a weekly cycle of feasts culminating in the purgative sacrifice by Job (v 5) are specially impressed by the disaster falling immediately after the sacrifice had been offered and the children had therefore been made ritually innocent: “Jo b ’s godliness and his calamity are brought into the closest contrast” (Davidson). But even if irregularly occurring feasts are supposed by v 4, it is far from clear that the Satan chose the first opportunity on which all Jo b ’s children were assembled. For it is of no consequence when the blow fell; all that we are unquestionably supposed to understand is that no cause for the disaster lay in the behavior of any of the hum an actors. No such thought occurs to Job, either. It may seem curious that the grammatical antecedent for “his” sons and daughters is “the Satan” of v 12; the Septuagint clearly felt it necessary to specify “Jo b ’s sons and daughters.” T here is no hint here that the heavenly scenes are a later insertion into the story of Job, simply a further sign that it is the figure of Job about whom the whole story revolves. 14— 15 Gordis correctly notes that “the impact of the narrative is heightened by its compression.” T he message begins with news—which is no news—of the farm er’s routine: in the early winter, after the early rains, the oxen are plowing and the asses (not here used for plowing; cf. on v 3) are grazing in the fields; they will have carried the plowing gear and the seed to the fields. For illustrations of m odern Palestinian plowing, see G. Dalman, Arbeit und Sitte in Palastina (Gütersloh: Bertelsmann, 1932) 2: pi. 24—26,28—29,31—39; for the ass, see pi. 27 and cf. pp. 160—61. Cf. also E. Nielsen, “Ass and Ox in the Old Testam ent,” in Studia Orientalia Ioanni Pedersen . . . dicata (Copenhagen: Einar Munksgaard, 1953) 263—74. Into this scene breaks an event, a destructive “falling” (the verb is used in three of these scenes, vv 15, 16, 19). T he m arauders who drive off oxen and asses and slay the servants tending them are “Sabeans.” Most identify this group with the inhabitants of Sheba, the prom inent city of southwestern Arabia (mentioned in 1 Kgs 10:1; Isa 60:6; J e r 6:20 [“a distant land”]; etc.; cf. also on Job 6:19) and identified as m odern Marib in present-day Yemen. However, the inhabitants of Sheba are nowhere else referred to as brigands, and a plundering expedition some one thousand miles north of their home (if indeed the setting of the story of Job is in northern Arabia; cf. on v 1) stretches the bounds of plausibility even for the hyperbole of the folktale. Pope (as previously Budde, Szczygiel) argues that the Sheba here is some closer region; in 6:19 it is parallel to Tem a, and in Gen 10:7 and 25:3 (both genealogical lists) it is associated with Dedan, both names clearly to be linked with north Arabia. He even suggests that the stream name Wadi es-Saba in the region of Medina may preserve the ancient name. Fohrer, on the other

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hand, thinks that the depiction of the Sabeans as brigands witnesses to the antiquity of the narrative in representing them as still at an early nomadic stage of their development. The designations of “Sabeans” and “Chaldeans” may indeed be traditional, and the m erchantm en Sabeans of 6:19 may be a different group. See further, on Sheba in the Yemen: Wendell Phillips, ()ataban and Sheba: Exploring Ancient Kingdoms on the Biblical Spice Routes ofArabia (London: Gollancz, 1955); G. W. Van Beek, 1DB 4:144—46; idem, “South Arabian History and Archaeology,” in The Bible and the Ancient Near East (FS W. F. Albright; ed. G. E. Wright; Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1961) 229-48. Since plunder is the object of the Sabeans’ raid, their killing of the farmworkers is an unexpected detail that obviously arises from the dramatic necessity to eliminate all of Jo b ’s possessions, including his “great household” (v 2). Only one survivor is left from each of the four disasters; his escape is also dramatically required. This stock narrative feature is turned to good effect here in concentrating the attention upon Job rather than upon the scenes of disaster (for the stock elem ent “one alone left,” cf. Gen 44:20; Josh 13:12; 1 Kgs 18:22; Isa 49:21; Ezek 9:8; in inverse mode, 2 Sam 13:32-33; for “the survivor bringing news,” cf. Gen 14:13; 1 Sam 22:20; 2 Sam 1:3; Ezek 24:26). 16 In creating a sense of the relentlessness of the unfolding series of disasters, a further stock narrative device is used to good effect: “while he was still speaking” (also Gen 24:15; 1 Kgs 1:42; Dan 4:28 [31]; cf. also the Ugaritic text 1 Aqht [CTA 19] 113—16; Gibson, 117). Lightning is regularly called the “fire from heaven” (2 Kgs 1:10, 12, 14) or “the fire from Yahweh” (Num 11:1; 16:35; 1 Kgs 18:38) or “fire from Yahweh from heaven” (Gen 19:24). While the divine name does not simply function as a superlative (“a great fire,” i.e., “lightning”; as Gordis; cf. D. Winton Thomas, “A Consideration of Some Unusual Ways of Expressing the Superlative in Hebrew,” VT 3 [1953] 209—24 [210]), the normality of the phrase prevents the reader (or Job) from presum ing that this has been a direct divine visitation. Indeed, other terms for lightning existed ( , e.g., Exod 19:16, though this occurs chiefly in poetry [BDB]; and , in Job 36:32; 37:3, 11, 15 [and cf. Hab 3:11], though this is the general term for “light” and its m eaning in chaps. 36—37 is specified by the context). “Fire” ( ) by itself (as LXX has here and as in Exod 9:23) or “fire from heaven” would have been natural terms to use, but the narrator may have been constrained by the “archaic” aspect of his style; certainly a disaster of nature (like the whirlwind in v 19) seems to be intended. It is, nevertheless, a preternatural strike of lightning that consumes seven thousand sheep and all their attendant shepherds. T he folkloristic hyperbole serves yet again to emphasize the totality of the destruction of Jo b ’s possessions. It may be that this disaster is represented as coming from the west, from where—from a Palestinian standpoint at least—most violent thunderstorm s em anated. From the viewpoint of a north Arabian setting, however, thunderstorms may be more usually from the south. 17 T he agents of the third catastrophe are Chaldeans ( , kasdim), but not the imperial race of the neo-Babylonian em pire of the late seventh and the sixth centuries b . c . Kaldai are known from Assyrian annals as early as the tenth century b . c . as inhabitants of southern Mesopotamia, and nomadic peoples of the same name may have roam ed the deserts between north Arabia and the Persian Gulf. Certainly we have here unsettled m arauders, perhaps descending upon Job from the north, as the Sabeans had from the south;

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the northern connection may be attested in some way by the presence of Chesed (TÍZJD) among the children of N ahor (Abraham’s Aram ean brother) and as an uncle of Aram in Gen 22:22. T he use of the well-known imperial name Chaldeans may be an archaic or archaizing note in the narrative. Wherever Jo b ’s home is to be located, attacks by both Sabeans and Chaldeans are as hyperbolically folkloristic an elem ent as the bolt of lightning in v 16. On the origin and use of the name Chaldeans, see A. R. Millard, “Daniel 1—6 and History,” EvQ 49 (1977) 67-73 (69-71); A. L. O ppenheim , IDB 1:54950. The stratagem of dividing one’s forces into three bands is attested also in Ju d g 7:16; 9:43; 1 Sam 11:11; 13:17. This disaster also is one that “falls” upon Jo b ’s possessions (cf. k j v “fell upon the camels”), even though a different verb (OIÜ9) is used from that in vv 15, 16, 19. It would be indiscreet to say that the term “falling” hints at the heavenly origin of Jo b ’s losses, but trouble does not sprout from the ground (5:6), and the reader will sense that the image carries the appropriate resonances. 18—19 Like the first messenger, the fourth begins by depicting the tranquillity of the scene before disaster struck, but now the tonality of the report of good news is changed. In the first message, the contrast between the news of peace and the announcem ent of disaster was the focus; now the expectation is exclusively upon the inevitable disaster that is surely to be reported, and the good news merely increases the tension. Like the other disasters, this fourth one is both natural and preternaturally heightened. A violent wind, the sirocco or khamsin, sweeping in from the eastern desert, “from the other side ( ) of the wilderness,” is no rare occurrence (cf. the “east wind,” 15:2; 27:20-23; Hos 13:15; the “hot wind from the desert,” Je r 4:11; and “the desert wind,” Je r 13:24; cf. R. B. Y. Scott, “Meteorological Phenom ena and Terminology in the Old Testam ent,” ZAW 64 [1952] 11—25 [20]); but a wind that strikes all four sides (lit., “corners”) of a house at once (on the significance of “four” see on vv 13—22) is the kind of wind that blows in the heroic world of folktale. A whirlwind could perhaps be said to strike all corners of a house, but “true whirlwinds or tornadoes are rare and occur chiefly near the coast” (R. B. Y. Scott, IDB 4:841; cf. D. Nir, “Whirlwinds in Israel in the Winters 1954-55 and 1955-56,” IEJ 7 [1957] 109—17), admittedly in the early winter, which is the season suggested by the narrative (cf. on v 14). Nothing among the disasters is a “special intervention of God” (as Habel says of the whirlwind), but their enormity and concentration direct Jo b ’s attention unhesitatingly to the activity of God (v 21). Each time it has been the “young m en” or “young people” ( ) who have been slain; Hebrew, like many languages, can use terms m eaning “boy, lad” for “servant” (as has been the case in the previous scenes). In this scene it is the children of Job who are meant; on looking back over the passage, we realize that it is for the sake of this announcem ent that the term has been used throughout. These are the that really m atter, though no doubt their attendant servants also have died. The “house” of the eldest brother is obviously not a tent; this “patriarchal” story, we are rem inded, is not set in the world of nomadic shepherds, but of settled pastoralists and farmers, even though the archaic language of an earlier style of life is often employed (see, e.g., on 5:24; 29:4). 20 W hat we have been waiting for is Jo b ’s reaction to the news. T he narrator

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has artfully kept us waiting; though the spotlight has been upon Job from the beginning of the scene, we have not heard one word from him or had an inkling of how the news registers with him. All that survives to him of his form er prosperity and rank are four anonymous messengers, whom even a quite unsophisticated audience will easily recognize as owing their survival entirely to the exigencies of narrative art (the m anner of their escape is of no interest whatever); for the purposes of this story, Job is alone and unattended by house servants when he receives the messengers, and even his wife is kept out of sight until her significant appearance in 2:9. Up to this point, Job has been sitting, as is still the custom in many Middle Eastern societies when receiving visitors. His reaction to the news is most empathetically perceived if we conjure up some countertexts; for example, that the story had him burst into vigorous lam ent (like that of chap. 3), cry out for vengeance, or in a frenzy seek to discover whether the reports of the messengers were in fact not some horrifyingjoke. Such imaginative alternatives to the story highlight three facets of the story we actually have: acts precede words; acts and words are deliberate and few; acts and words are conventional and external. T he ritual acts of m ourning delay even further Jo b ’s verbal response to the m essengers’ speeches (Job himself has not spoken since v 5, and there the “speech” may be only a thought). T he narrative by no means suggests “rapidity of m ovem ent” (which Dhorm e infers from the initial “and he rose u p ”). Rather, the acts are deliberate, and, though conventional, deeply symbolic. T he tearing of garments, a frequently attested rite of m ourning (Gen 37:29; Josh 7:6; cf. 2 Sam 13:19; Lev 10:6; whatever its origins may have been (according to W. O. E. Oesterley, Immortality and the Unseen World [London: SPCK, 1921] 143—49, as a palliative of self-mutilation; cf. also W. Robertson Smith, Lectures on the Religion of the Semites [London: A. C. Black, 3rd ed., 1927] 687), its symbolic value is rich. Perhaps it symbolizes that the pain reaches the heart of the survivor (Fohrer); perhaps it expresses the m ourner’s identification with the destruction of the one dead; perhaps it marks a recognition that a significant element of one’s own life has been irredeemably ended; perhaps it seeks relief from shock or horror in violent physical action (E. F. de W ard, “M ourning Customs in 1, 2 Samuel,” JSS 23 [1972] 1-27, 145-66); certainly, some such strong muscular activity is, physiologically speaking, an appropriate response to the release of adrenaline into the bloodstream. It is the outer mantle or robe ( ) that is torn, a garm ent worn by persons of distinction or by others on special occasions over the ordinary tunic ( ); cf. 2:12; Exod 28:31; 1 Sam 15:27; 18:4; 24:5, 12 [6, 13]; 28:14; Ezra 9:3, 5. It corresponds generally to the m odern Palestinian qumbaz, a long, loosely fitting robe worn over other garm ents (J. M. Myers, IDB 1:870; illustration, G. Dalman, Arbeit und Sitte in Palástina [Gütersloh: Bertelsmann, 1937] 5: fig. 58). In an exceptional case, the tunic itself may be torn (as in 2 Sam 15:32). Shaving the head as a m ourning symbol was also common in ancient times (Isa 15:2; 22:12; J e r 7:29; 16:6; 41:5; 47:5; 48:37; Ezek 7:18; Amos 8:10; Mic 1:16); it was forbidden by the Deuteronomic law (Deut 14:1), as apparently was the shaving of the head for any purpose by the Holiness Law of Lev 19:27 (cf. J e r 9:25 [26]; Ezek 44:20). Examples occur of tearing out the hair

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(Ezra 9:3; cf. also Gilgamesh 8.2.21, ANET, 88), and clipping the beard (Isa 15:2; Je r 41:5; 48:37). A large collection of parallels from other cultures to shaving or cropping the hair may be found in T. H. Gaster, Myth, Legend, and Custom in the Old Testament (London: Duckworth, 1969) 590—602. The origins of the custom are probably irrelevant, even if they could be determ ined. A “primitive” anthropological approach, like Frazer’s, suggested purposes such as disguising oneself from the ghost of the dead, or offering the strength supposed to reside in the hair as energy for the spirit of the departed. For strictures upon such approaches, seej. W. Rogerson, Anthropology and the Old Testament (Oxford: Blackwell, 1978), esp. 46—53. Note also that Je r 7:29 speaks of cutting off the hair in m ourning and throwing it away, which suggests that no special significance attaches to the disposal of the hair. A psychological interpretation of the function of such a practice is likely to be nearer the truth; the self-mutilation or disfigurem ent involved in hair rituals is analogous to the rending of garments: the living identifies with the dead. The common practice of putting dust on the head (cf. on 2:12) is the most convincing sign that the suffering survivor identifies with the dead. In the narrative here, this is a ritual act that plainly is no impulsive hasty reaction, but one which necessitates preparations and a rather lengthy activity. In the same way, Jo b ’s falling to the ground is not, as Driver points out, “some immediate half-involuntary physical reaction against the distressing news” (contrast 1 Sam 28:20). Unlike the form er two m ourning rites, whose conventionality cloaks any individual expression of feeling, this third act makes Jo b ’s inner attitude plain. Falling to the ground (not itself a m ourning rite; contra Gordis) and “worshiping” or “doing obeisance” (ϊΥΙΠΓ Π) are here the same act of conscious and deliberate piety before God. Job falls to the ground not in despair but in reverence (Rowley), no doubt touching the face to the ground in a silent act of submission. E. W. Lane described the Islamic custom of religious obeisance thus: “He . . . drops gently upon his knees . . . places his hands upon the ground, a little before his knees, and puts his nose and forehead also to the ground (the form er first), between his two hands” (An Account of the Manners and Customs of the Modern Egyptians [London: Jo h n Murray, 5th ed., 1860] 77, with illustration; for illustrations from the ancient Near East of postures in prayer, see ANEP, pi. 355,45,46; IBD 3:1259). O ther biblical examples are found in Gen 24:52; Josh 7:16; Isa 44:17. While a technical term for verbal prayer is only seldom connected with this word for “worship” ( ) (cf. J. H errm ann, TDNT 2:788—80), the word itself does not denote prayer, but one of the postures of prayer, reverence, or supplication (to a superior or even to an equal also; cf. Gen 23:7; Exod 18:7; 1 Sam 25:23); it is often followed, as here, by “and he said” or its equivalent. See also D. R. Α ρ-Thomas, “Notes on Some Terms Relating to Prayer,” VT 6 (1956) 220— 24; H.-P. Stáhli, TH W AT 1:530-33. Jo b ’s actions in response to the news have been few: there has been no gashing of the body, no donning sackcloth, no scattering dust, no lamentation, no weeping, no fasting. Is this simply the economy of the “naive” narrative style, or does it signal a disproportionate restraint that will be burst open in the passion of the dialogue? On m ourning rites, see further A. J. Wensinck, Semitic Rites, esp. 5—55; E. Kutsch, “ ‘T rauerbráuche’ und ‘Selbstminderungsriten’ im A T,” ThSt 78 (1965) 25-42.

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21 The purely conventional acts of m ourning have been perform ed, and narrated, first because the real issue, of w hether Job will curse God, must for the sake of the dramatic tension be postponed as long as possible. In the event, the Satan is proved both right and wrong. He has said that if all that Job has is “struck,” Job will “bless” ( ) God (v 11)—but he means “bless” as a euphemism for “curse.” Job indeed “blesses” ( ) God; verbally the Satan has been proved right, though on the level of intention he has been proved wrong. And what of the Satan’s prognostication that Job will “bless” God “to [his] face”? Is there any significance in the fact that neither here nor in 2:10 (nor in chap. 3) does Job address God directly? It will only be in the ensuing dialogue with the friends that Job will say anything at all “to [God’s] face”; have we met once more with the “false naivety” of the narrator in this tiny narrative thread that is not tied up in the narrative itself but cries out for further resolution in the book as a whole? But blessing will not be Jo b ’s first word. First he utters a sentim ent entirely in tune with the generalizations of pessimistic “wisdom”: “Naked I came from my m other’s womb, and naked shall I return [there]”; cf. Eccl 5:14 [15] “As [a man] came from his m other’s womb he shall go again, naked as he came.” This is “pessimistic” only in the sense that it takes into account the reality of death, which “optimistic” wisdom does not generally do. T here is a tension, indeed, between the idea that earthly possessions are the natural fruit of a life of piety, and the idea that death negates everything positive, and strips one “naked” of all that life has brought; the reports of the messengers have in a day translated Job from the sphere of “piety and rew ard” attested in vv 1—2 into the sphere where Qoheleth stands. T hat is not a sphere of fatalism or nihilism, or even of resignation or despair (contrast Duhm, who found this inactive “resignation” so alien to “the more energetic spirit of the E uropean” [!]); it is a sphere where the boundary situation is encountered, and where the rest of life is evaluated from that perspective. Job feels himself now already as good as dead; stripped naked of his possessions, he is as if he were already prepared for burial. His words simply verbalize the psychological identification with the dead that he has already made by his ritual acts of m ourning. The interpretive difficulty raised by this line is the phrase “I shall return thither.” For it is evidently not to his m other’s womb that Job expects to retu rn at death (cf. Jo h n 3:4). Two exegetical moves are usually suggested. (i) T hat the “m other’s womb” is the womb of M other Earth; Ps 139:15 speaks of the hum an body as being form ed in the “depths of the earth,” and Ecclus 40:1 explicitly refers to the grave as the “m other of all the living”; the origin of hum ankind in general from the “m ud of the ground” (Gen 2:9; cf. 18:27; Job 4:19; Ps 103:14; 1 Cor 15:47-49) lies of course in the background of this image. G. R. Driver refers to Arab. ummu “m other” as m eaning also “abode, habitation, tomb,” and cites the Arab, phrase butunu-Hlam “wombs of the earth” for “graves” (“Ancient Lore and M odern Knowledge,” in Hommages a André Dupont-Sommer, ed. A. Caquot, 277—86); but these must be self-conscious literary usages. O n the concept of “M other Earth” in Semitic thought, cf. M. Eliade, RG G 3 2:548-50. (ii) T hat “thither” is a euphemism for the underworld; there is an Egyptian phrase “those who are there” for the dead (cf. N. Herz, “Egyptian Words and Idioms in the Book of Job,” OLZ 16 [1913] 343-46 [343-44]), and Greek

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έκ€ϊ “there” (e.g., Euripides, Medea, 1065) is paralleled as a term referring to the underw orld (see also G. R. Driver, “Ancient Lore and M odern Knowledge,” 286). Gordis sees in ΏΙΠ in Eccl 3:17 a similar usage (“T here is a proper time for everything and for every deed—over there!”), and also compares ΏΙΠ in Job 3:19. But this view does not entirely dispose of the difficulty of “I shall r e t u r n since Sheol is not the m other’s womb. It may simply be that “retu rn ” ( 11 ) is not to be pressed too literally; cf. Ps 9:18 [17], where the wicked “retu rn ” to Sheol, and 146:4, where a prince who is no more than a “son of m an” “returns [Π1ΙΖ3] to his earth” once his breath departs. T here is certainly no adequate evidence for arguing, with Dahood, Psalms III, 295, that the hum an body is regarded as created and preexistent in the netherworld; the passages he cites (Gen 2:7; 3:19; Ps 90:3; Eccl 3:20; 5:14 [15]; 12:7; Ecclus 40:1 [to which Job 34:15 could be added]) speak of no more than the creation of hum ankind as such from the earth. The best clue to the crux lies in Ps 139, where v 13 speaks of an individual’s creation in the m other’s womb, and v 15 of that same individual’s creation in the depths of the earth. The images surrounding the origin of hum ankind and that of the individual are fused, and it would be a wooden exegete who would find the m etaphors self-contradictory. So here too the imagery of the individual’s birth is silently fused with the imagery of hum ankind’s creation, so that “thither” is indeed the earth, not as a technical term or a euphem ism for it, nor because it is precisely identified as “M other Earth.” (Jorge Luis Borges draws attention to the critics who found a similar “fallacy” in Keats’ “Ode to a Nightingale” [“The Nightingale of Keats,” in Other Inquisitions (tr. J. E. Irby; Austin: University of Texas Press, 1964) 121-24].) Two further points need to be added: (i) G. Ricciotti’s interesting suggestion (ZAW 67 [1955] 249-51), that the point of comparison is the fetal position assumed by the child in its m other’s womb and the same position assumed by the corpse in the grave, distracts attention from the prim ary comparison betw een nakedness at birth and nakedness at death; (ii) Ecclus 40:1, often cited as illumination of our present text, is indeed inspired by it, but its greater explicitness differs significantly from the fused images of our text; it reads “. . . from the day man comes forth from his m other’s womb, until the day he enters [not “returns to” as r s v , j b , n a b ] the m other of all living.” T he second elem ent of Jo b ’s speech voices his response not in the language of reflection upon life (“wisdom”) but in the language of religious feeling (praise): “Yahweh has given, and Yahweh has taken away; blessed be the name of Yahweh.” Indeed, like the first sentence, it has a conventional or traditional air about it; some Arab tribesmen are said to utter the form ula rabbu jdbu, rabbu ahadu, “His Lord gave him, his Lord has taken him away,” upon the death of a kinsman (A. Musil, Arabia Petraea [Vienna: A. Holder, 1908] 3:427), and for the sentiment, cf. 1 Sam 3:18, “It is from Yahweh; let him do what seems good to him ” (Eli to Samuel); Ecclus 11:14. But the tem per of the saying is not so much the learned wisdom of a Qoheleth, as the piety of the congregation at worship. Again, following a lead from S. Kierkegaard’s brilliant exposition of this verse (Edifying Discourses: A Selection [London: Collins, 1958] 78—94), we may expound it against the varying backdrops of alternative countertexts. Job does not say, “Yahweh has given and the Sabeans, the Chaldeans, the lightning

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and whirlwind, have taken away”; he sees his hum an enemies and the natural forces as secondary to the one who must be ultimately responsible. This sense will be a navigation aid for him in the dark waters of the chapters that follow. He does not allow the anger inevitable in bereavement to vent itself upon secondary causes; in time we shall see that anger expressed in ju st the direction this initial reaction has set for him. Nor does Job say, “Yahweh has taken away”; the sudden awareness of loss as it has been dramatically presented has not closed his mind to everything but his immediate sensation; at the m oment of his loss he is wholly conscious that what has been lost was God’s gift. Nor yet does Job say simply, “Yahweh has given,” as if, like many victims of loss, to expel the hu rt of the present by dwelling exclusively on the joys of the past, wishing the hurt away by refusing to accept its reality. He can balance the gift and the loss, the joy and the hurt, and accept them both as “from the hand of God.” And yet further, Job does not merely say, “Yahweh has given, and Yahweh has taken away.” T hat in itself is the utterance of psvchological maturity and thoughtful piety; but even yet it does not make patent the feeling with which the words are uttered. T he next phrase, however, does: “Blessed be the name of Yahweh!” Yahweh is blessed not for the giving or for the taking away but for the totality of what he has been to Job. His bounteousness and his inexplicable hurtfulness are equally manifestations of his personal reality; and in the face of that Job knows no other response than “blessing.” In a rabbinic text from the Mishnah (m. Ber. 5.3) the cryptic sentence occurs: “If anyone says, For blessings be thy name praised, we silence that m an.” T hat is to say, such a praise could disguise a sotto voce “but for calamities may your name be cursed.” Job needs no such warning; his instincts direct him to a dignified, tightly reined, sober, balanced piety. (It is not clear that Job thinks especially of the right of God to “take away” what he has “given,” the gift being merely a loan, and God being entitled to take back what is really his own; Fohrer and Hesse, among others, emphasize this aspect.) T here is no authorization in this text for the common view that in the O T God is regarded as the author of everything that occurs in the world. Job is making no global statem ent of divine causality, but a pious utterance of his sense of how entirely his fate lies in the hands of God. See further F. Lindstróm, God and the Origin of Evil: A Contextual Analysis of Alleged Monistic Evidence in the Old Testament (tr. F. A. Cryer; Lund: C. W. K. Gleerup, 1983) 137-57. In this sentence, then, of response to the disaster that has befallen him, the Book of Job reaches—for the first time—what I argue in this commentary to be its primary aim: to portray how one should behave under suffering. No more sudden or catastrophic suffering could easily be imagined; how should a hum an being respond? Precisely as Job, without recrimination, self-pity, or rejection of reality, and with praise to the Lord of his being. Job is unarguably here set forth as an exemplar of faith in crisis. Nevertheless, the vast bulk of the Book of Job will depict a different Job, who is nevertheless the same man, a Job who finds such a response, though genuinely willed and in every respect real (and not to be misjudged as “unnaturally calm”; cf. Hesse), does not begin to match the turmoil of emotion that the events of this chapter come to awaken in him. T here is no doubt that Jo b ’s behavior here is right, and therefore exemplary; w hether it is possible—at least to persist in—is another m atter. For some it may be, and they are to be congratulated. For the others, the rest of the book will portray another—though ultimately congruent—way.

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We may note as of less pressing significance the fact that Job here for the only time (but see on 12:9) employs the name Yahweh; indeed all the speakers in the book (including the Satan) use one or other term for “God” (statistical table in Driver-Gray, xxxv), though the narrator himself in prologue and epilogue speaks of “Yahweh” (“sons of God” [1:6; 2:1] is a fixed phrase, as also apparently in the idiom of this writer “fearing God” [in 1:8 in the m outh of Yahweh!]). Nothing about the literary origins of the book can be deduced from these facts; what may be suggested by the use of the name Yahweh here is that the phrases are adaptations of familiar Israelite form ulae (cf. Ps 113:2, “Blessed be the name of Yahweh from this time for everm ore”). (T. H. Gaster, Myth, Legend, and Custom in the Old Testament [London: Duckworth, 1969] 2:787, cites a similarly form ed sentence from a Mesopotamian text, “The king gave, and the king has taken; long live the king!” [A. Pohl, “Akkadische Sprichwórter,” Or 19 (1950) 382]; there is no connection of dependence, however.) O ur narrator writes for alert readers, and no simplistic generic expíanation of why “Yahweh” is used will satisfy; the point is that Job, Israelite or no, behaves and speaks at the crisis m om ent as if bound by covenant with Yahweh, God of Israel. Even if only temporarily—and certainly sub rosa—this “pagan saint” (J. Daniélou, Holy Pagans of the Old Testament [tr. F. Faber; London: Longmans, Green, and Co., 1956] 86-102) becomes a Jewish proselyte. T he form of the blessing ( ΓΠΓΓ I , “may Yahweh’s name be blessed”) is an unusual one, the normal form ula being “blessed be Yahweh” ( ) or “blessed be thou” ( ). But exactly the same wording occurs in Ps 113:2, suggesting that Jo b ’s utterance is to be recognized as a conventional liturgical formula. Job himself does not simply “bless” God, but expresses the wish that wherever the news of his suffering spreads people may display their reverence for the deity (the form functions like the imperative summons to praise; see C. A. Keller and G. W ehmeier, TH W AT 1:353—76 [363]), and not, moved by sympathy with Job, make of Jo b ’s suffering a reason for hostility toward God (cf. again Ps 113:2—3: “May Yahweh’s name be blessed . . . praised from east to west”). While it is comparatively easy to understand the concept of a “blessing” as some kind of wish or gift directed toward hum ans by God or by others, or, as J. Scharbert (TDOT 1:303) emphasizes, “to strengthen solidarity with individuals and groups with whom [the one blessing] has or seeks particularly close social, racial, and religious relationships,” what does it mean to “bless” God, who must be assumed to stand in no need of blessing? While some, working with a “magical” view of Israelite thought, have imagined that a blessing actually increases the power of Yahweh, the most natural view is that the “blessing” is a means of expressing gratitude and respect (cf. J. Scharbert, TDOT 1:305), “an ascription of praise and gratitude for blessing received” (W. Harrelson, IDB 1:446). See further S. Mowinckel, Segen und Fluch in Israels Kult und Psalmdichtung (Psalmenstudien 5; repr. Amsterdam: P. Schippers, 1966 [orig. 1924]), esp. 27—30; J. Hempel, “Die israelitischen Anschauungen von Segen und Fluch im Lichte altorientalischen Parallelen,” ZDMG 4 (1925) 20-110 (= BZAW 81 [1961] 30-113); J. Pedersen, Israel: Its Life and Culture /-// (London: OUP; Copenhagen: P. Branner, 1926) 182— 212; J. Scharbert, Solidaritat in Segen und Fluch im A T und in seiner Umwelt (BBB 14; Bonn: Hanstein, 1958); idem, TDOT 1:279-308; S. H. Blank, HUCA 32 (1962) 85—90; H. Mowvley, “The Concept and Content of ‘Blessing’ in the O T ,” BiTrans 16 (1965) 74—80; J. Guillet, “Le langage spontané de la

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bénédiction dans ΓΑΤ,” RSR 57 (1969) 163-204; F. Horst, “Segen und Segenshandlungen in der Bibel,” E vT 7 (1947-48) 23-37 (= Gottes Recht: Gesammelte Studien zum Recht im Alten Testament [TBü 12; Munich: Kaiser, 1961] 188— 202); W. S. Towner, “ ‘Blessed be YH W H’ and ‘Blessed Art T hou, YHW H’: The M odulation of a Biblical Form ula,” CBQ 30 (1968) 386-99. On the “nam e” of God as essentially a synonym for God himself in psalmic language, cf. Ps 5:12 [11]; 96:2. 22 In no way has Job “sinned” by cursing God. “In all this” may refer to all the circumstances that have been narrated (Horst), or, m ore probably, to what Job has spoken (Dhorme). M isfortune has led Job to “bless” in the true sense, not to speak words that are only euphemistically called “blessing.” Nothing ( r s v “wrong”; that God has done is open to criticism; the exact m eaning of n e b “unreason”) is uncertain (see n. 22.b); but the context shows that to “attribute to God” (the phrase is patterned on the m ore common idiom “to give, attribute praise or glory to Yahweh,” e.g., 1 Sam 6:5) m ust be the most modest form of “cursing” God (cf. n a b “nor did he say anything disrespectful of God”). It is not so m uch that God has a right to do whatever he pleases, or that his gifts rem ain his own property and he is therefore entitled to take them back at any time; no such grand generalizations determ ine Jo b ’s response. It is prom pted entirely by his persistent attitude of reverence toward God (cf. v 5). 2:1—6 The Satan and God: second encounter. This fourth scene of the prologue is modeled very closely upon the second, with m uch verbal repetition. The doubling heightens the dramatic expectations, for the hearer or reader, in the process of realizing that a scene is being repeated, becomes at the same m om ent more alert for the novelties in the second presentation. H ere the chief novelty to attract the attention is heaven’s reaction to Jo b ’s behavior: is it now satisfied, or must the earthly scene be replayed with greater violence? If the latter, what then of Jo b ’s response? Once that is established, this fourth scene must rapidly give place to the fifth, which will be climactic and final. Some have doubted that this second cycle of testing originally belonged to the Job narrative. Hesse, for example, points out that the testing of Job has already proved effective; the point in question has been decided. To afflict Job now with illness, after all his losses, is to add nothing new. Furtherm ore, the epilogue to the book in chap. 42 speaks of the restitution of Jo b ’s possessions, but not a word of the healing of Jo b ’s disease—as if that had never been an issue in the story. Hesse attributes the story of the second phase of Jo b ’s trial to a purely narrative “law of doubling” or “law of heightening,” which was employed in order to form a bridge to the figure portrayed in the dialogues— the Job who is smitten by illness. Horst, on the other hand, sees the image of the suffering Job as the essence of the narrative, especially because of the M esopotamian analogues to the figure of the “righteous sufferer” (in the M esopotamian text known as “I will praise the Lord of Wisdom” [Ludlul bel némeqi; W. G. Lambert, Babylonian Wisdom Literature (Oxford: Clarendon, 1960) 21—62; ANET, 434—37]; the Righteous Sufferer [see J. Nougayrol, “Une version ancienne du «juste souffrant»,” RB 59 (1952) 239—50]; and Man and His Cr0d [see S. N. Kramer, “ ‘Man and His God’: A Sumerian Variation on the ‘J o b ’ Motif,” VTSup 3 (1955) 170-

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82]). Fohrer, however, though distinguishing several stages in the composition of the book, finds no need to discriminate between the two trials of Job; and the whole discussion perhaps only reflects the tendency in O T scholarship to project horizontal or synchronic tensions within a narrative onto a vertical, diachronic, developmental grid (which is generally hypothetical). 1—2 T he wording is repeated exactly from 1:6—7 with one purely verbal difference (the word for “whence” [ΠΤΏ ] in v 2 is different from that [] ] in 1:7), and one difference that may perhaps be significant: at the end of v 1 the Satan comes among the sons of God “to present himself before Yahweh”— precisely the same phrase that has already just been used of the sons of God themselves. T he Septuagint translators omitted the last phrase “to present himself before Yahweh,” but we do not know why; they may have followed a different Hebrew manuscript; they may have omitted the phrase accidentally or intentionally because it had already occurred in the verse; or they may have omitted it intentionally because the term for “before” God ( ) could have been m isunderstood as “against” (D. H. Gard, The Exegetical Method of the Greek Translator of the Book ofJob [SBLMS 8; Philadelphia: Society of Biblical Literature, 1952] 28). Many translations omit the phrase ( j b , n e b , n a b , though not r s v , n i v ). Gordis speculates that the phrase has a different significance here: while in the first half of the verse it means “stand in God’s presence, like courtiers,” when used of the Satan it means “stand over against God” in insolence and rebelliousness (cf. the phrase in Num 16:27; Deut 7:24). But the obvious explanation lies ready to hand: the Satan is the only one of the “sons of God” who, in our narrative, has been sent out from the last assembly of the heavenly council with a specific task. Attention is therefore directed to him as the one who must give some report of his mission. On repetition as a feature of Hebrew narrative style, see W. Baum gartner, “Ein Kapitel vom hebráischen Erzáhlungsstil,” in Eucharistérion: Studien zur Religion und Literatur des Alten und Neuen Testaments (FS H. Gunkel; FRLANT 36; Gottingen: Vandenhoeck 8c Ruprecht, 1923) 145—57; J. M uilenburg, “A Study in Hebrew Rhetoric: Repetition and Style,” VTSup 1 (1953) 97-111; Alter, Art of Biblical Narrative, 88—113. Why does the Satan answer Yahweh so vaguely, so cagily? Gordis wryly remarks: “In accordance with the immemorial practice of subordinates vis-avis their superiors . . . the Satan offers the Lord as little inform ation as possible. He makes no reference to Job or to the effect that his trials have had upon him .” But perhaps this reading is oversubtle. T he prior question is, why does Yahweh say, “From where do you come?” Why does Yahweh not get to the point directly himself? Unless Hesse is right in seeing these verses as the work of a clumsy supplem enter, the answer can only be that the formalities (modest though they are) have to be gone through; or else, that the naivety of the narrative style demands as close a repetition of the first heavenly scene as possible. Nevertheless, we are entitled to wonder whether there is here also not a little “false” naivety: is there a little “fencing” about the subject, a disinclination to plunge into the topic of prim ary concern? 3 W hat are we to make of the fact that Yahweh already knows how Job has responded to the test before the Satan appears again before him? Perhaps it is a simple foreshortening of the narrative for the sake of the movement of the dialogue; or more probably, it is im portant that the attestation of Jo b ’s

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continued piety should be set in the m outh of Yahweh rather than of the Satan. We are not to assume that Yahweh has no need to learn what has taken place because he is all-knowing (Gordis). Such a presum ption about God’s omniscience would destroy the whole rationale of the heavenly court. No, Yahweh has discovered, whether from some other m em ber of the “sons of God” or from the present conversation with the Satan, that “Job maintains his integrity.” How Yahweh has come to know this is of less im portance than his announcem ent of Jo b ’s integrity to the Satan; for Yahweh’s statem ent is flaunted before the Satan; it requires a response from him; it implicitly invites the very kind of reply the Satan has made in 1:9. Job “still,” despite the calamities depicted in 1:13-19, “maintains his integrity,” i.e., “his life continues blameless as ever” (j b ). “M aintains” ( p in ) means “hold fast to” (cf. Exod 9:2); “integrity” ( ) occurs outside Job (2:9; 27:5; 31:6) only in Prov 11:3; but the root is common, and the adjective “blameless” has already ju st been used of Job. Later in the book Jo b ’s “maintaining” his integrity will have the different sense of “continuing to affirm” his integrity (cf. on 27:6). And if Job still maintains his integrity, what does that prove? It could m ean that the issue has been settled, that piety is not simply the result of prosperity. If that is so, the trial has not been “without cause” or “without effect” (the two possible meanings of ): the cause has been the question hitherto untested of the relation between prosperity and piety; the effect has been to establish that in the case of one hum an at least, piety did not depend on prosperity. But Jo b ’s m aintaining his piety could have a more unhappy meaning: it could signify that the trial had not been severe enough. Indeed, it has been settled that deprivation of his material possessions and of his children has not shaken his piety; but suppose that “prosperity” includes physical and mental health; what then? The fact is that once the question of the causal nexus between piety and prosperity has been raised, it must be probed to the utmost extent. T here has indeed been no “cause” in Job himself why he should be the object of this examination of the relation of piety and prosperity. It is truly gratuitous ( ) that he should have been fastened upon, quite fortuitous that he should be both the most upright and the most prosperous man of his time. But that does not mean that the suffering is meaningless or gratuitous. His suffering has not been decreed in order to settle a divine wager, or to provide an object lesson for some second-rank heavenly being—but in order to lay bare a truth that lies at the heart of the moral universe (a truth that has been badly misconstrued by popular religion and professional wisdom alike), and even more perhaps (to put the m atter in the frankly anthropom orphic language that suits the narrative) in order to lay to rest a doubt in the mind of God himself (cf. on 1:9). T he assault upon Job has not been some “abortive attem pt” and the Satan is not “mortified at its failure” (Peake). T he experim ent— cruel though the term is—has not yet yielded a conclusive result because the conditions in which it was carried out were not rigorous enough. The experim ent, however, has even by this inconclusive stage brought into the open—at least to the observant reader—one striking fact about the moral universe as perceived by the narrator: it is indeed possible for a righteous person to suffer gratuitously. We first became aware of this perception from

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the course of the narrative of the first heavenly scene (1:6—12), but now for the first time it is with a single word explicitly granted that Job has been smitten “for nothing” ( ). T hat means to say: the law of retribution has been broken! This admission does not am ount to a virtual self-reproach on the part of Yahweh (as Hesse maintains, shocked by the audacity of the “supplem enter”—to whom he ascribes these verses—in attributing such an admission to Yahweh); and this is not the m oment in the flow of the narrative for the developm ent of a questioning of the nexus of suffering and sin—that will be treated amply in the dialogue. Here the nexus under the microscope is that of piety and prosperity; but the one nexus is the obverse of the other, and it is not surprising that in this phrase “destroy him without cause” we should have a prem onition of the pivotal issue of the dialogue. Here it is stated from God’s point of view; in the dialogue, it will be from Jo b ’s point of view, and it will take the form “destroy me without cause.” In rem inding the Satan that he “urged” Yahweh to “destroy” Job, Yahweh is by no means repudiating responsibility for Jo b ’s form er trial (Peake), nor giving him credit for instigating the experim ent (Pope). Rather, Yahweh invites Satan’s agreem ent to the apparent success of the experim ent in which the Satan and Yahweh have together been implicated. 4—6 T hat agreem ent the Satan will not give. The real test of the relationship of Jo b ’s piety and his prosperity has not yet begun, he means to say; it is only when the man himself, his own “bone” and “flesh,” is smitten that one can determ ine the truth about the piety of Job. The no doubt proverbial saying “skin for skin” is difficult of interpretation; but the im port of the Satan’s speech is made entirely clear by what follows: Job has been willing to bow to Yahweh’s “taking away” all he possessed because his own life has been spared. Prosperity of a kind he still has: his own life and health. So may it not be that prosperity that is inextricably linked with his piety? Several suggestions have been offered for the m eaning of the phrase “skin for skin.” If we suppose, as most do, that it sums up Jo b ’s reaction to the blows that have fallen on him, the most natural view is that the saying comes from the world of bartering, where “one skin for another skin” could well be a phrase for a fair exchange. Fohrer mentions a similar phrase bita kima biti “house for house” in a legal docum ent from Ugarit (Le palais royal d’Ugarit [Mission de Ras Shamra 6; ed. J. Nougayrol; Paris: Im prim erie Nationale et C. Klincksieck, 1955] 3:164 [text 16.383, line 9]); and Holscher cites an Arabic phrase ras bira’s, “one head [of cattle] for another” (from R. Dozy, SuppUment aux dictionnaires arabes [Leiden: Brill, 1881] 1:494), surmising that the phrase originated in tribal bartering where pelts were used as a staple article of currency. T he German phrase “W urst wider [or, um] W urst,” “a sausage for a sausage” is also often cited. The difficulty raised against this suggestion is that “the exchange of one skin for another is not a likely commercial transaction” (Andersen), since barter does not involve exchanging one thing for another of the same kind (Tur-Sinai, followed by Rowley). But proverbial expressions are often tautologies, and the phrase may well have had to do originally with what was fair: proverbially speaking, the only indisputably fair exchange for one pelt is another pelt. T hat does not mean that the saying must always have precisely that sense. In the present context, it would mean that Job has

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judged his possessions (including his children) and his own life (including his health) to be of equal value to him; he can afford to forgo his goods to save his life—and indeed he must, for if he refuses to afford to, he loses his life. True, Job has not been asked to relinquish his prosperity in order to secure his life in return (Andersen); yet the only means he has of securing his life is to give up his possessions with good grace—and not curse God. A variant of this view, taking “skin” m ore literally, is that the “skin” that Job gives up is the skin of his family, servants, and animals, in order to save his own skin (cf. B. Jacob, ZAW 32 [1912] 279); on this understanding, the proverb means that “a man will give anyone else’s skin on behalf of, i.e., to save his own skin” (Gordis). Gray was even tem pted to a slight em endation in the Hebrew (see n. 2:4.a) that would yield: “[Another] skin for his [own] skin.” It is no argum ent against this view that ‘Jo b had never been confronted with this choice, and can scarcely be said to have sacrificed his children and his possessions” (Rowley); for Job indeed had the choice whether or not to accept the death of his family and animals, or to protest it and thereby lose his own life. It is interesting that all that Job has lost are living beings (whether hum an or animal), and for them the term “skin” would be appropriate. But once it is adm itted that the first “skin” stands for the totality of Jo b ’s possessions, this variant becomes virtually identical with the interpretation first m entioned. In either of its forms, this understanding is quite acceptable, though another interpretation to be put forward below may be preferable. Less probable, however, is the quite common view that the idea of a “double skin” is in mind, as in Arabic literature, viz. the concept of an outer skin (basarat) and an inner skin ( adamat). Here the sense would be that only Jo b ’s outer skin, so to speak, has been touched, the m an himself rem aining unscathed; thus we might translate: “[There is one] skin beyond ( ) [another] skin.” To use an earlier m etaphor, the “hedge” (1:10) surrounding Job has been breached, but he himself has not been struck (1:12). Rowley and A ndersen incline to this view, following Schultens, Merx, Budde, and others. Gordis objects that there is no evidence for Heb. 1 1 “skin” having this twofold m eaning and that for such a distinction Arabic uses two different words. Pope’s objection is that since Jo b ’s person has not been touched, there is no skin off him as yet; though this is an overliteral reading, “skin beyond skin” would be more apt in a context of inflicting greater physical hardship upon one already suffering in this way. Pope’s own suggestion, “skin after skin” (following Tur-Sinai), i.e., there are layers of skin protecting his heart and life, actually seems little different. Less acceptable still is the interpretation of the T argum and Rashi, followed by Driver and others, that a person will sacrifice one part of the body to save some other part, e.g., an arm to save the head. T he obvious objection to this view is that “skin” is never used for a part of the body. A quite different route to a solution, and one which leads to the most attractive interpretation, lies in supposing that “skin for skin” does not refer to the immediate past (how Job has reacted) but to the immediate future (how he will treat Yahweh if Yahweh should touch his bone and his flesh). If Yahweh scratches Jo b ’s skin, it will be Yahweh’s skin that is put at risk. “Skin for skin” would be a saying appropriate to a situation of conflict, a rule or observation about redress for injury; it would be very similar to the form ulae of Exod

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21:23-25, “life for life, eye for eye, . . . hand for hand . . (though the preposition there is rather than as here; see n. 2:4.a). On this interpretation, the Satan’s speech means: “Only when you strike at the m an’s life will you see of what tem per his piety is. He has given up his possessions in exchange for ( ) his life (1 , nephesh), but now that he has only his life, attack that and you will find that he attacks you—in the only way he knows how, by ‘cursing’ you, i.e., assaulting your life, your skin for his skin.” Olshausen pointed the way to this interpretation, but his view is seldom referred to by recent commentators, no doubt because neither he nor they saw how “skin for skin” relates not to Jo b ’s reaction to past calamity but to his expected reaction to any future assault from heaven (v 5). However the phrase is understood, there is no need to see the Satan’s speech as “insolent and vulgar” (Duhm), or to agree with Peake that “the rather vulgar language . . . is not exactly a sign of im pudent familiarity, but the free speech of an old servant, who does not wish to see his master imposed upon.” It is colloquial speech, no doubt, but, after all, the heavenly court of this tale is a rather rustic and informal assembly. W hat is needed to resolve the heavenly question of the connection between Jo b ’s piety and his prosperity (now reduced to his own personal existence) is to remove what prosperity remains to him. But if Job is deprived of existence altogether the question will rem ain for ever unsettled; for everything hangs upon Jo b ’s reaction. So the man himself must be smitten, and smitten so severely that he despairs of life and feels himself in the grip of death, but he must not actually die. His “bone” and “flesh” will be smitten, but his “life” ( , nephesh) must be “preserved” ( ) (v 6). T he distinction between “flesh” ( ) and “life, vitality” ( ) usually runs along different lines from what we encounter here. “Flesh” in the O T normally denotes the hum an being in its entirety, but may be used for the physical, external being of a person as distinct from the inner being (e.g., Prov 4:2 1 22; 14:30). W hen “flesh” ( ) is linked with “life” ( ), the terms collectively express the whole of a person’s being (cf. Ps 63:2 [1]; 84:3 [2])—each term then, by the principle of the “break-up of stereotype phrase,” individually expressing the totality (on this principle, see further E. Z. Melamed, “BreakUp of Stereotype Phrases as an Artistic Device in Biblical Poetry,” ScrHieros 8 [1961] 115—53; M. Dahood, Psalms III, 413—14). T he distinction between the two terms—which is implied by a phrase like “from ‘life’ ( ) as far as ‘flesh’ ( )” (Isa 10:18; r s v “wholly”)—is usually m uch less im portant than their similarity. W hether or not N. P. Bratsiotis’s form ulation is correct, that they are to be understood as “different aspects of m an’s existence as a twofold entity” (TDOT 2:326), the fact is that they are not normally set in opposition to each other (as against G. Gerleman, TH W AT 1:378) or even significantly differentiated (see also on 12:10; 13:14; 14:22). Here, however, “life” ( ) must m ean simple existence, as contrasted with “bone and flesh” as the bodily structure of the hum an individual. “Bone” ( ) and “flesh” frequently indicate family or kin relationship (as in Gen 2:33; 29:14; Ju d g 9:2; 2 Sam 5:1 [= 1 Chr 11:1]; 19:13-14; cf. W. Reiser, “Die Verwandtschaftsformel in Gen 2,23,” ThZ 16 [1960] 1-4; W. Brueggemann, “ O f the Same Flesh and Bone’ (Gen 2,23a),” CBQ 32 [1970] 53242). T he bones, however, frequently appear as the seat of disease (30:17, 30;

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Ps 6:3 [2]; Prov 12:4; contrast Job 20:11; see also on 19:20), and clearly it is the physical infliction of illness that the Satan proposes here. T here may be an intentional allusion, in rather poor taste, to the fact that it is Jo b ’s “bone and flesh” (his children) who have already been “sm itten,” ju st as the sparing of Jo b ’s “life” (v 6) may allude to Jo b ’s own instinct for survival which has led him to give everything “for his life” (v 4; if that is indeed the m eaning of that verse). As in 1:11-12, the Satan will act as Yahweh’s agent; the “hand” that is “put forth” against him is Yahweh’s, and at the same time the “hand” which will smite Job is the Satan’s. 7—13 Job’s affliction, Job’s response: scene 2. T he scene in heaven “dissolves” (as Gray puts it; the term is yet m ore apt if understood cinematically) into the final scene on earth. The absence of a formal notation of the transition from heaven to earth not only signals the im pingem ent of the divine world upon the hum an and the delegation of authority by Yahweh (see above on 1:1—2:13), but also quickens the pace of the narrative. As in the first scene of Jo b ’s affliction, Jo b ’s reaction to the suffering is an unvoiced act. As if to press more rapidly toward the resolution of the issue at stake, the narrative does not have Job spontaneously utter an expression of acceptance; rather, it quietly assumes his attitude of acceptance and moves immediately into a probing of it and a pressure upon it in the form of his wife’s question. And even under that pressure, his stance persists, and with the utterance of v 10 it would seem that the issue of the prologue ought to be settled for good and all. Thereafter, what is dem anded of the narrative by the dramatic logic is that the focus should shift again to heaven, and a scene of resolution should be played out between the Satan and Yahweh. It is their dialogue that has set in train this twofold testing of Job; so what passes between them now that the testing is completed? Yet it is of the essence of the Book of Job that from this critical m om ent onward heaven is sealed off and silent; God himself will not speak again before there have been thirty-four chapters of hum an speech (discursive and inconclusive, they render, on reflection, the direct decisiveness of heavenly speech in this prologue almost brutal); and earth will determ inedly rem ain the locus of speech and action until the final sentences of the book. Not until the concluding verses will it be allowed by Yahweh that “my servant Jo b ” has “spoken what is right of m e” (42:7, 8) despite the long-continued— and even then still unrelieved—sufferings of Job. Yet while in these words no reference is made to the heavenly question at stake in chaps. 1 and 2— how could it be, unless earth were made privy to the inner workings of heaven?— they presuppose that the issue has indeed been resolved. And the restoration of Jo b ’s fortunes (42:10-17) forms a final, though indirect, testimony to the nature of the question about which chaps. 1 and 2 revolve; for it is only if it has been decisively established that Jo b ’s prosperity is not the cause of his piety that his fortunes can be restored (42:10) without perm itting the initial question of 1:9-11 to be raised afresh, so setting in motion again the whole tragic cycle. The rem ainder of the present scene, vv 11—13, is a link passage between the prologue and the dialogue: in it are introduced the three friends of Job with whom the conversations of chaps. 3—31 will be conducted. So this passage,

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and especially its depiction of the pregnant silence in which they sit with him, looks toward what is to follow. But it also forms a conclusion to what has gone before: the three friends are a promising counterpart to Jo b ’s three “enemies” (the Satan, Yahweh, Jo b ’s wife); the “evil” that has “come” ( ) upon Job now begins to take on a less devastating aspect when it causes the friends to “come” ( ) to Job, “each from his own place”—as earlier the four calamities had come. They make an appointm ent to assemble; and this earthly assembly for the consolation of Job promises to counterbalance the heavenly assembly which has brought him only harm . Finally, this narrative of silence, coupled with ritual activities of sympathy, coming at the end of the prologue, corresponds with Jo b ’s nonspeaking but sympathetically active role ( l:l- 5 a ; and his “speaking” [ ] in 1:5b is perhaps only “thought”) at the beginning of the prologue, as well as with his repeated (and therefore characteristic) response to events that precedes speech by action (1:20—21; 2:8—10). The speaking in this prologue has been about Job and to Job; apart from the brief utterances in 1:21 and 2:10 (1:5 may be passed over), which have expressed only acceptance of the suffering, Job is silent. Over against the heavenly conversations and the constantly interrupted succession of messages that bom bard Job in 1:13—19, Job has been silent, and now, to conclude the prologue, the silence of the friends matches that of Job. T he original connection of this episode, vv 7b—10, with the Job story is denied by Hesse, who observes that Jo b ’s illness, and Jo b ’s wife, are not mentioned in the epilogue (chap. 42). See the Comment on vv 1-6 above. 7 In this second trial of Job, the Satan is nam ed as the direct source of Jo b ’s affliction whereas in the first trial the Satan’s part in the calamities is not spelled out. It is difficult to assess the significance of this difference. It may be that the immediate causes of the four calamities in chap. 1 made any reference to the Satan’s activity (which is implied in 1:12) superfluous. Here, the infliction of illness can hardly be attributed to any hum an or physical cause, and the ascription of illness to the hostile activity of a supernatural being, whether dem on (cf. Ps 91:6), heavenly messenger (cf. 1 Sam 16:14; 2 Sam 24:15-17; 2 Kgs 19:35; Ps 78:49), or God himself (cf. Exod 11:4; 12:23; Deut 28:22), is a common occurrence in the OT. But we may also have here a deliberate intensification of the immediate link between the heavenly decision and Jo b ’s suffering; the same intensification may be suggested also by the “dissolving” of the heavenly scene into the earthly, without a formal m arker that the locus of events has changed. This second affliction of Job resembles the first group of calamities in its suddenness and completeness. Just as he must lose all his possessions, so too he must be smitten with a disease that afflicts the whole of his body, “from the sole of his foot to the crown of his head” (for the phrase cf. Deut 28:35; 2 Sam 14:25; similarly Isa 1:6). This is not simply the typical hyperbole of the folk story; it is (theo)logically necessary for the question to be probed to the utmost, and therefore for Jo b ’s disease to be as widespread as possible. The reader knows that it cannot be a fatal disease, but Job will not know the difference between chronic and terminal illness. T here were skin diseases that could be healed (Lev 13) and skin diseases that could not be healed (Deut 28:27, 35), and there was probably no way of distinguishing between them, at least in their early stages. For this very reason it is futile to argue (as Fohrer;

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similarly Hesse) that the original Job story, followed by the prologue and the epilogue of the present book, depicted a curable disease, whereas the speeches depict a fatal disease. For the prologue and epilogue necessarily regard the disease from the narrator’s standpoint (and he knows the disease will be healed), while the speeches necessarily represent Jo b ’s viewpoint (and he, getting no relief, can only suppose that his illness is incurable). C. Barth has suggested that for the Hebrews death and life were often regarded as distinct but overlapping spheres, death constantly encroaching upon life; so those who were still physically alive might nevertheless be regarded, and might regard themselves, as being in the sphere of death and under its power (Die Errettung vom Tode in den individuellen Klage- und Dankliedern des Alten Testaments [Zollikon: Evangelischer Verlag, 1947]). More simply, since “life” so often means total well-being including prosperity and health, death is the loss of that total well-being (W. Brueggem ann, IDBSup, 220). T he identification of Jo b ’s disease has bee n a m atter of continuing speculation. T he term used (] CD) is a general one that could cover various diseases of the skin. Since it is m entioned in Lev 13:18-23 as a boil which may be an initial sign of leprosy, leprosy has been a common identification; however, there is in Hebrew a special word for leprosy ( )—though this is a vaguer term than the current medical term, which denotes infection by Mycobacterium, leprae. A nother common identification is elephantiasis, a disease producing swollen limbs and blackened skin. But it is better to admit our ignorance of the precise malady. For further discussion, see Η. H. Rowley, “The Book of Job and Its M eaning,” BJRL 41 (1958) 169-70 n. 4; Gray, 23-24 (probably elephantiasis); G. N. Münch, “Die Zaarath (Lepra) der hebráischen Bibel,” Dermatalogische Studien 16 (1896) 135—37 (chronic eczema); D. Schapiro, “La maladie de Job: Étude clinique et exégétique,” Hippocrate 7 (1940) 281—88; KB, 960b (smallpox); Dhorme, 18 (malignant, infectious ulcer); T errien, 59 n. 3 (a skin disease, pemphigus foliaceus); Pope, 21 (ulcerous boil known as the “Baghdad B utton” or “Jericho Rose”); Librarian, Army Medical Library, “Morbus Jobi,” The Urologic and Cutaneous Review 40 (1936) 296—99 (syphilis, Jo b ’s reference to the “sins of [his] youth” [13:26] being held in evidence); S. G. Browne, Leprosy in the Bible (London: Christian Medical Fellowship, n.d.); J. V. Kinnier Wilson, “Leprosy in Ancient M esopotamia,” RA 60 (1966) 47—58 (56) (pellagra, scurvy, vitamin deficiency); C. Brim, ‘J o b ’s Illness—Pellagra,” Archives of Dermatology and Syphilology 46 (1942) 371—76; K. P. C. A. Gramberg, “ ‘Leprosy’and the Bible,”BiTrans 11 (1960) 10-23; D. H. Wallington, “ ‘Leprosy’ and the Bible,” BiTrans 12 (1961) 75-79; R. G. Cochrane, “Biblical Leprosy,” BiTrans 12 (1961) 202-3; E. V. Hulse, “The N ature of Biblical ‘Leprosy’ and the Use of Alternative Medical Term s in M odern Translations of the Bible,” PEQ 107 (1975) 87—105; on the term, see J. F. A. Sawyer, “A Note on the Etymology of sara^at,” VT 26 (1976) 241-45. Several m ore recent writers regard Jo b ’s skin disease as psychosomatic in origin; W. Guy, for example, thinks Jo b ’s dermatological condition “appeared, lasted for a time, and then suddenly disappeared, ju st as do many cases of widespread lichen planus, psoriasis, atopic eczema, chronic urticaria, dermatitis herpetiform is, and generalized exfoliative dermatitis. The comings and goings of such dermatoses are enigm atic” (“Psychosomatic Dermatology circa 400 b .c .,” Archives of Dermatology 71 [1955] 354—56; similarly J. K ah n ,/0 ¿’5 Illness: Loss, Grief, and Integration. A Psychological Interpretation [Oxford: Pergamon, 1975] 10—11).

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Many references are made in the course of the book to Jo b ’s illness. While attempts to use these references to pinpoint the illness are not on principle to be ruled out (as Horst), the poetic language makes it a risky undertaking. It is best to translate the term ] ID here with some general phrase like “running sores” ( n e b ), “severe boils” (n a b ) or “painful sores” (n i v ); the repeated eruption of pustules (7:5) and blackening and peeling off of the skin (30:30) are the most definite signs in the poem of a skin disease, and correspond to the itching purulence m entioned here. O ther symptoms are m ore general: emaciation (19:20), fever (30:30b), nightm ares (7:14) and sleeplessness (7:4), weeping (16:16); 19:17 in all probability does not contain a reference to putrid breath, though this is commonly said (see Comment). Many commentators note as a further symptom maggots breeding in his sores (7:5), but the reference is probably to the discharge of pus (see n. 7:5.a). References to the aching or rotting of his bones (30:17) and to their burning (30:30) probably reflect only the common idea of the bones as the seat of disease (cf. above on vv 4-6) and are not to be regarded as literal descriptions of his symptoms. Similarly the reference to strangulation in 7:15 is not to be seen as a symptom of elephantiasis (as Gray) but as a psychic dread of the suffocating closeness of God’s presence. T he root , from which the term for Jo b ’s illness is derived, means in some cognate languages (Ug., Akk., Aram., Syr., Arab.) “be hot” or “be inflamed,” and the noun may therefore be a general term for any kind of inflammation of the skin. In a Ugaritic text, the god Baal is “feverish” (shn) in the loins (CTA 12.239), and in the Q um ran text known as the “Prayer of Nabonidus,” this neo-Babylonian king is said to have been “smitten with grievous sores [ , the Aram, equivalent of here] at the command of the Most High God” (4QPrNab; J. T. Milik, “ ‘Priére de Nabonide’ et autres écrits d ’un cycle de Daniel: Fragments aram éens de Q um rán 4,” RB 63 [1956] 407-15 [408]). Nothing is said explicitly about the rapidity with which the disease struck Job, but the implication is that the blow was sudden and devastatingly complete. While skin diseases generally take some time to spread (elephantiasis, for exampie, “develops slowly, and often lasts some years before death ensues” [Gray]), the time-span is irrelevant to the narrative. 8 Job is already sitting am ong the ashes when the disease is inflicted upon him (see Translation). T he narrative economy and the vivid picture that results are remarkable. Nothing has been said in the previous scene of Jo b ’s affliction (1:13-22) concerning Jo b ’s subsequent action after his blessing of Yahweh (1:21). Many versions, including k j v , r v , r s v , j p s , j b , imply that only after this second affliction did Job go to sit on the ash-heap; but the Hebrew rather suggests that since his first affliction he has been sitting there in m ourning. Ashes appear to have the same ritual significance as dust (cf. the expression “dust and ashes” to denote worthlessness, Gen 18:27; and cf. Job 30:19; 42:6 [q.v.]). The words sound very m uch alike, capar and éper, ^ . As a sign of m ourning they were thrown on the head (2 Sam 13:19; cf. Isa 61:3; like dust, Job 2:12) or on the clothes (Esth 4:1), or were lain in (Esth 4:3) or rolled in (Jer 6:26; Ezek 27:30; Mic 1:10). See E. F. de W ard ,/S S 23 (1972) 1-27, 145-66, esp. 6—8; M. Jastrow, “Dust, Earth, and Ashes as Symbols of M ourning among the Ancient Hebrews,”/AOS 20 (1904) 133—50 (136—41). For sitting as a posture

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of weeping, cf. Ezek 8:14; 26:16; Neh 1:4; 1 Mace 1:27; in Ugaritic texts, CTA 5.6.11-14 (Gibson, 73); see de W ard, JSS 23 (1972) 3-4. As with many m ourning rituals, the use of ashes was also a penitential ritual (Jonah 3:6; Dan 9:3; Isa 58:5; Matt 11:21; Luke 10:13) or supplication ritual (1 Sam 2:8; Ps 113:7). It is by no means clear from the text whether Job has perform ed this ritual in his own house or has gone out to a public place to display his grief. Certainly in the dialogue, 19:15-18 and 30:28b suggest that Job is not perm anently outcast, voluntarily or otherwise, from his house. But it is almost universally assumed by interpreters that the ashes in which Job sits are in the public ash-heap outside the town, the resort of outcasts and persons with infectious diseases, as well as, in cases like the present, those who psychically identify themselves with the rejected and destitute. T he Septuagint in fact explains “ashes” by its translation “the dungheap outside the city” (τής κοπριάς έξω τής πόλβω«?), perhaps with a recollection of Priam ’s m ourning for his son Hector, and “rolling himself in the dung” (κνλινδό βνος κατά κάπρον) (Iliad 22.414). Such rubbish dum ps, term ed mezbala (cf. postbib. Heb. zebel [ !], “dun g ”), outside Arab villages in the H auran were described by Wetzstein: “The dung . . . is carried in baskets in a dry state to that place outside the village, and there generally it is burnt once a m onth . . . . T he ashes rem ain . . . . If a place has been inhabited for centuries, the mezbele attains a height far greater than that of the place itself. T he rains of winter reduce the layers of ashes to a compact mass, and gradually convert the mezbele into a solid hill of earth . . . . The mezbele serves the inhabitants of the place as a watch-tower, and on sultry evenings as a place of concourse, for on this height there is a breath of air. . . . T here lies the outcast who, smitten by loathsome disease, is no longer admitted to the dwellings of men. . . . T here lie the dogs of the village, gnawing perhaps some fallen carcase, such as is often thrown there” (cited from Gray). Cf. also A. Musil, Arabia Petraea (Vienna: A. Holder, 1908) 3:413. Sitting or dwelling among rubbish forms part of several Near Eastern cursing formulae; see P.-E. Dion, “Un nouvel éclairage sur le contexte culturel des m alheurs de Job,” VT 34 (1984) 213-25. T he potsherd Job picks up would be easily found on such an ash-heap. Most think that that he uses it as a counterirritant to relieve or distract his attention from the itchiness of his skin. T he Septuagint, which is rather expansive in this scene, adds that Job took the potsherd to scrape away the pus (lva τον lχώρα ξύ7}). It is less likely that he uses it to lacerate his skin (as Pope, Owens), a well-attested symbol of m ourning, though it is forbidden in Pentateuchai law (Lev 19:28; 21:5; Deut 14:1; for the practice, see J e r 16:6; 41:5; 47:5; 48:37; and in Ugaritic texts, Aqht (CTA 19) 4.172-73; 5.6.17-18 (Gibson, 120, 73). Pope notes that in Akkadian the term “place/m ound of potsherds” is apparently used to designate the realm of the dead. The two trials of Job have now coalesced; and the one place, the ash-heap, is, as the site of ashes for his m ourning ritual and potsherds for his sores, the single appropriate place for his situation of alienation and displacement. 9 Jo b ’s wife plays an ambiguous role. In purely narrative terms, her intervention functions as the means of drawing from Job a verbal response to his affliction. T hat response is delayed both by the characteristic silence of Job and by the challenge of his wife’s utterance; and at the same time response

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in the vein we have come to expect of Job is threatened by her suggestion. H er presence thus introduces delay, tension, and finally resolution into this tiny segment of the narrative. But how is her intervention to be seen, ethically or religiously speaking? On the one hand, her invitation to “curse God and die” can certainly be seen as a further “tem ptation” of Job; it cannot be accidental that such have also been the words of the Satan—not, indeed, as his recom m endation to Job but as his prediction of Jo b ’s ultimate response to being deprived of possessions and health. H er taking up these words implies that she too belongs in the camp of those who believe in the causal nexus between piety and prosperity (like the majority, and like the “falsely naive” narrator in 1:1—2); she has a firm belief in what is, in heaven, only a question. She does not believe in gratuitous piety, in fearing God for naught (1:9). Not surprisingly, many have cast her in the role of “devil’s assistant” (Augustine: diaboli adjutrix); Calvin called her “Satan’s tool,” and Thom as Aquinas thought that the Satan spared her, in the calamities of chap. 1, precisely in order to use her against Job. T he parallel with Eve and thus with the archetypal “woman as tem ptress” has also naturally often been drawn. (The rabbis note, however, that Job, unlike Adam, did not accept his wife’s suggestion; Midr. Gen. Rab. 19:12.) On the other hand, however, Jo b ’s wife does not doubt his “integrity” ( ; cf. on 2:3), and if in the second half of her speech she echoes the words of the Satan, in the first half she echoes the words of Yahweh (2:3). And if she recommends Job to “curse” God and so bring death upon himself (see n. 2:9.a), it can only be because she feels that sudden death must be better for Job than lingering pain from which no recovery seems possible. It is an impious suggestion she makes, but it does not arise out of impiety; it is hum ane and entirely for Jo b ’s benefit, this “theological m ethod of committing euthanasia” (Terrien). “Jo b ’s wife is a realist,” says Habel; whereas Job, we must add, is nothing if not an idealist—and he will suffer for it. T here is more yet to the intervention of Jo b ’s wife, however. Rarely has the scene been viewed through her eyes (though even the merely psychologizing expansion of the Septuagint noted below moves in that direction). T hrough no fault of her own, but solely because of the social structures of her time, her own well-being has been wholly dependent on Jo b ’s. She has relied on him for her economic existence, for her social status, and for her moral standing in the community. But now, at a stroke, she has lost everything. H er income is gone, now that the cattle and servants have been destroyed, her position as m atriarch and wife of a prince has been lost, and she is open to the obloquy of guilt by association. All this in addition to the sudden loss of her ten children. And who is to blame? No one but her husband. All that rising early in the mornings to offer sacrifices in case the children had sinned (1:5) was nothing but the scrupulosity of the hypocrite. It is not the children but the husband who has brought disaster upon the household. And Job has uttered no word of regret for his unarguable responsibility for the destruction of the family, but insists on “maintaining his integrity.” The only honorable act from this guilty man now would be for him to call down the wrath of God upon his own head. In fact, not to put too fine a point upon it, Job continues to wrong her by his submissiveness to the act of fate. By accepting his suffering he brands her

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children as wrongdoers. As Sarah, the wife of the Job character in Archibald MacLeish’s play J.B., puts it:

J.B.: Sarah: J.B.: Sarah:

They are Dead and they were innocent: I will not Let you sacrifice their deaths To make injustice justice and God good! [covering his face with his hands] My heart beats. I cannot answer it. If you buy quiet with their innocence— Theirs or yours . . . I will not love you. [softly] I have no choice but to be guilty, [her voice rising] We have the choice to live or die All of us . . . Curse God and die . . . (A. MacLeish,y.2f [Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1956] 110)

She has immediately, or (shall we say?) instinctively, seen what Job will take some time to realize, that he cannot both hold fast his integrity and bless God; either Job or God must be guilty. T hough Job never does “curse” God, strictly speaking , his railing, taunting, protesting, and summ oning of his divine assailant is nothing like “blessing” God either. T hough he does not follow his wife’s advice to the letter, he is from this point onward entirely infused by its spirit. Certainly, the narration is suggestive rather than explicit. An open text like this invites divergent approaches, of which a particularly appealing example may be here m entioned. Muriel Spark, in her novel The Only Problem, which must surely be the only novel to have as its central character a m an who is writing a m onograph on the Book of Job, has her hero fascinated by a painting of Georges de La Tour, the seventeenth-century French artist. It is called “Job Visited by His Wife,” and it is done in the m anner of the Dutch candlelit pictures of the time. She describes it thus: “Jo b ’s wife, tall, sweet-faced, with the intimation of a beautiful body inside the large, tent-like case of her firm clothes, bending, long-necked, solicitous over Job. In her hand is a lighted candle. It is night, it is winter; Jo b ’s wife wears a glorious red tunic over her dress. Job sits on a plain cube-shaped block. He might be in front of a fire, for the light of the candle alone cannot explain the am ount of light that is cast on the two figures. Job is naked except for a loin-cloth. He clasps his hands above his knees. His body seems to shrink, but it is the shrunkenness of pathos rather than want. Beside him is the piece of broken pottery that he has taken to scrape his wounds. His beard is thick. He is not an old man. Both are in their prime, a couple in their thirties. . . . His face looks up at his wife, sensitive, imploring some favour, urging some cause. W hat is his wife trying to tell him as she bends her sweet face toward him? W hat does he beg, this stricken man, so serene in his faith, so accomplished in argum ent? . . . Job and his wife are deeply in love” (The Only Problem [London: Grafton, 1985] 76—79 ). Suppose this to be a “tru e” representation, and the text gains new and surprising resonances. It is certainly not a reading forbidden by the text.

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Nevertheless, we must admit, for the narrative it is not the psychology or morality of Jo b ’s wife that is the central issue: it is Jo b ’s behavior. And for that very reason, any wrong in her suggestion is not accented; the “tem ptation,” if that is what it is, is easily resisted by Job (Duhm), and Jo b ’s reply to her is remarkably mild (see further on v 10). T he Septuagint, which expands vv 8—10 considerably, here inserts a long speech in the m outh of Jo b ’s wife, probably not because it was in its Hebrew original (Ball), and hardly because the translator felt “nature and propriety outraged, that a woman should in such circumstances say so little” (Davidson). Rather, it appears to be an example of the midrashic tendency to provide details about m inor characters and to elaborate brief speeches (the same tendency is seen in the concluding Septuagintal expansion in 42:17) and in the present passage at least may be a secondary addition in the Septuagint itself, since the words for “hold fast” and “bless (= curse)” are differently translated from their occurrences in vv 3, 4 (Duhm). The addition may reflect the tendency in Jewish tradition to portray Jo b ’s wife sympathetically (cf. T. Job 21—25, and for the rabbinic sources, see R. Gordis, The Book of God and Man: A Study of Job [Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1965] 226). Here the Septuagint adds, at the beginning of the verse, “W hen a long time had passed,” perhaps as if to emphasize that the reaction of Jo b ’s wife is no hasty impulse. T hen follows her speech, which both testifies to her concern for her husband, and, by dwelling on her own grief, explains to some extent how she can come to offer such advice. It runs: “How long will you endure, saying, Behold, I will wait yet for a little time, looking for the hope of my salvation? Behold, the memory of you has been blotted out from the earth, [namely] the sons and daughters, the travail and pain of my womb, whom with toil I reared for nothing. And yet you yourself sit in the decay of worms, passing the nights under the open sky, while I am a wanderer and a servant, from place to place and from house to house, waiting until the sun goes down, so that I may rest from my toils and from the pains that now grip me. Now, say some word against the Lord, and die. But he, looking at her, said to her. . . .” Cf. also T. Job 24, where part of this addition is repeated, and where also she humiliates herself by selling her hair to buy bread. See also N. Peters, “Zum Charakter der Frau Jobs [Job 2,9s],” ThGl 11 (1919) 418-23. T he name of Jo b ’s wife appears in the Targum and some rabbinic references (Gen. Rab. 19.2; 57.4; b. B. Bat. 15b) as Dinah, perhaps because Job says (v 10) that she speaks as one of the “foolish women” ( ) and Dinah the daughter of Jacob was one with whom “folly” ( ) had been done (Gen 34:7). In the Testament of Job she is called Sitis, a name derived from Ausitis, the LXX translation of Uz. 10 Job rejects his wife’s suggestion with the retort that she speaks “like one of the foolish women.” T he reticence of his reproach is noteworthy; she is not herself a foolish woman but is speaking as if she were; “he implies that she has spoken, under momentary stress, as any one of a class to which she did not belong” (Gray). But who are the “foolish” women? T he term , conventionally translated “foolish,” may have not only an intellectual-moral connotation, but also an ethical-religious or a social connotation. Thus, in the first sense, it can be contrasted with “wise” (Deut 32:6) and, as a noun, with “a man of experience” (Ecclus 21:22); in the second sense, it can be

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effectively identical with ΡΙΖΪΊ “wicked” (cf. Ps 14:1 with 10:4; 39:9 [8] with 39:2 [1]); and, in the third sense, it can be linked with the phrase 1 " “nameless,” i.e., disreputable, without reputation, and contrasted with “noble” (Isa 32:5; Prov 17:7) (a similar sense is probable in 2 Sam 3:33; Prov 30:22). We therefore cannot simply state that “the fault of the ndbhdl was not weakness of reason but moral and religious insensibility” (Driver, cited by Gray), nor that the cognate noun (nebdla) essentially denotes “serious disorderly and unruly action resulting in the break up of an existing relationship” (A. Phillips, “NEBALAH—A Term for Serious Disorderly and Unruly Conduct,” VT 25 [1975] 237-41 [241]), nor that “the oldest m eaning of the adjective . . . [is] outcast" (W. M. W. Roth, “NBL,” VT 10 [I960] 394-409 [4023]). Since Job appears to be referring to a group of “foolish” women, the adjective should probably be taken here essentially in its social sense as “lowclass” or “comm on,” with the unam biguous overtone of disapproval on moral or religious grounds. It is in keeping with the aristocratic hauteur of the story’s world that the lower orders of society should be imagined as the least religious— on the other end of the spectrum from Job, who is rich and God-fearing. So his retort to his wife means, “You talk like a low-class, irreligious woman; such words are beneath you.” O n the term , see further P. Joüon. “Racine au sens de bas, vil, ignoble,” Bib 5 (1924) 357-61; A. Caquot, “Sur une désignation vétéro-testamentaire de Tinsensé,’” RH R 155 (1959) 1-16; M. Saeb0, TH W AT 2:26-31. To his wife’s question Job responds with a counterquestion, “If we accept good from God, shall (or, should) we not also accept harm ?” T he term translated “harm ” ( ) is the correlative of “good” ( ), and in an ethical context means “(moral) evil” (hence the use of that term by many translations). But Job speaks only of blessing and its opposite, deprivation of blessing, or harm . For Job, there is no question about God, about whether God is the source of all happenings; the only question for Job concerns hum an behavior toward God (Weiser). It is not some passionless rationality that prom pts the symmetry of Jo b ’s attitude (“if good, then harm also”), as if to say: God being God, we are bound to have whatever he chooses to give us, good or bad; protest is therefore idle, resignation the only reasonable response. Nor is it some highm inded sense of fair play, that says: If God has had the goodness to grant us blessings, would it not be churlish to refuse him the right to send us calamities (cf. Peake)? It is rather some kind of trustfulness that God knows what he is doing, and the very same piety we have witnessed in Jo b ’s blessing the Yahweh who had given and taken away (1:21). It is not the expression of a rational theological position or of some long-standing habit of life; Job has never before encountered “harm ,” at least as far as we know from the story. W hat we read of here is religion on the hoof, a faith that instinctively fashions new stances for new crises out of a trust that goes deeper than any theology (for an opposite view, see R. D. Moore, “The Integrity of Jo b ,” CBQ 45 [1983] 17—31 [20]). T hough the word for “receive” ( ) has sometimes been thought to be “stronger” than the ordinary word for “take” ( ) and so to signify “accept” (so Horst), it is probably only the context that gives the term this flavor, making it “an active word, implying co-operation with Providence, not m ere submission” (Andersen). Certainly , though it is common in Aramaic, and is found in the Hebrew Bible mostly in later texts, is no sign of the date of the Book of

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Job, as is sometimes argued; for it is attested in Canaanite as early as the fourteenth century b .c . (W. F. Albright, “An Ancient Hebrew Proverb in an Am arna Letter from Central Palestine,” BASOR 89 [1943] 29—32 [31]; but cf. also S. W agner, Die lexicalischen und grammatikalischen Aramaismen in alttestamentlichen Hebraisch [BZAW 96; Berlin: A. Topelm ann, 1966] 99—100). T he rabbinic exegesis that understood the plural of the verb as specifically including Jo b ’s wife rather than as a general statem ent of hum an obligation (Gen. Rab. 19.12) is no doubt on the right lines; this understanding would fit with Jo b ’s earlier response that in v 9 she had been speaking out of character. But rabbinic exegesis of the clause, “Job did not sin with his lips,” as implying that “in his thoughts he pondered on words” (Targum ; cf. b. B. Bat. 16a) is today universally thought to be beside the mark. It is sin with the lips that the Satan has predicted of Job (v 5), and it is ju st such sin that Job repudiates. T he narrative takes for granted here that speech is the outward sign of inner feeling, that “thinking and speaking hardly differ in the East” (Davidson). No doubt the narrator means nothing as unsubtle as Rashi’s interpretation: “Job did not sin with his lips, but in his heart he did.” But we have seen enough signs of false naivety in this narrative to suspect that ibn Ezra may have been more on the right track when he saw here a hint that although Job had not at this point sinned with his lips he was about to do so. O r at least, we might say, genuine enough though Jo b ’s pious speech may be, the full truth about his reaction to his calamity is not yet revealed. The narrative rem ark about Jo b ’s lips leaves him in the clear morally at this point; but it foreshadows the very different turn the narrative will take when Job opens his m outh again (3:1). Jo b ’s experience will not be so very dissimilar from that of the psalmist of Ps 39: “I said, I will guard my ways, that I may not sin with my tongue; I will bridle my m outh . . . I was dum b and silent; I held my peace to no avail; my distress grew worse, my heart became hot within me. As I mused, the fire burned; then I spoke with my tongue” (39:2—4 [1—3]). Jo b ’s experience, as the following chapter will show, is not dissimilar. His sores are his body’s recognition of how gravely he suffers, even before he has truly com prehended intellectually what it all means. “His body is already speaking for him; the damaged and broken skin represents the onset of Jo b ’s breakdown” (Kahn, Job’s Illness, 35). The boils are personal; they loosen his tongue, says Muriel Spark. 11— 13 This scene, of the arrival of the friends, forms a bridge between the prologue proper and the dialogue. The friends will be Jo b ’s conversation partners throughout the dialogue, and will rem ain on stage, though silent toward the end, right through to the epilogue. But they do not appear in the prologue until the transactions of heaven with earth have been completed; they are mere commentators on events that have transpired. This assembly of the friends invites comparison structurally with the two assemblies we have already been presented with: that in heaven of the sons of God and that on earth of the messengers to Job. This assembly gathers round Job as the heavenly council gathered around Yahweh (Habel), but here the purpose is more hum ane. And the friends, more considerate too than the four messengers, who “appear in hurried procession,” in formal and stately fashion “first arrange to meet before they intrude on Jo b ’s grief” (Habel). An interval of some weeks or, more probably, months, is supposed between

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Jo b ’s calamities and the arrival of the friends. T here must be time for the news to reach them, for them to communicate with one another and to arrange to meet one another, and then to journey together to Uz. Certain allusions in the dialogues agree with such a depiction: in 7:3 Job speaks of m onths of pain he has already endured, and the tenor of chap. 30 is that the onset of his suffering is of no recent date (cf. Gray). In that this episode is tied in closely both to the prologue and the dialogue, all those scholars who regard the prologue as having a separate origin from the dialogue have occasion to explain the presence of this scene. Fohrer, for example, believes that the Job story originally told at this point of the arrival of friends and relatives, intending to comfort him but in fact leading him into the same tem ptation as his wife, a tem ptation he resists. For their speeches to Job, they would have been rebuked by God in the words now addressed to the three friends in 42:7-8 (Fohrer, 32). Such a narrative, Fohrer believes, can be reconstructed on the basis of 42:11. A redactor has replaced the friends and relatives with the three friends of Job, 2:11 being form ed as an imitation of 42:11. De Wilde, on the other hand, thinks that yet another testing of Job, by his relatives, would have been otiose, and supposes that 2:10 was originally followed by 42:11, lOac, the introduction of the three friends in these verses 11—13 being due to the Joban poet (similarly Gordis). 11 The narrative becomes very compressed, but hardly “parsimonious, summary, and restricted to essentials and externals” (Weiser); for these verses do not merely consist of dramatic machinery for bringing Jo b ’s partners in conversation to him. They also convey very empathetically the effect the sight of Jo b ’s suffering has on the friends. They have heard from messengers, each in his hometown, the story of Jo b ’s plight, and they have communicated with each other, again by messengers no doubt, their desire to visit him. “T he fact that they met by appointment shows that they were already acquaintances who felt it would be better to come together” (Andersen). It is left to the reader to conjecture how such a plan could have been organized (Hesse thinks the practical difficulties wellnigh insurm ountable) or indeed why they might have felt it “better” to come together. It does sound as though they are each in need of support from the others, for Jo b ’s calamity is a shocking event that alerts his peers to their own vulnerability, and Job himself is now, as a m an afflicted by God with “evil” (physical calamity, ), a dangerous person to associate with. Perhaps there is safety in numbers. Amos 3:3 may serve as a fine illustration of this narrative: “Do two walk together unless they have trysted [ ]?” says the prophet; G. A. Smith comments, “Hardly in the desert; for there m en meet and take the same road by chance as seldom as ships at sea” (The Book of the Twelve Prophets [London: H odder and Stoughton, 1896] 1:82). Cf. also Josh 11:5 of kings in alliance meeting at the start of a campaign. T he stress here of course is on their simultaneous arrival, in parallel to the virtually simultaneous arrival of the four messengers in chap. 1. The problem of how the friends of Job learned of his m isfortune was already raised in Jewish interpretation: the Targum has it that when they saw the trees in their gardens withered, that the meat they were eating turned into raw meat, and their wine into blood, they realized that a m isfortune had befallen

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Job. In b. B. Bat. 16b it is said that they had wreaths that withered (Rashi: a crown on which a portrait of each was engraved, which changed if trouble came on any one of them), thus enabling them to enter Jo b ’s town simultaneously by the same gate, even though they lived 300 parasangs apart (see L. Ginzberg, The Legends of the Jews [Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society of America, 1925] 2:237; 5:387). T heir purpose in visiting Job is wholly supportive in intention; it is only when they find him recalcitrant and unteachable, as they see it, that they become his enemies, “torturer-com forters” as he calls them (16:2). The verb “console” (~T1J) is often used in its concrete sense “move to and fro, wander, flutter (of a bird)” as well as in its transferred senses “show grief” by shaking or nodding the head (e.g., J e r 22:10) or “show sympathy, condole” (also 42:11; Ps 69:21 [20]). For the practice of visiting m ourners to condole with them, cf. Gen 37:35 (2 Sam 10:2, messengers are sent to condole). J e r 16:5, 7 speaks of comforters sharing bread and wine with the m ourner. On comfort to mourners in Judaism and its etiquette and rituals, see O. Schmitz and G. Stáhlin, TDOT 5:791. The term conventionally translated “com fort” ( ) suggests rather more than a mere soothing; it often expresses an encouragem ent, whether with promises (Gen 50:21; Isa 40:1—2), or with actual gifts (Job 42:11), or help from a situation of distress (as with the formulaic “there was none to com fort,” Lam 1:2, etc.); cf. H. J. Stoebe, TH W AT 2:61-62. T he names of Jo b ’s friends and of their places of origin probably indicate an Edomite background, as is the case also with the place-name Uz. T he placename Tem an is the most certainly identifiable: it is several times referred to as an im portant town of Edom, and sometimes stands by synecdoche for the whole country of Edom (Amos 1:12; Obad 9; J e r 49:7, 20; Ezek 25:13; Hab 3:3; cf. “the land of the Tem anites,” Gen 36:34; 1 Chr 1:45). As a personal name it appears as the name of an Edomite ruler (son of an Eliphaz!) in Gen 36:15; cf. v 42. The place has commonly been identified as Tawilán, a site roughly half-way between the southern end of the Dead Sea and Elath (cf., e.g., Y. A haroniand M. Avi-Yonah, The Macmillan Bible Atlas [New York: Macmillan, 1968], map 52), following N. Glueck, who described it as the largest Edomite center in the area of Petra (The Other Side of the Jordan [Cambridge, Mass.: ASOR, 1940] 24, 26). But Glueck has now withdrawn that identification (The Other Side of the Jordan [Cambridge, Mass.: ASOR, 1970] 32), and R. de Vaux has questioned whether Tem an was ever a town and not rather a region (“Téman, ville en région d ’Édom?” RB 76 [1969] 379—85; followed by C.-M. Bennett, “Tawilán (Jordanie),” RB 77 [1970] 371-74 [374]). But there is no doubt that it is Edomite (we may ignore the suggestion of W. F. Albright, AJSL 44 [192728] 36, followed by V. R. Gold, IDB 4:534, that “Tem anite” here means from Tem a in N. Arabia). T he name Shuah does not appear in the O T as a place-name, but it is possible that the reader is supposed to recall that one of Abraham ’s sons by Keturah was called Shuah, and he and his brothers (including Midian and Jokshan, father of Dedan, a name with some Edomite connections) apparently lived in the “east country” (Gen 25:1—6; 1 Chr 1:32). Many commentators refer to a country nam ed Suhu located on the middle Euphrates and m entioned in cuneiform sources (so originally Friedrich Delitzsch, Wo lag das Paradles? Line biblisch-assyriologische Studie [Leipzig: J. C. Hinrichs, 1881] 297—98 but

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withdrawn by him in Das Buck Hiob [Leipzig: J.C. Hinrichs, 1902] 139), and some would even locate Bildad the Shuhite there (Peake, Fohrer, Terrien, Andersen; J. Simons, The Geographical and Topographical Texts of the Old Testament [Leiden: Brill, 1959] 90). See further, B. Moritz, “Die Konige von Edom ,” Le Maséon 50 (1937) 101—22 (112); idem, “Ergánzungen zu meinem Aufsatz: Die Konige von Edom ,” ZAW 57 (1939) 148—50. It may be doubted whether the author of Job or his readers had ever heard of such a place, or that Job was “an international” figure in quite the sense Andersen suggests. Naamah, the home of Zophar, is less certainly connected with anything. It can hardly be the town of Naamah in Judah, in the Shephelah near Lachish (Josh 15:41) (de Wilde). Some have thought of Jebel el Nacameh, in northwest Arabia (so A. J. Jaussen and R. de Savignac, Mission archéologique en Arable [Paris: E. Leroux, 1914] 1:64; for other possible locations, cf. F.-M. Abel, Géographie de la Palestine [Paris: Gabalda, 1933], 1:287 n. 4). Naam ah is attested as an Ammonite personal name in 1 Kgs 14:21 (mother of Rehoboam), and, nearer to the Edomite context, as the name of a descendant of Esau (through the Edomite Eliphaz!) in 1 Chr 4:15. But that genealogical relationship is very complicated; readers could hardly be m eant to infer that Naam ah as a place-name signified Edom because a person called Naamah figured in a genealogy of Esau’s descendants (which is in 1 Chr 4 ostensibly of Judahites, anyway , Kenaz being the Edomite link). It is best to admit that we do not know what significance Naamah had or was m eant to have. LXX by changing the order of the consonants made Zophar a Minean, from S. Arabia, more than a thousand miles from Edom. The names of the friends may also have some Edomite connection. The name Eliphaz occurs in Gen 36:4, 10—11, 15; 1 Chr 1:35—36 as the eldest son of Esau and father of Tem an; so he is quite unmistakably an Edomite. T he name has variously been explained as “God is fine gold” (cf. BDB), “God is agile” (cf. 119 11; E. Meyer, Die Israeliten und ihrer Nachbarstamme [Halle: Niemeyer, 1906] 347), but most probably “God conquers” (cf. Old S. Arab, fawwáz; B. Moritz, ZAW 44 [1926] 84; KB3). H. L. Ginsberg and B. Maisler saw here a H urrian ending -izzi (JPOS 14 [1934] 258-59); though the Eliphaz of Gen 36 is indeed said to have had a Horite concubine (36:12, 22), the Horites of Edom seem to have nothing to do with the Horites who are H urrians (E. A. Speiser, IDB 2:645; H. A. Hoffner, POTT, 225). Bildad is a name not found elsewhere in the OT. Its first syllable probably means “son” and its second is the divine name Hadad (cf. the Nuzi form BilAdad [for Apil-Adad], “son of H adad,” like Ben Hadad); so E. A. Speiser, “On the Name Bildad, JAOS 49 (1929) 360; idem, “T he Name Bildad,” AfO 6 (1930) 23; KB3, Fohrer. W. F. Albright, AJSL 44 (1927-28) 31-36; idem, JBL 54 (1935) 174 n. 3, saw in it an Amorite name: aYabil-Dad, “Dad [Hadad] brings increase.” More im portant than the correct etymology of the name, however, is the association it would have conjured up for a Hebrew reader. T he Bil- elem ent would rem ind such a reader of Balak, king of Moab (Num 22:2—4; etc.), of Balaam who is not himself a Moabite but is hired by the Moabite king (Num 22-24), of Bela, the first king of Edom (Gen 36:32; 1 Chr 1:43), and perhaps also of Bilhan, yet another Edomite descendant of Esau in Gen 36:27 (= 1 Chr 1:42); the name of Bilhah, Jacob’s concubine, is also perhaps regarded as a non-Israelite name (so Gordis). (Not all these names

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may be etymologically related, but the point is that they sound alike.) The -dad elem ent is reminiscent of Bedad, father of the Edomite king Hadad, also in Gen 36 (v 35; 1 Chr 1:46), though also of Eldad and Medad who prophesied (Num 11:26). Eldad etymologically has often been thought to be connected with Akk. Dadi-ilu, “Dadi is god” (though this m eaning is not certain; cf. K. L. Tallqvist, Assyrian Personal Names [Helsingfors: Societas Scientiarum Fennica, 1914] 67); M. Noth would take it to m ean “God has loved” from a root TIT (Die israelitischen Personennamen im Rahmen der gemeinsemitischen Namengebung [Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1928] 123; see also J. J. Stamm, “Der Name des Kónigs David,” VTSup 7 [1960] 165-83 [178]), from which root also Meded is probably derived ( “beloved”; Noth, Personennamen, 223; KB3). T he name Zophar also occurs only here, but it is reminiscent of Zippor (“bird”), father of Balak king of Moab (Num 22:2; etc.). T he Esau genealogy of Gen 36 has a Zepho (vv 11, 15 ; in 1 Chr 1:36), grandson of Esau and son of Eliphaz and brother of Tem an, and the LXX there and in 1 Chr 1 has Sophar (Σωφάρ), which perhaps forms another link with Edom. We may safely ignore the place-name cAin $óphar on the road from Beirut to Damascus as irrelevant (despite B. Moritz, “Ergánzungen zu meinem Aufsatz: ‘Die Konige von Edom ,’” ZAW 16 [1939] 148-50, followed by Fohrer, Hesse). All six proper names in this verse have therefore a stronger or weaker Edomite connection (that of Naamah being the weakest), as does the name Uz in 1:1 and the name Buz in 32:2 (as against, e.g., Fohrer, who thinks Edom, N. Mesopotamia, and Syria are in view). So Jo b ’s friends seem to be represented as countrym en of his, sharing the same values and traditions, not the historical and cultic traditions of Israel, but the religious views one m ight expect from descendants of Abraham, that is, for practical purposes, general Israelite religious and social ideas shorn of whatever might strike the hearer as distinctively Israelite. T he significance of the Edom connection is not far to seek. Two prophetic texts (Jer 49:7; Obad 8; cf. also Bar 3:2—3) witness to a tradition that Edom was renowned for its “wisdom.” O f what nature that wisdom was we cannot now say; R. H. Pfeiffer went too far in attem pting to identify traces of Edomite wisdom in one source of Genesis, certain psalms and proverbs as well as in the Book of Job as a whole (“Edomite Wisdom,” ZAW 44 [1926] 13-25; cf. J. R. Bartlett, “The Moabites and Edomites,” in POTT, 229—58 [246—47]). It is perhaps significant that this book that portrays a debate of the wise is set in an Edomite location, that is to say, ju st outside Israel, in order not to be distracted by Israelite distinctives, but ju st next-door to Israel because it is an Israelite audience that is being addressed. 12 Everything in the previous verse was external and objective, and the false naivety of the style encourages us to believe that what we have here too is merely an externalized depiction of rites of consolation. The intent goes deeper, however, to establishing the nature of the relationship between the friends and Job. While they are still some way off, the friends catch sight of Job and are amazed at how unlike the Job of their acquaintance he is. To “lift up the eyes” ( ) is one of the commonest Hebrew idioms (35 times, BDB, 670b); generally it is followed by a verb of seeing, but here exceptionally by the opposite. The writing is so compressed that it must be filled out in translation.

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W hen they lifted up their eyes from afar, they saw a figure on the ash-heap; it is not surprising that from afar they did not recognize it to be Job, because it is quite normal not to recognize someone from a distance. So what is implied is: when they came closer, close enough to see his face, they still did not at first recognize it to be Job; but in the end, of course, they must have. T herefore, pedantic though it may seem, we can hardly write in a translation, “when they saw him from afar they did not recognize him ” ( r s v ), far less “when, at a distance, they lifted up their eyes and did not recognize him, they began to weep” ( n a b ), for, if they didn’t recognize him, why should they have wept? g n b makes a determ ined effort to reconstruct the narrative sequence: “While they were still a long way off they saw Job, but did not recognize him. W hen they did, they began to weep.” But this is still not really right, because the point must be that even when quite close they still did not recognize him because he was so disfigured by his suffering; it is almost meaningless to say that when they were still a long way off they did not recognize him, because that is usually the case for people with norm al eyesight, n i v boldly says, “W hen they saw him from a distance, they could hardly recognize him ” (my italics), which means that they did in fact recognize him, but with difficulty. This makes reasonable sense, but can it be what the Hebrew means? Perhaps so, if we may allow that “not” in Hebrew, as in other languages, may m ean not only “not at all” but “not often,” “not usually,” “not principally,” “not easily,” etc. (cf. Gen 32:29 [28]; 45:8). But this rendering of course implicitly says that “from a distance” they did recognize him; so why then is the distance mentioned? Would it not be much more to the point to say that even when they came close to him they could hardly recognize him? In brief, none of the standard translations offers a satisfactory rendering of the Hebrew. One would hesitate to say that the Hebrew was overcompressed and that this degree of brevity is a stylistic fault; one can say, however, that we would not naturally perm it ourselves such concision in a narrative sentence in English. In Hebrew to see from afar off is not at all a common phrase, and it invites reflection on the circumstances: in Gen 22:4 Abraham “lifts up his eyes and sees” (as here) the m ountain of sacrifice afar off and leaves his attendants at that very point as if to signify their absolute exclusion from the coming event; in 37:18 the plot against Joseph’s life is stylishly depicted as developing between the time his brothers “saw him afar off” and the m om ent that he “came near to them ”; cf. also Luke 15:20 where the distance between the prodigal and the seeing father is consumed by the running of the father. (Seeing [ ] from afar in Job 36:25; 39:29 is not relevant to the point here.) So the seeing from afar here is likely here also to have a significance that needs savoring. T heir being able to discern a single figure from a distance suggests the isolation of Job, who is not now at his usual place in the city gate (29:7) but outside the city, alone on the ash-heap (cf. on v 8), his whole circumstances now completely changed (cf. Horst). T here is a reticence in the text in that the reason for their not recognizing him is not stated; for the idea of the appearance being so altered by suffering as to make someone unrecognizable, we m ight of course compare Isa 52:14 where the servant’s face and body ( , ) are changed, beyond hum an semblance. An interesting new suggestion arises from N. Lohfink’s comparison of a ritual of lam ent from Sardinia (VT 12 [1962] 260—77). T he m ourners, as if

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suspecting nothing, enter the room where the dead person is lying, and then as though by accident catching sight of the corpse they burst into their laments; the nonrecognition would thus be a ritual or customary refusal to recognize what is before their eyes, as when we say (less formally, of course), “I don’t believe my eyes,” when in reality we don’t really doubt them. In this case the “from afar” only means that at a distance they could tell it was Job, which only goes to strengthen their “disbelief” at what had happened to him. T here was no difficulty in telling it was Job (they could tell that from afar); the difficulty lay in believing it was Job. Attractive though this line of interpretation is, there is a better solution yet. does not necessarily refer exclusively to a m ental action of “recognizing” but also often includes a verbal consequence such as “acknowledging” or some other act that translates the mental recognition into reality. W hen Jacob’s sons bring him Joseph’s coat they ask him to “recognize” (1 DJ) whether it is Joseph ’s, which he does with the words, “It is my son’s robe” (Gen 37:32-33). In Gen 38:25—26 T am ar calls upon Ju d ah to “recognize” whose property it is that she holds, and Jacob “recognizes” or rather “acknowledges” the objects, verbally (cf. Gen 31:32). To “recognize” a king (Dan 11:39), or to be “recognized” by one’s fellow-countrymen (Isa 63:16) or by God (Jer 24:5) or by a well-wisher (Ruth 2:10), inevitably involves far more than visual or mental recognition. H ere too, the friends “lifted up their eyes” and thus saw Job, but did not “recognize” ( ) him, that is, did not acknowledge him as Job or greet him as Job. Rather, as the text immediately says, they began to perform m ourning rituals, treating Job as a person already dead. The fact is, as the next verse says, that they do not say a word to him for seven days—which is explanatory of what not recognizing him implies. T heir identification with Jo b ’s suffering is no doubt sincere, but expressed in an wholly alienating way since they treat him as one already dead and not as a living man. T he ambivalence in the portrayal of them in the dialogues, friends who are traitors (6:15), comforters who are torturers (16:2), is already foreshadowed here. T he remarkable turn the narrative takes is that when the friends behold Job, they abandon their stated purpose in coming to Uz, to “condole with him and comfort” him, and do not address to him a single word, but treat him as if he were already dead. T heir conventional acts are properly speaking rituals of m ourning; since there is no explicit m ention of his dead children, and the focus is unambiguously on Job himself, we m ust suppose that their m ourning is not primarily because of his bereavement but because of the death-like situation they find Job himself in. “W eeping” ( ) is different from crying ( ); weeping comes from the m outh as sound, crying from the eyes (V. Ham p, TDOT 2:117). T he phrase “the voice of weeping” ( , Ps 6:9 [8]; Isa 65:19) shows that weeping is primarily a vocal activity, being thought of as generated by “the same violent disturbance of the intestines which causes tears to flow” (T. Collins, “The Physiology of Tears in the Old Testam ent,” CBQ 33 [1971] 18-38, 185-97 [37]). While can of course signify the expression of emotional grief, it not infrequently indicates ritual wailing or lamenting, and such is in all probability the case here. To “lift up the voice” in weeping is not an empty idiom signifying merely to speak, but probably refers to the higher pitch of the voice in wailing. A normal accompanim ent of wailing was the lam ent (see E. Jacob, IDB 3:453; H. Jahnow, Das

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hebrdische Leichenlied im Rahmen der Volkerdichtung [BZAW 36; Giessen: A. Tópelm ann, 1923] esp. 40—57), and here, though no words are spoken to Job himself (v 13) we may also assume the presence of verbal laments. For examples of traditional laments, see b. Moced Qat. 28b. T he tearing of the outer garm ent ( ) is a ritual Job has already perform ed (1:20, q.v.), and in perform ing it themselves the friends identify with Jo b ’s present state. Far less clear is the act of sprinkling or throwing ( ) dust “upon their heads toward heaven.” If this simply means that they threw dust in the air so that it would fall on their heads (e.g., Peake, Andersen), it is not only a curious way of saying so (one m ight expect “heavenwards” before “upon their heads”) but a strange way of putting dust on one’s head. Putting dust or ashes upon one’s head is a well-attested m ourning rite (Josh 7:6; 1 Sam 4:12; 2 Sam 13:19; 15:32; Ezek 27:30; Lam 2:10; ? Esth 4:1; ? Dan 9:3; rolling in the dust and in that way putting dust on one’s head: Mic 1:10; J e r 6:26; Ezek 27:30 [ashes]; Job 16:15; cf. Neh 9:1 [penitence ritual]; see E. F. de W ard, JJS 23 [1972] 6—8; and cf. the m ourning rituals of Ugaritic El in Baal and Mot [CTA 5] 6.12—24; Gibson, 73—74). But never is the verb “sprinkle” ( 1 ) used in this connection. The only time ashes are said to be “sprinkled” ( 1 ) is when they are sprinkled or thrown “toward heaven” (as here) by Moses, becoming boils upon hum ans and animals (Exod 9:8—10). Dhorm e thought that two separate rituals had become accidentally amalgam ated in the narration, that of throwing dust toward the sky and the m ore usual custom of putting dust on one’s head; he advised deleting “toward heaven” (as j b , n a b , n i v , Ehrlich, Hólscher, Fedrizzi; see also η. 2:12.a). Gordis saw here an apotropaic rite of throwing dust over the head (i.e., backwards, like over the shoulder) toward heaven, so as to ward off from themselves the evil that had befallen Job from that direction (similarly Buttenwieser; M. Weiss, Job,s Beginning, 76: “a magical act of self defence”; see also Weiser: “perhaps originally apotropaic”; Fohrer: “to repay a malicious person, perhaps a sorcerer”). Habel also thinks the Exodus passage the clue, but m ore daringly suggests that “the friends perform a rite which symbolically calls forth the same sickness on themselves as an act of total empathy. They are one with the dust of death and one with Job in his diseases” (p. 97). They are thus “patriarchal examples of true friendship ju st as Job is the paragon of ancient piety” (N. C. Habel, “ O nly the Jackal Is My Friend.’ On Friends and Redeemers in Jo b ,” Int 31 [1977] 227-36 [228]). He is surely right that their action, whatever precisely it signifies, is an act of identification with the suffering Job, like the tearing of garm ents and sitting in silence; it does seem improbable, though, that throwing dust skyward symbolized something so precise as wishing boils on oneself. T he close parallel in Acts 22:23 where a hostile crowd dem anding Paul’s death tear off their clothes and throw dust in the air has also never been satisfactorily explained (cf. H. J. Cadbury, in The Beginnings of Christianity [London: Macmillan, 1933] 269—77; H. D. Betz, Lukian von Samosata und das Neue Testament [TU 76; Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 1961] 72; E. H aenchen, The Acts of the Apostles [Oxford: Blackwell, 1971] 633), though the context is also of death (anticipated); there may be some allusion to our passage, though not to the Septuagint version of it, which lacks the phrase “toward heaven.” However uncertain we may rem ain about the m eaning of the act of throwing dust upon the head toward heaven, there are certain interpretations that we

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may safely reject. It cannot simply be a “token of distress” (Gray). It is not a symbol of the rain of dust that has metaphorically laid waste Jo b ’s prosperity (Duhm). T he height of the throwing of dust (“heavenwards”) does not signify the immensity of Jo b ’s suffering (Budde), nor does the gesture intimate that they themselves felt laid in the dust by a calamity sent from heaven (Davidson). Nor is it an incitement to heaven to bring such an evildoer as Job down to the dust (G. Hoffmann, “Ergánzungen und Berichtigungen zu Hiob,” ZAW 49 [1931] 141-45 [141]). Nor is the most recent suggestion by C. H outm an persuasive, that the throwing of dust heavenwards constitutes an appeal to God to slay the originator of Jo b ’s sufferings and to cover him with dust (ZAW 90 [1978] 269-72). 13 The posture of sitting on the ground during m ourning is often attested (cf. 2:8; Lam 2:10; Isa 3:26; 47:1; Ezek 8:14; Ezra 9:3; Neh 1:4; cf. El who comes down from his throne to sit on a stool, and from the stool to earth, Baal and Mot [CTA 6] 6.11-14; Gibson, 73). “On the ground” ( ) is presumably specified because one usually sits on carpets or cushions, and not directly on the earth. T he symbolic value of the posture is plain, though not perhaps precise: it signifies humiliation (in sympathy with the dead person; here it is said explicitly “with him ” [ ]) and a closer than usual attachm ent to the earth as the surface of Sheol (see de Ward, JJS 23 [1972] 3—4; Wensinck, Some Semitic Rites of Mourning and Religion, 12—18). The silence of the friends is multivalent. Perhaps this is the final elem ent in the prologue that we should identify as “falsely naive” (cf. Clines, HAR 9 [1985] 127—36), for there is the stylization of the naive (“seven days and seven nights”), there is the extremism of depiction that we have found characteristic of the prologue (a whole week’s silence must dem and almost superhum an reserve!), and there is the hint that the “silence” is not all that it seems (see below). The period of seven days is a standard time for m ourning (Gen 50:10; 1 Sam 31:13, a m ourning fast; Ecclus 22:12 “M ourning for the dead lasts seven days”; Jd t 16:24; cf. Gen 50:3, Egyptian m ourning for Joseph seventy days; Ezek 3:15, Ezekiel is “appalled” for seven days). On the symbolism of “seven,” see J. Hehn, Siebenzahl und Sabbat bei den Babyloniern und im Alten Testament (Leipziger Semitische Studien 2/5; Leipzig: J. C. Hinrichs, 1907); idem, “Zur Bedeutung der Siebenzahl,” Vom Alten Testament (FS K. Marti; BZAW 41; Giessen: A. Tópelm ann, 1925) 128—36; E. Kutsch, “Erwágungen zur Geschichte der Passafeier und des Massotfestes,” ZTK 55 (1958) 1-35 (25-28). Nowhere else is m ourning said to be for seven days and seven nights; this emphasis belongs to the extreme character of the depiction (like “blameless,” “greatest,” “from the feet to the head,” 1:1,3; 2:7). It is often rem arked that the period of seven days is in fact determ ined by Job (so, e.g., Fohrer) and indeed we shall discover in the next verse that it is Job, not the friends, who breaks the silence (3:1), the implication being seen that if Job himself had spoken, say, on the second, or the fourteenth, that is how long the silence of the friends would have lasted. But at this m om ent in the narrative we do not know that the length of the period of silence hangs upon Job, for here in vv 12—13 everything else hangs upon the perspective of the friends. In fact, at this juncture the length of their silence is noted entirely from the friends’ point of view: “they sat seven days . . . not speaking, for [from their perspective, of course] they saw his suffering was very great.” H ere the seven days are

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not of Jo b ’s making; in 3:1 they are. It would be better to speak of a complicity between the friends and Job, in which he understands the symbolic value of their silence, and waits till that symbolism is fully realized before he will speak. So what is the symbolism? Everything in their actions treats him as one already dead (not as one on the point of death, as T errien thinks), and the seven days and nights fit in as a period of m ourning. It is possible, of course, that m ourning rituals were regarded as appropriate for one in great distress, but it is hard to avoid the impression that such a way of showing grief would be experienced as alienating. For he is not yet dead; and although, when he opens his m outh, he will say that to be dead is his dearest desire, there must be for him a particular poignancy in seeing that fate externalized in the ritual behavior of his acquaintances. It is one thing to know one has an incurable illness, it is another to witness the reaction of friends to the news. It is fascinating to read how variously the friends’ silence has been explained. Some have thought it due to their inability to find any appropriate words (Terrien), or rem ark that, “overwhelmed by the greatness of his suffering, they speak no word” (Gray). Ewald comments, “They do honour by profound silence to his vast grief,” and Peake, “His pain and the reverse of his fortunes strike them dumb, for when grief is so crushing, what form but silence can sympathy take?” Andersen writes, “They were true friends, bringing to Jo b ’s lonely ash-heap the compassion of a silent presence” (similarly Horst). Such psychological interpretations may well have truth in them, though it is interesting that those quoted all put the friends in the most favorable light. Delitzsch stands alone in rem arking that “their long silence shows that they had not fully realized the purpose of their visit” and in thinking it “a pity that they let Job utter the first word, which they m ight have prevented by some word of kindly solace.” Rather than such psychologically inspired readings, however, it is preferable, in view of the clearly ritual actions of the friends in v 12, to suspect some conventional custom as the ground of their long silence. N. Lohfink has argued that a period of silence was customary in Hebrew m ourning (VT 12 [1962] 260—77; similarly E. Haulotte, Symbolique du vétement selon la Bible [Paris: Aubier, 1966] 128) and he quotes an interesting passage from A. Musil’s depiction of a Transjordanian Bedouin custom at the turn of the present century: “As soon as the news of an illness circulates, relatives and friends come to pay a visit, and they form a circle around the ill person; in silence, without saying a word, they listen to his groans and cries. Only when he addresses them, do they answer him and lam ent his state” (Arabia Petraea [Vienna: A. Holder, 1908] 3:413). Cf. also¿. Moced Qat. 28b: “Comforters are not perm itted to say a word until the m ourner opens [conversation]” (Job 2:13 is then quoted). Cf. also Gilgamesh, 11.126, where the gods sit m ourning silently when they see the destruction wrought by the flood (ANET, 94b). If such a custom lies behind our text, we can only say that to wait a whole week for the sufferer to speak seems to carry the convention to the height of absurdity, and to transm ute a reasonable reticence into an all-too-plain identification of the sufferer with the dead. This of course may be exactly what is intended. It needs to be said that the evidence for a formal phase of silence in the m ourning ritual is not textually strong (see de W ard,JJS 23 [1972] 17—20). One further factor needs to be considered. Since oriental m ourning was not a silent activity but typically contained much lamenting, both articulate

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and inarticulate, we should not perhaps suppose that Jo b ’s ash-heap was a place of utter silence during this week of m ourning. Indeed, it is said explicitly that “none was speaking a word to him” (cf. “did not acknowledge him ” in v 12), which does not preclude laments as if he were no longer present. The friends’ refraining from speech with him (and we learn how Job feels about that in general in 19:16; cf. 12:4) might perhaps only have been exacerbated by their laments that assumed his death. Given that we know, at the second reading at least, in what terms the friends are going to address Job, we cannot naively suppose that these days and nights of silence are nothing but the most refined expression of sympathy. Unusually am ong commentators, A. B. Davidson remarks that “from the sentiments which the three friends gave utterance to afterwards we know that very mixed feelings may have led to their silence and dismay”; however customary a short period of silence with a sufferer may have been, this hugely extended silence provokes reflection in the readers on what they may be being told sotto voce by the narrator. Explanation In these two chapters of seemingly artless prose, the problematic of the book has been exposed. It is that while the doctrine of retribution is initially taken for granted—as in the depiction of Jo b ’s piety and his consequent prosperity in 1:1—3—it has in the course of the narrative been first questioned and then overturned. It is questioned in 1:9 where it is asked whether Job serves God gratuitously, i.e., w hether his piety may not be the result of his prosperity rather than the other way about—as has always been assumed; and it is overturned by the heavenly decision to decide that question by removing his prosperity. Once that is done, the retributive principle has been broken; for now the most pious man on earth is among the most wretched. It is irrelevant that 40 chapters later he will be restored to his wealth, for the bulk of the book revolves about what it signifies that a righteous person can be in such misery. W hat counts now is that in a world where it is believed and taught that actions have appropriate consequences (despite the many evidences to the contrary), heaven itself has now sabotaged that doctrine with a most shocking infringement. This attack on the doctrine of retribution has both an intellectual and an existential dimension. The intellectual dimension has hardly been broached in the prologue, and innocent readers of the book may actually be deceived into thinking the prologue nothing but a simple folktale form ing the machinery for the real intellectual issues of the dialogue. This is not so, of course, because here we have heard not some apparent and Active exception to the doctrine that we may hope to find reconciled with it ultimately, but a categorical reversal of it which is certified by the narrator to be no misprision, and which no less a character than God authorizes explicitly. All the same, it will be much more the business of the dialogue than of the prologue to probe the intellectual conundrum of the innocent’s suffering. W hat the prologue first turns its attention to is the existential dimension. The existential problem is not the question, Do the innocent suffer?—that is, If they are suffering, can they indeed be innocent? Nor is it the question,

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Why do the innocent suffer?—that is, W hat reason can be given for such suffering?, which is to say, How can innocent suffering be com prehended or explained within some other set of concepts? These are all intellectual questions, and the book as a whole does indeed address them, even if it does not resolve them. But here what is posed is the existential question: W hat should innocents do when inexplicable suffering comes upon them? T he portraiture of Job contains the answer the narrative seeks to convey: in m ourning for his loss Job blesses the Lord who gave and who has taken away, never sinning in his speech or speaking irreverently of God (1:21-22; 2:10). This is not the only answer the book gives to the existential question, for the m om ent we turn the page (literally, as it happens, in my r s v ) into chap. 3 we find the selfsame Job, who has abandoned neither his piety nor his integrity, first wishing he had never been born and then by stages moving to the most formal accusation of God a hum an can m ount. In case we should be supposing that Job from chap. 3 onwards is making false moves, unworthy of imitation by readers, or losing his faith, or at the least failing to m aintain the moral and religious standards he exemplifies in the prologue, the end of the book has Job praised by God for speaking of him “what is right,” and to such a degree in tune with the divine disposition that only through his prayer are the friends relieved of the consequences of their “folly” (42:8—9). T here are not two Jobs, but there is more than one right way of coping with innocent suffering: when Job cannot bow in pious submission to the divine theft of his children, his property and his reputation he can still, with a piety equal but different, assert that it is with God and no other that he must treat and dem and that from God and no other his innocence be vindicated, since not even his own complete assurance of his innocence can satisfy him. This attitude too, aggressive and febrile in contrast to the compliant and almost catatonic Job of chaps. 1-2, will in the dialogue be presented as an answer to the existential question, How can I endure suffering? But while we are still in the prosaic, formal, and antique world of the prologue, the more conventional piety prevails.

Job’s First Speech

(3:1—26)

Bibliography Barr, J. “Philology and Exegesis: Some General Remarks, with Illustrations from Job.”

In Q u estio n s d ispu tées de ΓA n d e n T esta m en t: M éth o d e et théologie. X X I I T session des J o u rn é es 61. Blank, S. H. “The B ib liq u es de L o u v a in . BETL 33. Louvain: Leuven UP, 1974. 39— Curse, Blasphemy, the Spell, and the Oath.” H U C A 23/1 (1950—51) 73—95. ---------. “‘Perish the Day!’ A Misdirected Curse (Job 3:3).” P ro p h e tic T h o u g h t: E ssays a n d A ddresses. Cincinnati: Hebrew Union College Press, 1977. 61—63. Bratsiotis, N. P. “Der Monolog im Alten Testament.” Z A W 73 (1961) 30-70. Brichto, H. C. T he P ro b lem o f “C u r se ” in the H eb rew B ible. JBLMS 13. Philadelphia: SBL, 1963. C lines, D. J. A. “The Etymology of Hebrew ».” J N S W L 3 (1974) 19-25. Cox, C. “The Wrath of God Has Come to Me: Job’s First Speech according to the Septuagint.” S R 16 (1987) 195-204. Cox, D. T he T riu m p h o f Im po ten ce: J o b a n d the T ra d itio n o f the A b su rd . Rome: Universitá Gregoriana Editrice, 1978. Dahood, M. “Denominative rih h a m , ‘to conceive, enwomb.’” B ib 44 (1963) 204-5. ---------. “Hebrew-Ugaritic Lexicography VII.” B ib 50 (1969) 337-56. ---------. “Northwest Semitic Texts and Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible.” In Q u estion s d isp u tées de ΓA n d e n T estam en t: M éth o d e et théologie. X X I I P session des J o u rn é es B ib liq u es de L o u v a in . BETL 33. Louvain: Leuven UP, 1974. 11—37. Day, J. G o d ’s C onflict w ith the D r a g o n a n d the Sea. University of Cambridge Oriental Publications 35. Cambridge: CUP,

1985. Driver, G. R. “Problems in the Hebrew Text of Job.” VTSup 3 (1955) 72-93. Fishbane, M. “Jeremiah IV 23-26 and Job III 3-13: A Recovered Use of the Creation Pattern.” V T 21 (1971) 151-67. Freedman, D. N. “The Structure of Job 3.” B ib 49 (1968) 503—8 [= P o ttery, P o etry a n d P roph ecy. Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 1984. 323— 38]. Guillaum e, A. “The Arabic Background of the Book of Job.” P ro m ise a n d F u lfilm en t. S. H. Hooke Festschrift. Ed. F. F. Bruce. Edinburgh: T.& T. Clark, 1963. 106—27. Katz, R. L. “A Psychoanalytic Commentary on Job 3.25.” H U C A 29 (1958) 377-83. K innier W ilson, J. V. “Biblical and Akkadian Philological Notes.” J S S 7 (1962) 17383. Lipiñski, E. “Notes lexicographiques et stylistiques sur le livre de Job.” F o lO r 21 (1980) 65-82. Loretz, O. “Ugaritisch-hebraisch in Job 3,3-26. Zum Disput zwischen M. Dahood und J. Barr.” U F 8 (1976) 123—27. Moore, R. D. “The Integrity of Job.” C B Q 45 (1983) 17—31. Rendsburg, G. “Double Polysemy in Genesis 49:6 and Job 3:6.” C B Q 44 (1982) 48-51. Sm udi, Y. “The Beginning of Job’s Protest (Chapter 3j” [Heb.]. B M ik 27 (1981—82) 229—32. Snaith, N. H. “The Introductions to the Speeches in the Book of Job: Are They in Prose or in Verse?” T extu s 7 (1973) 133—37. Stade, B. “Miscellen. 15. ‘Auf Jemandes Knieen gebáren’ Gen 30,3, 50,23, Hiob 3,12 und ^ Exod 1,16.” Z A W 6 (1896) 143— 56. Tromp, N. J. P r im itiv e C on ception s o f D ea th a n d the N e th e r W o r ld in the O ld T estam en t. BibOr 21. Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1969. U llendorff, E. “Job III 8.” V T 11 (1961) 350-51. W ebster, E. C. “Strophic Patterns in Job 3-2 8 .” J S O T 26 (1983) 33-60.

Translation 1After that, it was Job who broke the silence, with a curse on his day. 2And Job said:a 3Perish the day I was born, the night that said,a (A boy is begot!”h 4That daya would it had become darkness! that God above had taken no thought for it, that no light had shone on it!

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5 Would that gloom and death’s shadow a had claimed it for their own,b that cloud had settled upon it, that eclipses c had affrighted it! 6 That nighta— would that deep darkness had carried it offb that it had not been countedc among the days of the year, not found its way into the reckoning of the months! 7I f only that nighta had been barren,b and no cry of joy been heard in it! 8 Would that the cursers a of daysh had laid a, spellc on it, those skilled at rousing0 Leviathan! 9 a Would that the stars of its dawn had been darkened, bthat it had waited in vain for the light, and never seen the eyelids c of the morning! 10Because it did not shut the doors of the womba nor b shield c my eyes dfrom trouble. 11Why did I not diea new-born,b perish as I left the womb? 12Why did the knees receive me, or a mother’s breasts suckle me? 13 Thena I should have laid myself down in tranquillity, then I should have slept and taken my rest, 14witha kings and ministers of state, who rebuilt ruined cities bfor themselves, 15with princes rich in gold, who filled their houses with silver. 16Whya was I not buriedh like a stillborn child, like an infantc that never saw the light? 17 There the wickeda cease to rage; those who have spent their powers b rest. 18Captives are at uttera ease; they hear no slavedriver’s shout. 19Small and great alikea are there; and the slave is freebfrom his master. 20 Why is light given to the troubled, and life to those bitter in spirit? 21 They yearn for death, and yearn in v a in a would dig for it rather than bfor hidden treasure; 22 they would rejoice exultinglya and delight to attain b the grave. 23 a Why is light given to one whose path is hidden, one whom God has hedged about? 24aFor my sighs areb my daily bread, groanscpour from me like water. 25For what I most feareda has befallenb me, all that I dreaded has come upon me. 261 have no repose, no quiet, no rest. Turmoil has come.

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Notes 2. a. Lit., “answered and said”; “answer” does not necessarily imply any previous speech, but can mean “beginning to speak as an occasion required” (Driver), “respond to an occasion, speak in view of circumstances” (BDB, 773a § 2), e.g., Judg 18:14; 1 Sam 9:17. N. H. Snaith has observed that the introductions to the speeches, beginning with this verse, bear verse accents in Masoretic texts, that is, either accents that distinctively indicate verse or accents shared by prose and verse (“The Introductions to the Speeches in the Book of Job: Are They in Prose or in Verse?” Textus 7 [1973] 133—37). 3. a. Grammatically it would be possible to translate “the night in which one said” ( k j v “in which it was said”; similarly n i v ) , but it is harder to imagine who the “one” could be than to ascribe supernatural knowledge and speech to the night (cf. Ps 19:3—5 [2—4]). The emendation to (BHK,frt), being understood as the fern ptcp, or else being read (BHK), is quite implausible. M. Dahood, “Northwest Semitic Texts and Textual Criticism of the Hebrew Bible” (in (Questions disputées de VAncien Testament [BETL 33; Louvain: Leuven UP, 1974] 11—37 [22—23]), sees here the he maintains means “see”; but no improvement in sense is apparent. Tur-Sinai argued that means “refused (to let a man be conceived),” perhaps as an aphel of “rebel,” but the syntax is unsupportive (cf. also Η. H. Rowley, JSS 3 [1958] 84). A. Ehrman (“A Note on the Verb ,” JQR 55 [1964-65] 166—67) argued on the basis of one medieval text that can mean “curse,” and translates “and the night be cursed wherein a man had coition,” but this would involve two emendations to the MT which he does not specify. 3. b. LXX Ιδού apoev “behold a male” probably read as [] (= ) “behold.” This is followed by Duhm, Gray, Stevenson, de Wilde, n a b “The child is a boy” does not claim to follow this reading, but it manages to give the impression that birth, not conception, is in view. Gray’s argument carries little conviction, that “Job’s quarrel is not with his conception, but with is birth, with the fact that he had issued from the womb living into the world with its life of troub^ and pain”; it is true that in v 16 he can envisage being stillborn, i.e., having conception but not birth, as a preferable state to life, but acceptance of conception in that context should not be read into the present verse where conception is simply the natural precursor of birth. is taken as pual by BDB, KB3, qal pass by Driver, GKC, § 52e. 4. a. “That day” is projected to the beginning of the line as a casus pendens (cf. GKC, § 143bc). Dahood (“Northwest Semitic Texts,” 23—24) gives some interesting Ugaritic examples of casus pendens with a special solemnity. Hólscher deleted the line as the writing of a pedantic glossator who did not realize that the day and night of v 3 were the same (conception being poetically equivalent to birth), and who tried to distinguish between “day” in vv 4—5 and “night” in vv 6—10; all the lines refer to the same complex day-and-night (so too Stevenson, Fohrer). LXXB is sometimes called upon in testimony, sinc° although it does have the first colon it has “night” (νύξ) instead of “day.” Duhm eliminated two tricola from the chapter by bringing v 9b up to follow v 4a (reading “night” for “day” as LXX), which otherwise is a line without a parallel (he writes some unconvincing comments about marginal notes in old manuscripts). 5. a. should probably be understood as a compound noun, “darkness of death” (cf. n j b “shadow dark as death”) and not revocalized to “darkness” (as n e b , n a b , j b , n j p s , n i v , Dhorme, Gordis) as if derived from a II “be dark,” since it is doubtful that such a root is attested in West Semitic (see D. J. A. Clines, “The Etymology of Hebrew JNWSL 3 [1974] 19—25; W. L. Michel, “SLMWT, ‘Deep Darkness’ or ‘Shadow of Death’?” BR 29 [1984] 5-20; idem, Job in the Light of Northwest Semitic [BibOr 42; Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1987] 1:42-46; against, e.g., KB). See also D. Winton Thomas, “ .] in the Old Testament,” JSS 7 (1962) 191-200, though his view that the “death” element in the word should be regarded as a “superlative” should probably not be adopted. See further n. 10:21.b; and see J. Barr, “Philology and Exegesis,” in Questions disputées (BETL 33) 39—61 (50—55); Grabbe, Comparative Philology, 27— 29. 5.b. “redeem,” that is, claim as a kinsman property belonging to one’s clan. Dhorme thought this admittedly subtle sense too artificial, and derived the word here from II “defile” (so already Targum, Aquila, Rashi, Ehrlich; cf. k j v “stain,” n e b “sully”) perhaps vocalizing (Ehrlich) since II is not attested in qal. But “defile” is not a wholly appropriate verb to govern “day,” especially because II elsewhere is usually of cultic defilement (e.g., Ezra 2:62; Mai 1:7) or, less specifically, of staining garments with blood (Isa 63:3) or hands with blood

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(59:3). See Comment. A. R. Johnson (“The Primary Meaning of ,” VTSup 1 [1953] 67-77) argued that both “redeem” and “defile” as meanings of derive from a common meaning “cover,” and proposes that meaning here, “let utter blackness cover it”; but there is no OT parallel to such a sense. 5. c. A favored interpretation of has been to suppose a root “be black” and read “blackness of (day)” (so BDB, KB3, k j v , r v , r s v , n a b , n j p s , n i v , and most commentators), sometimes understood as “eclipses” ( j b , Pope), or by Dhorme as “fogs,” though these are hardly terrifying. A difficulty is that kmr as a Semitic root “be black” is attested only in Syriac, and even there J. Barr has argued that this may be only a secondary meaning to a principal meaning “be sad” (“Philology and Exegesis,” 55-56; cf. Grabbe, Comparative Philology, 29-31; O. Loretz, “Ugaritisch-hebráisch in Job 3,3-26. Zum Disput zwischen M. Dahood und J. Barr,” UF 8 [1976] 12327 [125]). But it is enough that the meaning “be black” is well attested in Syr. (cf. Brockelmann, Payne Smith), and we may note that in the case o f the semantically similar the movement seems to be from “be dark” to “mourn” (Jer 8:21; 14:2; cf. also on Job 30:28). There will hardly be any connection with Hitt, kammara (as M. L. Modena Mayer, “Note etymologiche IV,” Acme 20 [1967] 287-91 [290]). It is no real objection to this view that the phrase occurs in two extrabiblical passages where the preposition requires a derivation of the noun from “be bitter.” In Ecclus 11:4 “Do not mock at a worn cloak, and do not despise anyone in the bitterness of a day” (cf. n a b ; the Greek, followed by r s v , j b , is very different), and 1QH 5.34 “My eyes are dimmed because of vexation and my soul by the bitterness of the day,” it is a psychological state that is suggested, which would not fit our present text. Pope argues that a “day of bitterness” is associated with an eclipse of the sun in Amos 8:9-10, but it is rather that “a bitter day” ( ) is parallel to “mourning for an only son.” And this still does not explain the locution “bitternesses of day.” Gordis has recently revived the explanation of Rashi and ibn Ezra as “demons of the day,” comparing Deut 32:24 where “a bitter (?) destruction” is understood as “a destruction o f demons” because of the parallel with “eaten by pestilence,” being taken as the name of the Semitic plague-god Resheph (cf. on 5:7). Gordis further derives not from “be bitter” but from Arab, marr “pass by,” hence “the passing, flitting being,” and decides that the initial is “asseverative kaph. The whole argument is a tissue of implausibilities. 6. a. Some read “(that) day,” on the grounds that darkness already has sway over night (Terrien, de Wilde; E. Ullendorff, “Job III 8,” VT 11 [1961] 350—51), and that it is strange that the night should be counted “among the days” (Pesh adds “that day” as the subject of “be counted”). Duhm, Holscher, Horst, Fohrer omit the colon on similar grounds. 6 .b . n e b “Blind darkness swallow up that night” apparently reads nothing other than the MT. 6. c. is juss o f “rejoice” (so r v , r s v ) , but it is hard to see why being among the days of the year should be a particular matter for rejoicing by the night (we know nothing of a “festive band” of nights, as Peake envisages; similarly Strahan, Driver). Most versions, from Tg onward, through k j v , and n i v , and most commentators, assume a revocalization to “let it [not] be joined” ( n e b “count it not among,” n a b “let it not occur among” are variant expressions of the same Heb.). The parallelism between niph “bejoined” and “come” in Gen 49:6 is further evidence for the revocalization here. Without defending the originality of MT, Grabbe puts up a sympathetic case for it (Comparative Philology, 32-35). M. Dahood (“Northwest Semitic Texts,” 24; also Blommerde) saw in a Canaanite form of ΤΓΡ “let be seen,” claiming that in Gen 49:6 is the same word. Though KB3 notes Dahood’s conjecture, it does not lend it support. H. L. Ginsberg (VTSup 16 [1967] 71—72) is appropriately scathing. A similar suggestion had been made by O. Wintermute, Studia Bíblica et Orientalia (AnBib 10; Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1959) 26—36 (35). Gordis attempts to argue that both meanings are intended, by the figure of talhin (others prefer the term tauriya; cf. G. Rendsburg, CBQ 44 [1982] 51 n. 19); but this is quite implausible, and his argument that v 6b is chiastically parallel to 7b fails on the fact that it is not night that is joyful in 7b but a cry that is heard in it. G. Rendsburg’s claim (“Double Polysemy in Genesis 49:6 and Job 3:6,” CBQ 44 [1982] 48—51) that not only does mean “be united” and “rejoice,” but also means “enter” and “desire” (from ) is doubly doubtful (and what would “in the number of the months let it not desire” mean}). 7. a. Holscher deleted “that night,” and de Wilde alters it to “that day,” thinking that it is still the day o f Job’s birth that is the subject. 7.b. Dhorme translates “sorrowful” ( j b “dismal”) claiming that has this sense in 30:3, but this is dubious ( n j b “sterile”). Since the context is of conception, Gordis’s “lonely as a crag,” aiming to reproduce the metaphor of stoniness, is out of place. “Solitary” ( k j v ) and “desolate” ( n j p s ) are also beside the point.

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8.a. Gordis, accepting the reading of “sea” (n. 8.b) and the criticism that anyone desiring an upheaval of order would not curse Sea, emends “cursers o f” to “rousers of,” preempting criticism of an emendation that leaves the same verb in two parallel cola by referring to 8:3; 11:7; 12:23; 38:22, and others (see his Special Note, pp. 508-13). The question is not whether such repetition is possible but whether, in view of its rarity, it is likely to provide the solution to a textual problem. Actually, there is no textual problem; see Comment. G. R. Driver saw here a new Heb. root “revile” cognate with Arab. cara, Eth. tacayyara (VTSup 3 [1955] 72; followed by J. V. Kinnier Wilson proposing an Akk. cognate áru/awáru [“Biblical and Akkadian Philological Notes,” JSS 7 (1962) 173-83 (181-83)]); see J. Barr, Comparative Philology and the Text of the Old Testament (Oxford: Clarendon, 1968) 125-26; idem, “Philology and Exegesis,” 56-57. n e b “those whose magic binds even the monster of the deep” accepts the emendation to “sea” as a personified being, but otherwise retains the MT; but “binding” the sea-monster and “taming” Leviathan seem to be just the opposite to the loosing of disorder that is here in view (cf. also Day, God’s Conflict, 47). M. Fishbane’s comment in VT 21 (1971) 163 n. 6 is unintelligible, since there is no Akk. verb arratu “bind with a curse.” 8.b. On the proposal to read “sea” for “day,” see Comment. Grabbe argues that a standard mythological formula paralleling Sea with Leviathan lies behind the line, but that the poet altered “sea” to “day” for his own purpose (Comparative Philology, 35—38); ingenious but unconvincing. M. Dahood believed it was Sea here, but retained the MT punctuation on the ground that yom may be the Phoenician pronunciation of Heb. yam “sea” (“Northwest Semitic Texts,” 24—25); this is less ingenious than perverse. J. Barr has an interesting methodologically slanted discussion of the problem, concluding with hesitation in favor of “day”; but he does not see that v 8 is primarily about the night (“Philology and Exegesis,” 56—57). 8.c. E. Ullendorff, VT 11 (1961) 350-51, took from “pierce” and as pi const of “light”; thus, “Let the light-rays of day pierce it (i.e., the night) apt even to rouse Leviathan.” Quite apart from the tameness of such a malediction (the worst it can mean is, Let the night be cut short by the approach of day), the interpretation does not begin to explain how the rays of day can rouse Leviathan (the reference is surely not to his rising from sleep each morning but rather to his being roused to angry activity); cf. also Day, God’s Conflict, 48. 8. d. For the proposal to find a new “revile” here, see n. 8.a. 9. a. Dhorme removes the verse to follow v 6; “the cursed night must not be allowed to see the light of day.” 9.b. The colon is omitted by Holscher, Horst and Fohrer as a prosaic interruption of the metaphorical cola before and after. Duhm moved it to follow v 4a, de Wilde to follow v 6a. 9. c. The arguments for as “eyelids” or “eyeballs” are rather finely balanced. “Eyelids” is perhaps supported by an etymology from “fly,” thus “flutter.” The meaning is well attested in postbib. Heb. Except in 16:16 where it is parallel with “face,” is always parallel to or associated with eyes (41:10 [18], eyes like the of dawn; Ps 11:4; 132:4; Prov 4:25; 6:4, 25; 30:13; Jer 9:17 [18]), which may mean either that they are distinct from eyes, or that the term means nothing else but eyes. BDB reckons all these occurrences “eyelids,” KB translates the Heb. as Wimpern (“eyelashes”) but offers the Eng. translation “eyelids,” KB3 also has Wimpern, even though Heb. has a special term for eyelashes ( “hair of the eyelids” [Levy]; perhaps includes both), but thinks “eyes” is preferable for Job 41:10 [18] and Prov 6:26 along with 4Q184.1.13 (the harlot raises her ; J. M. Allegro [ed.], Qumran Cave 4 [DJD 5; Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1968] 82-83). Fohrer translates “beams” (Strahlen), understanding the imagery as of the flashing eyes of a person. In the one place in Ug. where cpcp occurs (Keret [CTA 14] 3.147; parallel in 6.295; Gibson, 86, 90) a beautiful young woman has “eyeballs (c im Alten Testament,” UF 10 (1978) 1-13 (9-10). a . A m o r e d r a m a t i c i m a g e t h a n n e b ’ s “I s t i t c h e d s a c k c l o t h t o g e t h e r t o c o v e r m y b o d y ” ; 15. s e e Comment. 15. b. So n j p s , lit., “I have dug my brow into the dust”; there is no corresponding native English idiom, and , “horn,” should not be transmuted to “brow” ( j b , n a b , n i v ) . n e b “I buried my forelock in the dust” depends upon a suggestion o f W. R. Arnold (“The Interpretation of ,” AJSL 21 [1904-1905] 167-72 [170]) reported by S. R. Driver, who found the cognate Arabic noun could signify the forelock and noted that among Bedouin “horns” could refer to long sidelocks. The older view that meant “defiled” ( a v , R v m g , following Rashi) is abandoned now in favor of “insert” (cognates in Aram., Syr.), or perhaps “lower, dip” (S. Rin, “Ugaritic-Old Testament Affinities,” BZ 7 [1963] 22-33 [23]; J. Gray, The Legacy of Canaan [VTS 5; Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1957] 195). 16. a. On see n. 10:21.b. 17. a. Duhm and de Wilde transpose this verse to follow v 14; but even the strong connection of thought with v 14 and the preceding verses (see Comment) does not justify the transposition. 17. b. , emended by Duhm to , “my way,” or perhaps , “my speech.” See Comment. 18. a. Strictly it is the blood that cries out; hence some emend to “its outcry” (BHK, BHS, de Wilde). But the change is unnecessary. 18.b. “Place” ( ) must mean resting-place or stopping place, though it is difficult to parallel either of these uses. It is impossible that means “tomb” (Dahood, “Northwest Semitic Philology,” 61—62; followed by Rowley, Pope, Blommerde), since the evidence for such a specific meaning has been misinterpreted (see Grabbe, 69-72). “Let there be no room for my outcry” would be a more natural understanding of the words (cf. R v m g “have no more place”), but this does not fit the context. 20.a. Taking from III, according to BDB “purpose, aim,” and KB “will, intention, thought,” but better explained as equivalent to “longing, striving” (Eccl 1:14; 2:11, 17, 26; etc.) from the same root III. This sense suits the other occurrences of in Ps 139:2, 17 better than “thought” ( r s v ) . Pope gives the right lead by translating “interpreter of my thoughts,” but “thoughts” does not suit the context well. Almost as attractive is Dhorme’s translation “clamor,” II from (the noun is in 36:33; Exod 32:17; Mic 4:9); hence j b “My own lament is my advocate with God” (also Kissane). Most versions and commentators see here as “my friends” ( I), though they can hardly be Job’s “intercessors” or “interpreters” (see n. 20.b). J. B. Curtis, “On Job’s Witness in Heaven,”/fJL 102 (1983) 549-62 (554), vocalizes & “[my intercessor is] my shepherd,” a parody of Ps 23:1, since it is the personal god, not the high god, who is Job’s shepherd; but this would be an amazing way to introduce, for the first time in the book, the idea of a “personal god.” 20.b. Reading ? “my spokesman” for MT “my spokesmen” (a reading possibly due to thinking the word is from , hence “scorners,” the friends in the pi). “spokesman” is well attested (see Comment and KB3), no doubt as a root different from “scorn” (against BDB, KB3); see further N. H. Richardson, “Some Notes on and Its Derivatives,” VT 5 (1955) 163-79; idem, “Two Addenda to ‘Some Notes on and Its Derivatives,”’ VT 5 (1955) 434—36. Tur-Sinai, Irwin, Pope, Gordis, j b , n a b , n i v , n j p s adopt this interpretation. Reference to “my friends” ( ) as “scorners” is out of place here, and can only be understood as parenthetic or contrastive, r s v “my friends scorn me” is not impossible, but the “spokesman” figure fits better into the immediate context. Emendations, e.g. to “has reached” ( = ) (Dhorme), or “my Friend will make an appearance on my behalf” (Duhm, Fohrer), or “my appeal will reach” ( n e b ; cf. LXX “may my request reach the Lord”), or “from my heart goes out my cry” (de Wilde), are certainly wrong.

372

J o b 16: 1-17: 16

20. c. though obviously “leak” at Eccl 10:18, is best connected here and at Ps 119:28 with Akk. dalápu “be sleepless” (KB, KB3, Horst, Fohrer, G. R. Driver, “Studies in the Vocabulary of the Old Testament,” JTS 34 [1933] 375-85 [384—85]; perhaps cf. also Ug. dip “exhaust”). For precisions on the Akk., see E. A. Speiser, “The Semantic Range of dalápu” JCS 5 (1951) 64—66; J. C. Greenfield, “Lexicographical Notes I HUCA 29 (1958) 203—28 (207—10), resists this connection for here, comparing its use for dripping eyes in b. Bek. 44a and “pour out, sprinkle” in postbib. Heb., Aram., Syr. Curtis, JBL 102 (1983) 555-59, supports the sense of as “be restless,” but wants to read “he who watches over me harasses him” ( piel with mase suff -oh, ] as verb “watch,” as Q of 1 Sam 18:9 and Hos 10:10 perhaps suggest). The whole proposal is forced. J. Vella, “II redentore di Giobbe (Nota a Giob. 16,20),” RivB 13 (1965) 161-68, reads ] (or, ) “my advocate will harm God, whose eye will drip tears,” a totally improbable interpretation (the noun in any case does not seem to mean “dripping of water” but a “leaking r o o f’)· 21. a. The reading of a few MSS ] “and between” (so BHK, BHS, and many) is to be rejected (though cf. J. Barr, “Some Notes on ben ‘between’ in Classical Hebrew,” JSS 23 [1978] 1-22 [12]); see Comment. On the “and” of comparison (waw adaequationis) see GKC, § 161a, and cf. 12:11; 14:12; contrast 5:7 (q.v.). Pesh, Vg, Tg took the waw thus (they did not read ] 1 ) ), as against BHK). 21. b. De Wilde’s emendation of to “his Maker” is an effort to create synonymous parallelism, but it overlooks the precise significance of the prepositions. 22. a. , lit., “years of number”; the idiom is common (= “a few men,” Gen 34:20; Deut 4:27; Jer 44:28; 1 Chr 16:19; Ps 105:12; Ezek 12:16) and the bound phrase should probably not be split apart, as in j b “the years of my life are numbered” (cf. n a b ) . It is attractive (see Comment) to emend to “mourning” (Lagarde, Bickell), except that mourning does not last for years. Bickell, Hoffmann and Peake therefore read “(female) repeaters of (mourning),” i.e., wailing women, but the phrase is unparalleled, and it can be objected that the journey to Sheol (v 22b) takes place before the arrival o f the wailing women (v 22a)—though in reply it can also be argued that the journey to Sheol does not properly occur before the burial. Dahood’s proposal (Bib 48 [1967] 429) to read 1 (so Blommerde, Pope), “years without number, innúmerable years,” also has the disadvantage that the years spent in Sheol are mentioned before the journey there. 17:1.a. To create a more usual line, Duhm read “his anger has destroyed my days”; so too Hólscher, KB3, but it is not an improvement on the MT, as Rowley remarks. l.b. Not , “my spirit is broken within me” ( BHK, Fohrer); this is an attempt to remove the pattern of 2 + 2 + 2 in the line. l.c. Some MSS have , with the same meaning; lectio difficilior is to be preferred. Duhm read “the grave is left to me” (so also BHK, Fohrer); but it makes poor sense to say that the grave is “abandoned” for him (Driver). Klostermann, j b , de Wilde prefer 1 “the gravediggers are assembled for me”; but niph means “are assembled” only in a military context, i.e., “are called out, summoned” (Josh 8:16; Judg 6:34, 35; 18:23; 1 Sam 14:20). 1. d. , lit., “graves,” probably the graveyard as the place where graves (pi) are found. This would be a plural of extension (GKC, § 124c), rather than an intensive pi, sc. “a stately tomb.” There is no need to hypothesize an enclitic particle -m on the sg form (as Pope). Others vocalize ) “gravediggers” (see n. 17:l.c). 2. a. functions as an emphatic positive particle (GKC, § 149b). 2.b. , an abstract noun, “mockery.” Tur-Sinai and n e b read 1 “mockers” (as Tg) because of the pi suff on , but Gordis argues that is itself a qatul participle “mockers” (like “remembering”). N. Tromp, Primitive Conceptions of Death and the Nether World in the Old Testament (BibOr 21; Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1969) 54-55, followed by Dahood, Psalms I, 279, read “the two mounds” (at the edge of Sheol, bounding the earth, as in The Palace of Baal [CTA 4] 4.8.4 [Gibson, 66]; cf. Ezra Pound, Canto 16: “And before the hell mouth; dry plain / and two mountains” [The Cantos of Ezra Pound (London: Faber 8c Faber, 1954) 72]). Similarly also Pope, though construing the noun as pi. 2.c. Reading (= ), “my eyes are tired” (Hólscher, G. R. Driver [VTSup 3 (1955) 78], Fohrer, BHK, de Wilde)‘for MT “my eye dwells.” ] is “stay the night,” thus “dwell,” but the sense is strained. Budde read J 5 (= ) “my eyes fail” (as in 11:20); so too n a b “my eyes grow dim” and perhaps also n e b “my day is darkened” (though Brockington says the text presupposed is 5] ^ ¿c]); cf. BHK). 2.d. BO, “their antagonism, refractory behavior,” from “complaint.” G. R. Driver supposed a , cognate with Arab, hamratun “angry words” and hammarun “garrulous old

Notes

373

man,” and rendered “your stream of peevish complaints” (VTSup 3 [1955] 78); so n e b “their sneers.” Tromp, Death and the Nether World, 54—55, read “the twin miry deeps”; Pope, “the Slime-Pits,” as characteristic of the underworld (cf. 9:31). 3.a. Reading “my pledge” for MT “take me on pledge” (so most, following Reiske). 3.b. Lit., “set my pledge with you.” 3. c. Lit., “who will be struck with my hand?” The gesture of striking ( ) hands was a ratification of an agreement to stand surety (Prov 11:15; 17:18; 22:26). The niph (only here in this sense) must be niphal tolerativum, “who will allow himself (= his hand) to be struck (in conclusion of a bargain) with my hand?” (not “give a pledge,” as Gordis explains the niph). Emendation to “will strike” (Fohrer) is unnecessary. The rhetorical question expects the answer “no one”; and the question functions as the reason for the imperative ΓΠΤίΙϋ. 4. a. to be taken as a pass pilel (so KB), “will be exalted,” as in Ps 75:11 [10]; Neh 9:5; Ps 66:17 (text emended), or perhaps the polal (reading ΓΙ, so Gordis). But most regard it as an active polel, “you will exalt (them),” perhaps a contracted form equivalent to (GKC, § 72cc; Horst); some actually emend to ? or else vocalize as hiph (Merx, BHK, KB). Dhorme suggested “their hand is (not) raised” (so too Holscher, Terrien, j b ) but in the absence of evidence that the hands were raised in striking a bargain the emendation is too precarious. n a b ’ s emendation to “they do (not) understand” is arbitrary. 5. a a. , lit., “announces, informs” cannot easily mean “invite” (as, e.g., Dhorme, Gordis, Horst), but given the proverbial character of the line it is perhaps possible. “Denounce” is supported by Jer 20:10, but it cannot have been a very common thing for a man to “denounce friends for a portion” (cf. n i v ; r s v “informs against his friends to get a share of their property”); so could this have been a proverb? And surely Job does not seriously mean that those who “denounce” him as unrighteous do so for hope of some benefit from his property? De Wilde supposes another noun “destruction,” from III (KB3) “destroy” (cognate with Ug. hlq; cf. Dahood, Bib 47 [1966] 405), hence “he who denounces his friends [goes] to destruction”; but the attestation of this root in Heb. is uncertain. 5. b. Similarly Moffatt, Peake, Dhorme, Horst, Fohrer, Gordis. is a “portion” of food (Lev 6:10 [17]; Deut 18:8; Hab 1:16) but the proverb would mean much the same if it is taken as “possession,” a more common meaning. Some revocalize to “to give a portion to” (Budde, Holscher, Peake, KB3). A connection with HI (BDB; I, KB3) “flattery,” as in Prov 7:21, cannot be sustained (against k j v “he that speaketh flattery to his friends”). See n. 5.a-a. 6. a. Reading, with most, 1£) , the construct of the noun, rather than 1 , inf constr. 6. b. Lit., “a spitting in the face,” i.e., one in whose face people spit. It is more than doubtful that is derived from the place Topheth as a symbol of shame (Blommerde); n j ps suggests “I have become like Tophet [that swallowed children; Jer 7:31] of old [ ],” but the connection with Job is not very evident, k j v “tabret” (“aforetime I was as a tabret”) took the word as equivalent to “drum” (following Rashi). Blommerde took as “my relatives” and as “for my ancestors,” which is more ingenious than convincing. Others read 1 “a portent” (Perles, Budde, Terrien, claiming support from Vg exemplum; cf. Deut 28:46; Ps 71:7); but the parallel in 30:9— 10 confirms the present text (Dhorme). 7. a. only here; obviously from , “form,” it is taken as “limbs” by most (BDB, r s v , n e b ) , but as “form” by L. Delekat (“Zum hebráischen Worterbuch,” VT 14 [1964] 7-66 [49]) (cf. n i v “my whole frame”; cf. n a b ) . Others follow Pesh “my thoughts, imaginations” (cf. , Gen 6:5; 8:21; Deut 31:21); so Hoffmann, Budde. Terrien suggests (“all my thoughts dissolve like a shadow”) that his illness makes him lose the thread of his ideas. These suggestions are perhaps too subtle, and the parallelism with “eyes” suggests we need here a word for parts of the body. 7.b. Reading , ptcp o f “are wasting” as in v 2, emended text; cf. also 33:21 (flesh); Ps 71:9 (strength); 73:26 (flesh and heart); 143:7 (spirit); Prov 5:11 (flesh and body). So Houbigant, Dhorme, Fohrer, n e b , n a b . N. M. Sarna (“Some Instances of the Enclitic -m in Job,” j[/S 6 [1955] 108—10 [110]) achieved the same sense by vocalizing , “they have wasted” plus enclitic mem (followed by Blommerde). 7. c. Lit., “like a shadow.” 8. a. The Heb. is sg, but the same persons are referred to as in v 8a. 9. a. The Heb. is sg, but the same persons are referred to as in v 8a; see Comment. 9. b. Blommerde, following Dahood, Psalms I, 2, takes as “his force,” parallel to “strength” (so also Pope). 10. a. Lit., “return (juss) and come” ( 0 1 ); with a following verb signifies repe (e.g., Gen 26:18); cf. GKC, § 120d-e; BDB, 998a § 8.

374

J o b 16: 1-17: 16

l().b. “all of them”; the lack of concord is not an occasion for emendation to “all of you” (as 5 mss, BHK, Gordis); though Mic 1:2 and Mai 3:9 are not exact parallels (cf. GKC, § 135r), the principle is clear enough. 11.a. A very difficult verse, subject to many emendations. A tricolon (as MT punctuation has it) is comparatively unusual, especially when the third colon has no verb. But a very similar verse opens the strophe vv 1—5; there also, there is no verb in the third colon, and the general sense is similar. ll.b . Gordis takes as transitive, “my days have passed (i.e., outstripped) my hopes,” i.e., my life has lasted longer than my hopes. An ingenious suggestion, but the image is unparalleled, and it is not well supported by (quite rare in the sense “pass beyond,” and not found at all in this metaphorical sense). ll.c . It is no real difficulty that elsewhere means “evil plan, plot,” for also means both “evil plan” and “discretion” or (Yahweh’s) purpose. Horst’s emendation to is unnecessary. Fohrer reads ΠΏΪ^Ι “in shame,” but 1 hardly means that. Interesting is the suggestion of Tur-Sinai (following ibn Ezra) that the term means “my cords,” from in late Hebrew, Aram, and Syr. “bind, esp. muzzle” (cf. n j p s “my tendons severed”) since this could form a parallel to “the strings of my heart” (see η. 1 l.d). But there is no evidence that the noun ΠΏΤ in any language meant “cord.” The nouns from this mean “muzzle” ( , ). De Wilde draws attention to the Aram. “whisper,” and argues that means “groaning” (whence LXX έν βρο ώ), reading ^, “(my days run their course) with my groanings.” n e b “my days die away like an echo” also depends on LXX’s βρό ος, any loud noise. These renderings are unconvincing, j b ’ s “My days have passed, far otherwise than I had planned” (uncharacteristically prosaic!) presumably supposes some such reading as , and, like many others, endeavors to create a bicolon of the verse. Blommerde’s rendering “the days of my plans have gone by,” reading as a construct separated from its absolute (cf. also his “The Broken Construct Chain, Further Examples,” Bib 55 [1974] 549—52 [549—50]) is something of a curiosity (despite the apparent analogies of 29:18; Isa 27:9; Hos 8:2; 14:3). 11. d. , not “possession,” from (Kjvmg, Rvmg, BDB), but “desire,” from a (KB; r s v , n a b , n i v ) . LXX άρθρα “ joints, limbs” is supposed by some (e.g., Dhorme) to result from a connection with Aram. , Syr. marsa “rope” (Heb. , with at Jer 10:20); hence n e b “heart-strings,” j b “every fibre of my heart,” n j p s “strings of my heart,” i.e., the sinews, veins of the heart (cf. Saadia). Budde actually emended to ] (cf. BHK). This interpretation would be more attractive if there were good reason for joining the verb to the phrase; in any case the explanation of LXX on these grounds is questionable. 12. a. LXX lacks this verse, which is supplied from Theodotion; perhaps LXX found the connections of thought as difficult as we do, and omitted it. 12.b. Elsewhere the idiom + means to turn A into ( ) B (see BDB, 964, § 5). n e b “Day is turned into night,” though at first sight more appropriate to Job’s lament, is not justifiable. There is no hint here of the moral perversity implied by the similar phrase in Isa 5:20. 12. c. The idiom “near from the face o f” ( ) is unparalleled and somewhat uncertain. Gordis thinks means “excellent, praiseworthy” (followed by Sicre Diaz), but the epithet would be weak, and the quoted analogies are unconvincing. 13. a. “If” here means “since.” Dhorme thinks is interrogative (“Can I hope again? [Certainly not, since] Sheol is my house”). But such a use of is rare if not actually unattested (GKC, § 150f claims that apparent examples are “really due to the suppression of the first member of a double question”); 6:12 is no parallel, against Dhorme, since there we have the double . Gordis insists that is an emphatic particle, like Arab. Hnna (I have accepted his view on 6:13, but not on 8:4; 14:5); but it cannot be positive and emphatic here unless we also accept his idiosyncratic view of (see n. 13.b). as an emphatic is normally negative (BDB, 50a § 2; GKC, § 149b). Hence Fohrer, Horst, de Wilde translate “I have nothing to hope for,” or “What do I hope for?” But it seems better to contrast the actual expectation lob has ( , v 11) with the impossibility of real hope ( , v 13). 13. b. Gordis, following Yellin and Tur-Sinai, takes as a denominative from “line,” and translates “have marked out my home as Sheol,” patently in order to avoid the apparent platitude of “if I hope . . . where is my hope?” Similarly n e b “If I measure Sheol for my house.” The Comment shows good reason why such a move is unnecessary. 14. a. is to be taken as a concrete object, because it is parallel to the “worm” ( r s v , n e b ) , rather than a personified abstract “corruption” ( r v , n a b , n i v ) . It seems to derive (BDB, KB) from “sink down” rather than “destroy,” though no doubt the Hebrew speaker readily associated it with the latter verb. Andersen, following Tromp, Death and the Nether World, 69—71, would rehabilitate the old translation “corruption.”

Form / Structure / Setting

375

15. a. Lit., “my hope.” Many have found the repetition of 1 improbable. Considering that LXX has 7a áyadá for the second and that the pi verb of v 16 implies two referents in v 15, it is hard to resist the emendation to “my well-being, happiness” (Merx, Duhm, Dhorme, Driver, Fohrer, Horst; j b , n a b ) (cf. in 9:25). Wright’s ^ is much less probable. A. Guillaume rather implausibly attributes an Arabic sense to the word and translates “my steadfast piety” (“The Arabic Background of the Book of Job,” Promise and Fulfilment, ed. F. F. Bruce [Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1963] 113); hence n e b . If the MT stands, the first “hope” is psychological and the second more concrete, the object o f hope, as suits the verb IK)1 “will see.” 16. a. Most probably a fern pi verb, with and of v 15 as subjects. Dahood, followed by Pope, Sicre Diaz, vocalized 3 as a 3 sg with an energic nun; this device is called into play principally to avoid the emendation in v 15. 16.b. as it stands can only be “poles o f” Sheol, which is hardly a natural way of referring to its “gates” ( n i v ) or even their “bars” ( r s v ) . LXX ή ετ' έ οϋ suggests to most that we should emend to “will they [descend] with me” (Duhm, Driver, Fohrer; j b [ ? ] , n e b [ ? ] , n a b [despite Textual Notes on the NAB, 374]). Less attractive is Dhorme’s ^[¡ “is it that by my side,” corresponding to Akk. ina idi. Dahood’s view that it is a contraction of “into the hands o f” (“Northwest Semitic Philology and Job,” 62-63; followed by Pope, Blommerde) has little to recommend it, since the power of Sheol is not especially in view. 16.c. Revocalizing MT “rest” (cf. r v ) to “we shall descend,” as is quite universally done.

Form / Structure / Setting The structure of this fifth speech of Job is not so clear as in other speeches. As often, the direction of address is a helpful clue to structure. In 16:2—5 Job plainly addresses the friends (“you”), in 16:7—14 he addresses no one but speaks of God and his assaults on him (“he” and “I”), in 16:15-17 he speaks only of himself (“I”), in 16:18 he addresses Earth, in 16:19-22 he speaks principally of his witness (“it”), in 17:1—5 he seems to be addressing God (“you” in vv 3—4), in 17:6-10 the friends (“you” in v 10), in 17:11-16 no one. We may then perhaps display the structure thus: A. To the friends B. To himself C. To Earth C'. To God A'. To the friends B . To himself

16:2-6 16:7-17 16:18(?-22) 17:1-5 17:6-10 17:11-16

Fohrer finds, on the basis simply of content, three principal sections: (1) rejection of the friends (16:2-6), (2) controversy with God (16:7-22), (3) lament over his fate (17:1—16). But the structure seems more complex than that. Habel sees the following structure: A. Exordium B. Complaint against God as the Enemy C. Cry of Hope amid Despair B . Complaint against the Friends C . Cry of Despair about Hope

16:1-5 16:6-17 16:18-17:1 17:2-10 17:11-16

It is not clear that 17:2—10 is as a whole concerned with the friends, since the mockers of 17:2, 4 are not the friends, and v 4 is addressed to God. Habel is certainly right to relate the “hope” of 16:18—21 to the “despair” of 16:11—16, though he does not stress clearly enough that the object of hope and despair is the same in each case, Job’s vindication.

376

J o b 16: 1-17: 16

The strophic structure is plain: Strophe

1

16:2-6

3 4

16:12-14 16:15-17 16:18-22 17:1-5 17:6-10 17:11-16

2 16:7-11

5

6 7 8

6 5 4 3 5 5 5 6

lines (v 10 a tricolon)

(v 1 a tricolon) (v 11 a tricolon)

The speech thus exhibits basically the five-line strophe. Strophe 1 is really 5 lines + 1, since v 6 is an appendage to it. Strophe 3 appears according to the MT versification a strophe of 3 lines, vv 12 and 13 being bicola; it seems better, however, to regard vv 12c and 13a as forming one line with the single image of the archer(s). Strophe 8, like Strophe 1, is really 5 + 1, 17:16 being a pendant to 17:15. Inevitably, other strophic divisions remain possible. Webster (“Strophic Patterns,” 45-46) makes them 1 6 :2 -5 ,6 -9 (3 tricola), 10-14, 15-17 in the “poem” o f 16:2-17; 16:18-21, 16:22-17:2, 17:3-7, 8-12, 13-16 in the “lament.” Against this it may be argued that a disjunction between 17:12 and 17:13 is rather weak, and that the assault on the friends of 17:10 sits none too well in a strophe of 17:8—12. Skehan (“Strophic Patterns,” 108-9) finds strophes of 16:2-4b, 4c-6, 7-9b, 9c-12b, 12c-14, 15-17, 1821, 16:22-17:2, 17:3-6 (omitting 5b and making 5a, 6 a tricolon), 7-9, 10-12, 13-16— thus principally three-line strophes, as he finds also for Job’s “reply” to Eliphaz in the first cycle (chaps. 6—8). This is not the most persuasive of Skehan’s analyses, since disjunctions between 16:9b and 9c, and between 16:12b and 12c seem implausible, and the connective “for” ( ) that begins 16:22 argues against the separation of 16:21 and 22. n a b ’s decision to collapse Skehan’s 12 strophes into six (16:2—6, 7—12b, 12c— 17, 16:18-17:2, 3-9, 10-16) is more acceptable. The form of the speech as a whole is again the disputation speech; in this speech Job’s hostility to the arguments of the friends is very evident. The forms drawn upon within the speech are varied (contrast the previous speech, Eliphaz’s in chap. 15, where the forms are derived almost exclusively from wisdom). Here we find materials from the wisdom controversy, from legal controversy, from the lament, and from the cultic sphere. From the wisdom controversy comes some of the matter of the opening strophe (16:2— 6)—which is not surprising since that is the form of the speech cycles of the book. In the sphere of the ridicule of the opponent (which would be also at home in the legal controversy) there is the speaker’s claim that nothing new has been said (16:2a; cf. 9:2a; 12:3c). The argument that the speaker could equally well take his opponents’ place (16:4), implying that because he does not choose to do so he has a stronger case than they, reeks of the atmosphere of the academic disputation. The proverb of 17:5, though obscure in meaning, is a further instance of a wisdom-oriented form. The legal sphere provides the formal background to the crucial verses 16:18-21. The cry of the murdered for blood-vengeance (16:18) belongs of course to a deeprooted form of justice that is hardly judicial; in vv 19—21, however, the image of the “advocate” who presses for a declaration of Job’s innocence is presented with the language descriptive of the lawsuit. By far the greater part of the material in this speech, however, is drawn from the lament. Two principal types of lament here are the “I”-lament and the “enemy”-lament. In the former the speaker laments his pain (16:6, 15-16), his lack of vitality (17:7, 1112), his hopelessness (16:22; 17:1, 13-16). In the latter he protests against the attacks of his enemy, depicted here as an oppressor (16:7-8), an angry beast (16:9), a traitor (16:11), a wrestler (16:12), an archer (16:12c-13a) and a swordsman (16:13b-14). A

Comment

377

se c o n d a r y ta r g e t o f h is p r o te st is th e h u m a n m o ck ers w h o in su lt h im as a m a n u n d e r d iv in e p u n is h m e n t (1 6 :1 0 ; 17 :2 , 4 - 5 , 6). T h e s e m o tifs are fa m ilia r fr o m th e p sa lm s o f la m e n t. A s in th e p sa lm s, th e la m e n ts o f w h a te v e r k in d fu n c tio n as an a p p e a l o r a c c u sa tio n a g a in st th e so u r c e o f th e su ffe r in g , w h ic h is u n d e r s to o d to b e G o d h im se lf. T h e c u ltic sp h e r e p r o v id e s th e m a teria l o f th e o a th o f e x c u lp a tio n a llu d e d to in th e r e fe r e n c e to th e c le a n h a n d s a n d th e p u r e p ra y er (1 6 :1 7 ). T h e f u n c t i o n o f th is s p e e c h is to u r g e a p r o m p t r e sp o n s e fr o m G o d to th e d e m a n d fo r a la w su it m a d e in J o b ’s p r e v io u s s p e e c h (ch ap s. 1 2 -1 4 ) . O n th e trajectory o f J o b ’s d e v e lo p in g a r g u m e n t, th is sp e e c h a d d s n o n e w m a tter to h is c o m p la in t a g a in st G o d , b u t serv es— in th e a b se n c e o f a n y d iv in e r e p ly to h is s u m m o n s in 1 3 :2 2 — to stress th e u r g e n c y o f a rep ly . “S le e p le ss I w ait fo r G o d ’s r e p ly ,” h e says (1 6 :2 0 b ). H e h as n o th in g fu r th e r o f su b sta n c e to lay b e fo r e G od ; his le g a l cry fo r ju s tic e o f ch a p . 13 h as b e e n u tte r e d in h e a v e n ’s p r e se n c e , a n d can n o w b e a ss u m e d to b e a w a itin g its tu rn to b e h ea rd : “it is m y cry th a t is m y sp o k e s m a n . . . it w ill a r g u e a m o r ta l’s ca se b e fo r e G o d ” (1 8 : 2 0 -2 1 ). T h e n o d a l v e r s e s o f th e s p e e c h are th e r e fo r e 1 6 : 1 9 - 2 1 , a ffir m in g J o b ’s a ssu r a n c e th a t all th a t can b e d o n e o n h is sid e to w in h is v in d ic a tio n h as b e e n d o n e , a n d th a t h is “w itn ess is in h e a v e n ” (1 6 :1 9 ). T h e to n a lity o f th e sp e e c h r e se m b le s th a t o f J o b ’s p r e v io u s sp e e c h in c h a p s. 1 2 - 1 4 . T h e r e is th e sa m e c o m b in a tio n o f sarcasm d ir e c te d to th e fr ie n d s at th e o p e n in g ( 1 6 : 2 5), t h o u g h less p u g n a c io u s , less iritellectu alist, a n d th e sa m e h o p e le s s c o n v ic tio n o f th e im m in e n c e o f d e a th at th e c lo se (1 7 : 1 1 -1 6 ). T h e m id d le o f th e sp e e c h e x h ib its a s e lf-p ity in g e x p r e ss io n o f e x h a u s tio n (1 6 :7 ), d r y n e ss (1 6 :8 ), w e e p in g (1 6 :1 6 ), e x tin c tio n o f th e life -fo r c e (1 7 :1 ), d e str u c tio n o f h o p e (1 7 :1 1 ). T h e “la m e n ts ” th a t p r o te st at G o d ’s fe r o c io u s b e h a v io r d isp la y , str a n g e ly e n o u g h , a se n s e o f k e e n vitality o n J o b ’s part; it is as th o u g h w h e n h e c o n sid e r s h im s e lf in his su ffe r in g h is sp irit d r o o p s, b u t w h e n h e c o n sid e r s h o w h is su ffe r in g h as c o m e a b o u t a n d w h a t it p r o v e s a b o u t th e G o d w h o h as c a u se d it h is a n g e r r o u se s h im to fresh é la n . D istin c tiv e in th is sp e e c h are: th e d e fia n t cry to E arth th a t h is d e a th s h o u ld n o t g o u n a v e n g e d (1 6 :1 8 ), a cry o f g r e a t p o te n c y th a t sh o w s J o b ’s m o o d is far fr o m a se ttle d d e p r e ss iv e n e ss ; a n d th e sto lid c o n v ic tio n , e m p h a tic a lly p r e fa c e d (“e v e n n o w b e h o ld ,” ), th a t his p le a is firm ly e n tr e n c h e d in h e a v e n . U n lik e ch a p s. 1 2 - 1 4 th e su b ject m a tter o f th e sp e e c h is p e r siste n tly J o b h im s e lf a n d n e v e r th e su ffe r in g o f h u m a n ity in g e n e r a l; th e r e is n o th in g e le g ia c h e r e , b u t r a th er a n o v e r flo w in g o f th e la n g u a g e o f in ten sity .

Comment 16:1—17:16 This fifth speech of Jo b ’s is the most disjointed of all the speeches in the book up to this point. His previous speeches had built to a climax in chaps. 12—14, where he had formally sum m oned God, in the language of the law court, to disclose the charges against him (13:23). From that point on, Job has nothing novel to say, and essentially waits for God’s reply. The rest of Jo b ’s speeches (here in chaps. 16-17; also 19; 21; 23-24; 26—31) fill out many themes already adum brated in the earlier speeches, but they make no further logical or dramatic developments of importance. This recapitulatory and elaborative character of the speeches may account for their less strongly m arked coherence. There seem to be five major divisions within this speech. (1) In 16:2-6 Job addresses the friends with criticism of their words. (2) In 16:7-17 he begins to soliloquize, first lam enting the attacks of God. (3) In 16:18-22 he envisages the possibilities for vindication. (4) In 17:1—10 the lam ent (which seems to enclose an address to God, vv 3-4) concerns the friends. (5) In 17:11-16 the lam ent concerns his death without vindication.

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T he dom inant m otif in this opening rejection of the foregoing speech(es) by the friends, which we have now come to expect, is that of “words” and their lack of efficacy. In Jo b ’s previous speech, the initial denigration of the opponent had been more sarcastic and aggressive, and was integrated with an assertion by Job of his superior wisdom (12:2-4). T he tone here is m uch less pugnacious, and it is Jo b ’s feeling of helplessness that is evident (v 6), by contrast with the more intellectual confrontation in 12:2—4. It is a sign of the movement inward towards feeling that Job for a m om ent envisages what it must be like to be in the friends’ shoes (v 4); in acknowledging that he would treat them no differently from the way they are treating him he lapses from a mode of angry sarcasm into disappointm ent (cf. 6:15-21). 2 Job evidently replies directly to Eliphaz, at least in the opening lines of this speech. It is unusual to find direct reference to the preceding speech within the Book of Job; and we should not exaggerate the extent to which Jo b ’s speech is directed to refuting that of Eliphaz. A ndersen finds in the structure of this speech a deliberate contradiction to the structure of Eliphaz’s speech, but his analysis is not entirely convincing. In this verse at least it seems that “these” things that Job has often heard (i.e., before the dialogue began) are the conventional picture of the fate of the wicked which Eliphaz has elaborated in 15:20-35. Eliphaz and, by association, all the friends are literally “comforters of woe, trouble” ( ), i.e., comforters who increase trouble instead of m inistering comfort (Rowley). T here does not seem to be any significant allusion to the term “trouble” ( ) in Eliphaz’s last sentence (15:35), despite its proximity, for there it had a moral sense (“wrong”) and here it means m ental suffering (cf. 3:10). Eliphaz had indeed portrayed himself as a channel of (divine) consolation (15:11), and the prologue had designated the friends collectively as “comforters, consolers” (2:11; cf. 7:13; 21:34; 42:11). Job expects of comforters that they will take his part; how can there be sympathy (feeling with) if they position themselves theologically over against him? In a m ore overtly legal context, Job had sneered at the friends for their partisanship of God (13:8), but here, when those legal overtones are absent, he expects them —not entirely unreasonably—to be partisans for him. A professed com forter who will not share one’s point of view but sits in judgm ent on it is indeed a comfortless comforter, or rather, a comforter who increases the sufferer’s distress, a torturer of a comforter. To speak concretely, inasmuch as they have found in Jo b ’s suffering proof of guilt they have only magnified his suffering. T he thought is closely similar to that of 13:4, where also the shape of the line is parallel: “healers of worthlessness, all of you” there, “comforters of woe, all of you” here; the resonance is perhaps designed. 3 Eliphaz has ju st now reproached Job for his “windy knowledge” (15:2), by which he m eant his tem pestuous speech. Job apparently characterizes Eliphaz’s speech as “windy words” in the sense that they are empty and thus lacking any efficacy. Genuine words of comfort are m ore substantial. It is a m atter of some w onderm ent to Job that Eliphaz has chosen to speak again if he has so little to say. In ironic mood, Job determ ines that Eliphaz himself m ust be experiencing some inner agitation, some nervous complaint, that compels him to open his m outh; what can it be that “disturbs” him or “makes him ill” ( , “be ill”)? Attractive though this reading is, it is unusual to find Job addressing ju st 2 -6

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one of his friends, and using the second person singular. So it is perhaps better to see this sentence as put by Job into the m outh of the friends, who have indeed been addressed in the plural (“all of you”) in v 2. This is exactly what we can imagine them saying to him: Is there an end to (your) words of wind, your tem pestuous utterances? T he answer “No!” is expected to the rhetorical question. Or, to put the question differently, W hat has got into you, Job, what disease has infected you, that you must go on answering back? For a previous case where the use of the second person singular marks an imagined address by the friends to Job, see on 12:7-8. It is an even nicer irony (though on the part of the author rather than of his characters) that the friends should now imagine that Jo b ’s angry words must arise from some illness; for that is surely true! On the form of the rhetorical question, in which a negative is perhaps expected, see Gordis’s commentary, and his article, “A Rhetorical Use of Interrogative Sentences in Biblical Hebrew,” AJSL 49 (1933) 212-17. 4 Not for the first time Job compares himself with the friends—to his own advantage. In 7:11 “I also” ( a , as here) cannot restrain my words; in 12:3 “to me also” ( ) there is intelligence at least as high as theirs; in 13:2 “I also” ( ) have insight the equal, or rather the superior, of theirs. This is not the claim of self-importance or arrogance: it is the cry of a disappointed man who has looked for aid—intellectual, moral, or psychic—from outside himself, only to find no more resources in his friends than he already has in himself. W hat they can offer is common coinage; it is not worth offering, for Job himself is already familiar with the conventional modes of consolation. If their places were to be changed, his and the friends, he could so easily offer the same mixture of shallow encouragem ent and superficial criticism as he has been hearing; he does not say that he would speak such words (contrast n j p s ), for then he could hardly complain at the treatm ent he is now receiving (Gordis). “Shaking” or “wagging” the head is a gesture used both in sympathetic m ourning (2:11) and in mockery (2 Kgs 19:21 = Isa 37:22; Ps 22:8 [7]; 44:15 [14]; 109:25; Ecclus 12:18; 13:7; Matt 27:39), as well as an expression of distancing from an afflicted object (Lam 2:15; J e r 18:16; cf. the gesture of laughing, on which see on 12:4). Job plays on the ambiguity: from the friends’ points of view their gesture, like their words, has been sympathetic, but from jo b ’s point of view that same gesture, and those very words, are expressions of scorn; the comforters are torturers (v 3). And that is solely because they insist collectively and individually on interpreting his suffering as divine punishment. 5 W hat he could do is not what he would do. Given the occasion to bring comfort to a sufferer, he would use his words not—as the friends do—to make mere noise (as probably means in v 4) but for the constructive purpose of “strengthening” and “soothing.” Eliphaz has indeed testified to Jo b ’s ability at giving vigor to feeble hands and strengthening failing knees (4:3-4). “Strengthening” ( ) is what comforting is all about (we m ight recollect the etymology of “comfort” from Lat.fortis, “strong,” though that does not tell us what the word is now used to mean); and that is what this powerless man needs, whose strength is not the strength of stones, whose flesh is assuredly not bronze, who has no power in himself at all (6:11-13). Some have thought that the tone here is still ironic (so Peake, Gray, Rowley,

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Hesse); Gray, for example, remarks that “if Job had been turning from irony to a statem ent of what he would actually do, he would not lay stress on mouth and lips. For this reason he rejects the r v “But I would strengthen you with my m outh” (cf. also n i v ) as “virtually an emendation, and a bad one.” But he overlooks the fact that the only consolation that either Job or the friends could conceivably offer is a verbal one, and what is criterial is whether the words spoken are supportive or destructive. T here is no contrast here between words spoken “with the lips” and words “from the heart’ (against Fohrer); on the power of words, cf. on 4:4. We should therefore translate the verbs of this verse as “would strengthen,” “would soothe,” not “could (as r s v , j b , n a b , g n b ).

6 But to what end is all this talk of talk, these words about speaking? Jo b ’s experience is that speech and silence are both alike incapable of assuaging his suffering. He has experim ented with silence and with speech; he has restrained his m outh (2:10) and he has opened it (3:1); he has spoken in the anguish of his spirit (7:11), but he would as well be silent since his own m outh condemns him in God’s presence (9:20). And he has experienced also the friends’ silence (2:13) and their speeches; and he now knows from their speech that their silence was not the silence of sympathy but the amazed silence of horror at the enormity of his crime. Silence and speech from them have been equally ineffectual, equally judgm ental, equally misdirected. Some critics have found the connection of thought difficult. T here can be little doubt that the line is to be taken with what precedes, where the topic is very m uch that of speaking, rather than with what follows (vv 7—14), which is entirely about aggressive actions against Job. But of course the line does not harm onize with the argum ent of vv 4-5, for Job rejects not only the friends’ speech and silence, but no less his own speech and silence. It is quite improbable (against Duhm, Ehrlich, Fohrer) that he should be continuing the depiction of how he would speak if he were in the friends’ place, as if to say, “if I should speak, my pain (= sympathy) would not be withheld (or, assuaged); if I should be silent [and listen], how would I let it leave me?” For it is unnatural to have Job mean by “my pain” the fellow-feeling he would have in a hypothetical setting, when it is more than obvious what his present actual pain is (on “pain, grief,” cf. on 2:13). Job is being difficult to please, of course. He wants consolation, but he also calls it useless. The problem is that even the most determ ined espousal of his perspective on his suffering, even wholehearted cooperation with Job in his assault on heaven, will not satisfy his real need, which is to be pronounced innocent by God and therewith to have the burden of his suffering and his presum ed guilt lifted. T here is nothing the friends can do that will truly alleviate Jo b ’s situation. Nor is it at all probable that the speaking and silence is vis-a-vis God. T hus Gray: “If I say to and of God what I think about his treatm ent of me, it is true He remains deaf to my appeals, and I get no alleviation[;] neither do I, however, when I keep silence; therefore, I will repeat my case against Him .” This reading does establish a connection with the following verses, but there is no reason whatever in the present verse to think that Job has anything but hum an discourse in mind. 7—17 In this strophe we meet with a powerful account of the aggressive

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acts of God against Job. T he transition to this principal topic from the introductory verses concerning the friends and Job (vv 2—6) is m arked by the words “But now” ( ). The ironic and aggrieved tone of vv 2—6 gives way altogether to a lam ent of an oppressed and persecuted man, who thinks to drive home the enormity of his m altreatm ent by drawing up a catalog of assaults as they would be perpetrated by many different kinds of opponent, a wild animal (vv 9—10), a traitor (v 11), a wrestler (v 12), an archer (vv 12c—13a), a swordsman (vv 13b—14). Robert Alter has drawn attention to the depiction here of narrative movement: . . a series of linked actions which, acccording to the poetics of parallelism, are approxim ate equivalents but which prove to be, on closer inspection, logically discriminated actions that lead imperceptibly from one to the next. A sense of tem poral progression is thus produced in a m anner analogous to the illusion of movement created in the cinema, where a series of still photographs flashes on the retina with sufficient speed so that one seems to flow into the next, each frozen m om ent in the visual sequence fusing into tem poral flux” (“From Line to Story in Biblical Verse,” Poetics Today 4 [1983] 615-37 [626]). 7—8 These verses contain many difficulties. T he transition from third person, “h e /it has worn me out,” to the second person, “you have made desolate,” “you have shriveled me u p ,” followed by “he has torn m e” (v 10) is suspicious. T hough many such changes of person are attested in the Hebrew Bible, Gordis goes too far in describing the phenom enon as “virtually normal in biblical Hebrew.” W hether or not there has been corruption of the text here, perhaps through a scribe’s supposing that these verses should have been addressed to God directly, there can be little doubt but that these lines are not principally such an address but a depiction, which we ourselves would most naturally represent by third person verbs throughout. Because the first half of v 7 is short, and v 8 is long, we sometimes find a redivision and emendations along these lines: “But now he has worn me out and made me desolate; my calamity ( instead of , “my company”) has shriveled me up. As a witness it has risen against me; my leanness testifies to my fate” (thus Pope). This fairly cautious reworking has a lot to comm end it, though in the translation given at the head of this chapter a rendering of the MT has been retained. T hough the first verb has no specified subject, it seems clear that it must be God, for the action of “wearing out” ( ), i.e., making weak, exhausted (cf. on 17:1), functions as the accumulated effect of the specific assaults catalogued in the following verses. Some have thought, following the Vulgate, that “my pain” is the subject (e.g., Sicre Diaz), but the fact that the second verb, whether em ended or not, has God as its subject makes this improbable. T he “company” ( ) of Job which God has “devastated” or “ravaged” (ΏΏΙΠ hiph) may be his household, comprising both his children and his servants (so, e.g., Gordis; cf. n j p s “Y o u have destroyed my whole comm unity”; n i v “you have devastated my entire household”). T here can be little doubt that the events of the prologue are presupposed by the dialogue (cf. 8:4), and though the word “company” in 15:34 has referred to the (ideological) group of the godless, it is quite reasonable to give it here a m uch more concrete connotation. It is perhaps most natural to regard the “company” here as Jo b ’s friends, whether those of the dialogue or a wider circle of acquaintances (19:13),

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who have been “made appalled” (as DDCÜ hiph can mean; cf. Ezek 32:10; J e r 49:20; 50:45) by the suffering inflicted on him. There would then be an identity of thought with v 8; in v 7 God so wears him out that his acquaintances are appalled at this signal of divine displeasure; in v 8 God so shrivels him up that his leanness becomes a self-evident proof of his iniquity. Verse 8, despite some uncertainties (reflected in the variant translations of r s v , j b , n e b and n a b , for example), seems to m ean that Jo b ’s emaciated condition, for which God is responsible, serves as proof—to everyone but Job—that Job is a dreadful sinner. His “leanness” is a witness against his innocence so long as the doctrine of exact retribution is operative. Jo b ’s gauntness, of which we hear nowhere else, is hardly to be explained clinically as a result of his skin disease; it is a m ark of his mental suffering, and is perhaps more something felt by Job than observed by his companions. T he thought belongs to that complex of ideas in which fatness signifies prosperity which in turn signifies divine pleasure (cf. 21:23—24; 15:27) and thinness signifies what is dried up, devoid of life. T he psychic sense of being dried up has previously come to expression in the images of the wind-driven leaf and withered straw (13:25) and, by contrast, in the image of the tree whose root decays but may nevertheless burst into new life at the scent of water (14:7—9). Job is helpless against the criticism of his friends if his own physical appearanee is testimony of his wrongdoing. His cause is lost if anything but his own inner conviction of his integrity is taken into account; God, the friends, his speech, his suffering and even his own body are witnesses against him. For false witnesses “arising” ( ), probably specifically rising to speak in the legal process, not ju st a general “rising u p ” against in hostility, cf. Ps 27:12; 35:11; Deut 19:16 (of a champion “arising,” cf. Job 19:25). For “testifying against” ( ), cf. 15:6. 9 God’s attack on him has been that of a wild beast. It is a conventionality of the psalmic lam ent to depict one’s (human) opponents as animals (e.g., Ps 7:3; 10:9; 17:12; 22:13-14 [12-13]), the point of comparison being their superhum an power and death-threatening assault. Not for the first time, Job borrows cultic language depicting enemies to apply to God (cf. 10:16). It is God’s anger that motivates this assault upon him (the them e notably of chaps. 9—10; cf. especially 9:5, 13), tearing him as a lion or wolf tears its prey (Deut 33:20; Gen 49:27; etc.), making his attack incessant ( 1 , cf. Gen 49:23), grinding his teeth, a sure threat to the prey of its im m inent devouring (the gnashing of teeth in rage, not elsewhere attributed to animals; cf. Ps 35:16; 37:12; 112:10; Lam 2:16; Acts 7:54), and piercing him with the sharp look of a m urderous intent. Theriom orphic language about God’s anger is rare, but can be seen in Hos 5:14; 6:1 ( “tear” as here); cf. J. Hem pel, “Jahwegleichnisse der israelitischen Propheten,” ZAW 42 (1924) 74—104 (= BZAW 81 [1961] 1-29). Some want to transfer the third colon to the beginning of v 10, thus creating two couplets in v 10; this suggestion is bound up with the em endation of “my adversary” to “my adversaries,” which is to be rejected (see n. 16:9.c). 10 Now for a m om ent it is not God’s hostility that is catalogued, but hum ans’; they are not specified as the “godless” or “my enemies,” but that is what they obviously are (cf. 24:2 for similar lack of specificity). T here is no real change of subject, for hum an hostility is the direct consequence of divine attack. God

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has m arked Job out as a sinner, so every righteous person feels it a religious duty to take God’s side by affronting Job (cf. the “laughingstock” idea in 12:4). T he language Job uses is of the utmost conventionality: it does not describe with literal accuracy what Job is suffering at the hands of his fellows. It is not easy to determ ine exactly what the attitude of others to Job was (cf. 16:20; 17:6; 19:13-19; 3 0 :1 ,9 -1 4 )—and in any case the only truth we have access to is the poet’s depiction of the feelings of his character Job—but it seems plain that he is drawing upon the traditional language of the psalmic lam ent without precise regard to its applicability. T he “gaping” m outh (for which the terms , as here, and are used) can be an image of the wild beast ready to devour (Ps 22:14 [13]), but more frequently it is a gesture of mockery, probably simply of opening wide the m outh in laughter (Ps 35:21; Lam 2:16; 3:46; Isa 57:4); the latter is more likely here (cf. n i v “open their m ouths to jee r at m e,” as against j b “open gaping jaws,” n a b “bare their teeth to rend m e”). It is a hum an gesture (as against the animal m etaphor of v 9), as the act of smiting the cheeks is a hum an act of derision; though can mean ‘jaw ” as well as “cheek,” the insult is to slap the face, not to give a punch on the jaw (as Andersen thinks); cf. Ps 3:8 [7]; Lam 3:30; Mic 4:14 [5:1]; Isa 50:6; 1 Kgs 22:24; Matt 26:67. Delitzsch rem arked that since slapping the cheeks is itself the insult, “with scorn” must refer to derogatory words that accompany the act. Several commentators have wished to remove vv 9c—11 as a later addition on the ground that these verses depict a plurality of human adversaries (on this view “my adversaries” is usually read in v 9c; cf. n. 16:9.c), whereas vv 9a—b and 12—14 speak solely of God (so Duhm, Driver-Gray, Holscher, Horst, Fohrer, Hesse, de Wilde). But it is equally probable that the action of hum an opponents has been deliberately inserted by the poet within a frame of divine hostility, not so much because the hum an enemies are viewed as the emissaries of God (Gordis) but because God’s humiliation of Job through compelling him to suffer gives those surrounding Job occasion to mock his downfall. 11 The language of the psalmic lam ent is continued. In Ps 31:9 [8] the psalmist thanks God that he has not “yielded him u p ” ( hiph as here) into the hand of his enemy, and in Lam 2:7 the Lord has “yielded” ( hiph) into the hand of the enemy the walls of the palaces of Jerusalem (cf. also Ps 78:48, 50, 62). The ungodly who have Job in their power are not the friends, of course, for however they denigrate Jo b ’s righteousness and fail to recognize the truth about the divine character (cf. chap. 12), they cannot be called godless. But neither are the ungodly to be seen as criminals or oppressors who literally have Job in their power; they are rather any who openly scorn him as a victim of divine displeasure. Job never lets far from his consciousness the thought that such hum an injustice does not arise from purely hum an motivation, but is merely a reflex of God’s willful putting him in the wrong; it is God’s own treatm ent of him that has laid him open to every kind of humiliation at the hands of others. 12a—b At the beginning of the new strophe Job reverts in thought to his form er condition before the hostility of God assailed him. T hroughout vv 12-14 there is one consistent image, that of God as warrior. There is nothing splendidly heroic about such a God, who brings the force of a whole army to bear upon a lone and unsuspecting individual. T he m otif of gross disproportion

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between Jo b ’s crime, whatever it may be (if anything), and God’s vengeance here comes to the surface again. To be “quiet,” “untroubled” (17CÜ) sometimes occurs in a political-military context (1 Chr 4:40; Zech 7:7; of a land or a city; differently in Dan 4:1 [4]); the thought is reminiscent of Ju d g 18:7, 27 where the people inhabiting Laish are said to have been “at ease ( ) and unsuspecting” before they were attacked by the Danites. T he verbs “shattered” and “dashed in pieces” are the reduplicated (pilpel) forms, probably iterative or intensive in force; "Π 9 “shatter” is used in a context of combat in Ps 74:13 (cf. Isa 24:19), and likewise in Hab 3:6 (of a ham m er shattering, J e r 23:29). To “seize” (! ) is of course a normal term in depictions of warfare (Judg 1:6; 12:6; etc.), the “neck” ( ) being the most vulnerable part of one’s fleeing opponent (cf. Gen 49:8 “your hand shall be on the neck of your enemies”; Exod 23:27; Ps 18:41 [40]). G. R. Driver believed that the image in v 12a-b returns to that of the wild beast (as in v 9), and calls upon Arabic cognates to yield meanings for the two reduplicated verbs of “worried” and “m auled” (as of an animal) (VTSup 3 [1955] 78); hence these translations, though in the reverse order, in n e b . But it is preferable to see military imagery consistently throughout those three verses. Fohrer and Hesse saw some allusion to Ps 137:9, “happy shall he be that seizes ( ) your little ones and dashes ( ; cf. here) them against the rock”; but this also misses the image of warfare, for the act against the children is not itself a combat, even though it is carried out in the context of war. 12c—13 T here follow two couplets in which a more specific image of warfare is developed, that of archery. Job is “designated” by God as the m ark (cf. also 7:20) at which his archers are to aim, and they let fly. T hat Job is God’s “target” ( ) does not m ean that the attack is not for real but only practice (as with Jo n ath an ’s archery, 1 Sam 20:20; cf. g n b “uses me for target-practice”); to “set u p ” ( ) a target evidently means to m ark something or someone out as a target (cf. “station, set” a target in Lam 3:12). God as the field com m ander (cf. also 19:12) details his bowmen to concentrate their fire upon Job; they “surround” him, more like a firing squad than a military engagem ent of m atched forces. Peake paints a dramatic picture, which unfortunately rests on the assumption that “target” means only a practice mark: “Having set Job up as a target, God shoots at him, first letting his arrows whistle all about him, thus keeping him in suspense, dreading that every shaft would strike its mark, then sporting with him no longer, but sending every arrow home into his vitals, till he has strewed the ground with them .” T he effect of the archers’ attack—since they act under God’s direction, he personally is the subject of the verbs of v 13—is to strike at the vitals. Ju st as the h u n ter’s arrow pierces ( ) the stag’s liver (Prov 7:23), and God’s arrows are driven into the lam enter’s kidneys ( ) (Lam 3:13), so here also his arrows pierce Jo b ’s kidneys ( ). T he kidneys are at once a most sensitive and vital part of the hum an anatomy and a seat of emotion and affection (cf. BDB); God’s assault on him has been not only lethal but directed against Jo b ’s affections. This is truly the “unkindest cut of all,” and it is wholly appropriate that the narration of it should be accompanied by the phrase “and he was without compassion” ( ). Apparently the verb “to spare” was used in a technical sense of to spare or economize on arrows (cf. J e r 50:14), so

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there is doubtless an ironic double entendre here: in not sparing any arrows but ordering that his bowmen’s quivers be em ptied against Job, God has not been “sparing” Job either. Cf. also 6:10, where it is pain that does not “spare” ( ) Job, and pain that he does not spare himself from undergoing. Parallel to the kidneys is the “gall” ( ; cf. 20:25), the secretion of the liver, which God “spills” or “pours out” on the ground as he punctures the gall bladder with his arrows. This organ too has a symbolic significance, for “gall” or bile has always been known as something bitter (the term is derived from the root “be bitter”). If the affections and sympathies are assaulted, it is bitterness that spills out. 14 T he final military image is of the ultimate stage in any assault on a city: the breaching of its walls and the storming in of the enemy troops. After the archery that assails him from a distance (in 12c from the archer’s perspective, in 13b—c from the target’s) comes the nearer approach of his enemy to batter on his very self. Job is the besieged city, God the storm trooper intent upon breaching his defenses. For the imagery, cf. 30:14; Ps 80:13 [12]; 89:41 [40]; Amos 4:1; 1 Kgs 11:27; Isa 5:5; N eh3:35 [4:3]. First God acts like an overwhelming army, inflicting one breach after another upon the city’s walls (for the idiom, cf. “disaster upon disaster,” Je r 4:20). T hen he acts like a champion in single-handed combat, like a Goliath or “mighty w arrior” ( ; cf. 1 Sam 2:4; Je r 46:12; Hos 10:13) rushing upon his individual foe (for the realia, see R. de Vaux, “Les combats singuliers dans l’Ancien Testam ent,” Bib 40 [1954] 495-508 [= “Single Combat in the Old Testam ent,” in The Bible and the Ancient Near East (tr. J. McHugh; Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1971) 122—35]). The sack of the city has one m an’s defeat as its object. Job is both the city and its lone inhabitant; the flow of the imagery mirrors the onward rush of the invader. Eliphaz has depicted the ungodly m an “running” ( ) as a warrior against God; whether or not Job deliberately reverses that depiction, he here affirms the contrary in his own case: the aggression is all from God’s side, it is God who makes the “running” ( ). In every other passage where God is called a “mighty warrior” ( ), it is his salvific power that is being hym ned (Isa 42:13; J e r 20:11; Zeph 3:17; Ps 24:8; 78:65). Here, in a shocking reversal of Israelite piety, he has the character of the enemy of the psalmists, the mighty m an who boasts of mischief done against the godly (Ps 52:3 [1]; cf. 124:4, where the “w arrior” is specifically an archer). 15 Job reverts now from the catena of m etaphors depicting the assaults of God and hum ans upon him (vv 7—14) to the description of his present state that was being given in v 6. T he subject is now not the immediate effects of the attacks upon him, but the necessity for lam entation that they impose upon him. His response to these unjustified assaults has not been to resist or defend himself in like m anner; but with words and tears he will argue for his disregarded rights (cf. vv 18, 20-21). T he language of the horn laid in the dust is metaphorical, of course; so also is that of the sackcloth being “stitched over the skin.” T he prose narrative of Job, it is true, never speaks of him wearing sackcloth; but the death of his children would make it unnatural to suppose that he was not wearing this most conventional symbol of m ourning. Opinions differ over whether the garm ent of sackcloth was a large piece of cloth in essentially the shape of a grain sack (cf. references to being “covered” or “clothed” with sackcloth, 2 Kgs 19:1-

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2; 1 Chr 21:16; Esth 4:2—3; Ps 69:12 [11]; Isa 37:1—2) or a smaller garm ent in the form of a loincloth (cf. references to girding the loins with sackcloth, 2 Sam 3:31; Isa 15:3; 22:12; J e r 4:8). T here are no other references to sackcloth being stitched, and indeed it seems unlikely that m uch stitching would be involved in making such a simple garm ent, and less likely still that the m ourner would represent himself as stitching the sackcloth for his own m ourning. Either Job means that, speaking metaphorically, he has stitched himself into his garb of m ourning in that (like Jacob, Gen 37:34-35) he never expects to take it off before the day of his own death, or else that, in a m ore striking m etaphor, he has sewn the garm ent onto his very skin, so perm anent and inseparable from his being have grief and its symbols become. Certainly, the phrase does not refer to some concrete reality, as J. V. Kinnier Wilson thought when he saw in it a reference to the coarse, rough skin of a sufferer from pellagra, supposedly Jo b ’s illness (“Leprosy in Ancient M esopotamia,” RA 60 [1966] 47-58 [56]). This ritual of m ourning is properly a ritual of self-abasement. T he m ourner, in a display of psychic affinity with the one dead, wants to signify his own absolute loss of worth (cf. on 1:20), and so dresses himself in cloth of the cheapest quality, fit rather for bagging objects than for hum an adornm ent. Jo b ’s m ourning is of course not only for his dead children but perhaps even more for himself; for he has suffered a dissolution of powers and a disruption of relationships akin to what may be expected in death itself, and his longing for death, so often expressed, has been not so m uch a suicidal wish for release from unendurable suffering as a desire to move wholly into that realm of Sheol which has already laid so enfeebling a hold upon him. In parallel with the clothing of self-abasement is the wholly m etaphorical action of “thrusting his horn in the dust.” T he image may perhaps be of the wounded bull that droops its head and sinks its horn into the ground (Pope, de Wilde), but is perhaps rather merely the reverse of the m ore frequent image of exalting the horn, as of a bull or wild ox, a m etaphor of heightened power, pride, or status (1 Sam 2:1; Ps 75:5-6 [4-5]; 89:18 [17], 25 [24]; 92:11 [10]; 112:9; 148:14); the reverse is usually expressed as horns being cut off (Jer 48:25; Ps 75:11 [10]) or cast down (Zech 2:4 [1:21]). T he symbolism here goes further, however. It is not ju st that Jo b ’s standing in his community as an exemplary righteous man has been overturned, but that it has m erged with the dust, which signifies both his abasem ent and also the context of m ourning, dust being upon the heads of the m ourners (2:12; and cf. Lam 3:29, “m outh in the dust”). 16 Jo b ’s weeping, though no doubt real enough, is here primarily m etaphorical of his grief (see further T. Collins, “T he Physiology of Tears in the Old Testam ent: Part I,” CBQ 33 (1971) 18-38 [36]). His red cheeks are very possibly not discernible by the natural eye, but the grief which they signify cannot be mistaken. Equally, the darkness of death upon his eyelids can be perceived only by the inner eye. T here is a physical correlate of these psychic realities, but the essential fact is Jo b ’s sensation that the outcome of the divine (or divinely engineered) assaults upon him is to put him within the sphere of the influence of death, its deep darkness already weighing down upon his eyelids. More naturalistic interpretations of this verse are commonly advanced: David

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son, for example, remarks that involuntary weeping is said to be a symptom of elephantiasis, identified by many as the skin disease from which Job is suffering (cf. on 2:7). And the English versions tend to eliminate “death” from the term “darkness of death” ( ; cf. on 3:5; 10:21; 12:22), presumably because death is not physically visible, and to translate “my eyelids” ( ) by “my eyes” because literally speaking it is eyes and not eyelids that become dark ( n i v “deep shadows ring my eyes”). Yet however valid these readings may be, the symbolism reaches deeper. W hat happens to a man whose eyelids are shadowed over by the darkness of death is not simply that he does not look a pretty sight but that he can no longer with ease “see the light,” which is to say, live. He is already beginning to experience the gloom of the land of deep darkness that he is bound for (10:21—22). 17 A crucial point here is how the conjunction ca/ ( ) is to be translated. Commentators and m odern versions are unanim ous in translating “although [on my palms there is no violence],” which means that what Job is suffering is contrasted with the absence of any moral grounds for such suffering. T here are, however, no convincing parallels for taking this common conjunction as anything other than “because” (cf. on 10:7; 34:6). T hat is to say, we have here the reason why Job is grief-stricken: it is not the loss of his children or his own pain, but the fact of his innocence. The contrast is not between the weeping and the innocence, but between the divine assaults (of vv 7-14) and the innocence. His weeping results from God’s refusal to acknowledge his innocence. T he interesting similarity with Isa 53:9 “because he had done nonviolence ( " ) and there was no deceit in his m outh” is not to be explained as a case of dependence of one text on the other, but more probably as a m atter of common dependence on a ritual declaration of innocence, probably in the cult, and perhaps in the ritual of the ordeal (cf. also 1 Chr 12:17 [18]). T he palms ( ) are often thought of as signifying innocence, if they are clean (cf. 9:30; 31:7; Ps 7:4 [3]; Gen 20:5; contrast Isa 59:3); a righteous person has clean palms and a pure heart (Ps 24:4), washes the palms in innocence (Ps 26:6; 73:13), and is delivered through the cleanness of the palms (Job 22:30). Violence ( ) can be “on” or “in” the palms (Isa 59:6; Jonah 3:8), since it is the work of hum an hands, and so too is its contrary, the absence of violence, or rather, “non-violence.” The hyphenation of the words “non” and “violence,” and the use of the negative rather than , show that the contrary of violence is regarded as a positive entity, a goal capable of pursuit, and not ju st the mere absence of violence. T he servant of Yahweh in Isa 53 has “practised non-violence” ( " ), while Job bears the (non-)marks of non-violence upon his palms. O f course violence is not the only form of wrongdoing, but it powerfully symbolizes all kinds of wrong. is properly not ju st acts of physical violence but also “abandonm ent of an order laid down or guaranteed by God” (G. von Rad, Old Testament Theology [tr. D. M. G. Stalker; Edinburgh: Oliver and Boyd, 1962] 1:170; cf. H. J. Stoebe, TH W AT 1:58387), “unscrupulous infringem ent of the personal rights of others, motivated by greed and hate and often making use of physical violence and brutality” (H. Haag, TDOT 4:478-87 [482]). Some critics of a form er generation thought it strange that “my prayer” should be parallel to the absence of violence (so e.g. Gray), and proposed emendations to “my way” (see n. 16:17.b); but since the point at issue is not

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primarily the contrast between Jo b ’s grief and his innocence, but between God’s treatm ent of him and his innocence, it is only right that he should make his religious purity a principal part of his complaint. Jo b ’s protestation of innocence is an implicit response to Eliphaz’s charge in 15:4—5, and Bildad’s assumption in 8:6, that Job is not already pure ( T, as here) and upright. It would be wrong, however, to imagine that Jo b ’s language is generated by his friends’ criticisms; in this regard they do nothing but embody an interpretation of his distress that Job is the first to recognize: that is, his suffering is a testimony against his innocence (v 8). W hat is ironic is that he, the practitioner of non-violence, has been set upon by a hostile God (vv 9, 12— 14), and as an undefiled man of piety, pure of hands, has been abandoned by God to the vile hands of the wicked (vv 10—11). 18—22 T he legal challenge to God that he will declare the bill of particulars against Job (13:20-23) still stands unsatisfied. Job does not abandon that approach, but here adopts a second line of argum ent in his attem pt to win redress. In that he has been attacked by God (vv 7-14), with consequences that will no doubt prove fatal, he appeals for blood vengeance to be wreaked—upon God!—on his behalf by a heavenly “vindicator.” A difficulty in the text that will need resolving is that v 18a seems to envisage Jo b ’s death before his vindication, whereas v 22 assumes that Job dem ands vindication before his death, and that the nearness of his death is a reason why vindication is urgent. 18 Job is not yet dead, but he expects the sufferings he presently endures to prove mortal, as we have already heard (7:7,21b; 10:20-22; cf. 14:1-2). T he course of events up to this point leaves him little hope for vindication this side of death. W hen he had first ventilated the question of winning vindication from God (9:2) he had immediately concluded that the task was hopeless (9:3, 14—16, 19—20). But he nevertheless determ ined to em bark upon it, and formally called upon God to tell him what the crimes were for which a penalty was being exacted (13:23). But heaven has rem ained silent, and any hope of eventual reconciliation with God is an impossible dream (14:13—17). Jo b ’s imminent death will put paid to any hope of his seeing his own vindication; but his innocent death will nevertheless dem and satisfaction. Earth and heaven, the “sleepless watchers of m en’s actions and guardians of ancient covenants” (Andersen; cf. Isa 1:2) must be pressed into service in the cause of establishing his innocence—even if posthumously. (Earth is addressed in J e r 6:19 and Mic 1:2 in a different context.) It is something of a difficulty for this reading that v 22—if it is rightly connected with the preceding verses—suggests that it is only vindication before death that interests Job and that the imminence of his death is a reason for urgency in pressing for vindication. However, v 18b cannot be a cry for thisworldly vindication (as against Fohrer) because it assumes Jo b ’s death: Jo b ’s blood must be spilled before it can be avenged! T he solution to the difficulty is this: the urgency is not for vindication itself but for setting in train the processes of vengeance. Job must cry to earth now, and m ust affirm the existence of a testimony in heaven to his own innocence now, for soon he will be dead, and then it will be too late forever. A posthum ous vindication will be small comfort to Job who in Sheol will know nothing but feel only his own pain and grieve only for himself (14:22). But Jo b ’s own sense of justice is so affronted—indeed, the moral order of the universe is so threatened—by his innocent death that justice must sooner or later be satisfied.

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T he thought behind the cry to earth, “Cover not my blood,” is that the spilled blood of an innocent person cries out to God for vengeance, at least so long as the blood remains uncovered (Gen 4:10; 37:26; Isa 26:21); in Ezek 24:7—8 the guilt of Jerusalem remains to be punished because the blood shed in it (by violence, m urder) has lain upon the unabsorbent rock and not upon the earth where it could be covered with dust. T here may be vestiges of a dynamistic view of the power of blood behind the language; but it is equally susceptible of explanation as m etaphor. So long as the evidence of m urder remains visible, so long is there a case to be answered and a culprit to be apprehended. Job, born from the earth (cf. 1:21) and destined to lie in it (7:21), touches the roots of hum an existence when he calls on the earth to allow no covering up of his m urder at the hands of God. Spilled blood that has not been avenged by a hum an kinsman must of course necessarily cry to God for vengeance (Gen 4:10); here it is not at all God himself who is the kinsman avenger, for God is the m urderer, but a figure who will take up his case before the heavenly court (see v 19). On “blood,” see B. Kedar-Kopfstein, TDOT 3:234—50, and literature cited there. T he “cry” is here not a cry for deliverance (as against Fohrer) but is wholly explanatory of the cry for vengeance in v 18a (the verb is similarly used of the cry for vengeance by Abel’s blood, Gen 4:10). / does often signify a cry for help, often for help against “violence” ( , cf. v 17), as, e.g., in Hab 1:2 and J e r 20:8, but here Job expects no deliverance from '4s suffering, and focuses exclusively upon his need for a post-mortem vindication. May his appeal never rest, “let the cry of it wander through the world” (Moffatt), until vindication is won. On the “cry,” cf. G. Hasel, TDOT 4:112-22; R. Albertz, TH W AT 2:568-75. 19 By saying that “even now” ( ) he has a “witness” to his character in heaven, Job must be m eaning that his vindication need not wait upon his death. Heaven already knows the facts about his innocence, and could clear his name here and now if it wanted to. Who or what is this “witness”? A “witness,” as Davidson rem arked, “does not m ean merely one who knows Jo b ’s innocence, but one who will testify to it and see it recognised”; who in heaven plays thac role? Many would say, God. All agree that in the end that is who Jo b ’s effectual “witness” will turn out to be (cf. 42:7—8), but is that what Job thinks now? If it is, Job would be expressing a subtle thought, that God is both his unprincipled assailant and his ultimate avenger against that very assailant. On this view, God will rise up as “witness” against God, and avenge the Job he will not give justice to (similarly Dhorme, Rowley, Fohrer). Thus, it may be said, “Job appeals, against the enemy God whose destructive activity he has ju st now described, to the selfsame God in his character as witness and surety of the pious” (Hesse). But even if we could allow such paradoxes we may well ask, W hence comes this confidence in Job? Everything we have heard from Job previously has displayed a striking lack of confidence in God’s will to repair the damage he has done to Job, and nothing in his present speech suggests that he has had any second thoughts about that. It is even more upsetting for the identification of the “witness” as God that in v 21 it seems that the witness’s function is to mediate between God and mortals (see further on v

2 1)· And yet, it is hard to believe that, if the witness is not God, it can be some

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other heavenly being. Eliphaz has scoffed at the idea that there could be any heavenly being who might extricate Job from the nexus of retribution (5:1), and Job himself probably believes that Eliphaz is in the right. An even more crucial sentence on the subject is Jo b ’s own unequivocal statem ent (in the form of a wish contrary to fact) that there is no m ediator who could stand between God and a hum an being and lay his hand in reconciliation upon them both (9:33). Such a role is very close, if not identical, to the function of the effectual witness here, and Job has had no new revelation about the heavenly bureaucracy to make him believe now that there is such a person. As against J. B. Curtis, “O n Jo b ’s Witness in Heaven,” /# L 102 (1983) 549-62, there is no reference here to a personal god who will prosecute Jo b ’s cause against the high god (see also n. 16:20.a). T he fact is (so it may be suggested) that there is no personal “witness” in heaven. W hat is in heaven “now” and had not been before the dialogue began is Jo b ’s own protestation of innocence and his formal deposition that requires God to give an account of himself, (j b “My own lam ent is my advocate before God” is on the same lines; but it is not precisely his lament but rather his affirmation of innocence that stands as his witness in God’s presence.) By addressing himself to heaven Job has ensured, even though he has not been answered and expects no answer in his lifetime, that the truth about his innocence has been placed on record in the heavenly court. It is lodged there, and remains Jo b ’s perpetual witness to his character. His shed blood, his m urder by God, when it happens, will be the final piece of evidence that he has been victim of a miscarriage of justice. See also on the “cham pion” of 19:25. 20 Despite the extreme difficulty of the Hebrew, a coherent sense may be discerned. T he them e of the heavenly “witness” continues, only now the witness is called an “interpreter” or “m iddlem an,” a spokesman ( as in Gen 42:23; 2 Chr 32:31; Isa 43:27; Ecclus 10:2; and especially Job 33:23, where the spokesman is a heavenly being). This spokesman represents Jo b ’s cause, and continues to press for a declaration of his innocence from God. And who is this spokesman? God himself has no interest in the case or in the question of Jo b ’s righteousness; and there is no heavenly m ediator or um pire who can act on God’s behalf (9:33). It is only Jo b ’s own cry, his “clamant word” (Dhorme), as seems to m ean here (see n. 16:20.a), that can speak for him, and that is what is happening in the heavenly sphere whether or not anyone there is interested in listening. It is his cry for justice, his legal cry of chap. 13, which now pleads for him; it is not the cry for vengeance of v 18, which will not be heard until his death. Job has no hope for vindication, either before or after death, but that does not m ean that he has no right to it nor that he will cease dem anding it. Until his right is won Job waits in sleepless anticipation. He does not “pour out tears” (r s v , n i v ) to God in entreaty nor even now weep because o f the pain he endures (contrast v 16); rather he is ever watchful and alert for the recognition he deserves—even though he believes he has no hope of attaining it! Like the eyes of servants that look to the hand of their master, like the eyes of the maid to the hand of her mistress (Ps 123:2), Job looks to God— though not for mercy; for justice, rather. 21 T he purpose and consequence ( has final waw) of the entry of Jo b ’s cry into the presence of God is that it will continue to argue a m ortal’s

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case in the divine sphere ju st as a man could argue his own case in the hum an realm. Job cannot enter heaven, he cannot by force bring God into legal debate with himself, he cannot find him or come to his seat (23:3), but he can put his deposition (13:23) on record—not with an iron pen and lead admittedly (19:23-24)—and let it plead his case for him (on “argue,” cf. on 13:3). He has no confidence that God will listen (9:16; contrast 19:25), but the words of challenge to God have been spoken and cannot now be withdrawn. They have a kind of independent existence of their own; they are facts, they exist whether or not Job himself exists. And they, poor substitute though they are for a personal confrontation with God, will have to carry his case forward. This interpretation of the verse thus develops the picture of the “spokesm an” in the immediate context (vv 19—20), and does the best justice to the syntax of the verse. T he spokesman “argues” ( ) “on behalf of a m an” ( ), who is Job, “in his dispute with God” (lit., “with God,” ); that arguing is comparable with (“and” of comparison; see n. 16:21.a) the arguing of “a m an” ( ), any man, “on behalf of his friend” ( ). Com pare n i v “on behalf of a m an he [my intercessor] pleads with God as a man pleads for his friend”; j b “Let this plead for me as I stand before God, as a man will plead for his fellows”; similarly Pope. In the first half of the verse there are three parties, the man, his advocate, and the opponent; in the second half there are two, the man and his advocate. Many, however, have seen the dispute there as between the man and his “neighbor” ( can be “friend” or “fellow”); so r v , r s v , n e b , n a b , n j p s , Duhm, Driver-Gray, Dhorme, Horst, Weiser, Fohrer, Rowley, Gordis, Hesse, Terrien, Sicre Diaz and Alonso Schokel). This is an implausible reading because it is not the heavenly advocate (no m atter its identity) that decides between a m an and his neighbor, and because “for his neighbor” more naturally parallels “for a m an” in the first half of the line. T he view that the “neighbor” in question is one of the friends (Eliphaz, according to Peake) or the friends viewed collectively (Gray) fails on the same grounds, as also on the fact that Job is not engaged in a legal suit with the friends as he is with God. Those who believe the heavenly witness of v 19 is God are compelled to see here Job putting his trust in a God who will plead Jo b ’s case against God himself, a “daring thought,” says Rowley, but an improbably paradoxical one rather. Fohrer, believing that Job “demands of God that he should give thought to his own character and recognize his true duty as protector of justice,” suggests that Je r 31:20 and Hos 11:8-9 offer parallel statements about God; but in both those cases the tension is portrayed as God’s own expression of the compel· ing desires he feels within himself. T hat is very different from the situation here; for if Job should give over the prosecution of his case to the God he has uniformly depicted as hostile to him he would abandon it forthwith. And that is impossible for him to do. 22 It is because of his imm inent death that Job has had to set his “cry” (v 20) on record now. If he had left it much longer there would have been no legal case to be answered by God, nor any cry for vengeance (v 18) ascending to heaven after his death. The urgency that provokes the reference to the “few years” is not Jo b ’s impatience for vindication, but his certainty that anything he can do to clear his name will have to be done in the short space of time before his death.

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It is strange to hear Job speaking of “years,” even “few years” (lit., “years of num ber”), that rem ain of his life, when on other occasions he has given us the impression that he regards his life as effectively over, his days having reached their end, with no thread left (7:6), his days a m ere breath (7:16); soon he will lie in the dust (7:21); his days have fled away m ore swiftly than a courier (9:25); they are few (10:20). Em endations are unsatisfactory, and we must simply accept that Job regards his diseases as not immediately fatal, though doubtless mortal (Davidson). T he way along which he will not return is of course the path to Sheol, perhaps conceived of as the way on which the corpse is carried to the burial place. T he phrase is paralleled in a Babylonian hymn to Tam m uz, uruh Id tari, “the road with no retu rn ” (H. Zimmern, Sumerisch-babylonische Tamüz-Lieder [Leipzig: Teubner, 1907] 204, no. 1, line 12); cf. the Babylonian phrase for the underw orld, irsit Id tdri, “the land of no retu rn ” (AN ET, 106), and see Job 7:9-10; 10:21. 17:1—16 Job has confidence in the rightness of his cause, but he has no expectation that he will live to see his innocence vindicated. As in all his previous speeches, he moves in the end to the contem plation of death, for that is the one certainty in his future, and he feels its near approach. T he whole of this chapter revolves about the contrast of “hope” and “death”: in v 1 the absence of hope is expressed by the language of the imminence of death, in vv 13—16 its absence is explained by his feeling of being kin with death. T here is, intermixed with these prevailing expressions of hopelessness, some caustic criticism of the friends and the sanctimoniously righteous in general; the train of thought is at several points obscure, and the exact sense of several lines rem ains a mystery. 1 Job does not regard himself as being literally and physically on the point of death, if we have rightly understood 16:22, where he envisages some years of life still ahead of him. But quite apart from his physical suffering, which appears irremediable and which can lead only to death w hether sooner or later, he is psychologically in the grip of death. For however vociferous his protestation of innocence, every external reality—God, his friends, hum anity at large, the teachings of wisdom, and even his own physical appearance (16:8)— are ranged against him as witnesses of his guilt; and the unequal conflict in which he is willy-nilly involved has so sapped his pyschic energy that he experienees a living death. His life-force is no more literally spent than is his grave already dug; but what matters the banal literal truth when the reality that constantly imposes itself upon him is his sense of being already dead? His spirit ( ) is “crushed” ( pu, lit., “destroyed”); this does not simply m ean that he has lost hope, as r s v , n a b , n i v “my spirit is broken” may suggest. Rather, the is the life-force, breath as expressing the dynamic vitality of hum ankind (R. Albertz and C. W esterm ann, TH W AT 2:726-53 [735]). T he can be “low” (79IÜ, Isa 57:15 [not “hum ble”]), “crushed” ( , Isa 57:15 [not “contrite”]; Ps 34:19 [18]), “sm itten” ( , Prov 15:13; 17:22; 18:14), “broken” ( , Isa 65:14; Ps 51:19 [17]; Prov 15:4), and “dim ” or “faint” ( , Isa 61:3; Ezek 21:12 [7]). T he present usage belongs with this group as signifying a loss of élan expressed metaphorically as a stam ping out of the life-force. The image of life as something intrinsically weak, that can be crushed out of existence, we have m et before in 4:19; 5:4; 6:9 ( ; cf. also 19:2;

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34:25), and 9:17 (11 Ü). To the same effect is the image of the days being “snuffed out” ( only here, a by-form of , used of the light of the wicked being extinguished in 18:5, 6; 21:17; Prov 13:9; 20:20; 24:20, and of enemies being extinguished and “quenched like a wick” in Isa 43:17; in Job 6:17 it referred, unusually, to waters being dried up). Darkness is closing in upon him, a foretaste of the darkness of death (cf. on 16:16, and on the imagery bound up with light and darkness, cf. 3:4-6, 9, 16,20,23; 5:14; 10:21-22; 11:17; 15:22,23,30). 2 T he glance at the mockery that surrounds him forms a reason for his loss of spirit. For Job to endure mockery, which is specifically a castigation of him as a hypocrite and a denial of his righteousness (cf. on 12:4—5), is a debilitating experience. He does not refer particularly to the friends of the dialogue as his mockers, but to any whom he has previously counted as his friends (as at 12:4). Nor is it to be supposed that the mockery he endures is necessarily expressed in any gross form (though cf. 30:1-15); he takes it for granted that the company of the godly must be despising him, as he himself had no doubt in happier times despised those whom suffering had m arked out in his eyes as the wicked. T he weak and the stumbling he supported (4:3-4), indeed, but as one of the wise he must have shared the common belief in that very retributive justice from whose operation he is now—in the eyes of others— smarting. His reference to the “mockery” and “antagonism ” that surrounds him is the language of the lam enting psalmist. It is different in the ideology of wisdom, where the “mockers” or “scoffers” are the wicked who scorn right behavior (Prov 1:22; 9:7; 14:6; Ps 1:1; etc.; and so Zophar regards Job, 11:3). In the idiom of lament, however, mockery is usually the response of the wicked to the distress of the righteous (Ps 22:8 [7]; 35:15-16; cf. Job 12:4 q.v.). T he idea of the weariness that results from sustained weeping also has its home in the lam ent ( , Ps 6:7 [6]; 69:4 [3]; cf. also Job 16:7 [ , as here]). 3 If all around him are mockers, who insist on regarding him as justly punished, the only quarter in which he can protest his innocence is toward heaven. T hough he does not name God, and though these verses are probably the only address to God in the speech (though see on 16:7—8), it does seem that vv 3—4 are indeed directed toward God. His way of affirming his innocence now is to offer a “pledge” which will be forfeit if he is proved guilty. A pledge ( , also , , or ) was a piece of personal property, such as a ring or garm ent, which a borrower would deposit with his creditor as a guarantee that he would repay his debt (cf. Gen 38:17, 18, 20; Deut 24:1014; Exod 22:25-26 [26-27]). A person also could be a “surety” and be held legally responsible for the debt of another; such a surety could be a child, whose labor would pay off the debt if it were defaulted on, or else it could be a brother (cf. Gen 43:9; 44:32, where Ju d ah is surety for the life of Benjamin) or any well-wisher (cf. Prov 6:1; 11:15; 17:18; 20:16; 22:26; 27:13, where one is warned not to become a surety for others). See G. A. Barrois, “Debt,” “Surety,” IDB 1:809-10; 4:446; A. Abeles, “Der Burge nach biblischem Recht,” MGWJ 66 (1922) 279-94; 67 (1923) 35-53. Job has not incurred a debt, but he has been assaulted by God (16:7—14)— which is prima facie evidence of guilt. He is in the unenviable position of having no one, on earth or in heaven, who will take his side and offer himself

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as a guarantor of his innocence. Only he himself, and his declarations of innocence (cf. 16:17a), can serve as guarantors (it is not his suffering that is his pledge, as Dhorme thinks); for no one else will let himself be used as a surety, or will offer a pledge on Jo b ’s behalf (v 3b). T herefore he must ask God to accept him as his own guarantor—a very unlikely possibility, but Job has no alternative. O f course, those who saw in 16:19, 21 an allusion to God taking sides against himself, the God of mercy in conflict with the warrior God, are inclined to find here an appeal to God to be himself the guarantor for Job ( n e b “Be thou my surety with thyself”; n j p s ; similarly Fohrer, Rowley, et al.); but it would be whistling in the dark for Job to hope that the hostile God he has experienced would play that protective role; it is adventurous enough for him to dem and that his affidavit of innocence should be allowed to plead his case at the heavenly court, whether or not he Job is still alive (cf. 16:21-22). Thus j b ’s translation is to be followed: “You [yourself] must take my own guarantee.” It needs to be stressed (against Horst) that the purpose behind the m otif of the pledge here is the eventual declaration of Jo b ’s innocence; it is not to be viewed as some kind of bail money that will lift the wrath of God from him at least temporarily. For although Job longs here and now to be free of divine suffocation and assault (7:16b, 19; 9:34; 10:20b; 13:21; 14:21b) he longs even more to have his name cleared (9:2; 10:2; 13:15b, 23)—even though he has no real hope that he will live to witness such an event. 4 T he reason why no one will take Jo b ’s part but will one and all abandon him to his fate is that all who know him (not ju st the three friends of the dialogue) have lost their reason. And that can hardly be their fault entirely. For if they cannot accept the truth about him that he is a misjudged and innocent man, the explanation can only be that a hostile God has deliberately isolated him from the natural sympathy he could have expected. At 6:15—21 he had blamed the friends for their lack of fellow-feeling and loyalty, but now he believes he has hit on the explanation for their failure as friends: their reason has been perverted by God. T he MT, “you have hidden their heart from understanding,” uses the figure of hypallage for “you have hidden understanding from their heart.” The m otif drawn upon is that of God’s blinding the eyes or hardening the heart or otherwise depriving people of their natural senses (cf. Isa 6:10; 44:18; Job 39:17). T he understanding Jo b ’s acquaintances lack is of Jo b ’s true innocence; to recognize that and affirm it, despite the evidence against it, has been called by Job a sign of wisdom higher than that possessed by his friends (12:3; 13:2). It is far from clear how God’s closing hum an minds to understanding forms any reason ( , “therefore”) why God will “not let them triu m p h ” (r s v , etc.) over Job. Why should God prevent others from recognizing Jo b ’s righteousness (presumably through their attachm ent to the doctrine of exact retribution), yet ensure that their mockery of Job (v 2) as unrighteous should fail? And why, especially, should the fact that God has done the form er be a reason why he should do the latter? It must be said that a completely unm otivated expression of confidence in God’s ultimate defense of him against all comers seems out of place in Jo b ’s m outh at this point. And the verb itself, “not let them trium ph, or, exult” seems strange in reference to those who “surro u n d ” him (v 2); it would not even be completely appropriate in reference to the

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outcome of the disputation of the three friends. For these reasons it seems better to take the phrase ( ) as m eaning “you [God] will not be (or, are not) exalted, glorified,” viz. God’s honor is not advanced by his engagem ent of bands of “mindless” scoffers in his assault on Job. 5 The best interpretation of this obscure verse is to take it as a popular proverb of the boastful m an who calls his friends to a banquet when his larder is so empty that his children are starving. But who is the “he” against whom the proverb is directed? All those who mock Job claim to have knowledge of the true situation, but their intellectual cupboard is bare, for their minds have been closed. But it is also possible that it is God who is represented as the boaster who summons his “friends,” i.e., all who take the side of retributionist dogma, to luxuriate in righteous indignation against Job, whereas the “children” (viz. Job!), to whose support God should be committed, are starved of what they most need, which is hope (similarly Budde, Kissane, Fohrer). For the idiom, “the eyes fail,” cf. on 11:20. 6 The verse returns to the them e of v 2, while the next verse resumes the them e of v 1. T here may be some contrast between the rightful expectation Job could have had of support from God (v 5) and the reality of being turned loose and exposed to mockery (so Fohrer). T he form of the lam ent is drawn upon again to present Jo b ’s distress. T he lam enter in the Psalms depicts himself as a byword ( , masal) among the wicked, the topic of conversation among those who sit idly at the city gate and the butt of the mocking songs of drunkards (Ps 69:12-13 [11-12]; cf. 44:15 [14], a communal lament, where the “byword” is parallel to “a shaking of the head” [cf. on Job 16:4]). “Job comes to rank among neighbouring peoples, to whom the story of his sufferings spreads, as a great sinner, so that they say ‘as great a sinner as Jo b ’” (Gray); for similar phrases, cf. 30:9; Deut 28:37; 1 Kgs 9:7; 2 Chr 7:20; J e r 24:9. His ill fame spreads beyond his own acquaintance to the “peoples” ( ); cf. n e b “a byword in every land.” To spit in the face of someone, or perhaps simply, in the presence of someone, was evidently the strongest expression of contem pt (30:10; Deut 25:9; Isa 50:6; Matt 26:67; 27:30; Mark 10:34; 14:65; 15:19). It is God who has devised this fate for Job through inflicting suffering upon him; though there is no subject expressed for the verb “he has set,” and some take it as an impersonal verb m eaning “I have become” (cf. j b , n e b , n a b ), it is best to regard God as the subject. 7 In 16:16 Jo b ’s eyelids were shadowed over by the darkness of death; here the image is rather of the waning of the natural physical powers as a result of his inner stresses ( is “anguish” as at 6:2, not “anger” as at 5:2; 10:17). Elsewhere the eyes become dim ( ; perhaps rather “become weak, expressionless” [KB3]) because of advancing age (Gen 27:1; Deut 34:7), but the verb is used also of eyes that have been violently blinded (Zech 11:17). This is still the language of the lam ent (cf. Ps. 6:8 [7], “my eye wastes away [ ] because of grief [9] 31:10 =”[ ]). T he weakness of his eyes matches the weakness, almost the insubstantiality, of his limbs (cf. also on v 1). They have become (or perhaps, “wasted away to,” n e b ) a shadow, an image commonly used of brevity (8:9; 14:2; Ps 102:12 [11]; 109:23; 144:4; Eccl 6:12) but not unnaturally expressive of unreality or insubstantiality. We had an earlier reference to his gauntness in 16:8. An interesting possibility is the translation “all shapes seem to me like shadows” (n j p s ), the line carrying on the thought of

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the preceding line: “his eyes are so dim that the objects he sees flit before them like shadows” (Peake); see further n. 17:7.a. 8 Many commentators regard vv 8-10 (or vv 8-9) as out of place because they sound completely out of character for Job, and they interrupt the lam enting train of thought (note how well v 11 could follow v 7 directly). Thus Duhm, Peake, Gray, Fohrer, Hesse, de Wilde. They are right in what they discern but wrong in what they propose (deletion or removal to another place). Words that are out of place in Jo b ’s m outh may be still his words if he is quoting an opponent or if he is speaking ironically. It is surprising that so few (Ehrlich, Andersen, Habel) recognize the irony here. There is indeed a subtlety in the irony: the “ungodly” man, who is the target of the scorn of the godly, is an ironic reversal of Jo b ’s unblemished innocence, whereas the “up right” and the “innocent” are not ironic terms: the double irony is that these are appropriate terms. T he bearers of these epithets are decent people, whose defect is in their head rather than their heart; Job has nothing against their piety, but he despises their lack of intelligence (v 10). W hat the upright and innocent are appalled at is Jo b ’s present condition (“this”). They experience the conventional pious reaction of horror to a disaster that evidences God’s judgm ent like the “m any” who are “appalled” at the suffering of the servant of Yahweh in Isa 52:14 (on cf. on 16:7; and see F. Stolz, TH W AT 2:970-74). We are still in the world of the “byword” and the spitting of v 6. T he difference here is that now it is plain who the mockers are: not ju st people in general, or “peoples,” but righteous persons. Not the self-righteous, who only “claim to be honest” (g n b ), but genuinely “honest” people ( n e b , j b ) who have never questioned the retributive nexus and rely on “shocking” tragedies like Jo b ’s to keep their moral universe intact. They need the stimulation of the crime and punishm ent of others to assure them that the moral system remains in good working order. They are “roused” with righteous indignation against the godless; the verb ( ) does not m ean the indignation believers feel in their heart when they notice that the workers of iniquity prosper (as Dhorme, com paring in Ps 37:1, 7, 8; Prov 24:19) nor even the “exultation” of the righteous when evil overtakes their enemy (as means in 31:29), but the excitement of being in the right when deserved doom is falling on the godless. T he point of view in the verse is that of Jo b ’s opponents; so he is the one designated by their term “the ungodly” ( , as in 8:13; 13:16; 15:34). T hough “the upright” was in the plural ( ), “the innocent” is in the singular ( ) because it is correlative with “the godless” m an Job. 9 Most versions and commentators assume that there is a contrast between vv 8 and 9 ( r s v “U pright m en are appalled. . . . Yet the righteous holds to his way”; cf. n a b , n i v ). If this is a contrast between the upright (plural) of v 8 and the righteous (singular) of v 9, it would be Job who, despite universal disapproval, nevertheless “holds to his way,” i.e., maintains his integrity. This is an improbable interpretation, because the singular has already been used in v 8 ( ) of those who oppose Job, and because (more tellingly) Job is unlikely to speak of himself as “gaining strength” in the very speech in which he bewails his loss of vitality and energy (see 16:7—8; 17:1,7). Perhaps the contrast intended in r s v and similar translations is between the m om entary shock righteous people experience on beholding Job and their deliberate main-

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tenance of right behavior. But that too is an unsatisfactory interpretation, because the “appallm ent” they feel does not for a m om ent threaten their habitual way of life, but rather confirms it. We should suppose, therefore, that v 9 continues the description of the righteous begun in v 8. He “keeps” ( ) his way, i.e., maintains his upright m anner of life, perhaps by more carefully guarding himself against any sin that could call down on him a calamity of Joban proportions (cf. Ps 39:2 [1] “I will guard [ IDIÜ] my ways from sinning with my tongue”). It does not seem to be God’s way (as in 23:11) but the righteous person’s own chosen way. T he sight of the suffering of the godless, far from unsettling them, only serves to “strengthen” them in their righteousness. Job is weakened by his suffering (vv 1, 7), but righteous people are strengthened by it! T here is irony here, not against the honesty of the righteous who are genuinely provoked to greater godliness by the fate of the wicked, but against their intelligence, which will not let them question their conviction that any sufferer must be a godless person. But is not such an adam ant assertion of theory over fact an evil in itself, an intellectual dishonesty? Job does not actually say so here; elsewhere his complaint against hum anity—as represented by the friends— has generally been grounded in their disloyalty (6:15), uselessness (13:4), and insight inferior to his own (12:3). But at 13:4, 7—8 he has accused them , and all those who take their intellectual position, of a lying partisanship of God; and such a thought may be in the background here too. It is im portant to affirm that Job is not in this verse describing his own position. Davidson, for example, thought otherwise: “It is his own sentiments and resolution that he gives expression to, and the passage is perhaps the most surprising and lofty in the Book. . . . No mysteries or wrongs shall make him falter in the way of righteousness. And the hum an spirit rises to the height of moral grandeur, when it proclaims its resolution to hold on to the way of righteousness independently both of men and God.” Delitzsch also had spoken of these words in a fine phrase as “a rocket which shoots above the tragic darkness of the book, lighting it up suddenly, although only for a short tim e.” They are indeed words so surprising in Jo b ’s m outh that we may beg leave to doubt that he means them of himself. 10 The strophe concludes with an address. Though comm entators almost universally see the verse as directed to the friends, it is more in keeping with the immediate context to take it as a challenge to the righteous in general, who have found in Jo b ’s distress a signal of his guilt. In their num ber are the three friends, of course; they may be strengthened (v 9) in their moral judgm ent of Job, but that will be a sign of their theological shallowness. T rue wisdom in this affair is, as Job has said, to see that his case proves that the standard theology is in error. Because he has seen that, he has wisdom superior to the friends’ (12:3), and because they—and everyone else—have not seen it, their reason must have been perverted by God (17:4). T he righteous may assault him (“come” against him) for all they are worth, but they will only prove their lack of insight (“I will not find a wise one am ong you”). In this invitation to renew their assaults on him (lit., “return and come”; see n. 17:10.a) the words are defiant but the mood is hopeless; for there is little likelihood that people will see things Jo b ’s way or that God will openly vindicate him and so compel others to acknowledge that Job was in the right

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after all. This is a very specific hopelessness, this hopelessness of vindication; it does not inhibit Jo b ’s conviction of his innocence and of his superior insight. To say “I shall not find a wise man am ong you” puts himself in the position of the teacher or examiner of the theological perceptions of others. T he invitation (“attack m e”) is of course a rhetorical presentation of the conditional (“if you attack,” i.e., no m atter how often you attack; g n b ’s dynamic equivalence translation has seen that correctly: “if all of them came. . . .”). 11 This lapse into a mood of hopelessness is not a contradiction of the aggressiveness of v 10. For we have come now to a clearer sense of where Jo b ’s despair lies. He is not so debilitated by his depression as to give up caring about anything. He still believes passionately in his own innocence, and in the superior insight into the workings of the moral universe he has gained by his own experience. He can be cynical and patronizing towards his friends (16:2-5), haughty towards the conventionally pious (17:8-10). But at the same time he is in despair because he knows himself to be in the grip of death and has no hope that his innocence will be vindicated this side of death. His life he regards (as in 7:6; 17:1) as already over (as against Fohrer, “the days he still has to live”); in reference to time will m ean “be past, over” (Gen 50:4; 1 Kgs 18:29; Amos 8:5). His plans for the future have been broken off or snapped ( , used of snapping cords, or of tearing up roots, Ju d g 16:9; Ezek 17:9). The them e for this strophe, loss o f hope, has been established. 12 The Hebrew is obscure, as the r s v m argin notes, not because of any difficulty in the words themselves, but because the connection of the whole line is unclear, r s v , with r v , j b , n j p s , g n b , n i v , n a b , think the verse represents the attitude of the friends to Jo b ’s distress: he will soon emerge from the darkness of his suffering into the light of life, j b takes the whole line as a quotation of their words: “Night, they say, makes room for day, and light is near at hand to chase the darkness.” r s v , with n j p s , takes the first colon as descriptive of their attitude (“They make night into day”), the second as their words (“ ‘T he light,’ they say, ‘is near to the darkness’”), n i v , with n a b , regards only the words “light is near” as the suppositious quotation (“in the face of darkness they say, ‘Light is near.” ’). Now it is true that the friends have in general encouraged Job to believe that his misery will, or may, soon be over, and Zophar has actually spoken of Jo b ’s life becoming brighter than the noonday, even its darkness being as m orning light (11:17). Yet Job does not upbraid the friends for encouraging him, but only for failing to recognize his innocence. And in any case, it is not the friends who are the imaginary bystanders in this chapter, but upright persons (vv 8, 9) who mock his suffering (v 2), ignorant of its real cause (v 4). They are appalled at Jo b ’s ungodliness (v 8), and not in the least concerned to proffer encouragem ent to Job. So the line cannot represent the viewpoint of others. It is better to suppose that the line elaborates the “plans” and “desires” of v 11 (similarly Dhorme, Gordis, Habel), i.e., the natural hum an hopes for the future that count on night giving place to day. All such plans have been “broken” (v 11); Job has abandoned hope that he will see the light, i.e., live; his hope is invisible and non-existent (v 15). T hat is what it means for his days to have passed away (v 11): the night surrounds him now, a night that

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will never yield to day (cf. his wish concerning the day of his conception, 3:6, 9). Dhorm e ingeniously argued that the changing of night into day was part of Jo b ’s lament, the longings of v 11 being his present unfulfilled desires that haunt his mind and keep him sleepless, so making his nights into a veritable day. But it is inconceivable that darkness should in v 12 be the desirable time of sleep but in v 13 the symbol of death. More persuasive is H orst’s understanding of v 12b as m eaning that “light comes only from the darkness” (cf. 10:22, where the light is as the darkness), but this involves an unidiomatic reading of v 12a, “the night has been determ ined as day for m e” (cf. n. I7:12.b). 13—15 These lines appear to be one long sentence, introduced by three “if”-clauses (though stands only before the first); so r s v , n e b , n a b , n i v . Duhm, Dhorme and others object that it is too trite to say, “If I hope for Sheol . . . where is my hope?” but the point is that Job has indeed an expectation (hope in v 13)—of imm inent death—which deprives him of hope (hope in v 15). For Job, normal hum an hope arises from social significance; in his earlier life his standing in the community as a respected and compassionate leader (29:7—17) gave him cause to hope for a long and prosperous future, multiplying his days as the sand, and dying peacefully at the end, “in his nest,” with his family surrounding him (29:18-20). Now he has lost both his family and his status: the only intimacy he can imagine is with the forces and denizens of the underw orld (Corruption is his father, worms are his m other and sister), and, as one whose dwelling-place is already designated as Sheol, he no longer has any firm footing in this world. For these reasons he can have no hope. 13 The idea of Sheol as a house is doubtless old and widespread (cf. also 30:23 “the house appointed for all living” and Ps 49:12 [11], Eccl 12:5). The Palestinian practice of secondary burial of bones in an ossuary, sometimes in the shape of a house, reflects and supports the idea (see E. M. Meyers, “Secondary Burials in Palestine,” B A 33 [1970] 2—29). One such ossuary from Jerusalem (L. Y. Rahmani, “Jerusalem ’s Tom b M onuments on Jewish Ossuaries,” IEJ 18 [1968] 220—25 [222] and pi. 23) actually bears the inscription s>wl, “Sheol.” Spreading one’s couch in Sheol is reminiscent of Ps 139:8; the image is of the final activity of the day or, in this case, of life. T he verb Τ9Ί properly means “support” (cf. Cant 2:5), i.e., with cushions, perhaps suggesting a curled up or fetal position (the evidence for posture in sleep is meager; see T. H. MeAlpine, Sleep, D ivine a n d H u m a n , in the O ld Testam ent [JSOTSup 38; Sheffield: JSO T, 1987] 85-106). 14 W hat Job has to look forward to is something worse even than his present situation. Here on earth he has lost the solidarity of the family; in Sheol he will not be reunited with them (contrast Jacob’s “I shall go down to Sheol to my son, m ourning,” Gen 37:35), but will enter a new macabre community (Horst) of the grave and its worms. He calls “C orruption,” which is Sheol personified, his father—as a sign of his close relationship to death (E. Jenni, T H W A T 1:6) and its power over him. The formula, “You are my . . . (father, son, etc.),” has a legal ring to it; cf. the divorce form ula of Hos 2:4 [2], “She is not my wife, and I am not her husband,” and the legitimation form ula of Ps 2:7, “You are my son,” with its counterpart in Ps 89:27 [26], “You are my father.” In J e r 2:27 we have the closest parallel to this parent-recognition

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formula, when Israel says to a tree, “You are my father,” and to a stone, “You gave me birth” (cf. also Prov 7:4 “Say to wisdom, ‘My sister,’ and call insight your familiar friend”). The form ula is always used to signify a newly acquired status; Job has come to recognize his future familials. T he “pit” is a common term for Sheol (33:18, 22, 24, 30; Ps 16:10; Jonah 2:7 [6]), or perhaps a burial pit lying within the land of Sheol (cf. Prov 9:18). To call the pit one’s father may suggest its authority over one (Andersen), but in the context of home and bed and m other and sister it more naturally indicates Jo b ’s sense of belonging to the world of Sheol, and what is more, being kin with it and sharing its essence. “M other” and “sister” primarily express the family relation but also signify affection, as in Cant 4:9—10, 12, where the lover calls his beloved “my sister, my bride”—a common Semitic idiom (see M. Pope, Song of Songs [AB; Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1977] 480-81). 15 If his expectation ( 1 , v 13) is wholly of joining the company of worms, what kind of hope (ΠψΓΙ, v 15) is that? It is im portant to rem ind oneself that Job is not simply despairing that his life seems to be drawing to a close. T he sting of death for him is that it will prevent him from witnessing his own vindication, and will make him powerless to have any hand in bringing it to pass. And as for “happiness” or “well-being” or “good” ( ), that for him in this speech consists of vindication; of course he m ourns his lost prosperity and dead children, but wealth and family happiness were above all certifications of his piety. W hat can now be no longer envisaged p W, “behold, regard”) is the restoration of his public honor as a righteous man. In 7:7 he had said that he would never again “see” or experience good ( ), in 9:25 that his life never had seen “good” ( ); here he doubts that anyone will ever see his honor restored. The vigor of his cry to Earth to dem and vengeance for him (16:18), and his confidence that his oath of innocence is even now pleading for him in heaven (16:19) are somewhat abated. But he does not deny that strength he momentarily had; the very use of rhetorical questions here suggests a certain wistfulness on his part, an inability to put the hope entirely from his mind. 16 He appeals to the traditional phrase, exemplified in Ps 49:18 [17]: “W hen one dies one carries nothing away; one’s glory (or, possessions, ) will not descend after him .” Hope and well-being belong only to the upper world, the land of the living; they have nothing in common with the world of Sheol. T here is no “hint that this hope will support him in his hom e in Sheol” (Habel), for the wish that Sheol could be a refuge, though he expresses it in 14:1317, he rejects as an impossible dream . But neither is this a m om ent of total loss of self-sufficiency that opens the way for him to look to God alone (Weiser), for he finds himself wholly abandoned by God, and deprived by God of his right. T he dust of Sheol is a conventional enough image (cf. 7:21; 20:11; 21:26; Ps 22:16 [15], 30 [29]; 30:10 [9]; Isa 26:19; Dan 12:2); it is peculiarly apt here when a predom inating idea has been of his being shriveled up (16:8). T he dryness he feels makes him already kin with the dust of the underw orld. As in his previous speeches, it is death that is the closing note (7:21b; 10:21— 22; 14:20—22). But that is not because he is suffering so badly that he believes he must soon die, nor because he has been unable to gain the support he had a right to expect from his friends, but because there is no sign of the

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vindication he demands, no hint that his judicial appeal to God (13:20-22) has penetrated the court of heaven. It is the perpetual ignoring of his right that has worn him down, crushed his spirit (v 1), wasted his limbs (v 7), broken his hopes (v 11). Explanation This speech of Jo b ’s comes from a limbo-land between calling and being answered, between the outright summons to God to vindicate him (chaps. 12—14) and any assurance that he has indeed been heard (chaps. 38—41). T here is nothing really new to say, for all that matters has been com prehended in the catalogue of grievances against God that Jo b ’s previous speeches have contained. Yet it is a new situation in which Job finds himself, now that what had to be said has been said, now that he has committed, irrevocably, an act he had indecisively contem plated for long. Now that the summons against God has been issued, and now that God himself has not responded but, on his behalf, Eliphaz has spoken again, with easily imagined consequences for the resum ption of the routine the first cycle of speeches had established— what is to be said? One thing that can be said, perhaps the most positive thing that Job has said so far, is that his protestation of innocence and his dem and for vindication now stand as his “witness” in heaven (protestation and dem and are of course the same thing, for only a man convinced of his own innocence could have the courage to dem and vindication from God). It is one thing to come out with it and say, I appeal to God for justice; it is another to live with the knowledge that those are the words that stand to one’s account in the heavenly court of law. T hat emphatic statement, “Even now my witness is in heaven, my advocate is on high” (16:19), signals that Jo b ’s case has been moved to a higher plane; it is out of his hands, his very cry itself having acquired a sort of existence of its own, “argufing] a m ortal’s case before God as a m an argues for his friend” (16:21). The cry, now that it has formally been uttered, has become a standing rem inder to God that he has a piece of unfinished business on his hands; though Job waits “sleepless for God’s reply” (16:20), he has no fear now that his death, which he still expects, will remove his case from the heavenly agenda. His cry has become his spokesman (16:20). T he pressure of the short time that remains before he dies of his pains has been much relieved; perhaps it is significant that here he now envisages his death in a m atter of “years” (16:22) rather than days or weeks—as we had earlier been led to expect (7:6,21; 10:20). Indeed, he does not really hope for vindication before death, although he desires it. Rather, he believes that he will die a victim of God’s m urderous design, but he intends that even that should not stifle his cry. So, while he still lives, he calls upon Earth not to cover his blood when it has been shed, but to cry ceaselessly for vengeance till his vindication is assured (16:18). Now that the die has been cast and he himself no longer has to struggle with the decision, two interesting touches of objectivity towards his own suffering appear in his speech; he becomes able to distance himself a little from the experience of his pain. At the opening of the speech Job so far forgets his own immediate pain as to envisage himself in the friends’ shoes. W hat would

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it be like, he asks himself, if the roles were reversed? It is an act of vicarious imagination that any therapist would be delighted to see in a depressive as a sign of returning health: the patient, however fleetingly, exchanges his couch for the psychiatrist’s chair. Better still, Job can imagine himself doing rather more satisfactorily than his therapist “com forters.” They are “torturer-com forters” (16:2), so directive in their counsel that they cannot begin to hear him, m ishearing all his cries as mere “tem pestuous words,” finding his compulsion to cry out a clinical symptom, an “agitation” or “illness” (16:3b), a logorrhea that should be staunched rather than encouraged to well forth purgatively. He for his part knows the formulas and techniques of their learned, directive counsel: “I also could speak as you do if you were in my place” (16:4). But no! If the chairs were changed, he would “strengthen you with my encouragem ents,” the consolations of his lips soothing their pain (16:5). This is suddenly the old Job again, the Job whose words would raise the fallen, strengthening feeble knees (4:4); and for a m om ent he knows he is the same man, still with the same capacities. The suffering has for a time been beaten back from occupying the whole of his imagination. For a time the Job of the prologue treads the boards with him as his Doppelgánger. In another m om ent of objectivity Job takes a look at himself from the viewpoint of the conventionally righteous. Even within this speech those who have found his suffering a token of divine displeasure have been scorned by him as “mockers,” the “ungodly” who je e r at the lam enting sufferer (17:2; cf. 12:4). But at 17:8-9 he allows that those who are appalled at his m isfortune and are “roused” with indignation against him may indeed be the “godly,” whose determ ination to stick to the straight and narrow is only reinforced by what they see as Jo b ’s terrible punishm ent. Job does not deny the piety of those who scorn him as a sinner; he thinks them bereft of reason, indeed (17:4a, 10), for not recognizing that conventional theology is too narrow to com prehend his case, but he wryly admits that his opponents (among whom are his “torturercom forters”) are not all of the devil’s party. It is ironic that the truly upright are finding their righteous indignation against sin roused by the suffering of one who is truly innocent; and the irony brings its own special pain of isolation for Job, an isolation from the company and consolation of the godly. But at the same time, he has wrenched himself free momentarily from the moral simplism that was overwhelming him, that all that was right and good was on his side, and all that was on the other side was malign, perverse and unreasonable. In allowing that even the godly see him as a deserving sufferer, not an innocent, he has accepted a reality outside of himself, and that can only be good for a m an so imprisoned by his experience; his healing, when it comes, will be through a not dissimilar though vastly m ore comprehensive recognition that only an unfaltering gaze upon the whole universal reality external to hum ankind can discern a m eaning in suffering that is acceptable religiously and theologically (see on chaps. 38—41).

Bildad’s Second Speech

(18:1—21)

Bibliography Burns, J. B. “The Identity of Death’s First-Born (Job xviii 13).” V T 37 (1987) 362-64. Dahood, M. “Some Northwest-Semitic Words in Job.” Bib 38 (1957) 306—2 0 .---------. II in Job . JB L 78 (1959) 303-309. Driver, G. R. “Some Hebrew Medical “The Root Expressions.” Z A W 65 (1953) 255—6 2 .---------. “Reflections on Recent Articles. II. Hebr. m o q e s, ‘Striker: JB L 73 (1954) 125-36, esp. 1 3 1 -3 6 .---------. “Problems in the Hebrew Text of Job.” VTS 3 (1955) 72-93. Irwin, W. A. “Job’s Redeemer.” JB L 81 (1962) 45 (1964) 80-82. R eider, 217-29. Moran, W. L. “ata q tu l — Third Masculine Singular?” J. “Some Notes to the Text of the Scriptures. 11. Job 18,3.” HUCA 3 (1926) 113-14. Sarna, N. M. “The Mythological Background of Job IS . JB L 82 (1963) 315—18. W illiam II in Biblical Hebrew.” Z A W 97 (1985) 74— son, H. G. M. “A Reconsideration of

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Translation 1Then Bildad the Shuhite answered and said: 2aHow long beforehyou will endcyour speeches? You must reflect; only then can we talk. 3 Why are we regarded as cattle, thought of as stupida by you? 6 4Youa may tear yourself to pieces in your rage,6 but is the earth to be unpeopledc on your account? are the rocks to be dislodged? 5 Truly, the lamp of the wicked will be snuffed out, the flame of his fire will shine no more. 6The light in his tent will be darkened, the lamp above him a be quenched. 7His vigorous stridea will be hobbled, his own counsel will hurl him down.6 8For he is thrust headlonga into a net, he walks over a lattice. 9A trap grips him by the heel, a snare closes tight on him. 10A noose lies hidden for him on the ground, a gin across his path. 11 On every side terrors affright him, they harrya him at his heels. 12a Calamity 6 is hungry cfor him, Disaster waits only for him to stumble.d 13aBy Disease6 his skin is devoured,c the firstborn of Death consumes his limbs.

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14aHe is torn from the shelter of his ten tf and haledc before the King of Terrors. 15Fire a lodges in his tent, over his dwelling is scattered brimstone. 16Beneath, his roots dry up, above, his branches wither.a 17 His memory perishes from the farmlands; he leaves no name in the grazing lands. lsHe is drivenafrom light into darkness; he is expelledhfrom the world. 19He leaves no posterity, no progenya among his own kinsfolk, not a survivor wherever he sojourned. 20They of the westa are appalled at his fate; they of the east are seized with horror. 21Such indeed is the dwellinga of the evildoer, such the place of one who knows not God. Notes 2.a. LXX has sg verbs, though it is uncertain how close its V o rla g e was to the MT; it has “How long will it be before you [sg] cease (speaking); stop now, so that we ourselves may speak” (see Gray). llQ tgJob also has the sg for the first verb; the other forms in question are lost from the fragmentary text. Terrien explains the pi as having arisen from a dittogr of the w a w in (to ), followed later by harmonizing corrections in vv 2—3. 2.b. Can ] mean “how long before you set . . . ?” Delitzsch and Peake thought this would require the negative . n j p s recognizes the difficulty and renders “How long? Put an may be a Masoretic indication of end to talk!” and Gordis allows that the p a s e q after a pause. No doubt the phrase occurs everywhere else without a following pause (Gordis), but , which means the same thing, is found as an interjection on its own (Ps 6:4 [3]; 90:13). 2. c. , constr pi (for abs; cf. GKC, § 130a) o f a h a p a x is often explained as “snare, net” (cf. Arab, q a n a s a “capture, ensnare”); so BDB, r v , j p s , Gordis. This could mean “hunting for words” (cf. r s v ) in the sense of seeking words to cover up deficiency in the argument (cf. Gray), making subtle and artificial attempts at finding arguments (Davidson), or, less probably, setting snares with words (Pope), i.e., playing word games (Habel). A supposed Akk. cognate q in s u “bridle” (Gesenius-Buhl) was the source of j b “Will you never learn to check such words” and, curiously, of n e b “ H o w soon will you bridle your tongue” (similarly Holscher, Dhorme, Terrien, de Wilde), though G. R. Driver had pointed out the non-existence of q in s u (“Problems in the Hebrew Text of Job,” VTSup 3 [1955] 72-93 [79]; cf. C A D ) . There is an'Akk. q in n a z u “whip” (Fr. Delitzsch; hence Tur-Sinai), but no good sense emerges. The preferred suggestion is to take p as a by-form (an Aramaizing dissolving of the gemination by the insertion of an n , according to KB3) of “ends.” So medieval Jewish commentators, n a b “put an end to words,” n j p s , n i v , Horst, Fohrer, Andersen. The llQ tgJob reading [] ] virtually clinches the argument (cf. E. G. Clarke, “Reflections on Some Obscure Hebrew Words in the Biblical Job in the Light of XIQTg Job,” S tu d ie s in P h ilo lo g y in H o n o u r o f R o n a ld J a m e s W illia m s [ed. G. E. Kadish and G. E. Freeman; Toronto: Beuben, 1982] 17—30 [20—21]). 3. a. seems at first a form of “be unclean,” hence “are [reckoned] unclean” (so Vg, r v , Fohrer). This fits poorly with the idea of the stupidity of animals (though cf. Grabbe, 72-74). Most derive the form from (Aram., postbib. Heb.), “stop up” (eyes, ears, etc.), i.e., “be stupid”; 3 mss actually have ) “we are stupid.” LXX apparently read a form of “be silent,” but that does not harmonize well with “in your eyes.” Less probable still is Blommerde’s suggestion that the root is “hide” (“must we hide from your sight?”) since that does not connect at all with the idea of stupidity. The conjecture of Dhorme “[Why should we be] likened to cattle [in your eyes]?” (followed by Terrien, j b [ ? ] , de Wilde [reading more

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correctly ]) is unnecessary, n a b “their equals in your sight” similarly reads “we are likened.” On the Qumran targum see E. C. Clarke (n. 18:2.c above). 3. b. Reading “in your [sg] eyes”; see C o m m e n t on v 2. 4. a. Lit., “[O] one who tears himself in his rage”; for the 3rd pers clause in a 2nd pers address cf. Obad 2-3. 4.b. The line is omitted by Fohrer as breaking the train of thought. Others thought a linking line had been lost before it (Driver-Gray, Holscher), and have filled the gap with a line like 5:2 (Volz, Tur-Sinai) or 17:8-10a (Duhm). 4.c. Lit., “abandoned.” M. Dahood’s suggestion (“The Root II in Job,” J B L 78 [1959] 303—9 [306]; followed by Andersen, and perhaps n j p s “will earth’s order be disrupted”) that a I “arrange, rearrange” appears here is at first attractive since it suggests the idea of order; but it is not clear what concrete image could be intended by “rearranging the earth.” More compelling still is the strong probability that Heb. has no II (see H. G. M. Williamson, “A Reconsideration of 11 in Biblical Hebrew,” Z A W 97 [1985] 74—85). LXX has the interesting interpretive paraphrase, “What then? If you die, will the earth beneath heaven be depopulated?”; but the issue is rather, “if you have your way over the doctrine of retribution.” 6. a. Taking literally as “above him.” n i v makes it into a table-lamp (“the lamp beside (BDB, 754 § Il.f.(f) him”; so also r v mg), n a b has “in spite of him,” a very doubtful sense of recognizes only two occurrences; and see C o m m e n t on 10:7, one of the supposed occurrences). n e b “his lamp dies down and fails him” and n j p s “his lamp fails him” take the as referring to the lamp itself. 7. a. Lit., “steps of his strength,” taking from “vigor, wealth.” n j p s “his iniquitous strides” takes it from ] I “trouble, wickedness.” G. R. Driver reads “his wickedness encompasseth his steps” (“Mistranslations,” E x p T 5 [1945-46] 192-93); hence perhaps “in his iniquity his steps totter,” reading (Brockington, 107). 7. b. MT “and shall cast him [down]” (rarely in this sense, cf. BDB, 1021 § l.e) is emended by metathesis of consonants to “and will cause him to stumble” (Driver-Gray, Dhorme, Holscher, Fohrer, Terrien), following LXX. The translation is not greatly affected. 8. a. Following, with n e b , n a b , B H S , Horst, the suggestion of G. Gerleman (“ as an , lit., “at his feet” is an idiom for “immediately” Idiomatic Phrase,” J S S 4 [1959] 59) that (cf. Judg 5:15; Num 20:19; Deut 2:28). It must be admitted that Ps 25:15, “he delivers my foot ( ) from the net ( ^ ),” suggests that the literal sense may not be wholly inappropriate here. 11. a. Lit., “scatter” ( hiph); it is a difficulty that here only is a single individual the object (BDB “and drive him” is not easily defensible). B H K mentioned the emendation []] “they thrust, drive”; others include “they rush him off” (from ) and “they oppress” from I. Gordis thinks a by-form of “crush,” but the meaning is not very appropriate; Horst thinks it may be a by-form of “be supple, hasty,” in hiph perhaps “scare away,” but this is not so convincing. Improbable was Ehrlich’s suggestion that it means “urinate over his feet” (cf. Ezek 7:17; 21:12 [7]), involuntary micturition in fear being a well-known experience; G. R. Driver gave the view support (“Some Hebrew Medical Expressions,” Z A W 65 [1953] 255— 62 [259—60]), supposing a Heb. “make water,” cognate with A r a b , f h d a ; this is incorporated into n e b as “and make him piss over his feet” (a concession to the Zeitgeist, says de Wilde). Grabbe, C o m p a r a tiv e P h ilo lo g y , 74—76, thinks a similar meaning could be derived from Arab. f a d a “overflow.” The objection is not the earthiness of the idea, but its comparative unsuitability in a context where the focus is the assaults of enemies, not the reaction of the assaulted. 12. a. n a b omits line as dittogr of v 7a (!). 12.b. Taking as .] rather than “vigor” (as in v 7); so j p s , Moffatt, n i v . Alternatively, “his strength is hungry” ( r s v “hunger-bitten”), n j p s “his progeny hunger” (so Tur-Sinai, Gordis, arguing that “strength” means “offspring” in Gen 49:3, a traditional Jewish interpretation which seems, however, out of place here, where it is the wicked man himself who is spotlighted). Among emendations the simplest is Dhorme’s, 5 . “[he is hungry] amid his wealth” (so too Terrien; and B H S thinks this should perhaps be read). B H K ’s proposal , “(his) trouble is hungry for him” (cf. Jer 42:14), apparently adopts a throw-away suggestion of Driver-Gray, . j b ’s “hunger becomes his companion” ( , following Larcher) is weak. A new line of approach was started by Dahood, claiming that “the Hungry One” is a standard epithet of Mot (P s a lm s I , 203); this is followed by Pope and Habel. Pope also follows Dahood’s view ( P s a lm s I, 237) that is from his III “to meet,” with suff, thus “the Ravenous One confronts him” (Pope). Dahood and Pope do not say how they understand , and Habel’s translation “the Hungry One will be his strength” does not have an obvious meaning (Habel says it is satirical, but is Death depicted as weak?). It is true that Death is depicted in the next two verses, but that is no reason why calamity and disaster should not be personified here.

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12.c. n e b “For all his vigour he is paralysed with fear” derives from G. R. Driver’s suggestion 65 [1953] 260), otherwise unaccepted, of a new root “was bewitched” (cf. Arab, r a ja b a “uttered incantations; terrified”) (so too A. Guillaume, “Paronomasia in the Old T estam ent,” J S S 9 [1964] 282—90 [289]). Wetzstein, cited by Delitzsch, has a graphic portrayal of the phenom enon of paralyzing fright am ong Bedouins of Syria: “If the . . . idea of some great and inevitable danger or m isfortune overpowers the Arab, all strength of m ind and body suddenly forsakes him, so that he breaks down powerless and defenceless. Both E uropean and native doctors have assured me that the r o cb in Arabia kills, and I have witnessed instances myself. Since it often provides a stiffness of the limbs with chronic paralysis, all kinds of paralysis are called r o cb .” T he only question is w hether our Heb. text can mean this. from 12. d. T he parallels cited in the C o m m e n t put beyond doubt the derivation of “stumbling” (so r s v ; cf. j p s , n i v ) , though the term may perhaps mean “stray” rather than “stumble” (G. R. Driver, “Theological and Philological Problems in the Old T estam ent,” J T S 47 [1946] 156—66 [162]). A long Jewish tradition saw here, however, “rib,” used for “wife” (cf. Gen 2:21-22). Hence n j p s “disaster awaits his wife” (similarly Tur-Sinai, Gordis), a most improbable divergence of attention from the wicked man himself. O thers have taken “rib” to mean “side” (though it never means the “side” of a person elsewhere), and translate “disaster is ready at his side” ( n a b ; cf. j b , g n b , Dhorme, Terrien, Pope, Sicre Diaz, Habel), but this has nothing to recom m end it. Andersen has an impressive picture, “His plum p body becomes emaciated, his ribs stick right out,” but it cannot be seen how all this derives from the Heb. 13. a. T he line is omitted by n a b as a dittogr of v 13b. 13.b. Revocalizing to ] , “by disease” as W right, Driver-Gray, Dhorme, T errien, Fohrer, “is eaten.” MT , lit., “parts of his skin” is rendered de Wilde, r s v , n e b , j b ) , and to literally by n i v ( r v , j p s “the members of his body” can hardly be right); painful indeed but hardly thoroughgoing enough to bring the man to Sheol in the next verse, n j p s “the tendons u n d er his skin” probably is thinking of the “poles” for carrying the ark, but the disease sounds unconvincingly specific, especially when it is “tendons” again in the rem ainder of the line. An interesting conjecture (N. M. Sarna, “T he Mythological Background of Job 18,” J B L 82 [1963] 315-18 [317]), taken up by Pope and Habel, makes both and “with his two hands”; but the strict repetition is more Ugaritic than Hebrew, and there are problems involved with the translation “Firstborn Death” (see C o m m e n t). 13. c. Reading . (cf. B H S ) . 14. a. n a b exchanges the places of vv 14a and 15a. 14.b. Lit., “from his feet, i.e., his shelter”; a similar apposition in Isa 32:18, “dwellings, securities.” This parallel renders unnecessary the suggestion of Blommerde, 85 (followed by Habel), that is a genitive. 14.c. seems to be 3 fern sg (as is ^) in v 15) but no fern subject appears available. n j p s offers an attractive rendering, “T erro r marches him to the King,” presumably taking as an intensive pi (GKC, § 124e) and an a d s e n s u m subject of the sg verb (so too Pesh); this will also explain the fern in v 15, but (anarthrous) seems very bald ( n j p s itself feels it necessary to supply a footnote, “Viz. of the underw orld,” while n e b glosses with “D eath’s terrors escort him to their king”). W. A. Irwin thought (“Jo b ’s Redeem er,” J B L 81 [1962] 217-29 [222]) that the fern may refer to a q u e e n of the underw orld like Ereshkigal; but a person of her status would hardly be doing the escorting. N. M. Sarna imagined the anomalous forms were a rare mase with t- preformative (J B L 82 [1963] 318), the subject being D eath’s firstborn, but W. L. Moran denied there was adequate support for a ata q tu l mase sg in Canaanite and proposed λ “they march him ,” as indefinite pi or having the denizens of the underw orld as subject ( “ata q tu l — T hird Masculine Singular?,” B i b 45 [1964] 80-82, esp. 82 η. 1), taking this as an example of the 3 mase pi ta q tu lü form (cf. Moran, “New Evidence on Canaanite t a q t u l u ( n a ) , J C S 5 [1951] 33— 35; and see now M. Dahood, P s a lm s H I , 387). H. J. van Dijk responded with several examples from Ugaritic and the O T where a a ta q tu l form seems in evidence (“Does T hird Masculine Singular ata q tu l Exist in Hebrew?,” V T 19 [1969] 440-47). Certainly the ata q tu lü pi form is better attested, which perhaps gives the preference to “and they march him ” (Moran, Blommerde). Gordis and Sicre Diaz point to GKC, § 144b for support for taking the fern sg as im personal, but the parallel evidence is not strong. Dhorme unconvincingly took the forms here and in v 15 as 2 sg, “You [i.e., anyone] may lead him away . . . You may dwell in his ten t” (so NEBmg). Driver thought the subject was the doom previously described (so too Hesse, van Seims), but was open to an em endation to ] “they escort him .” O thers simply em end to the 3 mase pi, used indefinitely (Duhm, Horst). Fohrer, following Stier, reads ! “from his security, his step [goes].” (Z A W

Form / Structure / Setting

407

15. a. MT is intelligible as “what is none of his” ( r v , r s v ; cf. BDB, 116a), and is quite frequent in Job (4:11,20; 6:6; 8:11; 24:7,8, 10; 30:8; 31:19,39; 33:9; 34:6; 35:16; 36:12; 38:2,41; 39:16; 41:25; 42:3). But if brimstone is scattered over his house, it is unlikely that anyone, even strangers, should live in it, and a parallel with “brim stone” is perhaps expected. G. R. Driver (“Problems in the Hebrew Text of Jo b ,” V TSup 3 [1955] 72-93 [79]) ingeniously suggested “mixed herbs,” supposing a Heb. or similar (from “mix”), and noting the use of mixed herbs, sometimes mingled with spices, in an Assyrian rite of exorcism (and hence n e b “magic herbs lie strewn about his tent”). Most, however, agree that Dahood has solved the difficulty with his proposal (“Some Northwest-Semitic Words in Jo b ,” Bib 38 [1957] 306—20 [31214]) of a Heb. “fire” cognate with Akk. nablu, Ug. nblat (pi) (so too Pope, Habel, Sicre Diaz, Gerleman in BHS [frt], n a b , n i v ) . For a fu rther possible occurrence, see on 20:23. Grabbe’s objection (Comparative Philology, 76—77) that the cognate nouns do not have a mem prefix is not very serious. Fire and brimstone are a natural pair (Gen 19:24; Ps 11:6; Ezek 38:22). Dahood’s fu rth er suggestions, to read ]DKJD “is set” (pu), and the emphatic lamed before the next verb Γ Π ΐ\ are not necessarily to be followed. Gordis came to a similar conclusion in proposing to read “flood (of fire)” (cf. Akk. nabalu “destroy”). De Wilde’s complaint that fire does not “dwell” and Rowley’s objection that “dwell” is not a very good parallel to “is scattered” may be ignored. Quite attractive was the older proposal to find here , Lilith, the night-hag that haunts waste places (Isa 34:14), which would also explain the fern o f ]DIÜH (Voigt, Beer, Fohrer, T errien, Hólscher, Rowley, de Wilde; j b “T he Lilith makes her home under his ro o f”). 16. a. On , cf. on 14:2. 18.a. Subject of the pi verb no doubt the demons; em endation to the sg to make God the subject (Duhm, Ball) would be quite wrong, as also the insertion o f into the second half of the line metri causa (BHK). 18. b. From 112 hiph “chase away, make to w ander.” Dahood (followed by Habel) supposes a “hurl, cast” with Akk., Ug. cognates (also at Ps 31:18 [17]; Psalms 1, 190); the image is rather of the chase. 19. a . Not “ g r a n d s o n ” ( n a b ; c f . r v , j p s ) ; k j v “ n e p h e w ” m e a n s “ s o n ’s s o n . ” 20. a. , lit., “those behind,” contrasted with “those before.” O lder commentators often understood these as “later generations” and “predecessors” (i.e., present inhabitants of Sheol [Budde]); so a v , r v , n a b , j p s , n j p s , Tur-Sinai, Gordis. But how can later generations know anything about him if the memory o f him is exterminated? T he terminology seems built upon the expressions for the “W estern” Sea (Deut 11:24; etc.) and for the “Eastern” Sea (Dead Sea; Ezek 47:18; etc.). 2 La. Lit., “dwellings” ( , as also in 21:28), obviously a single dwelling parallel to “place”; perhaps a plural of “local extension” (GKC, § 124b). Dahood has noted a num ber of cases where habitations are pi in form, sg in meaning (Psalms III, 384), e.g. in Ps 43:3; 84:2 [1]; 132:5,7 (49:12 [11] not so convincing).

Form / Structure / Setting T he structure of the speech is clearly two-fold: an exordium addressed directly to Job (vv 2—4) and a wisdom-type instruction on the fate of the wicked (vv 5-21). T he absence of explicit links between the two parts of the speech makes its overall intention somewhat cryptic (see Comment on vv 2—21). T he strophic structure is on the whole easy to discern; in particular, the three-line strophes of vv 2-4 and 8-9 are clearly marked. This fact predisposes one to look for three-line structures throughout the speech, and such do become evident, though those of vv 11-13 and 18-20 have a pendant line. Verse 14, the pendant to 11-13, both concludes the narrative of the wicked man and is a bridge between 11-13 and 15-17 which cover the same ground, and v 21 is a concluding pendant in the form of a summary appraisal. T he strophes may be outlined thus: 2-4 5-7 8-10 11-14

(3 (3 (3 (4

lines) lines) lines) lines)

address to Job the end of the wicked he is trapped he is brought to the underw orld

408

J o b 1 8 :1 -2 1

15—17 18—21

(3 lines) (4 lines)

on earth memory of him perishes his story recapitulated; appraisals

Fohrer sees a very similar strophic structure, but divides 11-13, 14-16, 17-19, 2 0 21 (a two-line strophe). This is open to the objection that v 14 properly belongs to the narrative of the wicked m an’s downfall (vv 11-13), not to what follows. Verses 16 and 17 also belong together because the reason why memory of him perishes (v 17) is because his descendants are destroyed (v 16). W ebster differs from the proposed analysis by dividing 11-13, 14—17 (“Strophic Patterns,” 47). Skehan reduces 11-14 to three lines by excising 12a, 13a as dittographies (cf. n a b ). H orst has a quite different result, through connecting v 7 with the “traps” passage, 8-10; but it seems exegetically incorrect to understand the traps as pitfalls o f the wicked m an’s own making. H orst’s distinction between vv 11-12 (terrors, calamity) and 13—14 (disease, king of terrors) is also unpersuasive. T errien finds in all four five-line strophes, vv 2 -6 (3 + 2), 7-11 (3 + 2), 12-18 (2 + 3), 17—21 (2 + 3); but it is hard to see that the strongest disjunction in the poem (between vv 4 and 5) can be enclosed within one strophe. In g e n r e the speech as a whole is a d is p u ta tio n sp eech which includes a lengthy in s tr u c tio n on the fate of the wicked. Elements from the disputation speech form proper, but principally from its exordium style, are confined to vv 2-4, where we find rhetorical questions implying that the other speaker should stop talking (v 2; cf. 8:2; 16:3) and that he is insulting the present speaker’s intelligence (v 3; cf. 12:2-3). T h ere is also the exhortation to the opponent to use his intelligence (v 2b; cf. 12:7; 8:8). These elements relate principally to the perform ance of the opponent in debate, and not to the substance of the controversy between the speakers. T he topos on the fate of the wicked has the character of in s tr u c tio n , with its closest analogues in wisdom and psalmic literature. T he whole topos can be seen as an elaboration of proverbial sentences like Prov 10:24a “what the wicked dreads will come upon him ”; cf. 11:5b; 12:13; 13:9b; 14:11; 21:12; 22:5; 24:16b, 20. T he n a r r a tiv e of the fate of the wicked is particularly a psalmic feature (e.g. Ps 7:15-17 [14—16]; 10:2-11; 49:14— 15 [13-14]; 64:2-10 [1—11]; cf. 37:35-36; 109:6-20; and contrast the narrative of the righteous man, e.g. 32:3-5; 34:5-7 [4-6]; 35:11-14; 39:2-4 [1-3]; 116:1-4). Among the proverb-like materials and motifs are these: the “lam p” of the wicked (vv 5, 6; cf. Prov 13:9; 20:20), being thrown down by one’s own schemes (v 7b; cf. 5:12—13; Prov 26:27; 28:10; Ps 7:15-16 [14-15]; 10:2; 35:8; 57:7 [6]), “root and branch” (v 16; cf. Ecclus 10:16; 23:25; 40:15; mainly attested in the prophets, but surely proverbial), “progeny and posterity” likewise (v 19; cf. Ecclus 41:5; 47:22). But the images of the extinguished fire, of the snares, and especially of the terrors is m uch m ore elaborated than elsewhere. T he f u n c t i o n of the speech as a whole, it will be argued below, is, by depicting the fate of the wicked, to en co u ra g e Job to am end his life. T he to n a lity depends on how the instruction of vv 5-21 is understood. If it is thought to depict Job as himself the wicked m an it will inevitably be much different from the understanding advanced here. But even if it is entirely instruction, designed to encourage Job away from an avoidable fate, the exordium establishes a tone that is not merely impatience. Job speaks before thinking (v 2), and, adding insult to injury, regards the friends as the unintelligent ones (v 3); that is an attitude that Bildad, naturally enough, can stand no longer; but more serious is his perception of Job as a m an who is tearing himself to pieces, and dem anding that the natural order be upset. This is deeply disturbing for Bildad, and the anger of his speech reflects his anxiety. T he n o d a l verse is clearly v 4: it reveals the psychological position of the speaker, and explains why the speech is almost wholly taken up with an exposition of conventional dogma. It is because Bildad counts on keeping the m ountains in their p roper places (v 4c), which is to say, on defending the s ta tu s q u o a n te by m aintaining the unshakeability of the moral order of retribution.

Comment

409

Comment 2—21 T he prim ary interpretive question for this speech is whether Bildad casts Job as one of the wicked, who will inevitably suffer the fate here portrayed, or w hether the picture here drawn is of what precisely Job is not. R. E. M urphy, typically for many commentators, simply writes: “T he implication, of course, is that Job is the wicked person” (Wisdom Literature, 32). He allows that “the tenor is not unlike Bildad’s earlier speech (cf. 8:8-19),” but continues, “but now judgm ent has been passed on Jo b ” (my italics). Gray too believed that the particular application of Bildad’s words are suggested plainly enough: ‘Jo b is not prosperous, Job is wicked” (158; similarly Hesse). For Habel too, “the mood of Bildad has changed from being positive but defensive to being negative and condemnatory . . . his portrayal of the wicked is an unconditional announcem ent of the fate Job can expect” (282-83). Davidson had put it well, as usual: “Every sentence of Bildad’s speech carries with it the charge, T hou art the m an.” The interpretation here offered is different. It is that Bildad has perceived in Jo b ’s claim for his innocence to be recognized—despite the evident signs of his guilt—an affront to the stable moral order in which he has always found his own security. He needs for his own sake as well as Jo b ’s to reiterate that “the laws of the universe rem ain unshaken, and retribution will ultimately overtake the evildoer” (Gordis, 187). He does not m ean to imply that Job is himself the m an here depicted, though he would not be embarrassed to admit that there are certainly similarities. His principal aim, already established in his first speech, is to encourage Job to “seek” God with a “pure and upright” life; he cannot now be coolly informing Job that it is too late for any of that. T he few words that Job has spoken, unwise and hostile against heaven though they may have been, cannot outweigh the simple fact that Job is still alive; and that for Bildad is the difference between a rescuable sinner and a doomed one (cf. on 8:4—6). T h at is part of what is m eant by God not perverting justice (8:3). If he were to “cut off” the man Job for less than a fatal sin he would be no less unjust than if he failed to punish Job for the sin he has evidently committed. 2—4 The usual exordium confronting the argum ents of the opponent begins this speech, but textual and linguistic problems present a formidable obstacle to a satisfactory interpretation. We would expect Bildad to address himself exclusively to Job, for that is the direction of all the friends’ speeches. Instead, we find him using the plural “you” form in vv 2-3 (“you set,” “you understand,” “your eyes”), and addressing Job in the singular only in v 3. Various solutions to this puzzle are proposed. (i) It is the other friends, not Job, whom Bildad addresses in vv 2—3 (Fohrer). But this cannot be right because in v 3 “we” who are “reckoned like cattle . . . in your [plur] eyes” must be the friends, so the friends cannot also be “you.” Translating “Do you think that we are unclean” (Fohrer), whereby the “you” presumably means Eliphaz and Zophar, and the “we” means all the friends, is a very forced way of taking the Hebrew. (ii) Bildad addresses the friends in v 2, but Job in v 3 (so M urphy, Wisdom Literature, 32: v 2 is Bildad’s “exhortation to his peers,” v 4 his “exasperation with Jo b ”). This is possible, though it implies an em endation of “your [plur] eyes” to “your [sg]

410

Jo b 1 8 :1 - 2 1

eyes” in v 3, and it has still to be resolved what accusation is being m ade against the friends in v 2. (iii) Bildad addresses the friends in v 2, the “audience” in v 3 (Dhorme; cf. Sicre Diaz); is there an audience? (iv) Bildad is “quoting” or paraphrasing Jo b ’s words to the friends in v 2; so Tur-Sinai, translating “How long will you put the whip to the words?,” which means “How long will you urge words onwards, as it were, with a whip? Gently! Let us not talk until you have understood.” Bildad’s reponse in v 3, says Tur-Sinai, links up with the image of driving on animals with a whip, “W herefore are we counted as animals?” Among the difficulties with this reading are: (1) it is unparalleled in Job for a speech to begin with a “quotation” of an opponent’s words; (2) the point of the comparison with animals is their stupidity, not their being whipped; (3) the em endation of “your eyes” is still required in v 3. Even if Tur-Sinai’s proposal is only loosely adopted, namely that v 2 “quotes” Job, there is still the small difficulty that “how long” ( ) does seem to be a phrase of Bildad’s (8:2) (though Job himself uses it at 19:2), and that it is hard to see how v 3 forms any riposte to the “quotation” of v 2. (v) Verse 2 should be removed to the beginning of chap. 19, where Job speaks (de Wilde). This is a desperate solution. (vi) Bildad addresses Job not as an individual in his own right but as a representative of the class of the impious (Ewald, Pope; cf. g n b ‘Jo b , can’t people like you ever be quiet?”); why then the change to the singular in v 4? (vii) Job identifies himself with the class of righteous sufferers (Davidson); is there such a class? (viii) Bildad “emphasizefs] his sarcasm by echoing the plural language used by Job (12:2; 19:2)” (Habel); this seems weak. (ix) T he plural is used for courtesy’s sake to Job alone (Sicre Diaz); what does the singular m ean then in v 4? (x) T he plural could be used in address to one person (Gordis); but it is very doubtful w hether the parallel cited (Cant 5:1) is at all apposite. (xi) T he three plural forms should be em ended to the singular. This apparently arbitrary solution (for possible support from LXX and the Q um ran T argum , see n. 18:2.a) may be adopted faute de mieux, and indeed several com m entators do accept it (Duhm, Driver, Peake, Terrien; cf. BHK); so do most English versions, implicitly, since they do not distinguish between “you” singular and plural. It must be adm itted that it is very difficult to see why the presum ed corruption of the text would have occurred (but see n. 18:2.a).

W hat has to be determinative in the end is not what sense may be wrested out of the detail of the wording as it stands, but what the flow of the book entitles us to expect. Usually the detail and the flow can be read in harm ony, but when they are in as irreconcilable conflict as they are here, perhaps the flow must win. On the purely linguistic difficulties, see the Notes. 2 Bildad’s opening line sounds as tetchy as the question with which he began his first speech, “How long will you speak thus, the words of your m outh a tem pestuous wind?” (8:2). But what lies behind his question is not principally impatience with Job, nor even resentm ent at Jo b ’s disdain for the friends’ intelligence (v 3), but rather his sense of outrage at Jo b ’s calling into doubt the moral foundations of the universe. This wish for Job to stop speaking arises from the concern of v 3, “Will the earth be forsaken on your account?,” the same concern as surfaced in chap. 8, “Can God pervert justice?” (8:3). Job had begun his last speech with a complaint against the inefficacy of words, and had called for an end to “windy words” without substance (16:3).

Comment

411

Bildad on the contrary has m uch to fear from words; for Jo b ’s words threaten to upset his notions of universal order. His is a more nervous response than Eliphaz’s, who had merely reprim anded Job for unprofessional behavior, that is, uttering “tem pestuous” words unbecoming to a sage (15:2). Job has claimed wisdom superior to the friends’ (12:3; 13:2); he has “understood” ( ) all the conventional theology of retribution but has pressed beyond it in his attem pt to account for his own calamity. Eliphaz for his part has challenged Jo b ’s claim to “understand” ( ) what the friends do not (15:9), and now Bildad too asserts that all the “understanding” still needing to be done must be on Jo b ’s part. Not to have interpreted one’s experience in the light of the dogma is a failure of intelligence. Until Job does that there is no hope of dialogue: first he must “understand” ( ) and then they can talk. Talk about what, we may well wonder, if the precondition for conversation is agreement! Talk about Jo b ’s future, talk about what he can do to extricate himself from the disaster, talk, that is, along the lines of Bildad’s advice to Job in 8:5-6. Bildad is not so much the pedagogue as to believe that all the talking that needs to be done is on the friends’ side and that the better part of wisdom for Job would be silence. T hat was Jo b ’s rude rem ark to them in 13:5, but Bildad, very decently, envisages dialogue (“let’s talk,” ) as the route to Jo b ’s recovery. He has not noticed that Jo b ’s last rem ark on that subject has been that speech is no better than silence: “if I speak, my pain is not soothed; if I am silent, it will not leave m e” (16:6). 3 Jo b ’s claims to superior knowledge of the ways of God relegate the friends’ theology to the subhum an level, so Bildad feels. Job had indeed represented the friends as regarding his intelligence as even below that of the animals (12:7), and we witness here a rather unattractive trading of insults. But Bildad’s real problem is not that he and his friends feel their intelligence compared by Job to that of animals (cf. Ps 32:9; 73:22), but that he fears that Job knows something his theology does not. 4 If the retributive order of the moral universe is abandoned, as Job demands it should be for his sake, the cosmic order of stability goes with it. It is not that there is a mere analogy between the cosmic order and the moral order; it is rather that the moral principle of retribution is a organic part of the world order. Jo b ’s assault on retribution for his own sake ( ), i.e., so that his claim to inocence may be sustained, is an assault on cosmos and an invitation for chaos to invade. W ithout a justice guaranteed by heaven the foundations of the earth tremble (Alonso Schókel, quoting Ps 82:5; cf. 11:3). Distancing himself from Job by his use of the grammatical third person and objectivizing Job by calling him “a man who tears himself in his rage,” Bildad puts the blame for Jo b ’s suffering squarely where it belongs: on Jo b ’s shoulders. Job has made out that it is God’s anger that has “to rn ” him (16:9, , as here); on the contrary, says Bildad, it is not God’s wrath against Job but Jo b ’s wrath against God that is the cause of his suffering (Weiser). Rightly understood, Jo b ’s injuries are self-inflicted! He treats himself like a beast, mauling and savaging himself by his refusal to bow to the decision God has made against him, yet he insists on regarding thefriends as beasts for their subhum an intelligence. With a sarcasm that barely conceals his own anxiety, Bildad poses two proverblike questions. The question, “Is the earth to be deserted on your account?” (for , “desert” a city or land by emptying it of its population, see Lev

412

Jo b 1 8 : 1 - 2 1

26:43; Isa 6:12; 7:12; Zeph 2:4), implies that the readjustm ent of the moral order Job requires would be a chaotic upheaval equivalent to depopulating the earth and bringing to ruin its God-given character as the inhabited realm. God did not create the world to be a chaos, he form ed it to be inhabited (Isa 45:18); Job has become so full of his own importance that he dem ands a reversal of the divine design (38:2 will assure us that the worst Job does is to obscure the divine design, not subvert it). Rosenmüller quotes an Arabic proverb used of a person who has grown too big for his boots: “the universe will not be em ptied on his account.” Ju st as people have fixed places on earth, so too the elements of the physical order: Job will no more rearrange the moral law to suit his convenience than will the rocks shift from their place. Bildad, not surprisingly, has a thoroughly static view of the world, physical or hum an; another thinker with a m ore flexible theology could have a dynamic view of the natural world as being perpetually in flux (cf. Eccl 1:5-7). T here are parallels in Bildad’s speech to phrases Job has used: the idea of words having an end (18:2; cf. 16:3), the imagery of the beast (18:3; cf. 12:7), the action of “tearing” (18:4; cf. 16:9), and now the rock being moved from its place (14:18, , as here, with the first two words in reversed order). Such intertextual references do not necessarily imply that the character Bildad is deliberately referring to Jo b ’s speech and satirizing it. T he poet indeed invites us to consider how differently the same phrase can sound on different speakers’ lips, but the relationship between the several occurrences may be m ore subtle than those suggested by the terms “retort,” “rebuttal,” “modification,” “allusion” (veiled or open), “parody” or “satire” that appear in some commentaries. Given Bildad’s premise that the doctrine of retribution belongs organically to the divinely established world order, and that Jo b ’s suffering proves him a sinner though his continued life proves him a less gross sinner than his children (8:3—4), Bildad’s next move can only be to reiterate the dogma that Job seems bent on ignoring, leaving Job to draw the appropriate conclusions. 5—21 T here is a certain indeterminacy in Bildad’s description of the wicked. This was also true in chap. 8, which was neither a speech of encouragem ent pure and simple, nor yet a severe prediction of Jo b ’s fate as a wicked man. T here at least there was a concluding note of assurance (8:20—22), consisting not only of a proverb-like generality (“God will not reject a blameless m an”) but a specific promise to Job (“He will yet again fill your m outh with laughter”) which was nothing if not positive, no m atter how many conditions may have hedged it round (cf. 8:5-6). Here, though there is no such explicit assurance, we may well suppose that nothing has happened to change Bildad’s initial diagnosis of Jo b ’s situation: Job has sinned, no doubt about it, but the beauty of the doctrine of strict retribution is that there is nothing arbitrary about it (so Job will suffer not a m om ent longer than he deserves to) and it works to a person’s advantage as well as one’s hurt (so am ending one’s ways inevitably leads to blessing). In a word, Job has the choice of w hether this depiction of the wicked will be true of him or not; Job will create the determinacy the portrayal lacks. T here are some lines that seem all too painfully applicable to Jo b ’s present state (vv 11, 13, 15b, 19 especially), but there is no reason for Job to believe that he is locked into this fate. Those readers who think Bildad is describing Job and those who think he portrays the opposite to Job are both wrong: what he sets forth is an avoidable possibility. (The Septuagint

Comment

413

translators thought that Bildad was only uttering a pious wish for the destruction of the wicked, but that is wrong too; see G. Gerleman, Studies in the Septuagint: L Book of Job [Lunds Universitets Ársskrift: N.F. Avd. 1. Bd 43. N r 2; Lund: Gleerup, 1946] 50-52). By comparison with Eliphaz’s depiction of the fate of the wicked in 15:20— 35, this topos concentrates not on the wicked m an’s life-long experience of insecurity and terror, but on the ultimate fate that inevitably awaits him: the truly wicked is destined to be cut off, to be trapped by death, to perish in the underworld. T he flow of the description is from the final experience of entrapm ent to the fate of the wicked after death; the pivot between these two elements is v 14 where he is torn from his tent and brought before the lord of the underworld. Weiser has pointed out that throughout this depiction God is not m entioned; his name occurs only as the last word of the chapter: “such is the place of him who knows not God” (18:21). This is as it should be, for what is at stake in Bildad’s eyes is the world-order as a self-regulating mechanism. God stands behind it as its sanction, to be sure, and it is he who has established the order in the first place, but its workings are immutable, and that is what the deviant theologian Job needs to know. T he form and content of the topos is clearly sapiential. T here are many conventional thoughts and ready-made phrases in it, the whole “studded with sententious and proverbial sayings” (Davidson). But the poetic imagination breaks through at several points, and the intensity of focus makes the depiction very memorable. T he three-line strophe pattern prevails. Verse 21 is evidently a summary verse lying outside the pattern, and v 14 the pivot between the living and the postm ortem experience of the wicked. The strophes are: 5-7 8-10 11-13 14 15-17 18-20 21

key metaphor: lamp : trap : disease Pi v o t

: dryness : annihilation

Su m m a r y

5—6 Nothing could be more conventional than the phrase, “the light of the wicked will be put out”; see 21:17; Prov 13:9b; 20:20; 24:20; and on “light” for “life” see on 3:20. T he lamp ( ) burning in the house, like the fire (IÜN) on the hearth, are “symbols that the fortunes of the owner are still intact” (Gray). But the symbolism goes deeper, of course: darkness is the signal of death, the pervading condition of the underw orld (10:21-22); the wicked, as Eliphaz has said, “cannot hope to escape the darkness” (15:22), since he already lives under its power. “W hen the light in the abode of the wicked becomes darkness, that dwelling becomes the domain of death even if its inhabitants are still living” (Habel). An Arabic proverb quoted by Schultens runs, “An unhappy fate has extinguished my light.” T he reference to “tent” does not imply a nomadic mode of existence, so T errien’s rem ark that a lamp in a nom ad’s tent is something of a luxury is beside the point. It is a dignified term from a m ore archaic life-style (as in vv 14, 15; cf. on 5:24; 11:14; 15:34). Along with the m etaphor of the “tent”

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comes the image of the lamp suspended from the roof (“above him ”; cf. also 29:3). T here is indeed no archeological evidence (how could there be?) of suspended lamps, though the author of a comprehensive study of lamps in the O T period thinks it is not impossible they existed (R. H. Smith, “The Household Lamps of Palestine in Old Testam ent Tim es,” BA 27 [1964] 131). T he silver cord and golden bowl in Eccl 12:6 have sometimes been thought to allude to a hanging lamp (L. E. Toombs, IDB 3:64), though obviously one of high quality. Lamps in a house would often have been set in niches in the wall: most lamps did not have a flat enough base to stand on a table, unless perhaps they were set inside a bowl. Domestic lampstands are not attested archeologically, though 2 Kgs 4:10 may be a literary reference. 7 A nother image for the destruction of the wicked person’s well-being is the shortening of the stride; taking small steps tends to lead to tripping up. (It may be, however, that there are two distinct images, signifying collectively that both the vigor and the cleverness of the wicked will end their serviceableness; so Horst.) The background to the image may well be the failing powers of old age, the hobbling gait of an elderly person contrasted with the free and confident movements of someone in the vigor of youth (“His athletic pace becomes a shuffle,” Andersen), but the implication is not that the wicked will age prem aturely or will be crippled by disease. T he image is primarily of decay and an ultimate laying low, like the image of the extinguishing of lamp and fire in vv 5—6. T he symbolism of narrowness is of trouble and danger, while spaciousness signifies salvation; for “narrowness” ( ) of spirit, cf. 7:11; for strength being “narrow ,” cf. Prov 24:10; for spaciousness, cf. Ps 18:20 [19], 37 [36], and see J. F. A. Sawyer, “Spaciousness (An Im portant Feature of Language about Salvation in the Old Testam ent),” ASTI 6 (1967-68) 20-34. T here is a connection elsewhere too between narrow steps and stumbling: Ps 18:37 [36], “You widened my steps under me, and my ankles have not slipped”; Prov 4:12, “W hen you walk, your steps will not be narrowed ( as here); and if you run you will not stumble” ( , which is read here also by some; see n. 18:7.b). No concrete image is discernible here, however, for the idea of the wicked m an’s “plan” ( ) “casting” him down ( hiph). T he wicked typically have “plans” ( ; cf. 5:13; 10:3; 21:16; 22:18; cf. Ps 1:1; 33:10; 106:43), which are connected with their “craftiness” (cf. 5:13; Ps 83:4 [3]), and that, ironically, often proves their own undoing (see on 5:12-14). 8—10 In this elaborated m etaphor of the trap, six different words being used for the trap as if to express its unescapability, the point is that—by whatever precise means—the wicked man is inevitably ensnared by death. T he whole issue in this topos is that the wicked is set on a collision course with death; it is not that he is taken in the snares he has set for others (Fohrer, Habel), nor that he and not God is the cause of his own downfall (Terrien), nor that “the world is full of traps to catch the feet that stray from the right path” (Peake), but rather that “all things hasten on his ruin; the moral order of the world is such that wherever he moves or touches upon it it becomes a snare to seize him ” (Davidson). T he imagery is drawn not from the heroic hunting of big game, like lions and wild oxen, such as is depicted in Mesopotamia and Egypt, but from the devices used by ordinary people for the snaring of game, especially birds.

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8 T he opening “for” is explicative; there follow the details of the ways in which the wicked m an’s happy and prosperous state comes to an end. The “for” ( ) does not connect specifically with v 7 (against Dhorme), for there was no image of the trap there. T he net ( ) into which he rushes is used to catch either birds or animals; it is suspended above the ground and collapses when the prey enters it (cf. Ps 9:16 [15]; 31:5 [4]; 35:7-8; 57:7 [6]; 140:6 [5]; and especially Prov 1:17; Hos 7:12; for taking a lion, see Ezek 19:8; and a crocodile, 32:3). An alternative m ethod of snaring is to dig a pit over which lattice-work or toils ( ) of boughs and earth is constructed (in 2 Kgs 1:2 of a window-lattice); in Ecclus 9:13 a person in danger of death is said to “walk” ( as here) “over a net” ( ). The verse does not suggest that the wicked brings his own retribution down upon himself (though Bildad no doubt believes that), but that, do what he may, he is beset by snares. T he verb “is thrust” ( pu) may allude to the battue system of hunting in which a large group of hunters shout, bang sticks and create alarm in the prey as they drive them into a defile where they can be more easily netted or killed with arrows or javelins (see L. E. Toombs, ID B 2:662-63). See also G. Gerleman, “Contributions to the Old Testam ent Terminology of the Chase,” in Arsberattelse 1 9 4 5 —1 9 4 6 : B u lletin de la Société Royale des Lettres de L u n d 1 9 4 5 —1 9 4 6 (Lund: Gleerup, 1946) 79—90; and cf. the many references to the dead being trapped in nets (though in these cases specifically in the afterlife) in J. Zandee, D eath as an E nem y according to A n cient E gyptian Conceptions (Studies in the History of Religions; Supplements to Num en 5; Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1960) 226-34. 9—10 T he “trap ” ( ) is generally used of a bird-trap (as in Amos 3:5; Ps 91:3; 124:7; Prov 7:23; Eccl 9:12; Hos 9:8), perhaps made from wood, since it can be “broken” (Ps 124:7); but fowlers’ traps do not catch either birds or hum ans by the heel, and we may suppose that the word here is just a general term for “trap ” (cf. G. R. Driver, “Reflections on Recent Articles. II. Hebr. móqés, ‘Striker’,” J B L 73 [1954] 125-36 [131]). T he “snare” ( , occurring only here) seems to be a trap that closes tight on its prey (if from a verb “to bind together” and noting that it seizes hold “upon” [ ] its victim [the verb 1 usually has ]). This or the following “noose” may be equivalent to the m odern Egyptian noose which “the victim pulls round its neck when it takes the bait” (Driver, J B L 73 [1954] 133). T he “noose” is a cord ( ) that catches its victim unawares (such a noose is set by wicked men, Ps 140:6; in Ps 119:61 the “cords of the wicked” surround the psalmist; in Prov 5:22 the wicked is caught in the cords of his own sin). T he “gin” ( , occurring only here though its root is common) is equally something that “seizes hold.” This depiction of the snares laid for the wicked has the impact of representing him as perpetually surrounded by danger. While he lives, he lives a charm ed life, but at any m om ent one of the traps will spring and his life will be over. T. H. Gaster supplies some comparative material for the idea of the nets of death: “In H indu belief, Yama, the god of death, comes equipped with nets, and among the Iranians the dem on Astoridhotush stalks abroad in this fashion. A M andean text speaks in the same way of ‘the bands and toils of death’” (M yth, L egend a n d Custom in the O ld Testam ent [London: Duckworth, 1969] 745).

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11 “The preceding [three] verses described how he walked on snares unwitting that they were there; now he awakens to the perception of his condition” (Davidson). These terrors he experiences are not the fearful imaginings that Eliphaz ascribed to the wicked troubled by a bad conscience, as we would say (15:21); they are rather the evident signs of the encroachm ent of death, namely, hunger and disease (vv 12—13). The terrors that afflict hum ans this side of death are nothing other than the terrors who are the minions of the lord of the underworld, himself the “king of terrors” ( also in v 14). They are not exactly the avenging spirits of those m urdered or robbed by the wicked (Fohrer), nor are they the remorse that assails the conscience of the wicked (Dhorme). 12 Despite difficulties in the Hebrew, the sense seems to be a continuation of the vivid personification of v 11. Calamity and disaster are perhaps pictured as two of the “terrors” that surround the wicked man; ju st like the terrors that actively affrighted and harried him in v 11, they are represented as wild animals that actively hunger to take him in their maw, or alternatively wait only for the m om ent when they can overcome him with least resistance, the m om ent when he stumbles. T he language is form ed on the pattern of the lament, “I am ready ( 1 , as here) for stumbling ( , as here)” (Ps 38:18 [17]). There it is the innocent m an who is ready to or about to stumble, here it is the demons who are waiting for the wicked m an to stumble; cf. also Ps 35:15 “at my stumbling ( ) they gathered in glee” and especially J e r 20:10 where the prophet is surrounded by “terror on every side” ( , as here) and believes his erstwhile friends are “watching for my fall” ( ). T he wicked in these passages are the enemies of the righteous, but here the wicked also have their enemies, the emissaries of death. They go in pairs, like the attendants of a god (cf. “distress” and “anguish” in 15:24; Ps 23:6; 25:21; 43:3; 89:15 [14]; and perhaps Hab 3:5 [plague and pestilence]; see H. L. Ginsberg, “Baal’s Two M essengers,” BASOR 95 [1944] 25-30). W hat is not said is that the wicked man grows hungry (cf. Terrien; r s v “his strength is hunger-bitten”), for that is not a great disaster for a strong man; it is rather than in the midst of his good health and good fortune the forces of death waylay him and may pounce on him at any m oment; the m ore static image of the trap has been transform ed into the dynamic image of the devouring animal. Traps should be to catch animals, but these supernatural and demonic animal forces are themselves the snares for the wicked. 13 This is more a picture of death than of illness. It is not a m atter of “D eath’s First-Born gnawfing] his limbs” (j b ) or “eat[ing] away parts of his skin” ( n i v ), but of the total devastation wreaked upon the body of the wicked by death. T he focus is not a gradual process of decaying disease (e.g., “eats away”) but on the overwhelming result (“consumes”). Not all wicked people die of lingering illnesses, of course, and Bildad does not want to m aintain they do; whatever the specific cause, the result is the same; the lamp of the wicked is snuffed out (v 5). “Skin” and “limbs” are equally terms for the body as a whole, so no specific diseases affecting in turn skin and then limbs are in mind. Fohrer and Hesse thought the disease so indicated m ust be leprosy, and that Bildad is making a grim reference to the precise medical condition of Job. Not only does this m isapprehend Bildad’s purpose in his depiction of the wicked, but it also ignores the universal character of the impact of death upon the wicked.

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Who is the First-Born of Death? O r is First-Born a title of Death himself? Both translations are possible. Older scholarship thought the First-Born of Death was some particular disease or affliction, whether starvation (Hitzig) or the plague (Dhorme, noting that the Babylonian plague god Nam taru is not exactly the firstborn but at least the vizier of the underworld), or the deadliest form of disease (Gray, com paring Arab, bint el-maniyya, “daughter of fate,” for “fever”). O ur whole understanding, however, has been greatly enhanced by the article of N. M. Sarna (“The Mythological Background of Job 18,” JBL 82 [1963] 315—18) which, following U. Cassuto, The Goddess Anath [Hebrew] (Jerusalem: Bialik Institute, 1951) 49 (= The Goddess Anath: Canaanite Epics of the Patriarchal Age [tr. I. Abrahams; Jerusalem : Magnes Press, 1971] 63), drew upon the Ugaritic mythology to explain our text (cf. also N. Trom p, Primitive Conceptions of Death and the Nether World in the Old Testament [BibOr 21; Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1969] 162—65). Mot (Heb. ΓΙ]ρ, máwet, “death”) is the ruler of the netherworld in Canaanite mythology; “a pit is the throne on which (he) sits, filth the land of his heritage” (CTA 5.2.16-17 [Gibson, 70]; 4.8.1314 [Gibson, 66]). Such a figure is undoubtedly what is m eant by “the king of terrors” (v 14). T he Firstborn of Mot (Death) is not referred to in the Ugaritic texts, but it is not unreasonable to believe that there was such a being, occupying the same position in Canaanite mythology as did Nam tar, the vizier of the underw orld and son of Ereshkigal, queen of the netherworld, in Mesopotamian mythology. Like Hermes Psychopompos in Greek mythology, the First-Born of Mot would have the function of driving souls into Sheol and bringing them before its ruler. Here, however, the function of the First-Born of Death is to consume the bodies of the wicked as the means of transporting them from the earth into the underworld. More recently it has been suggested that Death is himself the First-Born (W. L. Michel, The Ugaritic Texts and the Mythological Expressions in the Book of Job, Ph.D. Diss. University of Wisconsin, 1970; Pope, Habel), since in the Ugaritic texts Mot is called “son of El”; whether he literally is El’s firstborn we do not know, but “firstborn” is primarily a title of rank which would be appropriate for him. The language used of Mot would fit here well, for his voracious appetite is well known (cf. also Isa 5:14; Hab 2:5): one lip reaches to earth, the other to the heavens, and his tongue reaches to the stars (CTA 5.2.2—3 [Gibson, 69]). He says, “My appetite is an appetite of lions (in) the waste” and “If it is in very truth my desire to consume ‘clay,’ then in truth by the handfuls I must eat (it)” (CTA 5.1.14-15, 18-20 [Gibson, 68]). A form er transíator had Mot eating “m ud” by the handfuls (G. R. Driver, Canaanite Myths and Legends [Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1956] 103)—presumably as the most available sustenance in the underworld. But if J. C. L. Gibson’s revision (which may incorporate Driver’s second thoughts) is correct, that the reference is to eating humans9 made of “clay,” the parallel to our text is closer. It can even be suggested that the rather unusual words , em ended to , “by disease” and , usually translated “his limbs,” are both contracted spellings of the word “with both hands” (see n. 18:13.b); i.e., “He [Death] consumes his [the wicked’s] skin with both hands; First-Born Death consumes with both hands” (Habel). Further evidence of Mot’s hunger for hum an flesh may occur at CTA 6.2.17—19 (Gibson, 76) where Mot speaks of himself scouring the face of the earth for his prey: “My appetite did lack hum ans, my appetite (did lack) the

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multitudes of earth.” At least, so he does in Gibson’s translation, but the transíation given by Driver in his first edition (Canaanite Myths and Legends [Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1956] 111) seems no less plausible: as Mot scours the earth for Baal, wherever he passes, naturally enough, since he is the god of death, “Life did fail amongst men, the life of the m ultitudes of earth.” T hat is to say, of course, death consumes life, but it is doubtful whether in the Ugaritic texts Mot is represented as eating hum an flesh, and whether therefore the texts cited are a specific background to our passage. Here at 18:13 the parallelism is best served if “Disease” is parallel to “the Firstborn of Death,” as two underlings of Death that go out in the world looking for victims. Like Calamity and Disaster in v 12, they are demons, a little more specific, but equally portrayed as wild animals. T he dramatic flow of the depiction also requires that Death itself, who sits enthroned in the underworld, should not make his appearance until his minions have made full work of their prey. Only at the end of v 13 does the wicked m an pass from life to the underworld, an event expressed again in different terms in the first half of v 14. T he Ugaritic texts are seductive, but they do not always lead unhesitatingly to appropriate exegetical solutions. In this case it seems clear that Death is personified and that various demons, all perhaps offspring of Death and the last m entioned (in climactic position) certainly his firstborn, are portrayed as wild beasts, individually enough to deserve capitalization. But it is not Death precisely who is the ravenous one, and we do not find the sobriquet the Hungry One used of him in v 12. See also J. B. Burns, “T he Identity of D eath’s FirstBorn (Job xviii 13),” VT 27 (1987) 362-64, rejecting the equation of the First-Born with Mot himself, and seeking rather comparison with Nam tar, Mesopotam ian god of plague. 14 These powerful images build to a climax with the picture of the man being prised from his home and frogm arched before the underw orld king. His enemies are now portrayed not as (impersonal) traps, nor as (animalistic) beasts, but as (human) agents of a malign power; their knock on the door would be readily recognized in many countries as the sign of the secret police. T he “tent” has a multiple m etaphoric significance: it is the m an’s shelter, if not exactly his castle, where he has a right to feel secure; it is his own property, where he has a right to invite his own guests (cf. 11:14) and turn away unwelcome visitors like these emissaries of Death; it is the symbol of his well-being and of the security of his existence. (It is not here a symbol of his body from which he is wrested, as against Andersen.) The tent is the security. No criticism is being made of him for “trusting” in his tent (as if perhaps he would have done better to trust in God); the poet becomes even m ore sympathetic as the m an hastens to his fate. On “tent” as a dignified, because antique, word for “dwelling,” “house,” see on v 6. To be “to rn ” ( p m ) or “plucked” ( n a b ) from his tent is language that can be used of a hum an; but the root m etaphor perhaps still persists, of a rope being snapped (Judg 16:9, a string of tow when it touches the fire; Eccl 4:12, a threefold cord not easily snapped; Isa 33:20, no tentcords of Zion will be broken [cf. J e r 10:20]; 5:27, not a sandal-thong is broken). In 17:11 it was the desires of Jo b ’s heart that were broken. O f hum ans, the verb is used of (with)drawing defenders from a city, and so separating them from their security

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(Josh 8:16; Ju d g 20:32). The wicked man has been part and parcel with security, he and his house and his well-being have been a threefold cord; when he is sent for, he has to be torn away. A relevant image may be the sending out of messengers to escort a guest to a party (cf. Esth 6:14 “the king’s eunuchs arrived and brought Ham an to the banquet that Esther had p repared”; cf. also Luke 14:23). W hen Death’s messengers arrive at the house of the wicked man, it is a wrench for him to leave. They “hale” him before the king of the underworld; the verb is sometimes used in a military context (Judg 5:4; Ps 68:8 [7]; Hab 3:12, all in reference to Yahweh’s marching, hence “march him ” in n a b , n j p s , n i v ) , but since its noun means “step” in all kinds of contexts, it would be wrong to insist on a specifically military sense. But the causative form of the verb (“made him walk”) is enough to show that this is no voluntary jaunt, but a compelled and unwelcome journey the wicked must make, the descent to the underworld, into the power of its lord. As for the “King of T errors”: it would be a crime to tam per with that magnificent phrase, but the “terrors” that are his minions and agents of destruction are not terrors in the psychological sense, as if their task were principally to strike fear into their victims, but are themselves the very calamities that bring hum ans into the clutch of Death. T here is no good reason to give a mainly psychological or emotional sense to the term , generally translated “terrors”; in Ezek 26:21; 27:36; 28:19 it clearly refers to a climactic disaster ( r s v “a dreadful end”), and in all other references an objective disaster rather than a subjective experience is most appropriate (Isa 17:14; Ps 73:19 [the wicked are brought to an utter end by ]; Job 27:20 [parallel , “stormwind”]; 30:15). Since disaster is experienced as terrible, it is no error to objectify the experience, and name its objective cause with the term properly used of the subjective result (as “joy” is a feeling, but “a joy” can also be a “thing of beauty”). On the “King of T errors” as the equivalent of the Canaanite Mot, god of the underworld, see on v 13. T he “T errors” are those personified beings that have been m entioned in vv 11—13. T he King is known in Babylonia as Nergal, among the Greeks as Hades, in Virgil as Pluto, the fearsome king (rex tremendus, Georgies 4.469), the infernal king (rex infemus, Aeneid 6.106). In the O T he is also represented as the “shepherd,” i.e., ruler, of the inhabitants of the underw orld (Ps 49:15 [14]). In Sumerian texts Nergal is called “king of the land of terror” (CT 24.36.52; 47.10), and his realm “the terrible house” (E. Ebeling, Tod und Leben nach den Vorstellungen der Babylonier [Berlin: de Gruyter, 1931] 166.14. 15 In this new strophe attention turns from the wicked m an himself and the path by which he meets with his destiny in Sheol to his “tent” that had symbolized his well-being. He has been “to rn ” from it (v 14), so who is now its occupant? Not some descendant of his, not a kinsman, and not even a stranger, but an inhum an force that will prevent the house that gave him shelter ever being a home again for hum ans or animals. Now that “fire” (see n. 18:15.a) has taken up residence in his home, no one else can approach it. Habel wants to maintain that the fire is not the rain of destruction sent from above as in the case of Sodom and Gom orrah (Gen 19:24), but fire that erupts from below, as a further agent of Death. He finds the fire that consumed the company of Dathan and Abiram (Ps 106:17—18) to be an instance of such

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infernal fire; but the Num 16:35 account says specifically that the fire was “from Yahweh” and it is difficult to suppose that the psalm has a different image. T he parallel here with brimstone also makes clear that in the present image the fire comes from above. Nevertheless, the point here is not the origin of the fire (God is not m entioned in the whole depiction except as the last word of v 21), but what it does to the wicked m an’s continued existence. If the only immortality he could have hoped for is the continuance of the family line and the family possessions, the fire writes finis to that. Brimstone (“burning-stone”) was once the common name for sulphur, but is now chiefly used in reference to its inflammable character. It burns easily in air, form ing the noxious and suffocating sulphur dioxide gas. In the eastern M editerranean environm ent it is found in regions of volcanic activity (cf. D. R. Bowes, Zondervan Pictorial Encyclopedia of the Bible [ed. M. C. Tenney; Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1975] 1:655) such as the valley of the Dead Sea. Together, fire and brimstone depict an extraordinary natural disaster such as is inevitably ascribed to divine wrath (Ps 11:6; Isa 30:33; Ezek 38:22; cf. Isa 34:9). Land affected by brimstone is infertile (Deut 29:23). T he restoration of “fire” to the first half of the line (see n. 18:15.a) rules out a reference to the disinfectant property of sulphur such as is well known from the ancient world (Pliny, Natural History 35.50; Hom er, Odyssey, 22.481,823, where it is used for cleansing a room defiled by corpses). Even though the brim stone is said to be “scattered” or “sprinkled” (ΓΠΤ), which sounds like a hum an act (Dhorme), the immediate context makes this interpretation less acceptable (against Ehrlich, Holscher, Weiser, Fohrer, Horst, Terrien, de Wilde). The language of supernatural destruction does not necessarily m ean that Bildad envisages a divinely sent disaster falling upon the wicked; for there cannot in reality have been many wicked people who suffered such a fate. This is a dramatic phrasing of what he hopes and believes may happen to the posterity of the wicked. 16 Total destruction, root and branch (Ezek 17:9; Mai 3:19 [4:1]; Ecclus 10:16; 23:25; 40:15) or, root and fruit (Amos 2:9; Hos 9:16; cf. Eshm unazar, king of Sidon, in a curse [ANET, 662b]), is a common and proverb-like image (for the phrase in a favorable sense, cf. Job 29:19; 2 Kgs 19:30; Isa 27:6; 37:31;Jer 17:8; Ps 1:3).Some have deleted this verse as inappropriately portraying the wicked man as still alive (Budde, de Wilde), but it is not the wicked m an himself who is here destroyed—that has happened when he descended to Sheol—but his family and possessions (a similar thought more prosaically in v 19). His roots and branches are what he has put forth, both as progeny and as the material evidence of his existence; when he himself is “torn away” (v 14), all that has “ramified” from him must of necessity perish also, “above” and “below” being the extremes that include the totality (the figure of merismus). It is possible that the image of the fire (v 15) continues into this verse, the fire that now “inhabits” his dwelling causing the withering up of all that was green and vital about his existence. “W ither” and “dry u p ” may sound like gradual processes, but what is in mind is “the immediate and simultaneous destruction of branch and root” (Gray). 17 Total annihilation is the destiny of the wicked. It is not that when he himself dies his name is forgotten, or even that God somehow eradicates the memory of him from the consciousness of others (as H. Eising seems to suggest,

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TDOT 4:76). The “m emory” ( 1 ) is much more concrete than that; it consists in a memorial surviving one’s death and in the testimony it gives to the existence of the one it memorializes. Rulers who have inscriptions engraved with accounts of their exploits ensure that their “m emorial” or memory of them will endure (cf. 2 Sam 18:18; Isa 56:5); failing that, a written account of one’s deeds may stand as a “mem ory” (as “rem em ber” in Neh 5:19; 6:14, 13:14, 22, 29, 31 refers to the achievements recorded in his book); alternatively, and m ore often, one’s “m em orial” is the perpetuation of one’s self (and name) in one’s children. It is not that the descendants themselves rem em ber the dead ancestor, and respect his name, though of course they do, but that they are a continuing “rem inder” of his existence, whether because they bear his personal name or whether simply their present existence is a testimony to his earlier existence. T he levirate marriage, for example, is represented as a “raising u p ” or perpetuating of the “nam e” of a dead man, by creating a legal line of descendants for him (Deut 25:7). To destroy one’s “m emorial” ( IDT) is to destroy one’s post-mortem existence (however shadowy that may have already been), and so to render a person as if that one had never been. For this reason cutting off the “m em orial” or “m ention” (IDT) of an enemy is a means of his destruction (Exod 17:14; Deut 25:19; 32:26; Isa 26:14; Ps9:7 [6]; 34:17 [16]; 109:15; 112:6). See further, B. S. Childs, Memory and Tradition in Israel (London: SCM, 1962) esp. 70—73; W. Schottroff, “Gedenken” im Alten Orient und im Alten Testament (WMANT 50; Neukirchen-Vluyn: N eukirchener Verlag, 1964) esp. 287-92. In the present case it is the destruction of his progeny and possessions that annihilates the “m emory” or “nam e” of the wicked. They do not perish automatically when he dies; but the effects of his wickedness reach beyond himself and involve the whole of his family. T heir exterm ination spells his annihilation. T he memory or m ention of him disappears from the “earth” or “land” ( ) and from the “open place” ( ), i.e., probably the inhabited, cultivated land on the one hand and the steppe country used for grazing flocks on the other (the pairing of and in 5:10 is not so precise). Bildad has come as close to Jo b ’s own situation as it is possible to come; Job has already experienced the loss of his offspring, before his death, and therefore suffers worse than the person depicted here, who has already died. Job himself has described the bitterness of death as an ignorance about what may be happening to one’s descendants: “His sons may come to honor, but he does not know it; they may sink into obscurity, but he does not perceive it” (14:21). It is a greater bitterness by far to know before one’s own death that one’s posterity has been destroyed. Nevertheless, it is not Bildad’s intention to identify Job with the wicked, and this is not simply “a transparent allegory which is singularly cruel in its obvious reference to Jo b ’s bereavem ent” (Andersen). Job is suffering for some sin, to be sure, and therefore much of his experience will parallel that of the typical wicked person; but w hether his fate will be in every way the same is still an open question. Job may do what he likes with this depiction: if the cap fits, he can wear it, but he is not yet dead (which signifies: wicked beyond hope of change) and the way is still open for a reform ation of life (cf. 8:5-6). 18-20 The movement of this strophe recapitulates that of the last (vv 15-17), but its focus is again the man himself, rather than “his tent,” “his roots,” “his branches,” “his m emory,” “his nam e.” Verse 18 corresponds to v

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14 (the actual death of the wicked), v 1 9 to v v 16-17 (no descendants), while v 20, pressing towards a conclusion for the poem, moves beyond the point of view of the whole poem hitherto to portray the wicked’s fate from the perspective of the world o f onlookers. Finally, the point of view of the narrator (poet) himself will become visible in v 21. 18 T he m etaphor is of the simplest: the light is life (3:20 [life parallel to light]; 33:20 “the light of life”; cf. Ps 56:14 [13]), the darkness is death (10:21— 22 “the land of darkness and deep shadow”; 17:13 [Sheol parallel to darkness]; and cf. also 19:8), and these two are the only possible states of being. The imagery links back to the opening picture of the snuffing out of the light (v 5). The righteous also die, but they are not “driven” out of life ( , like Canaanites out of Canaan [Deut 6:19] or an official from his office [Isa 22:19]). Who does the “driving”? Not God (as Duhm thought; cf. Pope), at least not directly, since it is the inexorable workings of the law of retribution that Bildad is dilating upon here; nor is it hum ans (Horst), as if hum ankind itself were expelling the sinner from its midst (Davidson), but precisely those emissaries of Death pictured before us in vv 11—13 (the verbs, translated here by the passive, are actually active plurals). W hen the wicked m an took to flight (v lib ) in the hope of escaping the demons, he never realized that he was running in the direction of darkness. Like an animal being driven into a trap (perhaps a resonance from the trap imagery of vv 8-10 here), his flight is exactly what his hunters want: it is to his own doom that he has been hastening himself. It is the demons too who “expel” (112; n e b , n i v “banish” sounds like a hum an activity) him from the world ( ) of living beings. 19 In plain terms Bildad now says what he previously said metaphorically (v 16): the wicked m an’s children suffer the fate he has brought on them. T he phrase “progeny and posterity” is alliterative in the Heb. ( , , ηϊη, neked, always used together: Gen 21:23; Isa 14:22; Ecclus 41:5; 47:22); we m ight say “seed or breed” ( n j p s ) , “son nor scion” (Moffatt), “chit nor child” (Ball), “kith or kin” (Pope), “breed nor brood” (Tur-Sinai). But perhaps, even though his family in general has been exterm inated ( , “kinsfolk, family, people”), some fortunate individual from his kin may have escaped, a survivor ( ) from the ruined homestead, and found safety in some other community that had once given the family guest-rights and shelter as resident aliens (in “his placets]” of sojourning). Not so; every last kinsman of the wicked m an’s is, like him, m arked down for destruction, no m atter where he may think to hide himself. For the ultimate truth about the wicked man, the end to which the whole depiction of vv 5—19 has been moving, is his annihilation, which carried with it the annihilation of any memory of him that could contrive a quasi-existence for him after death. Bildad has moved to the same concluding point as he did in chap. 8, but via a whole new network of images, no less memorable and compelling. T here the wicked was a lush plant spreading its shoots over the garden; but “if it is once torn from its place, that place disowns it with Ί never saw you’” (8:18); here the wicked is equally forgotten, equally unacknowledged, equally annihilated as if he had never been. 20 Both this verse and the next are conclusions, but from different perspecfives. H ere Bildad stands back from the description of the wicked’s fate to imagine its impact on observers. W herever the news reaches, people are “appalled” ( ), the conventional term for reaction to the hearing of bad news

Comment

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(cf. 16:7, God has “appalled” the whole company of Jo b ’s acquaintance; 17:8, the upright are “appalled” at Jo b ’s calamity; 21:5, Job invites the friends to “look at me and be appalled”). Cf. also D. R. Hillers, “A Convention in Hebrew Literature: The Reaction to Bad News,” ZAW 77 (1965) 86-90. T he wicked, as Habel puts it, “do not fade away unnoticed”; easterners and westerners, the two groups into which the hum an race is divided (or perhaps, two groups standing by merismus for all hum ankind) alike hear the news; cf. Ps 50:1, “the earth from the sun’s rising to its setting”; 113:3; Mai 1:11; Matt 8:11, “many will come from the east and the west” (the whole earth). To see the “day” ( ) of the wicked is to see the day of his calamity or death (cf. 1 Sam 26:10; Ps 37:13, the Lord sees that the wicked’s “day” is coming; 137:7, the day of Jerusalem is the day of its destruction; J e r 50:27; Ezek 21:30 [24], 34 [29]). O ne’s “day” can of course also in different contexts m ean the day of one’s birth (cf. on Job 3:1; E. Jenni, TH W AT 1:714). In describing the horror felt by those who behold his fate, the Heb. idiom here is “they seized hold of terror” (as 21:6; Isa 13:8) (the figure of hypallage), rather than “terror seized hold of them ” (as Exod 15:14; 2 Sam 1:9; etc.). 21 Bildad has m odulated the point of view of the speech from his own (unabashedly in vv 2—4), to an objective and distanced narrator’s perspective in the bulk of the speech (vv 5-19), and now via the point of view of onlookers (v 20) back to his own personal stance (these are not the words of onlookers, against Targum , Ball, n j p s ) . The form of the sentence is the “summary appraisal” (as 5:27; 8:19; 20:29; cf. also 8:13), introduced by “surely” ( asseverative; cf. 16:7; Ps 58:12 [11]), and form ing a closure of the poem that had opened with another global statement (v 5). Bildad in summary does not say directly that this is the fate of the wicked man himself but of his “dwelling” ( ; see n. 18:21.a) or “place” ( ). This shows how preoccupied he is with externals, says Andersen, while Ehrlich thought the terms could not be understood literally, but signified the wicked himself and his fate. On the contrary, it is a sign of Bildad’s striving for rationality and objectivity that he focuses on the dwelling: what happens to the wicked in the underworld is a m atter of belief, not observation; the unseen powers that trap a man for Death are postulates of the imagination; but the house, that is concrete reality, that is the ungainsayable fact that validates everything else about the fate of the wicked. See a ruin, witness the annihilation of a family, and you have gained unarguable confirmation of the doctrine of retribution. With the blandest and least specific word “place” Bildad has evacuated the wicked m an’s life of all significance: where he has spent his days is in the end not a house, not a tent, not a dwelling, but no more than a mere “place.” Does Bildad make reference, direct or indirect, to Jo b ’s own personal circumstances? All through his depiction, there are indeed parallels between the fate of the wicked and the fate of Job (cf. vv 13, 15, 19, 20) and such parallels cannot be coincidental. But, as against most commentators, it may be suggested that it is not Bildad’s purpose to rub in the point that Jo b ’s experience bears the hallmarks of the punishm ent of a sinner; that was his point of departure, and Job for his part wholly agrees that that is how things look (e.g., 16:8, “My gauntness rises up to testify against m e”). Bildad’s purpose is less cruel, as well as less specific, than that: rather than predicting Jo b ’s future, he warns him of what it might be if he does not am end his life; rather than describing

424

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Jo b ’s present, he invites him to judge for himself what m eaning his experiences may have by reading synoptically his own history alongside Bildad’s Life and Times of Mr. Badman. Morality and religion go hand in hand for Bildad, of course: the evildoer is none other than “the one who knows not God.” This is the assum ption too of the naive prologue (cf. 1:1), where, however, it is certified that Job is flawless in both spheres. W hatever Bildad’s intention, the reader knows (and Job no less assuredly) that the one person Bildad has not been describing is Job himself. Not to “know” God is of course not a sign of genuine atheism, which as a theoretical position is hardly to be met with in the ancient world, but “an evidence of insufficient piety” (Fohrer). T he “knowledge of God” is a characteristic prophetic phrase (Hos 4:1,6; 5:4; 8:2; J e r 2:8; 4:22; 9:2 [3], 5 [6]) and not typical of wisdom, it is true. Perhaps the m ultitude of proposals for the background of the phrase only goes to prove that it was common to all streams of Israelite tradition (cf., e.g., 1 Sam 2:12). It is thought to originate in a priestly setting by J. Begrich, Die priesterliche Tora (BZAW 66 [1936] 68—72), H. W. Wolff, “ ‘Wissen um Gott’ als U rform von Theologie,” EvTh 12 [195253] 533-54, J. L. McKenzie, “Knowledge of God in Hosea,” JBL 74 [1955] 22-32, W. Schottroff, TH W AT 1:696; from the relationship of m arriage by E. Baum ann, “yadac und seiner Derívate,” ZAW 28 [1908] 22-41, 110—43; W. Eichrodt, “ ‘T he Holy One in Your Midst’: The Theology of Hosea,” Int 15 [1961] 259-73, esp. 264; and from treaty terminology by Η. B. Huffm on, “T he Treaty Background of Hebrew yádac,” BASOR 181 [1966] 31-37). On the phrase “not to know God,” see G. J. Botterweck, TH W AT 4:500. Explanation T here is nothing new in Bildad’s speech, of course, but how finely it is said! T here is passion (v 4), there is careful brushwork (vv 8—10), there is a dramatic imagination (vv 11—14), there is pace. T he author does not believe in giving the opponents of Job all the best lines, indeed, but neither will he make their poetry as flat-footed as their theology. T he theology, of course, is what counts. And it is a theology without nuances, this simplistic retributionist theology. Bildad’s moral world is divided into two camps, the righteous and the wicked, as distinctly as his geographical world is peopled only by easterners and westerners (v 20). T he case of Job ought to be enough, one would have imagined, to warn anyone off com m itm ent to such simplism, for however gravely Job m ust have sinned to deserve, by retributionist thinking, the state he now experiences, no one who has known him of old could surely doubt that he has also been a m an of notable piety. Even the strictest of retributionists is not obliged to m aintain that hum ans are either wholly good or wholly bad; would not the cause of retributionist theology be better served by arguing that the mixed fortunes of Mr. and Mrs. Average are best explained as the result of their partial goodness, partial wickedness? W hat is most striking about Bildad’s portrayal of the wicked is its air of unreality. W hen did he last see what he has here described, or is his depiction little more than a fantasy of what he would like to happen? Is this what makes something traditional doctrine, the fact that no one has ever witnessed it for oneself? Is it true that the grossly wicked who find fire and brim stone raining

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down on their homesteads get forgotten by the world, or do they not rather become the stuff of folklore and saga? And do the righteous stand any better a chance at having themselves rem em bered and their existence perpetuated than the wicked do? O r had Ben Sira a point when in praising famous men of the past he acknowledged that “O f others there is no memory, for when they ceased, they ceased. And they are though they had not lived, they and their children after them ” (44:9 n a b ) . These are godly persons, but forgotten! Is that not closer to reality? Bildad has been projecting a fantasy because that is the way he needs the world to be. To be sure, some evidence crops up from time to time to give color to the fantasy, and the case of Job with its story of instantaneous devastation bids fair to be such a piece of evidence—were it not for the fact that all the world knows that Job is a righteous man, to say nothing of the further fact, that Job will no doubt be m aintaining his innocence to his dying day with a conviction that is in the end hard to ignore. But Bildad needs a dogma of exact retribution and of black-and-white morality because order is fundam ental for his own psychological well-being (see further, Explanation on chap. 8). How do I know this? By his imagery in v 4. He can only see in Job, a man assailed by (well-grounded) theological doubt and fighting a battle between dogma and experience, someone “tearing himself to pieces.” T hat is how intellectual conflict feels to Bildad: it is mental self-abuse, deeply destructive, intuitively repugnant, and above all, wholly unnecessary. And he can only see in Jo b ’s dem and for a rethinking of conventional theology a challenge to the worldorder that he himself finds profoundly disturbing: “Is the earth to be unpeopled on your account? are the rocks to be dislodged?” He cannot face the upheaval of thought Job invites him to any more than he can contemplate the depopulation brought about by a war or the convulsion of an earthquake. Now we all know what is wrong with people who cannot with equanimity say to mountains, “Get up and throw yourself into the sea” (Matt 21:21 j b ) . Faith and the need for order do not make good room-mates. Bildad is a man of dogma, not of faith, and he will ru n no risks. He mistrusts even himself. He is “yesterday’s child, and knows nothing” (8:9). In the circumstances, his attitude to Job is very decent. Not for him Zophar’s line, “Know then that God exacts of you less than your guilt deserves” (11:6 r s v ) . Bildad never directly says that Job is a sinner, and, if his second speech has been rightly interpreted in the foregoing pages in the light of his first, his dearest wish for Job is that he will come to his senses, give up his controversy with God, am end his life and live happily ever after (8:6-7, 21). T here is a kind of poetic justice in a retributionist dogmatician being able to envisage no futures except a fairy tale happiness or a sci-fi extermination. It is ironic too that Bildad should think himself to be doing Job a favor by announcing that the fate of the wicked is something Job can choose to avoid, when the reality is that Job, the most blameless m an on earth, has come perilously near, without the least effort on his part, to suffering the fate of the archetypal sinner.

Job’s Sixth Speech

(19:1—29)

Bibliography B aker, A. “T he Strange Case of Jo b ’s Chisel.” CBQ 31 (1969) 370-79. B lu m en th al, D. R. “A Play on Words in the N ineteenth C hapter of Jo b .” VT 16 (1966) 497-501. B u rk itt, F. C. “On celtis ‘A Chisel’: A Study in Textual T radition.” JT S 17 (1916) 389— 9 7 .---------. “On celtis ‘A Chisel’: A Further N ote.” /T S 22 (1921) 380-81. C o n d e r, C. R. “Notes on Biblical Antiquities: 3. W riting with Lea á ”PEFQS (1905) 155-58. D ahood, M. “Hebrew-Ugaritic Lexicography IX.” Bib 52 (1971) 337-56. D riv er, G. R. “Problems

in the Hebrew Text of Jo b .” VTSup 3 (1955) 72—93. ---------. “Ugaritic and Hebrew W ords.” In Ugaritica VI. Mission de Ras Shamra 17. Paris: Mission Archéologique de Ras Shamra, 1969. 181-86. F ish er, L. R. “sdyn in Job xix 29.” VT 11 (1961) 342-43. G alling, K. “Die Grabinschrift Hiobs.” WO 2 (1954-59) 3-6. G eh m an , H . S. “ , an Inscription, in the Book of Jo b T JBL 63 (1944) 303-307. G u illau m e, A. “T he Arabic Background of the Book of Jo b .” In Promise and Fulfilment: Essays Presented to Professor S. H. Hooke. Ed. F. F. Bruce. Edinburgh: T. 8c T. Clark, 1963. 106—27. K utsch, E. “Text und Textgeschichte in Hiob XIX: Zu Problemen in V. 14—15, 20, 23-24.” VT 32 (1982) 464—84. P en ar, T. “Job 19,19 in the Light of Ben Sira 6,11.” Bib 48 (1967) 293-95. S m ith, W. T . New Rendering of Job xix.23-27.” ExpT 3 (1891-92) 60. Stam m , J . J. “Versuch zur Erklárung von Hiob 19,24.” TZ 4 (1948) 3 3 1 -3 8 .---------. “Zu Hiob 19,24.” ZAW 65 (1953) 302. Sutcliffe, E. F. “Further Notes on Job, Textual and Exegeti? T hreni 1,15; Hiob 19,12; 30,12.” cal.” Bib 31 (1950) 365-78. W inck ler, H . “ Altorientalische Forschungen. Leipzig: E. Pfeiffer, 1903. 242—44.

On

vv

25-27:

B arré, M. L. “A Note on Job xix 25.” VT 29 (1969) 107—9. B eau cam p , E. “Le goel de Jb 19,25.” LTP 33 (1977) 309—10. B rates C ravero, L. “La esperanza en el libro de Jo b .” In XXX Semana Bíblica Española (Madrid, 1972) 21—34. B ru sto n , C. “Pour l’exégése de Jo b 19,25-29.” ZAW 26 (1906) 143-46. C lin es, D. J . A. “Belief, Desire and Wish in Job 19:23-27. Clues for the Identity of Jo b ’s ‘R edeem er’.” In “Wiinschet Jerusalem Frieden”: Collected Communications to the Xllth Congress of the International Organization for the Study of the Old Testament, Jerusalem 1986. Beitráge zur Erforschung des Alten Testam ents und des antiken Judentum s 13. Ed. M. Augustin and K.-D. Schunk. Frankfurt a.M.: Peter Lang, 1988. 363-70. D avidson, A. B. “Job xix.25-29.” ExpT 9 (189798) 192. D river, G. R. “Problems of the Hebrew Text and Language.” In Alttestamentliche Studien: Friedrich Notscher zum sechzigsten Geburtstag. Ed. H. Ju n k e r and J. Botterweck. Bonn: Hanstein, 1950. 46—61 (“I. Scenes in C ourt,” pp. 46-47). D roste, O . “Hiob 19,23-27.” ZAW 4 (1884) 107-11. G arcia C o rd ero , M. “La tesis de la sanción moral y la esperanza de la resurrección en el libro de Jo b .” In La encíclica Human! Generis. XII Semaña Bíblica Española. Madrid: Librería Científica Medinaceli, 1952. 571—94. ---------. “La esperanza de la resurrección corporal en Jo b .” Ciencia Tomista 80 (1953) 1-23. G aster, T. H . “Short Notes: Job xix 26.” VT 4 (1954) 73-79 (78). H o lsc h e r, G. “Hiob 19:25-27 u n d ju b il 23:30-31.” ZAW 12 (1935) 277-83. H u d a l, A. “Textkritische und exegetische B em erkungen zu Job 19:25-27.” BZ (1916-17) 214—35. K uhl, C. “N euere Literaturkritik des Buches Hiob.” ThR 21 (1953) 163-205, 257-317. L évéque, J ■Job et son Dieu: Essai d ’exégése et de théologie biblique. Paris: Gabalda, 1970. 2:467—89. M artin -A ch ard , R. From Death to Life. A Study of the Development of the Doctrine of the Resurrection in the Old Testament. T r. J. P. Smith. Edinburgh: Oliver 8c Boyd, 1960.

Translation

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166—80 (= De la mort a la résurrection d ’aprés VAnden Testament. Neuchátel, 1956). Meek, T. J. “Job xix 25-27.” VT 6 (1956) 100-103. Mombert, J. I. “On Job xix.25-27 .” JBL (1882) 2 7 -3 9 . --------- . “Job xix.25-27.”y5L (1883) 154-55. M owinckel, S. “Hiobs gó’él und Zeuge im Himmel.” BZAW 41 (Marti Festschrift), 1925. 207-12. N eubauer, A. “Job xix.25-27.” The Athenaeum 3000 (June 27, 1885) 823. Prado, J. “La perspectiva escatológica en Job 19,25—27.” EstBíb 25 (1966) 143—53. R ose, V. “Etude sur Job XIX, 25-27.” RB 5 (1896) 39-55. Speer, J. “Zur Exegese von Hiob 19,25-27.” ZAW 25 (1905) 47-140. Sutcliffe, E. F. “Further Notes on Job, Textual and Exegetical.” Bib 31 (1950) 365-78 (377-78). Tournay, R. “Relectures bibliques concernant la vie future et l’angélologie.” RB 69 (1962) 481-505 (489-95). Waterman, L. “Note on Job 19:2327: Job’s Triumph of Faith.” JBL 69 (1950) 379-80. Zink, J. K. “Impatient Job: An Interpretation of Job 19:25-27 JBL 84 (1965) 147-52.

Translation 1And Job answered and said: 2How long do you mean toa torment me? How long will you try to b crush me with your words? 3Ten times now you have tried to humiliate me; you have shamelessly attackeda me. 4Even if it be true that I have sinned, my fault should harm me only. 5But since you must get the bettera of me, using my suffering in evidence against me,h 6understand that it is God who has put me in the wrong; he it is who has thrown up siegeworks around me.a 7 I fa I cry out “Violence!,” I am not answered; I shout for help, but there is no justice. 8He has barred my way so that I cannot pass;a he has veiled^ my path in darkness. 9He has stripped me of my honor, taken the crown from my head. 10From every side he has ruined me, and I have perished; he has torn my hopea up by the roots. 11He has kindled a his anger against me, he counts me his enemy.b 12His troops have advanced in force, they have built a rampart against me, they have laid siege to my tent on every side. 13My kinsfolk he has p u tafar from me; my acquaintances are wholly estranged.b 14My clansmen and my intimates have forsaken me; my retainers a have forgotten me. 15The serving girlsa treat me as a stranger; I have become to them b an alien. 16My own servant I summon, but he will not answer, not even if I beg him for pity’s sake.a

428

Jo b 1 9 : 1 - 2 9 17My very lifea is repulsiveb to my wife, I have become loathsomec to my brothers. 18Even young childrena reject me; when I risef they turn their backs c on me. 19All my intimates loathe me, those I have loved have turned againsta me. 20 aMy bones hang from my skin and my flesh; bI am left with only the skin of my teeth. 21Spare me! do spare me! you are my friends! for the hand of Eloah has struck me. 22 Why must you persecute me like God? a Will you never be finished with your calumnies? b 230 thata my declarations could be written, 0 that they could be inscribedh on a monument,c 24with an iron chisel and with leada graven into the rock in perpetuity / b 25But I know that my champion livesa hand that he will rise c lastd to speak for me on earth,e 26 aeven after my skinh has thusc been strippeddfrom me. Yet, to beholde Eloah while still in my flesh— that is my desire, 27 to see him for myselfa to seeh him with my own eyes, not as a strangers dMy inmost being is consumed with longing! 28 When you say, Howa we will persecute him!h and, The root of the trouble c lies d in him,e 29you should tremble at the sword yourselves (for yoursa is an angerh worthy c of the sword), dand realize e there is a judgment ^ to come. s

Notes 2.a. Taking the impf as modal (cf. GKC, § 107m). 2. b. Modal impf again. 3. a. occurs only here. Older connections with Arab, hakara suggested “made to wonder,” but this hardly suits the context. Three Heb. mss have Π3ΠΓΙ; an otherwise unattested Heb. “illtreat” (cf. Arab, hakara, ?Akk. hakaru “break to pieces”) may be postulated (Duhm, Driver, Dhorme, Fohrer, Rowley, de Wilde, KB3, r v , r s v , j b , n iv “attack”). This is a satisfactory sense, and emendations are gratuitous. Eitan and Gordis compare Arab, haqara “abuse, insult” (nj ps “abuse”), which indeed forms a closer parallelism, but not necessarily a preferable one. 5.a. Gordis unnecessarily supposes another Heb. here, and in Jer 48:26, 42 and several other places, cognate with Arab, jadala “quarrel.” 5. b. Not “try to justify the reproaches levelled at me” (n e b ), for the “reproach” is Job’s state, not other people’s words. 6. a. Most have connected 1 1 with “hunt,” taking the noun as “net” (BDB, KB3). More appropriate in the light of vv 7-12 seems the image of siegeworks thrown up round a besieged city (so Gordis, Habel, nj ps ), a meaning of that may be attested in Eccl 9:14. The usual , which perhaps should be read here by a small emendation. word for siegeworks is 7. a. As in 9:11; not “behold” (r v , r s v , j ps ).

Notes 8 .a .

n e b

“b re a k

429

a w a y .”

8.b. Guillaume (and before him Reiske) supposed a noun cognate with Arab, hasak “thorn hedge” (“T he Arabic Background,” 114); hence n e b “has hedged in the road before m e.” T he parallelism is neater (cf. also Hos 2:8 [6] for blocking the way with a thorn hedge) but less expressive (Sicre Diaz). seems to mean at 7:6; but it is absurd to pluck up a tent10. a. n e b “my tent-rope,” as 1 rope “like a tree” since tent-ropes are quite easily pulled up, no m atter how devastating the consequences, metaphorically speaking (cf. 4:21). And tent-ropes are always pulled up for good and all, whereas trees seldom are; one could perhaps pull up a tree “like a tent-rope” but not vice versa. 11. a. Emendation to ] (Driver-Gray, Fohrer, Sicre Diaz) is unnecessary; see Comment. ll.b . Reading “like his enemy” rather than MT “like his enemies” (so Dhorme, Rowley, Pope, de Wilde), though Weiser suggests that the plural might be original as a traditional elem ent from cultic recitation of Yahweh’s deeds against enemies. Fohrer thinks a pi would refer to primeval chaos monsters. Gordis defends the pi as a distributive, “as one of his foes.” 13.a. T he sg of the MT should be retained as forming a link between the actions of God in vv 7-12 and of Jo b ’s acquaintances in vv 13-19 (so too Habel). Many, however, em end to “they are distant” (Duhm, Holscher, Horst, Fohrer, Gordis, de Wilde, Sicre Diaz, n e b , n a b , j b ) . 13. b. O r perhaps, “have gone far from m e”; cf. KB3 “sich abw enden,” L. A. Snijders, “T he Meaning of in the Old T estam ent,” OTS 10 (1954) 1-154 (9). 14. a. Transferring “the household retainers” from v 15, which is overloaded, to v 14 which is too short. So BHS and most translations except k j v , r v , n j p s , n i v . This change also makes “my intimates” ( ) into a second subject of “have ceased” ( ). T he transfer seems supported by llQ tg Jo b which has no “and” preceding “my servant-girl(s)”; so E. Kutsch, “Text und Textgeschichte in Hiob XIX: Zu Problemen in V. 14-15, 20, 23-24,” VT 32 (1982) 464—84 (466-67). 15. a. E. Kutsch proposes on the basis of the sg “my serving-girl” in llQ tg jo b that the MT originally had the sg (VT 32 [1982] 467-68), as it does for the (mase) servant in v 16, meaning a typical servant of either sex; but it is perfectly understandable that Job should refer to (pi) serving-girls and a (sg) personal manservant. 15. b. Mase pi sufif referring to fern pi noun; cf. GKC, § 1350. 16. a. Lit., “with my m outh I entreat him ”; the two halves of the line may be co-ordinated (as r s v , j b ) or sub-ordinated, the concessive “though” being implied ( n e b , n i v ) . 17. a. can mean “breath” (BDB, 924b) as hum ankind’s vital principle; indeed R. Albertz and C. W estermann call this, along with the sense “wind,” one of the fundam ental meanings (TH W AT 2:734) and most translate it so here. But see Comment. Some suggest we em end to “my smell, odor” (cf. BHK; KB3, 256b, n j p s , Wernberg-M011er [see n. 19:17.b]). Gordis, m eant “my passion, desire,” but parallels are lacking. following a hint from Ehrlich, thought See further, Comment. I7.b. From II “to stink” (BDB, KB3 and most versions and commentators), attested only here. L. A. Snijders, OTS 10 (1954) 14—16, following Driver, r v , denies the existence of this verb, and relates it to IT I “be strange,” as in vv 14, 27 (as also Habel). P. Wernberg-M011er, “A Note on IT ‘to stink,” ’ VT 4 (1954) 322-25, refers to an Arabic poem in which of a wife whose husband had become repulsive to her it is said that “into her nose the smell o f diydr had come,” diyar being “camel-dung” or anything stinking, and cognate with Heb. II. (This does not of course m ean that her husband was literally foul-smelling; see Comment.) T he parallelism with 11 “be loathsome” supports the existence of “stink.” 17. c. From II “be loathsome” (only attested here in Heb.), rather than I “supplicate” (as in v 16) ( r v “my supplication”). 18. a. Not “my children” ( ) as Gordis suggests to bring it into harm ony with the other nouns of vv 13—17. 18.b. Cohortative for an “if”-clause; cf. 16:6; GKC, § 159e. 18.c. Accepting, with n e b , Fohrer, de Wilde, KB, KB3, derivation from a (I, in KB3) “turn aside from, turn one’s back on” (cf. Ps 76:6 [5]; Cant 5:6), cognate with Arab, dabara “be behind”; so Eitan, 33-34; idem, “Studies in Hebrew Roots,” JQR 14 (1923-24) 31-52 (38—41); so also G. R. Driver, “Studies in the Vocabulary of the Old Testam ent I , JT S 31 (1930) 275—84 (284 n. 3), T. Penar, “Job 19,19 in the Light of Ben Sira 6,11,” Bib 48 (1967) 293-95 (294 n. 2). This involves taking as “from ” (which KB3, 101a § 13 approves), which makes the case fairly weak philologically. But the sense benefits!

430

J o b 1 9 :1 -2 9

19. a. Penar, B ib 48 (1967) 293—95, argued that means “from ,” thus “turn away from ” rather than “turn against.” Despite N. M. Sarna, “T he Interchange of the Prepositions B e th and M i n in Biblical H ebrew,” J B L 78 (1959) 310—16, and Dahood, P s a lm s I I I , 391—93, the evidence is not strong; cf. n. 7:14.a. 20. a. Some interpretations alternative to that proposed in the C o m m e n t should be noted here. Commonly, v 20a is thought to picture emaciation (so Driver-Gray, Rowley, Fohrer, Gordis). This results from a hasty confusion of the present image with the distinct images of Ps 22:18 [17] and others, detailed in the C o m m e n t, n e b “my bones stick out through my skin” is a sad example of a presum ption about the imagery; no better is n i v “I am nothing but skin and bones,” which fails completely to translate . Equally blithely, D. Blumenthal, “A Play on Words in the N ineteenth C hapter of Jo b ,” VT 16 (1966) 497—501, translated “my skin and my flesh cling to my bones,” noting that common usage in English is to speak of skin and flesh adhering to the bones and not the other way round (!). T he Syriac made the same transposition. Several have noted that “flesh” and “bones” often signify one’s relatives (e.g., Ehrlich, and cf. on 2:4-6), and van Seims has made the interesting proposal that the verse be translated, “To my relatives I have inwardly cleaved, but they have given me nothing,” i.e., omitting 1 as a gloss, understanding as “I myself, I inwardly,” and “skin in the teeth” as the small portion of an animal a wild beast can run off with when the shepherd chases him, that is to say, virtually nothing. This has the merit over all suggestions other than that proposed in the C o m m e n t of linking closely with the preceding verses, but the interpretation of the second half of the line is unpersuasive, and it would be strange to find “flesh” and “bone” together metaphorically in d is tin c t senses (“I” and “they”); in metaphorical use they are equivalent (Gen 2:23; 29:14; Ju d g 9:2; 2 Sam 5:1; 19:13, 14 [12, 13]; 1 Chr 11:1). C. A. and E. G. Briggs had the bright idea on the same phrase in Ps 102:6 that it was because the bones were burning from fever and so lacking in moisture that the bones cleaved fast to the flesh (A C r itic a l a n d E x e g e tic a l C o m m e n ta r y o n th e B o o k o f P s a lm s [Edinburgh: T. 8c T. Clark, 1909] 2:319), but they did not ask what bones do u n d er norm al circumstances. Szczygiel divined in the phrase a kind o f paralysis, a loss of elasticity of the flesh, which is perhaps not severe enough for the circumstances. T he suggestion of Tur-Sinai that means not “flesh” in general but “tongue” and that means not “bone” in general but “palate-bone,” thus “my palate bone cleaveth to my tongue,” has little to recom m end it, especially because the cleaving would have to be the other way round. T here is a lack of plausibility too in Janzen’s more existential interpretation, that Job, “deserted by the wider community (hum an and divine) . . . seeks solace and companionship in his embodied self, in a covenant loyalty which seeks at least to keep soul and body—or bones and flesh—together”; he translates, “I cleave loyally to my skin and my flesh.” An approach relying on Semitic philology is that of E. F. Sutcliffe, “F urther Notes on Job, Textual and Exegetical,” B ib 31 (1950) 365-78 (375-77), observing that it is quite norm al for bone and flesh to adhere (he and Merx and Siegfried are the only writers to do so), argues that in the margin; thus means “skin,” like Arab, b a s a ra t, which has been glossed with “my bones cleave to my skin”; so too G. R. Driver, “Problems in the Hebrew Text of Jo b ,” VTSup 3 (1955) 72—93 (80); “Ugaritic and Hebrew W ords,” U g a r itic a V I (Mission de Ras Shamra 17; Paris: Mission Archéologique de Ras Shamra, 1969) 181—86 (185). This sense of the Arabic cognate had been called on by E. F. C. Rosenmiiller, S c h o lia in V e tu s T e s ta m e n tu m (Leipzig: Barth, 1823) 4/3:1585, F. Delitzsch, B ib lic a l C o m m e n ta r y o n th e P s a lm s (London: H odder 8c Stoughton, 1889) 3:80, and by T. Witton Davies, T h e P s a lm s (CB; Edinburgh: T. C. and E. C. Jack, 1906) 2:164, in explaining Ps 102:6 [5], and by Gesenius-Buhl (120), as well as by Kimchi, and had been rejected by H. H upfeld and W. Nowack, D ie P s a lm e n (3rd ed.; Gotha: Perthes, 1888) 419. T he most m inor emendation is “to the flesh of my skin” (.B H S , Horst), a surprisingly redundant phrase, attested indeed in Lev 13:2-4, 1 1 ,3 8 -3 9 ,4 3 ; but the context there is rather technical and not in the least poetical; so the em endation is not very probable. Among emendations, perhaps the most acceptable is the deletion of “to my skin and,” absent from the parallel Ps 102:6 (so Ehrlich, Holscher, Stevenson, Tur-Sinai), though this leaves an apparently banal phrase. O thers delete “and my flesh” (Bickell, Budde, Peake, Driver-Gray, B H K , Fohrer, Hesse, Sicre Diaz, n e b , n a b , Kutsch, V T 32 [1982] 464—84). Michaelis and Merx also proposed “in my skin my flesh has rotted away,” noting LXX év δέρ ατί ου έσάπησαν ai σάρκες ου “in my skin my flesh (pi) has rotted” (so too Duhm [less probably reading ], Dhorme, Kissane [reading (mase)], Budde, Siegfried, Pope, Szczygiel [reading “rottenness”], de Wilde [reading ], j b “beneath my skin, my flesh begins to ro t”)—difficult to justify medically, comments Sicre Diaz.

Notes

431

20.b. O ther interpretations, some undeniably bizarre, are: (i) Leaving the MT as it stands and taking as “escape,” the skin of the teeth is taken as the gums (Nivmg “only my gums”); some scholars have been seduced by the German for “gums,” Z a h n fle is c h (lit., “teeth-flesh”), which means that the rest of his flesh has wasted away (Rashi, Dillmann) or that the only sound part of his flesh not attacked by leprosy are his gums (Delitzsch, Weiser). Peters thought the lips were the skin of the teeth (cf. Vg et d e re lic ta s u n t ta n tu m m o d o la b ia c ir c u m d e n te s m eos “only the lips about my teeth are left”) and that Job meant, “N othing is left to me except the possibility of speech.” Renan and Buttenwieser, observing that teeth have no skin, understood “I will escape [coh] with the skin of my teeth,” i.e., never, “dans la semaine des quatre jeudis.” T errien, noting that although adult teeth have no skin, milk teeth of children are covered by a pseudo-cutaneous tissue, wondered if that skin could be a symbol of innocence, Job meaning, “If only I could escape [coh] with my integrity intact.” (ii) Supposing a different verb , either (a) “become bald,” cognate with Arab, m a la ta (and cf. “be bald”), as Michaelis, Holscher, Fohrer, Fedrizzi, KB3, meaning “I am bald on the skin of my teeth,” which is supposed to mean that the lips or cheeks are emaciated or else that he has lost or pulled out the hair of his moustache or beard (cf. Symmachus, quoted at the end of this note). This is wildly implausible. E. Kutsch has recently argued elaborately (“Text und Textgeschichte in Hiob XIX,” V T 32 [1982] 464-84 [473-81]), that the skin of the teeth are the gums, and to be bald on the gums is to have lost one’s teeth; he does not for a mom ent consider w hether this may be appropriate to the context. Alternatively, (b) a root “rub, bite” cognate with Akk. m a r a tu “rub,” Arab, m a r a ta “pluck out hair, grow,” Syr. m r a t “pluck out,” Eth. m a la ta “pluck out hair” has been postulated by G. R. Driver, VTSup 3 (1955) 80-81, and followed by Gerleman in B H S (though the diacritics have there been mistakenly omitted from three of the cognates), (c) A further alternative is that a root , attested in the noun “m ortar, cem ent,” may be supposed m eaning “to cleave, stick” (thus parallel with in the first half of the line; so Doederlein, explaining that Jo b ’s teeth would have fallen out if the skin had not held them in place—a phenom enon unknown to dental science). Tur-Sinai suggests, “I cleave to the skin of my teeth (with my tongue) as if by means of cement, so that I am no longer able to speak”; but of course it is not Job himself that so cleaves, but only his tongue. Furtherm ore, it is more than doubtful that means “cem ent” in its one occurrence at Je r 43:9, and not rather “loamy soil” (KB3 ; Kutsch, V T 32 [1982] 476); and of course the fact is that Job seems to have little difficulty in continuing speaking. (iii) Seeking a Semitic cognate for , G. R. Driver further proposed that in the second half of the line is not “skin” but a second cognate with Arab. g a r u ( n ) “bottom of palate, pit of chin” (VTSup 3 [1955] 80-81); hence n e b “I gnaw my under-lip with my teeth,” which Driver explained as a sign of “acute or harassed perturbation.” Quite apart from the fact that this seems a very mild problem for Job to be encountering, it is more than doubtful that the comparative Semitic evidence is adequate. For it is only in Arab, that the root m r t seems to mean “gnaw,” and the “under-lip” is not what the supposed cognate Arab, term actually means. Blumenthal, V T 16 (1966) 499, drew on the same Arabic cognate to translate, “I am left with (only) my skull,” i.e., the bone within which my teeth are set; but this is a willful extension of the meaning of the Arabic, and the resultant sense tends to the absurd: what kind of a creature is Job depicting himself as? (iv) Emending the text, (a) Bickell1, Budde, Peake, Driver-Gray, B H K , n a b , read “and I have escaped with my flesh in my teeth,” like a wild animal running off with a piece of savaged goat or sheep (13:14 is often com pared but the sense is quite different), (b) Duhm read ] “and my teeth have fallen out” (followed by Moffatt), which can hardly be thought germ ane to the context; Pope has “my teeth drop from my gums,” retaining as “gums.” A rabbinic commentary of the 13th or 14th century took the same view (A C o m m e n ta r y o n th e B o o k o f J o b , ed. W. A. W right, tr. S. A. Hirsch [London: Williams 8c Norgate, 1905] 56, 130). (c) Dhorme read “with my teeth” instead of “with the skin of my teeth,” transferred “my bone” to the second half of the line, and translated “I have gnawed my bone with my teeth,” which means that his bones are visible under the skin; this certainly sounds like hunger, but that is not the point of the line, as has been argued above, (d) For Merx, Job had escaped with his bones in his teeth, 1] , whatever that means, (e) Kissane read · “and my bones protrude in sharp points” (lit., as teeth); hence presumably j b “my bones stick out like teeth.” (f) De Wilde rather rashly emends to 11 “and my bones are full of the wrath of the Almighty” (which is not the point in this description of desertion by his friends), (g) T he proposal may be made to read “I made my

432

Jo b 1 9 : 1 - 2 9

skin bald with my teeth,” i.e., “I ate the hair of my body for hun g er.” This is exactly what Symmachus has: έζέτιλλον το δέρ α ου όδοϋσιν έ οίς, “I stripped bare my skin with my teeth.” With this we might compare the Phoenician inscription of Kilamuwa in the translation of C. C. T orrey (“T he Zokar and Kalamu Inscriptions,” J A O S 35 [1915-17] 353-69 [365]): “And I was in the midst of kings as though I were eating my beard, or even were eating my h an d ” (lines 6-7) (similarly M. Dahood, “Textual Problems in Isaia,” C B Q 22 [1960] 400-409 [404-5]). It is true that in the more recent translations of F. Rosenthal ( A N E T , 654b) and J. C. L. Gibson (T e x tb o o k o f S y r ia n S e m itic In s c r ip tio n s [Oxford: Clarendon, 1982] 3:34) the sentence is rendered “I was in the hand(s) of the kings like a fire that consumes the beard or like a fire that consumes the h an d ” (Gibson), but this translation is not fully convincing. For the imagery of eating one’s own flesh (though not necessarily because of hunger) cf. v 22 and Isa 49:26; Je r 19:9 clearly depicts the h unger of a siege. It nevertheless needs to be stressed that it is more than doubtful w hether h unger is at all the them e in this verse. 22.a. As Dhorme says, it is a “pure whim” to em end “like G od” to “like an “like avenger” (A. N eubauer, “Job xix.25-27,” A t h e n a e u m 3000 [June 27, 1885] 823) or a stag” (Reiske, B H K p r p s ). 22. b. Lit., “will you not be satisfied with my flesh?” See C o m m e n t. 23. a. Some grammatical aspects of the phrase ] are discussed by B. Jongeling, “L’expression m y y t n dans l’Ancien T estam ent,” V T 24 (1974) 32— 40. Cf. also C. J. Labuschagne, T H W A T 2:133— 34. 23.b. Horst, thinking “that they should be engraved” fits better with v 24, removes it to there and deletes the second from this verse. Duhm also deletes the second and transfers to the second half of the line, translating “that my words should be m arked in his book [reading ].” Beer ( B H K ) thought a verb had been lost after the second . T he position of before the verb that logically begins its clause is of course no mistake, nor is the w a w an emphatic w a w (Blommerde); “the arrangem ent of the words is extremely elegant, s t a n d s p e r h y p e r b a to n emphatically prom inent” (Delitzsch; K. Galling, “Die Grabinschrift Hio'bs,” W O 2 [1954-59] 3 -6 [5]). 23. c. An attractive suggestion is made that we should understand as equivalent to Akk. s ip a r r u “copper” and Arab, s u fr , s ifr (so Perles II, 70; Dhorme, Holscher, Sicre Diaz, T errien, Richter, 89); other possible occurrences are at Isa 30:8 where also the verb is used, and Ju d g 5:14, where the “ru ler’s staff” ( ) may be a staff of bronze. T he use of copper or bronze sheets for writing is rarely attested in the ancient world, but is known from such disparate periods as the tenth century b . c . (six items from Byblus m entioned by G. R. Driver, S e m itic W r i t i n g [London: OUP, rev. edn., 1954] 92—93; text and translation of one text: H. D onner and W. Róllig, K a n a a n a is c h e u n d a r a m a is c h e In s c h r ifte n [Wiesbaden; Harrassowitz, 1962—64] 1:1; 2:5; cf. W. F. Albright, “A Hebrew Letter from the twelfth century b . c . , ” B A S O R 73 [1939] 9-13; M. Martin, “A Preliminary Report after Re-Examination of the Byblian Inscriptions,” O r 30 [1961] 46—78 [46—63]), the second century b . c . (1 Macc 8:22; 14:18, letters on bronze tablets), and the first century a . d . (the celebrated C opper Scroll from Q um ran; cf. J. M. Allegro, T h e T r e a s u r e o f th e C o p p e r S c r o ll [London: Routledge Sc Kegan Paul, I960]). In view o f the poor attestation of the supposed “copper” in Heb., it remains preferable to take the word as m eaning “inscription” or the stele or m onum ent on which the inscription is engraved (cf. H. S. G ehman, “ , an Inscription, in the Book of Jo b ,”/B L 63 [1944] 303-7; J. A. Soggin, “Osservazioni a due derivad della radice s p r in ebraico,” B e O 7 [1965] 279-82). For “inscription,” cf. the Phoenician inscription of Ahiram, line 2 (J. C. L. Gibson, T e x tb o o k o f S y r ia n S e m itic I n s c r ip tio n s [Oxford: Clarendon, 1971, 1975, 1982] 3:14; translated differently in A N E T , 661b); of Kilamuwa (i 15) (Gibson, 1:34-35; A N E T , 655a), and the Aramaic inscription of Sefire, i C 17; ii C 2 (Gibson, 2:32-33, 4 4 45); Exod 17:14 and Isa 30:8 may have the same sense (so KB3). We may ignore D uhm ’s proposal to read “that they may be inscribed in his book” (cf. 14:17), though he rightly questions why Job should find this so impossible a wish. It is not technically impossible, or even difficult, to carve letters in stone, but for Job it is logistically impossible, and so the equivalent of an impossible dream . T he article of of course indicates the stele that is to be devoted to the inscription, or alternatively, the inscription in question (GKC, § 126s). 24. a. T he translation given implies that the beth of does double duty for (Konig, S y n ta x , § 319m!S; Blommerde); em endation to (Beer) is unnecessary. “lead” is quite well attested in Heb. (and cf. Akk. a b d r u ). H ólscher’s view in the first edition of his comm entary that it means magnesite, a soft whitish chalk, has been given up in the second edition, j b “engraving tool” derives from the Vulgate reading celte, supposedly a “chisel,” but now shown to be an error for certe; see A. Baker, “T he Strange Case of Jo b ’s Chisel,” C B Q 31 (1969) 370—79.

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The parallel phrasing in Jer 17:1 led Budde (J. J. Stamm’s support in T Z 4 [1948] 331-38 was withdrawn in Z A W 65 [1953] 302), to emend here to S IL “with a stylus point” (Jer 17:1 has ] “with a diamond point,” the presumably being for the rough work, the for the fine work). The parallel, however, could only support the substitution of a phrase like , not on its own. “forever” as “for a testimony,” 24. b. Theod. eis αρτΰριον and Vg in te stim o n iu m read which suits the context well enough, and is followed by Merx and Duhm, as well as by Weiser, who remarks that Job is not interested in a p e r p e tu a l witness to his innocence by the inscription since he hopes before long to be declared innocent by God. “Forever,” however, contrasts with Job’s imminent death, not with the time that must pass before his vindication. So while the emendation perhaps gives a better sense than the MT, there is nothing wrong with the MT and the emendation, though supported by ancient versions, seems a little arbitrary. 25. a. M. C. Barré (“A Note on Job xix 25,” V T 29 [1969] 107-9) takes a false track by assuming that we have here a word-pair // “live” // “rise,” and by going on to translate “I know that my redeemer can restore life/health, And that (my) guarantor can raise up from the dust.” The proposal includes the improbabilities that gH yhy has a consonant “shared” between gHy and y h y (understood as a defectively written piel of “cause to live”), that is to be read (a defectively written hiph of “raise up”), and that means “from.” 25.b. There is little reason to accept a concessive sense here, as Gordis: “though He be the last to arise upon earth.” 25.c. M. Dahood suggested for “he shall stand” “he will take vengeance,” the motif of Yahweh’s victory over Sheol (“Hebrew-Ugaritic Lexicography IX,” B ib 52 [1971] 337-56 [346]); the revocalization was already suggested by Bickell. Arbitrary is Neubauer’s emendation to (.A th e n a e u m 3000 [1885] 823). 25.d. Less probably appeal may be made to the Mishnaic and Talmudic word “surety, guarantor, sponsor, afterman” (S. Mowinckel, “Hiobs gó’él und Zeuge im Himmel,” BZAW 41 [1925] 207-12 [211], reading ; Beer [ B H K ] ; Pope). The suggestion is “neither proved nor probable” (Gray). 25. e. G. R. Driver thought “on dust” simply meant “in court,” “since justice was done in the threshing-floor or in the gate, both very dusty places” (VTSup 3 [1955] 47); hence n e b “rise last to speak in court.” The logic is defective: the fact that a place is dusty is no reason why “dust” should signify that place, any more than that “rain” should signify “England.” N. H. Ridderbos rejects the fairly clear evidence of 41:25 [33] to insist that “upon dust” never means “upon earth,” and argues that it here means “above the dust of Sheol” (“ ais Staub des Totenortes,” O T S 5 [1948] 174-78). 26. a. Among the simplest and therefore most elegant emendations (as Lévéque puts it, p. 477) is that of E. F. Sutcliffe, “Further Notes on Job, Textual and Exegetical,” B ib 31 (1950) 365—78 (377—78), who rearranged the words of the MT to read , “And shall my skin be stripped from my flesh, Even after that I shall see God.” R. Tournay improved on that by bringing to the beginning of the verse, “and if my skin is stripped from my flesh” (“Relectures bibliques concernant la vie future et l’angélologie,” R B 69 [1962] 481-505 [489-95]; so too Lévéque, 477, 486. Beer suggested ] “and I shall see [ not elsewhere in Heb., but cognates in Akk. and Aram.] my witness standing erect beside me” (cf. B H K ) , and G. R. Driver (VTSup 3 [1955] 47) follows this, adding that ^ (= ) “my refuter,” i.e., the one who refutes for me (this verb is not elsewhere in Heb., but a cognate in Aram.) should be so read. Hence n e b “I shall discern my witness standing at my side, and see my defending counsel, even God himself.” This conjectural emendation, further weakened by the supposition of two verbs not attested in Hebrew, has not a chance of being what the poet wrote; yet the n e b mg has the nerve to say that the MT is “unintelligible”! Duhm, transferring from v 25, reads ] “and another shall arise as my witness, and will raise up his sign,” viz., over Job’s dead body to show that his murder will be avenged; this is an emendation that may safely be “left to itself” (A. B. Davidson, “Job “I shall stand up” and translates xix.25-29,” E x p T 9 [1897-98] 192). Dhorme reads !? as “behind my skin” as if looking from behind a curtain, parallel to “from my flesh” as the position from which Job will look. Gordis seems to approve this understanding, translating “deep in my skin.” De Wilde even less convincingly suggests “and then Shaddai will call (me).” Skehan (“Strophic Patterns,” 109) felt confident that v 26a was a “crude, meaningless and manifest dittography,” mainly for the half-line that preceded it; he then rearranged the order to 27a, b, 26b, 27c (as displayed in n a b ) .

434

Jo b

19:1-29

26.b. j b “After my awaking” (similarly Nivmg, Janzen) takes as , inf of “awake” (so too Terrien). D. R. Blumenthal (“A Play on Words in the Nineteenth Chapter of Job,” V T 16 [1966] 497—501) invented a new Heb. with an Arab, cognate, meaning “disgrace, abuse,” thus “when the period of my abuse is at an end.” 26.c. Taking as an adverb (to which there are no real parallels) or else emending to “thus,” with or without reading jpJ; so Budde, Fohrer, Sicre Diaz. 26.d. Larcher reads “he will raise me up beside him self’; this is followed by Terrien and j b . Gordis derives from II “go around” and so “mark off,” and translates “this has been marked.” Janzen takes from II “go around,” and translates “things will come around to this ( ),” comparing 1:5; but we would need a subject such as “days” (cf. also Isa 29:1), and how can th e p e r f e c t be explained? T. H. Gaster read ] “(?) and after my testimony is vindicated,” explaining as “vindicate,” as Akk. z a q a p u (“Short Notes: Job xix 26,” V T 4 [1954] 73-79 [78]). 26. e. L. Waterman suggests that should be taken as a present, as though Job already “sees” that God is on his side and already is his vindicator even though the vindication may only come after Job’s death (“Note on Job 19:23—27: Job’s Triumph of Faith,” J B L 69 [1950] 379— 80); this largely follows C. Bruston, “Pour l’exégése de Job 19,25—29,” Z A W 26 (1906) 143—46. Similarly Gordis: Job “is experiencing the mystic vision.” F. Notscher denies that this is a “mystical” sight of God, but ignores the legal significance of the term entirely ( “D a s A n g e s ic h t G o ttes s c h a u e n ” n a c h b ib lisch er u n d b a b ylo n isch er A u ffa ss u n g [Würzburg: Becker, 1924] 158—59). Kissane’s interesting translation suggests that the whole idea of “seeing God” in an afterworld is simply one great impossible dream (cf. 14:13-17): “And after my skin is stripped off, did I but see Him, without my flesh were I to behold God, He whom I should see would be on my side”—that is, v 26 is a conditional clause. This fits Job’s general attitude better than interpretations that find here a leap of faith; but it is a somewhat awkward reading of the Heb., and it remains preferable to read vv 25b—26 as expressing Job’s desire for an encounter in this life. 27. a. could of course mean “on my side” (cf. Ps 66:10 [9]; 118:6—7; so here r s v , j b , Duhm, Gray, Lévéque [477 n. 4], Pope). Of course Job wants to see God vindicate him, and so be “on his side,” but the point here is his desire for the face-to-face encounter itself, as “I” emphatic, “my eyes,” and “not a stranger” make clear; so “for myself” ( r v ) or “myself” ( n a b , n i v ) . 27.b. The “perfect” form of can equally well be a permansive, and so strictly parallel to . Emendation to · (Budde, Holscher, Fohrer) is not needed. 27.c. Similarly n e b “I myself and no other,” n a b , n j p s , n i v . An alternative grammatical possibility is to take “stranger” ( ) as the object of the verb, as Driver-Gray, “And mine eyes shall see (to be) unestranged”; so too j b “These eyes will gaze on him and find him not aloof.” Gray argues strongly that Job is “not . . . interested in what will not happen to some one else [a stranger will not see], but in what will happen to himself . . . he will see God—God once more his friend.” This is quite true, but the issue in the text is rather the difference between Job’s being vindicated after his death and his seeing God for himself before his death. L. A. Snijders finds a rather more substantive meaning for “stranger”: Job “has been treated as a z a r , one that has turned away from the community and from God, an outsider . . . [who] will dwell in the presence of God as ‘one initiated,’ a friend” (“The Meaning of in the Old Testament,” O T S 10 [1954] 1-154 [70-71]). 27. d. Many think a half-line is missing after these words (so Holscher, Fohrer, Pope). Pope thinks it “a lame conclusion,” but Gordis “the sad aftermath to Job’s ecstatic vision.” T. J. Meek less persuasively thought Job “so astounded by the prospect o f coming face to face with God that he is completely exhausted emotionally” (“Job xix 25-27,” V T 6 [1956] 100-103 [103]). n e b regards this line as introductory of vv 28-29 (“My heart failed me when you said. . . .”; similarly g n b ) , which solves the problem o f what to do with the half-line; but it would be strange if the expression of intense emotion should attach to the friends’ hostility rather than to Job’s desires about God. E. G. King, “Some Notes on the Text of Jo b /’/T S 15 (1914) 74-81 (76—78), translated, “I fully trust in my bosom,” supposing that means “hope” (cf. Vg r e p o s ita est h a ec spes in s in u in Targ. Aram, is normal. m e o ), a sense not otherwise attested in Heb., though 28. a. exclamatory (BDB, 553b § 2.b). 28.b. Sicre Diaz rather unconvincingly proposes that refers to God, Job meaning that to attack him is to attack God. 28.c. Lit., “matter” ( ); cf. 1 Kgs 15:5, the “affair” of Uriah; 1 Sam 4:16, “how went the matter (the battle)?” It is not a specifically legal use, as against Dhorme (citing Exod 18:16; 24:14).

Form / Structure / Setting

435

28.d. Lit., “is found.” Grammatically possible is “we will find” (Duhm, Peake, Holscher, Fohrer, de Wilde), but if so, perhaps a stronger verb than “find” would have been used, such as “search out” (Gray). 28. e. Most (not Pope) em end “in m e” to 1 “in him ” (so also c. 100 Heb. mss and the ancient versions). T he sense is attainable without em endation, however; it is simply a question of point of view. M. Dahood (“Qoheleth and Northwest Semitic Philology,” B ib 43 [1962] 349—65 [353]) and Blommerde find here the -1 suff of the third person, but this is more than unlikely. 29. a. Not expressed in the Heb.; cf. n j p s “For [your] fury is iniquity worthy of the sword.” Gordis “for yours are crimes deserving the sword.” This interpretation, which seems almost selfevident, goes back to Rashi; Dhorme am ong others thought it awkward, and agreed with Ball in finding the MT “ungrammatical and untranslatable.” 29.b. is frequently em ended to “these acts (or slanders) [are sins worthy of the sword]” (Dillmann, Budde, Driver-Gray, Fohrer, Gordis), but this is rather feeble. More radical emendations, like “wrath comes upon wrongdoers” (Siegfried, Holscher, de Wilde; cf. LXX θ υ ό ς y a p έ π ά ν ο ο υ ς e7reXeúae7 a1; Merx “wrath comes upon sins”), or alternatively reading the last word as “fury will destroy wrongdoers” (Duhm; Pope: “wrath will destroy iniquity”) or “wrath will be kindled against wrongs” (Dhorme) do not recom mend themselves, j b “there is an anger stirred to flame by evil deeds” presumably accepted D horm e’s reading, though not his exact interpretation, r s v “wrath brings the punishm ent of the sword” (similarly n i v ) read MT. n e b “the sword that sweeps away all iniquity” is hard to understand, especially since it read “heat, sun” (so Brockington). Sicre Diaz suggests “the sentence for crimes,” “anger” signifying “sentence of condem nation”; but there seem to be no parallels for this. Alternatively he proposes an interpretation that reads as “see, take care” (Aram. ), as Gerleman does on 36:18. 29.c. On the idiom, see the C o m m e n t. 29.d. T he line is a gloss, according to Holscher. 29.e. Lit., “so that you may realize”; see C o m m e n t. 29.f. MT 0 , Q ] ITK), is unintelligible. T hough the relative pronoun Ί#, sometimes IÜ (as here), “which,” occurs nowhere else in Job, it provides the simplest solution. ] can be read “jud g m en t” or “ju d g e” (so n e b , Driver-Gray [cf. B H K ] , g n b ) ; the form er is preferable because God is far from prom inent here as the personal avenger. Some insert 1 “there is” (Budde). Others have seen here the divine name Shaddai ( !¿), Dillmann, Beer), or perhaps a byform of the name, S d y n (L. R. Fisher, “s d y n in Job xix 29,” V T 11 [1961] 342-43; followed by Pope with “Shaddayan”), or else a nunated form (N. Walker, “A New Interpretation of the Divine Name ‘Shaddai’,” Z A W 72 [1960] 64—66); the same objection as for the reading applies. 29.g. Implied.

Form / Structure / Setting T he

s t r u c t u r e of this fifth speech of Job is unusual. Analysis of the direction of shows the friends are spoken to both at the beginning and end (vv 2-6, 2 8 29) as well as in the course of the speech (vv 21-22), a pattern that has not previously occurred. H ere too, for the first time since chap. 3, Job does not address God. T he major blocks can be displayed thus.

address

A.

2-6 Address to the friends B. 7-20 Complaint A 21-22 . Address to the friends B 23-27 . Wish, Belief, and Desire A ". 28-29 Address to the friends T he addresses to the friends are well integrated with the contents of the other blocks. Jo b ’s protest against the friends’ “persecution” of him in vv 2-6 has its reason in the last verse of that address (v 6), w hereupon the reason (God has put him in the wrong; it is not Job who is the cause of his own downfall) is developed in vv 7—12 and 13—20.

Jo b 1 9 : 1 - 2 9

436

T he second address to the friends, calling on them to stop persecuting him (vv 21— 22), links back in topic to the exordium of vv 2—6, and the reason why they should desist is presented in vv 23-27 (Job is innocent and one day will be declared so). T he peroration, the third address to the friends, picks up the “persecution” them e again, deploys again the friends’ argum ent that Job gets what he deserves, and extends the note of confidence in his eventual exculpation into Jo b ’s final warning of the judgm ent to come that will give them what they deserve, a judgm ent that will be the obverse of Jo b ’s vindication. T h e strophic structure does not display a regular pattern, but junctures between strophes are generally strongly marked. T he address analysis set out above determ ines disjunctions between vv 6 and 7, 20 and 21, 22 and 23, 27 and 28. T he one m ajor rem aining block, 7-20, is clearly divided into two on the grounds of them e and the use of m etaphor: 7—12 depict God’s attacks, with many m etaphors, while 13—20 depict Jo b ’s ostracism by friends and relatives with no m etaphors except in the concluding v 20. We may therefore identify six strophes: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

2-6 7-12 13-20 21-22 23-27 28-29

5 6 8 2 5 2

lines lines, a tricolon as the last lines lines lines, with two tricola and one monocolon concluding lines, a tricolon as the last

The stichometry of vv 25-27, here analyzed as two tricola followed by a monocolon on the grounds of content and parallelism, is the one elem ent open to question. H orst’s analysis of the strophic structure is identical to that set out above, except that he does not separate out vv 21-22; Skehan’s analysis is similar but for distinguishing 13-17, 18-22 (“Strophic Patterns,” 109). Fohrer’s strophic analysis (vv 2 -4 ,5 - 8 ,9 - 1 2 , 13—16,17—20,21—24,25—27,28—29) wholly ignores an analysis of address, running across boundaries set at vv 6 and 22. It is unconvincing too to separate 23—24 from what follows in 25—27, for while it is true as he says that 23—24 envisage a scene after Jo b ’s death, that is probably also true for 25—26a. W ebster’s analysis (“Strophic Patterns,” 47—48) of seven strophes (vv 2—6 ,7 —9 ,1 0 —12,13—16,17—19,20—24,25—29) may be faulted on a lack of distinction between 7—9 and 10—12 and on his ignoring of the persons addressed from v 20 to the end. T errien, marking out vv 2—6, 7—12, 13—18, 19— 24, 25-29, unpersuasively separates the summarizing v 19 from what precedes it, and vv 23—24 from what is clearly attached to them in the following verses (25-27). Habel rather strangely attaches v 6 to the following strophe, at the cost of some difficulty in the syntax. Habel has pointed to evidence of a chiastic design in vv 21-29, where plainly the im portant statements of vv 23-27 are ringed by two couplets addressed to the friends. With some modification of Habel’s analysis the pattern may be displayed thus: A B C D C B A

Admonition Indictm ent Wish Conviction Desire Indictm ent Admonition

21 22 23-24 25-26a 26b-27 28 29

Pity me! Why persecute me like God? If only my words were recorded! I know that my gó^él lives. From my flesh I would see God. You say, How we will persecute him! Fear the sword for yourselves.

Wish of vv 23—24 is of course not identical with the Desire of vv 26b-27 In genre the speech as a whole is another disputation speech, with several strongly accented forms from other settings being drawn upon. T he forms that appear in the

Form / Structure / Setting

437

speech are, first, from the d isp u ta tio n speech itself, more perhaps from the legal sphere than from a wisdom setting. We find the rhetorical questions (“how long?,” “why?”) implying that the other speakers should stop talking (vv 2, 22), the imperatives urging understanding (“know,” v 6), doing the favor of ceasing to accuse (“spare m e,” v 21), or giving instruction (“fear,” v 29). T he accusation that a wrong has been done “ten times” (v 3) is met with also in a disputation context at Gen 31:7,41. In general, the language of vv 2-6 is characteristic of a defendant replying to accusers and asserting his innocence (Murphy, W isd o m L ite r a tu r e , 33). T he final warning to the friends, including a quotation of their words as a charge against them (v 28), and rem inding them of an im pending judgm ent (v 29), obviously belongs to the disputation speech. A substantial am ount of the material in the speech is derived from the la m e n t. As in chaps. 16-17, both the “enem y”-lament and the “I”-lament are extensively used, the form er in vv 6—13a, the latter in vv 13b-20. In the form er the speaker depicts his enemy God under a controlling m etaphor of assault: the enemy misjudges him as wicked (6a), refuses to answer his cries for justice (7), blocks the path of his journey (8), humiliates him as an alien ruler does a prince (9), uproots him like a plant (10), engages him in single-handed combat (11), besieges him like a city (6b, 12). In the latter, the lam enter portrays almost exclusively his abandonm ent by his friends and relatives, with many specific examples depicted realistically (13—18), and a summary line in conclusion (19), followed by a corporal m etaphor expressing the psychic reality (20). T he sufferings of the “I”-lament are very clearly portrayed as the work of the “enemy” (v 13, “he has put them far from me”). Most of the material of these laments is easily paralleled from the Psalms. T he function of the lam ent is, untypically, not as an indirect appeal or accusation but as an elaboration and explanation of the assertion, “God has put me in the wrong” (v 6a). This way of reading the laments here as a kind of narrative epexegetic of Jo b ’s legal situation is encouraged by the introduction of the key m etaphor of “siegeworks” in v 6 in the first strophe. T hat is to say, the “siegeworks” envelope (vv 6b, 12 b—c) contains a sheaf of metaphors for the act of assault that Job calls “putting me in the wrong.” T he “kinsfolk-acquaintances” envelope (vv 13, 19) similarly encloses a set of snapshots portraying the effects of so being “put in the w rong” by God. In vv 23-27 we have a wish, a conviction, and a desire. T he w ish (impossible of fulfillment) is that Jo b ’s testimony to himself should be engraved on a m ountainside to bear witness to him until the day of his vindication (vv 23-24). T he c o n v ic tio n , which sounds like a legal affirmation (“I know . . .”),is that his case will in the end be won even if it must be after his death (vv 25-26a). His desire (more in the language of the lament, as is the depiction of the inner feeling, v 27c), despite that conviction, is that he could confront God here and now with his claim for vindication (vv 26b-27). See further, D. J. A. Clines, “Belief, Desire and Wish in Job 19:23—27: Clues for the Identity of Jo b ’s ‘Redeem er’,” “W iin s c h e t J e r u s a le m F r ie d e n ”: C ollected C o m m u n ic a tio n s to the X H th C o n g ress o f the I n te r n a tio n a l O r g a n iz a tio n f o r the S tu d y o f the O ld T e sta m e n t, J e r u s a le m 1 9 8 6

(Beitráge zur Erforschung des Alten Testam ents und des antiken Judentum s 13; ed. M. Augustin and K.-D. Schunk; Frankfurt a.M.: Peter Lang, 1988) 363-70. T he f u n c t i o n of the speech is nearer to its f o r m than has often been the case in Job. It seems primarily to be directed towards the friends, who are explicitly addressed in vv 2-6, 21-22, 28-29, and functions as a dem onstration to them that Jo b ’s apparent guilt is something imposed on him by God (v 6a), he himself being wholly innocent and bound to be vindicated ultimately (vv 25-26a). F urther remarks on the function of the chapter are made in the E x p la n a tio n . T he n o d a l verses of this speech must therefore be vv 25—27, though not primarily because of the conviction—that is only the context for the reiterated desire. T he to n a lity of the speech bears m arked similarity to, but one striking difference from, Jo b ’s previous speech in chaps. 16—17. T here we had the conventional sinking towards death at the close of the speech that cast its shadow over even the more vigorous

438

Jo b 1 9 : 1 - 2 9

sarcasm against the friends. H ere for the first time in J o b ’s speeches, there is no such concluding note; even though in v 26a he envisages his skin being stripped from him, that m om ent of dissolution is not to be the last act in the dram a of Job. For after his death his case will be raised again and again in the heavenly court until “in the en d ” (v 25b) it receives its full and favorable adjudication. And the concluding note is of a self-possessed vitality that can afford to affect concern for the friends, holding over their heads the threat of a judgm ent of death upon them! Looking back over his address to the friends in this speech, we find a note of stubbornness and of counter-accusation that does not always come out in our English versions. In vv 2-3, for example, Job is not wilting u nder the tortures his interlocutors have been inflicting on him, but exposing them and their intentions as cruel and evilly meant. In vv 21—22 likewise, what reads like a plea for simple pity in many versions is at the least a blunt dem and for the friends’ silence and perhaps even a cutting irony at their expense (“you are my ‘friends,’” v 21a). Nonetheless, there is another tone also that sounds in this speech. T he two strophes depicting God’s assault (vv 7-12) and Jo b ’s abandonm ent by hum an companions (vv 13—20) are unexcelled in the book for the intensity with which they convey his sense of loss, vv 7—12 by tum bling image over image of gratuitous assault, vv 13—20 by piling instance upon painful instance of the withdrawal of intimacy. Psychically he has become boneless and spineless, a heap of unstructured flesh, his bones cleaving to his flesh (see Comment on v 20); psychically he has been flayed alive by the divine animosity, being left with no more skin than the skin of his teeth. But these are not the images of exhaustion, dryness, devitalization we met with in chaps. 16—17; as if to match the spirit that will go on desiring (v 26c) though it takes every last ounce of his energy, his inmost self being consumed with longing (v 27c), the m etaphors are plastic and raw. T he conviction of vv 25-26a and the unabated desire of vv 26c-27b do not represent a radical and unm otivated shift of mood out of some deep despondency in earlier verses; rather we see set against one another, still at stalemate but now in a more equal struggle, the reality of divine hostility and the reality of the hum an selfassurance.

Comment 2—29 In this brilliant and powerful poem the presence of the friends is strongly felt by Job. They, of course, are addressed by Job in the exordium we have come to expect (vv 2—6), but they are addressed also with im portant lines in vv 21-22 and vv 28-29. 2 Bildad is not the only one who is short on patience. Job begins with the same phrase as Bildad: “How long?” (18:2) ( ; cf. 8:2). T hat does not necessarily m ean that he is “quoting” Bildad, making a “direct hit” at him (Dhorme), “making sport” of him (Terrien). It may only m ean that the poet invites us to recognize how tem pers on both sides become frayed by impatience in this conversation des sourdsf this debate that can never reach a conclusion so long as the participants cannot agree on the premises. It is significant that Job does not address Bildad in the singular, but directs his speech to the friends generally. W hat is Jo b ’s mood here? It affects greatly the way we translate the verbs. Duhm saw here a “pained note, so different from earlier rejections of the other speakers, and evidencing Jo b ’s engagem ent in the most bitter spiritual struggle.” Terrien on the other hand found in Jo b ’s reply a hitherto unexpressed violence, and Habel sees here a “new pitch of intensity.” Which is right? O ther

Comment

439

lines in the speech suggest strongly that Job speaks less in sorrow than in anger here. Note especially “are you not ashamed to abuse me?” (v 3), the self-confidence of v 4, the reproach of v 5, the threat of vv 28-29. Jo b ’s appeal, “have pity, my friends” (v 21), seems in the context of the whole speech more the irony of a proud though bitter man than the plea of a helpless sufferer. Above all, the completely new point of confidence Job reaches in v 25, that his innocence will ultimately be recognized, as well as the fact that his speech, for the first time, does not end with the them e of death but with a threat against the friends, suggests a relatively aggressive attitude toward his interlocutors throughout the chapter. If this reading is appropriate, we should understand “torm ent” and “crush” in v 2 as Jo b ’s perception of what the friends are trying to do to him, not as what he acknowledges to be his own experience. T hat is, the friends are (objectively) trying to torm ent, trying to crush him, but he is not in fact (subjectively) being crushed by them. Similarly in Lam 1:5, 12; 3:33 ( “afflict”); Isa 51:23, the focus of ΠΡ “afflict, torm ent” is upon the (objective) action rather than upon the subjective experience (as also with the noun “sorrow,” but more properly “affliction,” in J e r 20:18 at least). The verb “crush, pulverize” does not generally have a psychological sense, being used of the action of enemies against the psalmists, for example (Ps 94:5; 143:3), or of God against hostile powers (e.g., Ps 89:11 [10]); the m etaphor is of threshing (see H. F. Fuhs, TDOT 3:195-208 [202]). So it is unlikely to m ean here th atJo b /^ /5 crushed, psychologically speaking (as against Rowley, for example: “how crushed Job feels at the bitter and unfeeling words of his friends”); it is rather that he regards the friends as treating him like an enemy (not like real friends who would by contrast “comfort” and “strengthen”), attem pting to “pulverize” him and his argum ents with their argum ents. T he “argum ents” ( , not ju st “words”) are of course entirely over the question of his innocence or otherwise; any resistance to his affirmation of innocence or any reiteration of the doctrine of retribution is an enemy action against him designed to put him down or “pulverize” him. As Job grows more vigorous, though more disappointed in them, the less they are able to see things from his perspective. T he last thing about his attitude is that he is about to succumb to the forcefulness of their rhetoric (against Fohrer). 3 To “how long?” in v 2 corresponds the “ten times” here; “ten, from being the num ber of the fingers on the hum an hand, is the num ber of hum an possibility” (Delitzsch), a full measure (also in Num 14:22; cf. Gen 31:7; Lev 26:26). By their insistence that Job is a sinner they have tried to humiliate ( ) him; but only “tried to,” because unless he confesses he is not humiliated. One is humiliated before one’s enemies when one is defeated (Ps 35:5; 40:15 [14]); so, like the verb “to shame” (ΙϋΊΠ), “hum iliate” can have an objective meaning, focusing upon the intention of the hum iliator (in parallel with IΰΊΠ in this sense at Isa 45:16; 50:7; J e r 22:22). In a more affective or subjective sense appears at Ezra 9:6; 2 Chr 30:15; J e r 6:15; but this is clearly not the sense here. The friends have not actually confuted or confounded or humiliated Job. Since “hum iliate” is so often parallel to “shame” (11 times; see E. Jenni, TH W AT 1:270), it is strange to find it paralleled here to “not be asham ed.” In trying to humiliate Job, the friends have ipso facto been trying to put him

440

Jo b 1 9 : 1 - 2 9

to shame; but, says Job, that attem pt to (objectively) humiliate him is so disgraceful that he would expect them to be (subjectively) ashamed. It is those who humiliate who ought to be ashamed, and especially those who try to humiliate the innocent. As it is, the friends do not realize their guilt, they do not recognize they are doing Job a gross injustice, and so they are not asham ed of their illtreatm ent ( ; see n. 19:3.a) of Job. Job doesn’t exactly want them to be ashamed of what they are doing, but to stop their argum ents and accept his assurances. 4 One thing we can be sure of in this much disputed verse is that Job is not admitting to any sin, or, at the very least, not to any that could be the cause of his present state (there may be a little difficulty about the “sins of my youth,” 13:26). In 9:21; 10:7; and 16:17 he has stated unequivocally his certainty of his own innocence, and he is not giving that up here. This can only be a hypothetical statement, then, like 7:20, which was addressed to God: “If I have sinned, how do I injure you?” (so too Rowley). T he point there was that God’s affliction of him is totally disproportionate to any sin he can possibly have committed, and that thought may be the most relevant to the present verse. H ere the friends have felt constrained to attem pt to humiliate him, an utterly disproportionate reaction; since Job has not harm ed them in any way, why should they be trying to harm him? If I have sinned, he says, my sin has not invaded their personal space, their guest-rooms, and “it is with myself that my sin lodges”; the “with m yself” ( ) is in em phatic position. If it “lodges” ( ) it remains with him like a house-guest (cf. 11:14) (for evil thoughts “lodging” in a city’s “heart,” cf. J e r 4:14; for righteousness “lodging” in a city, cf. Isa 1:21). It does not damage the friends, it harm s Job only; therefore they should not react as if they themselves had been the victims of Jo b ’s hypothetical sin. O ther interpretations are: My error is my own concern (Dhorme); it is no business of yours. But of course if Job expects the friends to comfort him they cannot make his guilt none of their concern; for that is the whole reason why they are in dialogue with him. Some say Job is rejecting the interference of the friends in a m atter that should be strictly between a m an and his God (Andersen; cf. Habel). If that were his position, he should have stopped the dialogue long ago; however much he resents the line the friends have taken, he does not for a m om ent think his case is a private m atter; how can it be, when the evidence for his guilt is a m atter of public record and visible to any visitor to his ash-heap? Others take the clause to mean, “I should be aware of it [but I am not]” (cf. Pope), but that seems a strained sense for “lodge.” Pope suggests it means, “Does the error lodge with me?” as if Job is foreshadowing the statem ent of v 6 that it is God who has “subverted” him; but again, “lodge” is a strange word to indicate “origin” (though we say in English, “Does the fault lie with me?”). A nother approach is to find some special significance in the word for “e rr” ( , noun ), arguing that it is a mild word, as if to say, I am willing to admit I have sinned lightly, and that the penalty for that sin comes home to me (“lodges with m e”), but that is no ground for you to argue that I have greatly sinned, in proportion to my present suffering (Gray). It is true that the noun is used normally for sins of inadvertence, as distinct from intentional sins, those done with a “high hand” (Num 15:29-30), but the verb

Comment

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FUIZHs used more generally also as well as having a specific sense of committing an inadvertent sin (Lev 4:13); so in 1 Sam 26:21; Ps 119:21, 118. Cf. R. Knierim (TH W AT 2:869-72) and J. Milgrom (“The Cultic and Its Influence in Psalms and Jo b ,”/QT? 58 [1967-68] 115-25), defining as either a negligent or ignorant sin (“either the offender knows the law but accidentally violates it or he acts deliberately without knowing he did wrong”). 5 T hough he has done them no harm , the friends treat Job as an enemy (v 4). So, since they are evidently determ ined to act the enemy toward him (v 5a) by m aintaining that his suffering is proof of his sin (v 5b), they need to recognize that they have got it all wrong, and that the aura of guilt that surrounds Job is not of his own making, but has been put upon him by God (v 6a), with the result that he cannot escape (v 6b) the implication of guilt. So runs the argum ent of these verses. The friends are in fact, from Jo b ’s perspective, “magnifying” ( r s v ; hiph) themselves against him, i.e., “set[ting themselves] forth as great illegally, presumptuously and arrogantly” (R. Mosis, TDOT 2:405; differently at 7:17). They do that solely by continuing to regard him as guilty, in the process making themselves Jo b ’s moral and intellectual superiors. T he language is typical of the psalmic laments against oppressors (Ps 35:26; 38:17 [16]; 41:10 [9], if “heel” is deleted; 55:13 [12]; cf. Lam 1:9). T here is no doubt but that this is their attitude, so the opening “if” ( ) in the Hebrew cannot be taken as conditional; it means “since” (the “if” of argum ent). Job does not admit, of course, that they are superior to him, so we must translate: “you try to, you have to, get the better of m e.” T heir superiority rests upon a false premise, that Job is the author of his own guilt; to this v 6 responds that it is God who has made Job look like a sinner. T he theme of superiority has already been developed in 12:2-13:2 (especially 12:3; 13:2). Although the language sounds like the intellectual machismo of the seminar room, and there is perhaps an element of authorial playfulness in the strictly disputational lines, life and death matters are at stake here. God for his part is not honored by the efforts of the friends on his behalf: he is not “exalted” ( ) by people closing their minds to the possibility that Job is after all a righteous m an (17:4). ) is the condition of disgrace in which he Jo b ’s “reproach” ( r v , n a b ; finds himself, that is, his “hum iliation” (r s v , n i v ) in being treated as a sinner, the actual state of suffering he experiences. T he friends use the suffering as an “argum ent against him ,” and they have a prim a facie case (cf. Jo b ’s admission in 16:8). 6 This is not news, that Job believes it is God who has (unjustifiably) put him in the wrong and not some sin of his own—though he has never used ju st these words. But this is the headline for his extensive charges against God for grievous bodily harm (vv 7—12) and for alienating the affections of everyone he knows (vv 13-19). It is not that he means that God has “w ronged” him (as n j p s , n i v ), “dealt unfairly” with him (n a b ) or become his “oppressor” ( j b )— though that is also true. W hat he means specifically is that by causing him to suffer God has destroyed his reputation for innocence and in a moral or legal sense branded him a sinner (cf. r s v , n e b “put me in the wrong”). Bildad has used the same word 1 “pervert, wrong, declare wrong,” but in a different sense; so it is hardly correct to say that the verb is chosen deliberately in reply to Bildad (Dhorme), or that we have here a delayed reply to a point

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Job has long pondered (Terrien). In 8:3 Bildad denied that God “perverts” justice or right order ( ) (cf. also 34:12), and no doubt to declare an innocent man guilty is a perversion of justice. But Job is not saying exactly that, so he cannot be thought to be replying to Bildad; he simply means that God is the author of his bad reputation (as against Rowley and others: ‘Jo b solemnly declares that in his case God has . . . perverted [justice]”). W hat is for the friends a m atter of ethics is for him a question about God. It is uncertain whether there is a further allusion to twisting or perverting a way in the context of a siege (as Habel, comparing Lam 3:9). T he following m etaphor is somewhat unexpected, but it can be explained as introducing the imagery of the next strophe. Siegeworks took the form of an earthen wall surrounding the besieged city, affording some protection for the besiegers, especially their archers, and making exit from the city impossible. Cf. J. W. Wevers, IDB 4:804; Y. Yadin, The Art of Warfare in Biblical Lands (London: W eidenfeld and Nicolson, 1963) 18, 98. T he m etaphor applies to the inescapable logic in which Job is trapped: he has no more chance of winning vindication than a besieged city has of breaking through walls thrown up around it. Job is one of history’s earliest victims of the catch-22 principle: if he accepts his suffering, it proves he is a sinner; if he doesn’t accept it, he makes himself a sinner by questioning God’s justice. He has virtually said this himself at 10:15a-b. T he m etaphor of the net, which most comm entators and versions find here ( r s v “closed his net about m e”), is thoroughly out of place, though having a superficial connection with Bildad’s extended image (18:8—10). T he m etaphor is rather that of the siege. T here is pain in this speech, but there is also an assurance of the kind we only first began to hear in chap. 16. This forceful and unapologetic “understand!” (lit. “know then,” ) elsewhere introduces a sentence like “know then that there shall fall to the earth nothing of the word of Yahweh which he spoke concerning the house of Ahab” (2 Kgs 10:10). It resonates with the confident “I know that my champion lives” of v 25—which is something for the friends to know as well—and with the plainly hostile “so that you may know there is a ju d g m en t” of v 29. 7—12 T here is a veritable kaleidoscope of images here, all images of assault; the hapless citizen set upon by thugs and unable to summ on any passer-by to his aid (v 7), the traveler who finds his path blocked and nightfall overtaking him (v 8), the prince who is hum iliated by an alien lord (v 9), the plant that is pulled down or pulled out of the ground (v 10), the warrior compelled into single-handed combat (v 11), the king or city surrounded by hosts of besieging enemies (v 12). T here are close similarities with Lam 3:7—9, where also the lam enter feels “walled about” ( , as v 8 here) by God so that he cannot escape, where he “cries” ( 1 , equivalent to in v 7 here) and “shouts” (Ρ1(ϋ, as v 7 here) but has his prayer shut out, where he feels God has “blocked” ( as v 8 here) his “path” ( , equivalent to in v 8 here) and has “made crooked” ( , as in v 6 here) his “paths” ( , as in v 8 here). T here is no more fixity in the imagery of Lam 3 than there is here, where God is also pictured as a beast (v 10) and an archer (v 11). These images m ust belong to a conventional stock available to both poets. 7 T he imagery here is from the dangers of urban life. T he “cry” ( ) is

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in the first place the cry of the assaulted for deliverance; its content in Israel is the word “Violence!” ( ), just as we cry, “Help!” (cf. J e r 20:8; Hab 1:2; Deut 22:24,27; Job 35:12 with the noun 34:28 ;27:9 , ; for , with identical meaning, cf. 31:38; 35:9). But here, as in 16:18 (where the spelling is ), it is not a cry for deliverance but for vindication. T he problem with God’s “putting him in the wrong” (v 6) is that he is keeping him in the wrong; Jo b ’s protest, which has now been made in formal style (13:20—23), has so far been ignored. The oppressed person has a right to expect support from his community—it is not a favor they do him—but when Job is oppressed by God he suffers the same lack of reciprocity he has expressed before: there is calling but no answering (cf. 9:16; 12:4; 13:22; 14:15; and note the same lack of response on the hum an level in v 16). The m etaphor has moved from the sphere of the street to the sphere of the lawcourt; but from God’s lawcourt, despite Jo b ’s “shout” ( ), there comes no legal decision ( in its strict sense)—which means there is no justice ( in its broader sense). Job is not exactly saying without qualification that God is unjust; his concern is prim arily with himself rather than with the character of God, and with the fact that he has not yet been granted justice, not so m uch with the injustice of delaying justice. 8 This m etaphor of walling up a road does not refer to any everyday concrete reality; the use of walls suggests that the image is not from the hunting of animals into a defile (as against G. Gerleman, “Contributions to the Old Testam ent Terminology of the Chase,” Arsberattelse 1 9 4 5 —46. B u lletin de la Société Royale des Lettres de L u n d 1 9 4 5 - 4 6 [Lund: Gleerup, 1946] 89). “Walls” ( ) usually enclose vineyards (Isa 5:5) or sheepfolds ( , Num 32:16; 1 Sam 24:3 [4]), and a road may have walls on either side (Num 22:24). But in normal circumstances no one would build a wall across a path. In Hos 2:8 [6] indeed, in an exceptional m etaphor, Yahweh builds a wall ( ) across his unfaithful wife’s path to prevent her pursuing her lovers. In the present context it is a deliberate act of frustration of Jo b ’s legitimate intentions; cf. Lam 3:9 where Yahweh blocks the lam enter’s path with hewn stones. His path is his normal course of life (cf. 13:27; Ps 139:3), which is hindered from developing. The image in 3:23 of a man on a path being hedged in is quite similar, though there the emphasis lies upon Jo b ’s feeling rather than upon God’s responsibility. T he traveler on the path finds his way forward blocked, and at the same time becomes aware that no alternatives are possible because the way is veiled in darkness (lit. “he has set darkness upon my path”) at the onset of night. T he darkness thus functions to extend the m etaphor but also, of course, carries its own symbolic value, that death has overshadowed his life (cf. most recently 18:18; and for the image of light shining on one’s path, see 22:28; Prov 4:18). Delitzsch thought that the image was that of a prisoner, confined to a narrow dark space (cf. Lam 3:7); but prisoners are not on “paths.” Habel sees here the imagery of the siege (cf. v 6b), God setting up a blockade to prevent Jo b ’s free movement; but the connection of the “darkness” is then not clear. 9 T he image now is of fine clothes being stripped from an honored person as an act of humiliation (less convincingly, Habel argues that the siege m etaphor is being continued, Job being imprisoned like a king in a besieged city and stripped of his capacity to rule; cf. Mic 4:14 [5:1]). Jo b ’s honor ( ) is his righteousness, which he has worn like a garm ent (29:14); by being visited

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with calamity and clothed instead in sackcloth (16:15), Job has been m arked out as an evildoer for all the world to see. He has been “clothed with sham e,” like the enemies in 8:22. The “crown” ( ) is equally his honor or reputation as a righteous man; cf. Ps 8:6 [5] “crowned [ ] him with glory and honor.” These m etaphors do not make Job into a royal personage (against Terrien, referring to A. Caquot, “Traits royaux dans le personnage de Jo b ,” maqqél sháqédh. La branche d’amandier. Hommage a Wilhelm Vischer [Montpellier: Causse, Graille, Castelnau, 1960] 32-45, though Caquot does not m ention this passage). They depict him as a prince, but a prince am ong men for his moral quality. For another metaphorical use of such language, cf. Lam 5:16; and for a literal use, see J e r 13:18, “your crown has come down from your head.” For Job, innocence that is not recognized is not true innocence; it is not that he is fixated upon outwardness, but he has a sense of the social dimension of moral worth, which cannot conceive of goodness and godliness as simply m atters of inner disposition. T he epilogue to the book evinces the same concern. 10 T he first figure here is of a building that is demolished, being used for destroying a house (Isa 22:10), a city wall (Jer 39:8), an altar (Judg 2:2). T he destruction comes “from every side” ( , cf. 10:8; 18:11), which does not necessarily imply that the m etaphor of the besieged city is being resum ed (against Weiser, Fohrer, Habel). He means to say that “God reduces all Jo b ’s efforts to defend his integrity to the rubble of unanswered protestations” (Habel). It is not the building but Job himself who as a result “passes away” or “perishes” ( “go” in general, but also specifically “perish, die,” as BDB, 234a recognizes; so also in 14:20). T he second image is of an even more final destruction. We have heard of rebuilding ruins as good as new (3:14) and of the hope that remains for a tree that has been cut down (14:7—9). But for a tree that is uprooted (for the image, cf. 31:8; Ps 52:7 [5]), the hope is forever destroyed, as in 14:19 God destroys the hope of hum an beings. Jo b ’s hope which God has extirpated is not a hope for deliverance—he gave that up long ago—but for vindication this side of death. Job still believes he will be vindicated in the end (v 25), but what he really wants is to “see” God declaring his innocence while he is still alive to see it (v 26). He desires that, but he hopes for it no longer (17:15). 11 Now we find the language of hostility, preparing for the specifically military imagery of v 12. In a graphic variant on the common phrase, “one’s wrath was hot” (e.g., 32:5), Job says, “He has made hot ( hiph) his w rath,” to show m ore clearly it is God’s deliberate action (on God’s anger, see 9:5, 13; 16:9). To consider a person as one’s enemy comes from the language of personal relations, not from the language of warfare (against Peake, Rowley et al.); one does not “reckon” or “esteem” ( ) one’s literal enemy to be an enemy, but only “reckons” someone an enemy who, properly speaking, is not or previously has not been so (cf. 13:24; 18:3; 19:15; 33:10; Gen 31:15; Num 18:27, 30; Neh 13:13 is different). In Lam 2:5 it is God who has become like an enemy to Israel ( ); here he regards Job as the enemy—there is not very m uch difference. 12 T he last word of the line gives the clue to the irony in this depiction. T he object of this massing of the divine hordes is the lonely tent of Job! This accumulation of m etaphors has been leading up to the them e of the disproportion of God’s treatm ent of Job (cf. already 7:12, 17-20; 10:16-17; 13:25); “God’s grand assault is a bitter example of divine overkill” (Habel).

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T he “troops” ( ) of God do not have to be specified as personified powers that bring disaster or as demons of disease (Fohrer); they arise simply from the m etaphor of God as warrior and assailant. W hereas in 16:12—14 God’s assault was depicted as an attack on a lone champion, here Job is imaged as a city ringed by siege-troops, who build a ram part up to his gate so as to wheel up their battering rams (for the realia see, e.g., Y. Yadin, The Art of Warfare in Biblical Lands [London: W eidenfeld and Nicolson, 1963] 314—15); similar imagery, but used of hum an opponents, occurs in 30:12. T he “ram part” or “m ound” ( is the usual term; here “they cast up their way,” ) is a commonly attested feature of warfare (2 Sam 20:15; 2 Kgs 19:32 [= Isa 37:33]; J e r 6:6; Ezek 4:2; 17:17; 21:27 [22]; 26:8; Dan 11:15). So unexpected is the last word of the line, “my tent” (Rowley, e.g., commenting, “A ram part would hardly be required to attack a tent”), that some commentators have felt there must be some mistake. Shall we delete “they have built a ram part against m e” (so Houtsma, Fohrer, Hesse, Moffatt, n e b ), noting that the phrase occurs again in a variant form at 30:12 and so may be here an inappropriate gloss? O r shall we suppose that a colon more suitable to the image of the tent has been lost immediately after the troublesome phrase (so Duhm, Hólscher), or after the reference to the tent (Merx)? O r shall we see here a reference to the Bedouin razwas (H. Winckler, “ ? T hreni 1,15. Hiob 19,12; 30,12,” Altorientalische Forschungen [Leipzig: E. Pfeiffer, 1902] 3/1:242-44)? None of these proposals is necessary, of course, once we recognize that disproportion is the point. There is the grimmest of hum or here. It is hard to say whether the present or the past tense should be used in translating the variegated imagery of vv 7-12. T he English versions veer between past and present, typically producing past tense verbs in vv 8-9, present in v 10, past in v 11a, present in vv 1 lb —12. T he Hebrew perfect and imperfect “tenses” do not of themselves indicate time, though the waw consecutive forms in vv 10, 11, 12 do suggest that we have the form of a narrative before us. Perhaps it is best to take v 7, with its introductory “if” (] “if and when,” “whenever”) as an umbrella or headline over what follows; vv 8-12 then furnish instances that have occurred of the divine violence against which v 7 protests. Vv 8—12 could then be catalogued in the English past tense, as in the above translation. In the following strophe (vv 13—20) the focus is more clearly on the present state of affairs (except for v 13), but there also the English past tense may have something to recom mend it as presenting a list of indictments. 13—20 T he sudden transition from the wholly metaphorical speech of vv 7—12 to the wholly concrete speech of vv 13—19 is breathtaking. In vv 7—12 there has been artistry and there has been passion, but suddenly in vv 13— 19, notwithstanding the artistry and the conventionality, we hear the cry of an isolated hum an being, a cry that is wholly credible as literal truth. In vv 7—12 there is nothing but images of physical violence; in vv 13—19 no one raises a hand or a weapon or a voice: there is nothing physical, nothing violent. O r is there? Does Job want us to understand that the withholding of affection and esteem is a kind of violence, and does he m ean that the principal form in which God’s violence presents itself to him is the alienation of his acquaintance and the denial of intimacy? In vv 7—12 there was nothing specific, anything could refer to anything; here in vv 13—19 everything is specific, every line is charged with the felt pain of the disintegration of his hum an relationships. It would be easy to say that vv 7—12 refer to Jo b ’s physical sufferings imposed

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on him by the hand of God, and that vv 13-19 are simply the consequence of his physical state, with his bad breath (v 17a), his repulsive appearance, and his evident loss of significance (v 18). T here is truth in that, but for Job everything is one great act of divine violence against him: the loss of hum an intimacy and esteem are for him here nothing other than the sharp end of the divine hostility, and it has become otiose to talk of cause and consequence, or to parcel out blame to the various conspirators about him. In surveying his circle of acquaintance, Job moves inward from kinsfolk and acquaintances (vv 13-14) to domestic servants (vv 15-16) to his wife and brothers (v 17), and outward again via the children of the neighborhood (v 18) to the whole company of his confréres and intimates (v 19). Nowhere does Job portray his sense of hum an isolation m ore compellingly than here (Lamparter). 13 T he whole sorry catalogue of Jo b ’s losses of hum an intimacy is laid at God’s door: “he” is the one who has alienated Jo b ’s kinsfolk. No m atter that the act has been indirect, m ediated by the suffering that God has inflicted on Job, which has made him not just not nice to know but positively dangerous. Secondary causes fade into the background when the prim ary cause is at hand; and so it m ust be, when the issue is the m atter of blame. And how God has acted is as the destroyer of community. It is true that Job will not explicitly accuse him of the kind of perversity that destroys harm onious hum an relationships such as he himself epitomized as the “perfect” man ( ), characteristically acting in the interests of community (see W. Brueggem ann, “A Neglected Sapiential W ord Pair,” ZAW 89 [1977] 234-58 [255]). But the im port of Jo b ’s words is not obscure. Jo b ’s “kinsfolk” ( , lit., “brothers”) are not here his blood brothers who appear in v 17 as the “sons of my m other,” but members of his “clan” (31 ÜD, cf. 32:1), if the term is precise, or, m ore generally, “relatives.” Much of the language of these verses is paralleled in the psalms of lament; for the idea of kinsfolk being “afar” ( ) see Ps 38:12 [11] (18] 19 ,[8] 88:9 ;( ] “you have put far away my friends”; Prov 19:7; and for the lam enter as “stranger” to his brothers, see Ps 69:9 [8]. Here Jo b ’s “acquaintances” ( , cf. 42:11) have become like strangers ( IT) to him. 14 These terms for friends and relations perhaps had precise meanings which we no longer have access to. His “clansm en” ( , lit. “near ones”) are perhaps equivalent to the “kinsfolk” of v 13 (they seem to be defined in Lev 21:2-3 as closest family; cf. 25:25; Num 27:11), the “intim ates” ( , lit. “known ones”) being the same as the “acquaintances” of v 13 (and cf. 2 Kgs 10:11). T he “near ones” or “known ones” who now stand at a distance from the sufferer are found also in Ps 38:12 [11], 88:9 [8], while in 31:12 [11] the psalmist in his terrible suffering becomes an object of dread to his “known ones” (cf. also Ps 55:14 [13]). These acquaintances of Jo b ’s own neighborhood have “forsaken” him simply by fading away ( “cease”; cf. 14:7 of the branches of a tree; 7:16; 10:20 of leaving Job alone) at the onset of his calamity, as have those who owed him a debt for his hospitality in conferring on them status and privilege, the resident aliens ( , here , “the sojourners of my house”). T he resident aliens occupied an interm ediate position between natives and foreigners; as not related by blood to the people whose territory they inhabit, they need the patronage of an influential person who is native-

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born (see D. Kellermann, TDOT 2:439-49 [443]). They are not his house guests, as r s v , j b and others suggest (31:32 is different); they belong institutionally to his household ( ), but they reside on land allotted to them (cf. Gen 23:4; Exod 2:22; 12:19; 20:10; cf. also on Job 18:19). The obligations of these “clients” or “retainers” (the terms are not at all strictly parallel to “resident alien”) are less intimate than those of friends but no less binding. 15 “The tables are now so completely turned that the very persons who owed their places in the household to Job now look upon him as one outside the family” (Gray). “Serving girls” ( ) are female slaves or servants, whether maids or concubines (A. Jepsen defined an as an “unfree woman,” “Amah und Schiphchah,” VT [1958] 293-97; on concubinage see E. Neufeld, Ancient Hebrew Marriage Laws [London: Longman, Green & Co., 1944] 121—29). 31:13 shows that is the female equivalent of an , “servant, slave.” T he exact m eaning of “stranger” ( Ί 1) has to be established by the milieu, whether it is the family, the nation, the company of priests or the circle of the devout (L. A. Snijders, TDOT 4:52-58 [57]); here it is obviously a stranger to the family (see also vv 13, 27; 15:19). The “alien” ( ), however, is generally a person of another race (Deut 17:15; Ju d g 19:12; 1 Kgs 11:1; cf. R. MartinAchard, TH W AT 2:66-68). “Alien” thus is a heightening of “stranger” here. 16 T here is a reversal of the normal order here too. Generally servants are expected to look to the gesture of their master or mistress to translate their merest hint into action (Ps 123:2 “as the eyes of servants look to the hand of their m aster”). But Jo b ’s personal attendant, a male servant ( ; the singular shows that he has a special status, cf. Gen 15:2-3; 24:2; 39:19), has become so neglectful of him that Job must verbalize his every need ( “with my m outh” in emphatic position). More than that, he must “beg” ( hithp) of his servant what he has a right to dem and of him. And even this is ineffective. This goes against the grain for Job; he is a proud man who stands on his rights. He has even resented—and rejected—the idea of having to beg God for the justice he is entitled to (9:15, as here). But even the humiliation of begging from a servant is not the worst of it. Job actually has a refreshingly egalitarian attitude toward his servants: the question, “Did not the same One fashion us before our birth?” (31:15), is used as a motivation for ensuring justice for his servants (31:13). Job may be in fact less patronizing toward the “lower classes” than was his comm entator A. B. Davidson in 1884, remarking, “Very soon the reflection of one’s fall is thrown from the countenances of those higher in rank down upon the faces of the servants, where it shows itself without any delicacy or reserve.” It is not the reversal of the social order in itself that bothers Job; it is what that says about his innocence and what it says about his own personal worth. For Job the worst thing is the loss of reciprocity, of speaking and answering, the hum an interchange that arose from the social network surrounding Job and that in every hour of Jo b ’s life proved his worth and indispensability to his family and community. For the significance of this them e of “calling” and “answering,” already surfacing in v 7, see on 12:4; and cf. also 5:1; 9:16; 13:22; 14:15; 23:5; 30:20. An Akkadian medical text cites as a symptom of what we would call a pathological anxiety state the condition of a householder who feels he is “constantly giving orders with no (one) complying, calling with no (one) answering” (E. K. Ritter and J. V. Kinnier Wilson, “Prescription

448

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o b

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for an Anxiety State: A Study of BAM 234,” Anatolian Studies 30 [1980] 2 3 30). But Job is describing a reality, not a m ere anxiety. All Jo b ’s friends and household, even his valet, became theologians at the m om ent of his calamity. All of them saw in his suffering the finger of God, and each has taken God’s part against him. 17 Most commentators are confident that Job is here complaining that his bad breath, caused by his disease presumably, repulses his wife (and, apparently, his blood brothers). If this is the correct reading, the emphasis m ust be not on the means by which his intimates are repulsed but upon the effect (their abandonm ent of him), for hitherto in this strophe there has been no specific word of why precisely his acquaintances have come to disown him. H itherto it has seemed that what has alienated people from him has been the evidence of divine displeasure presented by the enorm ity of his sufferings; it would be something of a disillusionment then to find that the chief problem is his halitosis. We may doubt that this is what the text means, especially because there are no parallels to the idea of Π as sweet or bad breath. It may be that , lit. “my spirit, vitality, breath,” does not refer so specifically to the breath and its odor as some versions suggest (e.g., n e b “My breath is noisome to my wife,” and g n b , dynamically equivalent as ever, “my wife can’t stand the smell of my breath”). Some older comm entators thought was really equivalent to “my life,” and so to “m yself’ (perhaps we could compare in 6:4, “my spirit [= I?] drinks in their poison,” but there and in 10:12; 17:1 Jo b ’s “vitality, vital spark” seems to be m ore the point). T hen Job m ight be “repulsive” to his wife and brothers not for some physical reason but because of his evident sinfulness (“repulsive” would be metaphorical). Preferably, however, should be taken as his “life,” his continued existence, that his closest relatives find repugnant, for they must be suffering guilt by association with him so long as he still lives. It would suitably heighten the tension of these verses if, whereas m ere acquaintances have deserted Job, his wife and brothers should prefer him dead. We need not imagine that his wife’s “curse God and die” (2:9) was entirely altruistic. Perhaps a parallel can be drawn with lines in the Egyptian text known as “A Dispute over Suicide” (AN ET, 405—7). Addressing his soul, who resists death, the suicidal m an says that if he follows the soul’s advice, his “name will reek”—more than the stench of bird-droppings, more than a fish-handler on the day of the catch when the sun is hot, more than the stench of crocodiles, m ore than a m arried woman against whom a false accusation of adultery has been made, more than a boy of whom it is whispered that he is the child of his father’s rival (lines 87—104). Continued existence is thus spoken of as a repulsive odor. Jo b ’s “brothers” are literally “the sons of my belly” (] , m ore often “womb,” but in Deut 28:53; Ps 132:11; Mic 6:7 of the father). Many have argued that the phrase must mean “my own sons” ( n j p s ; cf. Gordis), airily brushing away the problem that according to the prologue Jo b ’s sons are all dead; writes Dhorme, “Since he is using hyperboles, the poet does not bother to reconcile this allusion with the Prologue” (similarly Duhm, Pope, Habel). T here is, however, no parallel lapse on the part of the poet anywhere in the book; the friends may be allowed to let their rhetoric carry them away into thoughtless generalities that contradict the realities of Jo b ’s experience (e.g., 5:25; 8:7;

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18:19), but Job himself, so particular in recounting his past in chap. 29, is not going to have utterly inappropriate allusions put in his m outh (and the death of his children is alluded to in the dialogues: 8:4; cf. 29:5). Some have thought the children of concubines are meant, though there is no direct reference to concubines at all in the book (though cf. on v 15). Grandchildren are even more unlikely, since Jo b ’s children in chap. 1 seem to be unm arried. The further suggestion that should be understood from the cognate Arabic bain “clan” (Wetzstein; W. Robertson Smith, Kinship and Marriage in Early Arabia [new ed.; ed. S. A. Cook; London: A. and C. Black, 1903] 34; Holscher, de Wilde) founders on the lack of Heb. parallels. T here is no probability at all in the idea that the Heb. means uher womb,” the suffix being third person (M. Dahood, Or 32 [1963] 498—500; Psalms /, 11; Blommerde). T he best solution is clearly that the “sons of my womb” are the sons born from the same womb as Job, i.e., his uterine brothers (so Peake, Driver-Gray, Fohrer, Rowley) (elsewhere such are specified as “my brother[s], the son[s] of my m other” [Gen 43:29; Ju d g 8:19]). 18 This verse is a pendant to a series that reached its climax with v 17. To be rejected by those emotionally and physically closest to him is the cru d est elem ent in the total isolation he experiences; that children too, who are “often still free from the bias of social opinion” (Habel), but whose cruelty can be distressingly frank, should also reject him, instinctively and without the color of justification the doctrine of retribution provides for adults, only serves to drive home his real isolation from hum an sympathy. It is hard to tell whether the children ( IP, only here and at 21:11) are the urchins of the street (Habel), or small children of Jo b ’s own household. T h at they should “despise” him ( r s v , n e b ) or “disdain” him ( n j p s ) he can stand; the humiliation of being esteemed as worthless when once he had “dwelt as a king among his troops” (29:25) is nothing com pared with the elemental hum an “rejection” ( ) he now encounters. For this more vigorous sense of throughout Job, cf. 5:21 “do not reject the discipline of the Almighty”; 7:16 “I have rejected [my life]”; 8:20; 9:21; 10:3. W hen does Job “rise” ( )? In 30:28 he rises in the assembly to call for help, in 1:20 he rises from the sitting posture in which he has heard the news of the messengers, in 7:4 he arises from sleep. Here the arising makes best sense if it is rising from sitting, in order to approach and address. It is not that the children “laugh at the grotesque figure he cuts when he tries to get up and hobble about” (Peake; cf. Gray, Fohrer, Weiser); that is to overconcretize what is essentially a psychological portrayal. If the philological decision taken here is correct, that the children “turn their backs” on Job (see n. 19:18.b), rather than that they “talk against” him ( r s v ) , “ridicule” him ( n i v ) , or are “ever ready with a jib e” ( j b ) , the dom inant impression Job conveys is of the silence that surrounds him. In form er days, the silent withdrawing of the young men when he would go into the city gate (29:7) was a welcome m ark of respect, for it was only a prelude to a rich interchange of words (29:11-13); now the silence of children signifies not respect, but only his isolation. 19 T he catalogue of rejection concludes with a summarizing line, a summary appraisal. His “intimates” (“men of my council”) and “loved ones” are perhaps roughly identical to the groups we distinguish as “friends and relatives” (cf.

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vv 13—14, kinsfolk and clansmen as distinct from acquaintances and intimates; and cf. Esth 5:10; 6:13). O ne’s “council” (T1D) is “a company or circle who talk confidentially to and exchange secrets with one another” (Driver); cf. J e r 6:11; 15:17; Ps 89:8 [7]; 111:1; and 55:14-15 [13-14], where is the “counsel” exchanged. 20 This famous crux is one of the most problematic verses of the whole book. T he initial difficulty is that after speaking for seven verses about his isolation from his fellow hum ans it is strange that Job should suddenly be concerned about his physical distress (as nowhere else in the whole speech; cf. on v 17). Second, it is curious that he should complain that his bones are “cleaving to his flesh,” since that seems to be a very satisfactory situation anatomically. Third, the first half of the line seems overlong (four stressed words instead of the usual three). Fourth, it is strange that Job should say that he has “escaped” ( hithp), since that seems to be the last thing he would claim has been his experience. There is m oreover some conventionality and some proverbial language in this sentence. For one’s bone ( sg) cleaving ( ) to one’s flesh ( ), we must compare Ps 102:6 [5], where the same words occur. For the unparalleled phrase “the skin of my teeth,” we must observe that the teeth are the one part of the body (the nails excepted) that are not covered by skin; so we may suspect we have some ironical proverb-like phrase here. T he crucial word in the first half of the line is “cleave.” It never means two things sticking to each other, but always one thing sticking or clinging to another, or depending on another, the weaker to the stronger or the less significant to the m ore significant. Thus a waistcloth “clings” to the loins (Jer 13:11), little fish to the scales of a dragon (Ezek 29:4), leprosy to Gehazi (2 Kgs 5:27), pestilence or disease or famine to the disobedient (Deut 28:21, 60; J e r 42:16), a spot to the hands (Job 31:7), the work of evildoers to a psalmist (Ps 101:3), Ruth to Naomi (Ruth 1:14) or to Boaz’s maidens (2:8, 21, 23), Israel to Yahweh (Deut 10:20; 11:22; 13:5 [4]; 30:20; Josh 22:5; 23:8), Hezekiah to Yahweh (2 Kgs 18:6), the tongue to the roof of the m outh (Job 29:10; Ps 22:16 [15] [jaws?]; 137:6; Lam 4:4; Ezek 3:26), Shechem’s nephesh to Dinah (Gen 34:3), Solomon to his foreign wives (1 Kgs 11:2), and a m an to his wife (Gen 2:24, no exception to the general rule!). Possible exceptions are Job 41:15 [23], where the folds of the crocodile’s flesh simply “cling” ( , no object expressed), similarly 41:9 [17] of the row of shields that make up his back (but this is passive [pual]) and 38:38 of the clods of earth (also pual); but the idea could well be “cling [dependently] to one another.” An interesting play on the sense of is made at 2 Sam 23:10 where the warrior Eleazar keeps on smiting the Philistines “until his hand grew weary and his hand clung to his sword”; usually it would be the sword that would “cling” to one’s hand, not the hand to the sword, but in the w arrior’s manic or supernaturally heightened state the hand can be thought of as an appendage to the sword! H ere in our text there is the same kind of inversion of the normal. In the healthy body, the flesh and the skin “cling” to or hang on the bones, the framework of the body. But if the bones are weak, without vigor, diseased, rotten, it is the flesh and skin that support the bones, as if the hum an body has become a shapeless lump of meat so different from T heodore Roethke’s “woman lovely in her bones.” Thus Jo b ’s complaint is that “my bone(s) cling

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to my flesh and my skin” ( sg is collective, as in 2:5; Gen 29:14; Lam 4:7). (My interpretation was suggested by a sentence in E. W. Hengstenberg, The Book of Psalms [Edinburgh: T. 8c T. Clark, 1853] 3:216 on Ps 102:6 [5]: “T hat state of weakness and relaxation of the bones is manifestly described, which is brought on by severe pain and long-continued distress, when they lose their force and vigorous power of motion . . . they cleave on, hang upon the flesh.” I find that for the Job text I was anticipated by Dillmann, and in part by Peters). BDB always use words like “cling, cleave, keep close” in their article on , but without the concept of dependence introduced here; German translations such as “hangen an” in KB and KB3 may suggest the idea of dependence, but not necessarily so (G. Wallis, TDOT 3:79—84, and E. Jenni, TH W AT 2:431-32, do not present such an idea). T he concept of “rotten” or “decayed” ( Ί )bones is attested in Prov 12:4; 14:30; H ab3:16. In Ps 31:11 [10] the psalmist’s bones are “wasted away” (ΙΖΐΙϋΡ), in 32:3 “worn out” ( ). The opposite is for bones to be “made strong” (Isa 58:11, ) or “flourish ( ) like the grass” (Isa 66:14). This image of rotten bones that cannot support the hum an body but on the contrary are weaker than the flesh is quite distinct from other images of flesh and bones. It is an image of the decay of vigor, rather than of emaciation, where the sufferer can count his bones (Ps 22:18 [17]) which stick out (Job 33:21). Com pare the limestone relief from Saqqara showing the chest bones of starving nomads, ANEP, pi. 102; O. Keel, The Symbolism of the Biblical World (New York: Seabury, 1978), fig. 88. Cf. also the sufferer’s depiction of himself in the Babylonian “I Will Praise the Lord of Wisdom” (Ludlul bel nemeqi 2.93): “My bones look separated [Lambert: “have come apart”] and are covered [only] with my skin” (ANET, 598a; W. G. Lambert, Babylonian Wisdom Literature [Oxford: Clarendon, 1960] 44—45), or where the skin shrivels over one’s bones (Lam 4:8); for the “gauntness” of emaciation, cf. Job 16:8; Ps 109:24. Different again is the image of bones being “burned” (with heat, Job 30:30; like a hearth, Ps 102:4 [3]; with fire sent from above, Lam 1:13; with a fire shut up in them, J e r 20:9), which is probably an image of pain rather than of fever. Different yet again is the idea of bones being “dried u p ” (Ezek 37:11; and cf. the whole chapter on the “dry bones”), as distinct from being “full of vigor” (Job 20:11), their marrow moist (21:24), the bones in that sense being “fat” (Prov 16:30) and thus healthy. This review of the metaphorical network related to “bones” enables us to suggest, as against all commentators, that Job is not referring to any specific physical malady here. Such should already have been evident from thejuxtaposition with the phrase “the skin of my teeth,” which can hardly be taken literally. We have already noted several places where language about the physical body is metaphorical for a mental state; no one, for example, imagines that 16:13 means that Job suffered from a ruptured gall bladder, though many suppose that 16:16 means that his face was literally red from weeping. We have argued that such language is primarily metaphorical of a psychic reality, and the same may be suggested here. The collapse of his bones is not a physical symptom of his disease, but the expression of the overpowering sense of weakness and being worn out that has surfaced in the poetry on many occasions (6:12—13; 13:25,28; 16:7-8; 17:7). This explains how the present verse is related to the preceding verses. The

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absence of his friends and relations and the deprivation of hum an intimacy have not of course induced some recurrence of his malady, but have weakened his spirit and sapped his vigor. The psychic sense of isolation has been experienced as an interior loss of structure; he has “collapsed in a heap,” as we say. Perhaps not surprisingly the psalmist of Ps 102:6 [5] who also has his bones clinging to his flesh has had the same experience of abandonm ent as Job; he is like a desert owl, like a sparrow alone on the housetop (7—8 [6—7] n a b ) . The parallel shows that the language is conventional, not freshly m inted to express Jo b ’s particular physical distress. The above interpretation solves the first three difficulties m entioned at the beginning of this Comment. First, there is no sudden break from the them e of abandonm ent to the them e of his malady; v 20 is his psychic, not physical, reaction to the experience of desertion. Second, the problem of the verb “cleave” has been solved. Third, the question of the overlong first half of the line can be settled. T he present interpretation, like no other, makes sense both of “flesh” and “skin,” since it is essentially the same image to have the bones supported by the “flesh” or by the “skin.” T hat is not to say that both nouns belonged in the poet’s text, but it explains why one has been added to a half-line that presumably had only one of them originally. Since it is “flesh” and not “skin” in the parallel Ps 102:6 [5], “skin” is the term that should probably be deleted here. T he rem aining difficulties concern “escaping” and “by the skin of my teeth.” T he only thing that Job has “escaped” from ( hithp) is what he has not yet suffered, death. If the phrase is to have any m eaning remotely parallel to “my bones hang on my skin and flesh,” i.e., that he feels deprived of vigor, it must m ean that the “escape” is not worth having, that it is no real escape at all (as distinct from the common English usage of the phrase, in which it refers to a genuine though narrow escape). He means that he has been delivered from death but in such a state that he m ight as well be dead. T he “escaping” is thus ironic, it is no more an escape than a Pyrrhic victory is a victory; it is not “I have lost everything, but I have escaped alive” (Terrien), but rather “T he only escape I have achieved is to have lost everything.” In being delivered “with” (not “by,” r s v , n i v ) the skin of his teeth, he has no skin left on him except the skin on his teeth (which of course does not exist, as Janzen also recognizes), for he has been flayed alive, the skin of his body stripped off; the image is used in Mic 3:3 of tyrannical rulers who like butchers “flay” (OÜ9) or “tear o ff’ ( 1 ) the skin from the bodies of the people (Wyclif has the phrase, “Thus, as god seij) of tyrauwtis, J>ei taken here skyn fro J3e bak, 8c eten 8c drynkyn mennus blood” [“O f Prelates,” chap. 9, The English Works of Wyclif [London: T riibner and Co., 1880] 73). In English to “flay alive (or, quick)” is the punishm ent of beating so that the skin is dam aged and so stripped off (first attested in Leyland, c. 1205), but here the image is m ore probably that of Mic 3:2-3, where the images of the wild animal, the butcher, and the cook all contribute to the m etaphor of flaying. Jo b ’s existence is a living death, not of course in the present context primarily because of his physical suffering, but because of his sense of abandonm ent. O ther interpretations of the verse are catalogued in n. 19:20.a. 21—22 A strikingly new note is sounded here, “a strain we have not heard previously” (Delitzsch), when Job calls upon his friends to “pity” ( ) him.

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He has never before asked for their pity. Indeed, having berated them for their treachery (6:15), their callousness (6:27), their stupidity (12:2-3; 13:2), their worthlessness (13:4), their lies (13:7), their partisanship (13:7-9), their torture (16:2), and their attempts to destroy him (19:2), having done everything wrong if he had been trying to win friends and influence people, it is truly amazing that he should suddenly fall into a supplicative mood, and that for only two verses, to be followed shortly by as aggressive an address to the friends as we have heard (vv 28—29). (6:28—29 is not such an appeal; see Comment.) Gray’s comment is typical of how this change of mood is viewed by most: “Ruthlessly assailed by God and abandoned by other men, even those nearest to him, Job, yearning for some support, appeals to the compassion of the three friends who, unlike others, were at least physically still near him: for the m om ent all thought of argum ent is abandoned; he no longer seeks to convince them, or asks them to be ju st to him; he asks them to be kind.” This seems so out of character for Job that our first inclination m ust be to wonder whether these words can indeed be addressed to the three friends of the dialogue. T he preceding verses, from v 13, have depicted his rejection by every category of friend and relation, and it is at first attractive to find him here begging them to restore him to their intimacy (cf. 17:10 for another place where “you” does not refer to the three friends). But in fact it cannot be those acquaintances of vv 13—19, for they have done nothing that could be called “persecution” ( ); there is an attachm ent of a kind between persecutoi. and their victims, but from his acquaintances Job has experienced not even that kind of interest, but rather a silent ostracism. W hat is more, “persecution” is explicitly attributed to the three friends—only they can be m eant—in v 28. These three are the “friends,” a term not used in vv 13—19 of his other acquaintances and relatives, but used of his three interlocutors in 2:11; 32:3; 35:4; 42:7, 10 (which is to say, however, only in the prose and once in a speech of Elihu). Given that it is his conversation partners that he addresses, what does Job mean? Habel is the only other com m entator to feel unable to take Jo b ’s cry for “p it)” at its face value; he finds Jo b ’s words ironic: “Jo b ’s appeal to his friends to exhibit compassion is a sharp sarcastic barb . . . . With tongue in cheek, Job solicits their sympathy.” T here is indeed something ironic in making the reason for his appeal for pity the fact that “the hand of Eloah has struck m e”; for it is precisely because they regard God as the origin of Jo b ’s suffering that the friends feel themselves justified in withholding their pity. But that is not to say that the appeal for pity is itself ironic. O ur first step must be to recognize that “have mercy, take pity” does not ask for a mood of sympathy and compassion in the hearer so much as for an objective act of mercy or favor (cf. in Gen 33:5; 2 Sam 12:22; Ps 102:14 [13]; 119:29). Job can hardly be asking his friends here to do him the favor of accepting his selfassessment as a righteous man (as against Fohrer), though that is of course his ultimate objective; the biggest favor he can believably ask of them now is to stop hounding him or persecuting him by continuing their speeches (so also H. J. Stoebe, TH W AT 1:592). He does not want their pity so m uch as their silence. The repeated verb is indeed a depiction of the anguish of his soul (Duhm); cf. the repetition of the same verb in Ps 123:3, addressed to

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God. And there is a poignancy in Jo b ’s use of this phrase in address to his friends when he has rejected the idea of begging God for mercy (9:14): to have done that would have been to abandon his claim for justice, and to have surrendered his integrity in the face of the overpowering m ight of God. He would be grateful for a small mercy from his friends, though, as he would have been for the mercy he begged from his servant ( again) for a normal hum an responsiveness (v 16). All the same, even if they were to stop their verbal persecution of him, which is all he asks here, his principal suffering would rem ain unhealed: he still suffers the pitiless ferocity of God’s violence. This understanding of the cry for pity links up vv 21-22 with the opening lines of the speech (vv 2—3). It explains also why the reason for his appeal is that the hand of Eloah has “struck” him ( , as in 1:11, 19: 2:5; 4:5; 5:19; it has of course not been a mere “touch” [as r s v , n e b ] ) , and that means there is no need for any hum ans to cause Job to suffer further. T he “hand of God” means his might (cf. the Akk. phrase qat Hi “the hand of God,” referring to illnesses), and cf. Ps 32:4; 39:11 [10]; 1 Sam 5:6; 6:3,5, all in reference to illness (cf. A. S. van der Woude, TH W AT 1:671). For God’s hand as destructive or terrifying, cf. 6:9; 10:7; 13:21. T he persecution ( ) of the righteous by the wicked is a familiar psalmic them e, suggesting sometimes verbal abuse, sometimes physical assault (Ps 7:2 [1], 6 [5]; 31:16 [15]; 35:3; 69:27 [26]; 71:11; 109:16; 119:84, 86, 157, 161; 142:7 [6]; 143:3; cf. J e r 15:15; 17:18; 20:11). H ere we are at two removes from that conventionality, for first the role of the persecutor is transferred to God (as in 13:25 where he acts as an aggressor) and second to the friends, who become imitators of the savage God (they are not depicted as demons, as Fohrer thinks). They for their part by “telling it like it is” believe they are playing the role of avengers, like God pursuing his enemies with his tem pest (Ps 83:16 [15]) or the Angel of the Lord pursuing the enemies of the righteous on a dark and slippery path (Ps 35:6); they would not resist the word “p ursue” (see v 28), but whether or not they should be asham ed of themselves (cf. v 3) depends on the question of Jo b ’s innocence. He does not m ean perhaps that they take upon themselves God’s work and usurp a divine judicial authority (Delitzsch), or that at the m om ent when they believe themselves almost divine they become monsters (Terrien). T he last clause, “will you never have enough of my flesh?” ( j b ) , could be simply a m etaphor of wild beasts devouring an animal (so Gordis, Pope), but since animals do not “pursue,” it is m ore likely that a second m etaphorical m eaning is superimposed. In Akkadian and Arabic the expression “to eat the pieces” of someone can mean to defame or accuse (cf. G. Gerleman, TH W AT 1:140); in Dan 3:8; 6:25 [24] we have the phrase “to eat the pieces ( ) o f” used in that sense in biblical Aramaic, and in Ps 27:2 “to eat the flesh o f” may well m ean “to slander” (so r s v , and cf. n j p s , though BDB and KB3 do not acknowledge this sense); Eccl 4:5 is more difficult. This would suit the present context perfectly because it is the friends’ persistent denunciation of Job as a sinner that he cannot stand and that is the respect in which they are behaving like God. Not to be “satisfied with [his] flesh,” as the Heb. runs literally, means that they cannot stop asserting his guilt—which is the exact point of his appeal for mercy in v 21, and the very issue upperm ost in his reproaches of vv 2—3. It goes without saying that the m ore concrete image of

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being devoured is still visible. It goes too far to discern a “flesh” m otif in this chapter (as Habel), since “flesh” means very different things in vv 20, 22, 26. 23-27 Jo b ’s forlorn hope is that his asseveration of innocence could be inscribed in some perm anent medium that will last beyond his death; for he has no hope of vindication before his death, and while he believes that his protestation stands written into the heavenly record, that remains, deep down, only a m etaphor. He would feel more secure that his case will some day be decided if he knew that his words were preserved imperishably on earth. For whose eyes is his self-testimony to be written? Not primarily, perhaps not at all, for posterity—as though he cherishes a hope that a later generation will recognize his innocence despite the calumnies of his friends (against Fohrer, T errien and others). T here is only one person whose endorsem ent Job craves, for without God’s declaration of his innocence no hum an assessment is worth anything. Jo b ’s thought here is no extraordinary and unparalleled leap of faith; his stance is no different from what it was in his previous speech: there he said that even now his declaration of innocence is present in heaven as his witness or advocate (16:19); his cry for vindication is his spokesman, and he awaits God’s reply with sleepless anticipation (16:20). But he does not expect that he will see his vindication before his death, so he calls upon earth not to let his m urder at God’s hand go unavenged but rather to perm it his blood to go on crying for his vindication (16:18). So also here: his declaration of innocence “lives” as his champion in heaven (v 25a), and his anxious (v 27c) desire is that he should “see” God enter the courtroom to judge his case while he is still alive (vv 26b—27). But he does not, frankly, expect that he will be vindicated before his death, so despite his conviction that he will “in the end” be adjudged innocent (v 25) he voices the wish that the record of his case should be committed to perm anent writing (vv 23—24). The written words he here envisages would serve a similar function to the earth’s refusal to cover up his m urder in 16:18; earth and inscription alike would keep his cause alive. The center of gravity in this strophe is therefore not the hopeless wish of vv 23—24, nor even the unshaken conviction that he will eventually find vindication even after his death, but the reiterated desire that “from [his] flesh,” i.e., while he is still alive, he should come face to face with God, the two of them parties in a legal contest that will issue in Jo b ’s full vindication. 23 Jo b ’s wish for a record of his case that will outlast him is a forlorn hope, like all those wishes of his beginning with the phrase “O that . . . ” (lit. “who will grant that . . . ?” ; see Cox, 33—35); in 6:8—9 it introduced the wish that God would kill him as a sign of the futility of his existence; in 13:5 that his friends would keep their peace; in 14:13 that God would hide him in Sheol until his wrath was past; in 23:3 that he could discover where God is located so that he could argue his case personally with God; in 29:2 that he could be restored to his form er life “as in the m onths of old,” in 31:35 that he had a legal opponent who would respond to him (14:4 and 31:31 are different; the phrase is only used elsewhere in the book by Zophar at 11:5). It is of course not an impossible wish that his words should be “written,” but he does not mean written on a scroll or on parchm ent (against, e.g., Peake, who thought he first wishes them written in a book, and then corrects himself by desiring a more perm anent record); his vindication is likely to be so long delayed that his testimony to himself would need to take a more durable form.

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So the m eaning of the general term “write” ( ) is specified by the terms “engrave” ( ) and “cut” ( ). W hat are his words ( )? Not of course the words that immediately follow (vv 25-27) as if this were the high point of the book, an affirmation of faith (among other reasons, such an “inscription” could hardly begin with “and ”), nor the Book of Job itself (contrast Strahan: “Yet how splendidly his idea has been realized! His singular fancy of a testimony ‘in the rocks’ could not be gratified, but he has his apologia . . . ‘in a book’ which is the masterpiece of Hebrew poetic genius”). T he language throughout the strophe is judicial, and here too the “words” are Jo b ’s depositions that have been referred to in 13:3, 6, 13, 17, 18 and are stated m ore or less directly in 13:23-24. T he Heb. of v 23b could perhaps means “inscribed on a scroll” (cf. n i v ; r s v “book”) for 1 is the norm al word for a docum ent on leather or papyrus, and “inscribed” ( ) is sometimes used for writing on such a m edium (Isa 30:8, of writing “upon” [ ] a ; Ezek 23:14, of paintings on a wall; though such examples may use the verb in a m etaphorical sense). Such materials will hardly serve Jo b ’s requirem ent for a perm anent record, however, and especially in view of the “iron” and “rock” of v 24 it is best to see here either a hard substance, copper (see n. 19:23.c), or a general term for an enduring record such as “on a stela” (Pope), “in an inscription” ( n e b ) , “on some m onum ent” ( j b ; cf. Gordis). T he technology of k j v ’ s “printed in a book” is a trifle anachronistic! 24 T here is one composite image here, of an inscription being carved on a rock with an iron tool. T he term “p en” is used of a reed pen or brush for writing with ink (Ps 45:1 [2]; J e r 8:8) but also of an iron stylus or chisel for use on stone (Jer 17:1, the sin of Ju d ah is written with a “pen of iron”). It is m ore difficult to discover what the function of the “lead” is. Some have thought that the chisel was made of an alloy of iron and lead, but it is hard to believe that lead would improve the hardness of the iron. Dhorm e thought that the alloy was used not for engraving as such but for m arking the outline of the letters before the stone was cut; but a term for the chisel itself is m uch more likely to have been combined with the verb “engrave” ( ). Others note the use of lead tablets in classical antiquity, ολυβδινοι χάρται or tabulae plumbae (cf. Josephus, Apion 1.307; Pausanias 9.31.4; Pliny, Nat. Hist. 13.669; Tacitus, Ann. 2.69) and also am ong the Hittites (G. R. Driver, Semitic Writing [new ed; London: OUP, 1976] 84 n . l l , 241); but the text would have to be altered to read “with a pen of iron on lead” (so Moffatt, n i v ) rather than “and lead.” Such lead tablets were frequently used for curses (cf. A. Deissmann, Lightfrom the Ancient East [tr. L. R. M. Strachan; London: H odder and Stoughton, 1910] 304-5). T here is wide support for the explanation first given by Rashi that the lead was used to fill in the incised letters (so too Dillmann, Delitzsch, Duhm). C. R. Conder (“Notes on Biblical Antiquities,” PEFQS [1905] 155-58 [156]) thought the letters were painted with red lead paint after being incised, and referred to the case of the Phoenician inscription of the fifth century b . c . (now no. 15 in H. Donner and W. Rollig, Kanaanaische und aramaische Inschriften [Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 1962-64] 1:3; 2:23-24) on which the incised characters were painted red (according to M. Lidzbarski, Ephemeris fiir semitische Epigraphik [Giessen: Topelm ann, 1908] 49). Only one example of this technique, however, is known: in the inscription of Darius at Behistun

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(text and translation: R. G. Kent, Old Persian [New Haven: American Oriental Society, 1953] 116-34) the names of the king in the small inscription above the king’s head were formerly inlaid with lead in the cuneiform signs, presum ably so that the names might sparkle in the sunlight (E. W eidner, “Ausgrabungen und Forschungsreisen,” AfO 15 [1945—51] 146—50 [147]; J. J. Stamm, “Zu Hiob 19,24,” ZAW 65 [1953] 302; Galling, WO 2 [1954-59] 3-6). De Wilde even suggests that the poet of Job had Darius’ Behistun inscription in mind; but since the inscription is located more than 200 feet higher than the road that passes it and only the king’s names appear to have been treated in this way, it seems more than doubtful that the facts about this particular inscription would have been well known. If such a practice existed, however, it would perhaps provide the most plausible interpretation of the verse (so n e b “cut with an iron tool and filled with lead”). For a suggested emendation, see n. 19:24.a. W hatever may be the precise technology of inscribing Jo b ’s words, what is the background of the idea of having one’s words inscribed at all? K. Galling has seen here a tomb inscription hewn in the rock and bearing not Jo b ’s name but his plea (“Die Grabinschrift Hiobs,” WO 2 [1954-59] 3-6). But Jo b ’s plea for vindication is not addressed to casual passers-by but to God, and Weiser’s proposal is more persuasive, that the votive inscription set up in a temple is the conceptual background of the image; cf. Ps 102:19 [18], where Yahweh’s salvation is recorded ( ) for a future generation. T hat is not to say that Job or the poet has a cultic setting in mind, for here the inscription is undoubtedly in the living rock, but that the image perhaps presupposes a concrete reality in which a person’s words may be perm anently on record in the presence of God. Even if in Israelite temples such votive inscriptions were nonexistent (as Richter argues), Ps 102:19 [18] presents a m etaphorical construct on which we may lean. Richter himself thinks of written prayers from Egypt in which the individual begs a favorable decision at the last judgm ent (pp. 28, 90); but there of course we are not dealing with engraved inscriptions on stone. It remains possible that the concrete background is the ancient Near Eastern practice of engraving royal inscriptions (usually of a propagandistic nature) on cliffsides, as attested in Egypt, Syria, and Persia (cf. F. H. Weissbach, Die Denkmaler und Inschriften an der Mündung des Nahr el-Kelb [Wissenschaftliche Veroffentlichungen des Deutsch-Türkischen Denkmalschutz-Kommandos 6; Berlin: de Gruyter, 1922]; F. Sarre and E. Herzfeld, Iranische Felsreliefs [Berlin: W asmuth, 1910]). 25—27 Basic to the interpretation here presented of these celebrated and much debated verses is a distinction between what Job knows or believes and what he desires. This is a distinction we have been able to discern throughout Jo b ’s speeches, and while it is theoretically possible that here he should break with what he has said previously and make a great leap of faith into the unknown, it is more convincing to read these words in the light of what we have already heard from him. W hat Job knows, or believes, is that God is his enemy (6:4; 10:8-14; 13:24; 16:7-14; 19:7-12), that he will never again see good (7:7), that he will soon be dead (7:21; 10:20; 16:22), that he will be m urdered by God (12:15; 16:18), that though he is innocent of any wrong for which he could be suffering (6:10c, 29; 9:15, 17,20,21; 12:4; 13:18) he can have no hope of wresting vindication from God (9 :2 -3 ,2 0 ,2 8 -3 3 ; 13:15; 19:7), and

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that his own innocence which is known to God even if unacknowledged by him is the one thing in which he can have confidence (13:16; 16:19—21). W hat Job desires, on the other hand, once he has overcome his initial desire to be put to death immediately (6:8—9) and his subsequent misgiving that all desire is simply futile (chaps. 9-10), is to enter into dispute with God (13:3, 22) in the hope of winning vindication before his death. Now that his protestation of innocence stands in the heavenly court as his witness, advocate, spokesman, and pledge, prepared to argue his case before God (16:19-20a, 21; 17:3), Jo b ’s only desire is that God should respond; his strongest positive desire has been expressed at 16:21: “sleeplessly I wait for God’s reply.” Here, his desire is exactly the same: it is that he should “see” God as the respondent in his court case while he is still alive (lit. “from my flesh”). The next time he speaks of his desire, it will be in the same terms: he will wish that he knew where he could find God, that he could reach his judgm ent seat and lay his case before him so as to receive the vindication he deserves (23:3—7). The desire remains constant. Here too, what he knows or believes is also of a piece with what he has said before and will say again, though what he says here makes an im portant advance. H itherto he had never expressed any conviction that he would in the end be vindicated. O f course, his unquenchable desire for vindication and his engagem ent in legal controversy with God prove his confidence in the ineluctable rightness of his cause, but he has never yet said straight out that he “knows” that he will in the end receive his desire. Once he has decided to argue his case with God (13:3), he says strongly, “I know that I am in the right” (13:18). “This is what I take refuge in: a godless man does not approach him ” (13:16). And he believes that his declaration of innocence will go on arguing his case before God as a m an argues for his friend (16:21). But he never has said that he believes he will in the end be successful in his lawsuit: that is the breakthrough here. And that is what he still believes in chap. 23 too: “W hen he has tried me, I shall come forth as gold” (23:10). It is a breakthrough for him to voice that confidence, but it is not an entirely new idea, and it is not the same thing as a confidence that he will actually be publicly vindicated—how can he be after his death? It springs from his long-felt con vietion of innocence, and it rests for its actualization entirely upon the truth of that conviction. He has no beliefs about any future act of salvation or mercy, only about an inevitable and ultimate recognition of his blamelessness. The person (if person it is) who declares him innocent is of less significance than the fact of his innocence which alone makes any such declaration possible. Now to a closer look at the words. The opening “but” (waw) is of course contrastive with vv 23—24, but in what sense exactly? In vv 23—24 he wishes there could be a perm anent record of his innocence on earth, but, no m atter, quite apart from the fact that such would be difficult or impossible, it is unnecessary because there is an enduring witness to him in heaven. Jo b ’s phrase “I know” ( ), usually in forensic contexts, means “I firmly believe,” “I am convinced” (Habel). In 13:18 he “knows” that he is in the right, in 9:28 that God will not count him innocent, in 10:13 that God’s purpose was to m ark him down as a sinner, in 30:23 that God will bring him to death, in 42:2 that God can do everything, in 9:2 that God does not pervert justice or else that it is impossible to compel God to vindicate anyone (13:2 is different). It will

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be seen that the fact that Job “knows” something does not prove it is true. But these are all rather fundam ental convictions of Jo b ’s, and we cannot forget when we hear next of the “cham pion” that “lives” that Job is equally convinced that God will not regard him as innocent, and that divine hostility is the story of Jo b ’s life. Who then (or, what) is Jo b ’s “cham pion” ( gó’él, usually translated “redeem er”; Pope: “vindicator”)? T he go él, apparently a person’s nearest relative at any particular time, w hether brother, uncle, cousin, or some other kinsman, could have the responsibility of buying back family property so as to keep it in the family inheritance (Lev 25:25—34; Je r 32:6—15); redeem ing a kinsman from slavery (Lev 25:47—54); m arrying a widow to provide an heir for her dead husband (Ruth 3:12; 4:1—6); avenging the blood of a m urdered relative (Num 35:12, 19-27; Deut 19:6, 11-12; Josh 2 0 :2-5,9; cf. 2 Sam 14:11). Nowhere is there legislation or narrative about the role of a gó’él in the lawsuit, though the application of the term to Yahweh in m etaphorical legal contexts (Prov 23:11; J e r 50:34; Lam 3:58; Ps 119:154) suggests strongly that the gó’él would also be active on his kinsman’s behalf there. See further, H. Ringgren, TDOT 2:350-55; A. R. Johnson, “The Primary M eaning of \ / ,” VTS 1 (1953) 67-77; N. H. Snaith, “The Hebrew Root G’L (I),” ALUOS 3 (196162) 60-67 (65-67); E. Beaucamp, “Le goél de Jb 19,25,” LTP 33 (1977) 30910; J. J. Stamm, TH W AT 1:383-94. So who is Jo b ’s go él who “lives” and whose assistance will establish Jo b ’s innocence in the end? Hardly God, as Ringgren puts it succinctly: “Since the lawsuit here stands in the context of a dispute with God, it seems unlikely that God himself would appear as vindicator and legal attorney against himself, unless a very loose train of thought is to be assum ed” (TDOT 2:355). In view of the similarities between this passage and 16:18-21, it seems certain that the go él here is the same as the “witness” ( ), the “advocate” (ΊΠΐϋ), and the “spokesman” ( ) there. In that place, Jo b ’s “cry” ( ) is explicitly identified with his “spokesman and so by implication with the “witness and the “advocate.” T hat is to say, there is no personal being in heaven to represent Job; only his cry, uttered in the direction of God, speaks on his behalf. If in chap. 16 his “cry” is personified as witness, advocate, and spokesman, it is perfectly intelligible, though it remains a bold m etaphor, that it should here be called his “kinsman” or “cham pion” (“redeem er,” as well as having inappropriately divine connotations, is in many contexts unsuitable for the functions of the gó’él). So this affirmation is nothing different from the asseveration of 16:19, “even now, behold, my witness is in heaven.” Here indeed it is not said that Jo b ’s “kinsm an” or “cham pion” is in heaven; it is a reasonable assumption, but it can only be inferred from the parallel in chap. 16, and perhaps from an implied contrast with the announcem ent of lob’s vindication “on earth ” in v 25b. Why should Job here call his deposition of character (which is the content of his “cry”) his gó’él, when in chap. 16 he had used more exclusively legal terms? T he reason is plain from the context. This is the chapter in which he has most extensively elaborated his desertion by his relatives and acquaintances (vv 13—19). Not one of them wants anything to do with him, and he is bereft of any personal gó’él who might defend his cause. God is his enemy, so he has no one to rely on except himself. He has to be his own gó’él just as in

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17:3 he had to be his own surety. Indeed, he objectifies his protestation of innocence into an entity that has something of an existence of its own and now dwells in the heavenly realm where there is a better chance of encounter with God. But that is no m ore than an image for the fact that Job himself has spoken, has challenged God to a lawsuit, and has presented his own affidavit of innocence. This remains a fact, whatever happens to Job himself; his words cannot be unspoken, and they indeed go on speaking for him as his kinsmanchampion. Why, next, should Job use such personal language in saying that his cry “lives”? We note first that the adjective “live” ( ) and the verb “to live” ( ) are not used exclusively of animate beings, though of course that is the most normal sense. W ater is often called “living” (Gen 26:19; Lev 1 4 :5 ,6 ,5 1 ,5 2 ; 15:3; Num 19:17; Cant 4:15; J e r 2:13; 17:13; Zech 14:8), as is “raw” m eat (1 Sam 2:15); God’s “work” can be “made to live” (Hab 3:2), as can the stones of a city (Neh 3:34 [4:2]) or a city generally (1 Chr 11:8) or grain (Hos 14:8 [7]). But that is not wholly relevant, for it is not a special use of “lives” here; for Jo b ’s cry is personified as a living being, a kinsman-champion, and it is entirely appropriate to say that a kinsman “lives.” T he real reason for the presence of the term “lives” is Jo b ’s conviction that he himself will soon be dead (cf. v 10; so also Gray) and that to have any chance of being vindicated he needs some testimony to himself to survive his death. Furtherm ore, “lives” is m ore than “exists” (¿] ); it points to the champion as ready to act on Jo b ’s behalf. T here is, incidentally, an Ugaritic line in which El says, “I know (ydc) that mightiest Baal lives (hy), that the prince lord of earth exists” (CTA 6.3.8—9 [Gibson, 76—77]). T here is here a surface similarity to our text, and it is quoted by most recent commentators, but no one has shown any relevance it may have to the interpretation of Job. In the next clause it seems clear that legal language is being used. Jo b ’s “cham pion” will be the “last” to “rise” (cf. n e b “he will rise last to speak in court,” following G. R. Driver, “Problems of the Hebrew Text and Language: I. Scenes in Court,” Alttestamentliche Studien: Friedrich Nótscher . . . gewidmet [BBB 1; ed. H. Ju n k er and J. Botterweck; Bonn: Hanstein, 1950] 46—61 [46— 47]). T he “last” ( ) to rise in a lawsuit is presumably the winner of the dispute; we have no real parallels to this usage, and it is true that in the dispute with God in this book, it is Job himself who literally has the last word (42:2-6). But if we have rightly assumed that the procedure of the rib was for the two disputants to keep arguing until one conceded the case of the other, clearly the concluding speech of concession is not the “last” substantive argum ent, and if it is the “final” speaker (like God in Job) who wins the day, Job here believes that it will be his defense counsel who will have the last word. T he verb “rise” ( ) is quite well attested in a legal setting: in 16:8 Jo b ’s leanness “rises u p ” as a witness against him (of false witnesses in Ps 27:12; 35:11; Deut 19:16; of a judge in Ps 76:10 [9]; 94:16; and perhaps in Job 31:14; Isa 2:19). “Upon dust” ( ) is more difficult: it could perhaps m ean Jo b ’s dust, the dust where he lies (as in 7:21; 17:16; cf. 20:11; 21:26; so Duhm; and Janzen: “a graphic reference to Job-gone-to-dust”), but it is more likely to mean “on earth” (cf. “upon dust” in 41:25 [33] where there is none “on earth” that can be com pared to Leviathan; and cf. 28:2; 30:6 for “dust” equivalent to “earth”).

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Does Job indeed believe that he will be vindicated? He believes that his defense counsel will have the last word, that he will win his case, but does he trust God to do anything about carrying that vindication into effect? And what form does he imagine a postm ortem vindication can take, for if he is dead and his children too, and his property remains destroyed, how will anyone be able to believe that Job was an innocent m an after all, even if God were to broadcast it from the whirlwind? “Vindication after his death would be a m eager and bitter comfort” (J. K. Zink, “Im patient Job: An Interpretation of Job 19:25-27,” JBL 84 [1965] 147-52 [151]), too little and too late. So is this certitude of Jo b ’s all rather nugatory? No, but only if we recognize that it is m uch more a conviction that he is innocent than a conviction that he will really be vindicated. And certainly, vindication in heaven is not Jo b ’s aim. T hough God must be the one to testify to Jo b ’s innocence, it is “on earth” am ong the company of hum ans that Jo b ’s righteousness must be acknowledged if vindication is to be worth anything; for it is in the eyes of hum ankind that he has been defamed, by God. T he next clause is almost certainly corrupt, lit. “and after my skin (mase.) they have stripped off (or, beaten; or, cut down) this (fern.).” T he verb occurs elsewhere only at Isa 10:34 where it refers to cutting down (? or trimming) thickets in a forest and the derived noun only at Isa 17:6; 24:13 where it refers to the shaking of olives from an olive tree; KB3 suggests “flay” for our passage. The subject here must be “persons unknow n,” equivalent to a passive (GKC, § 144g). “This” (fern.) is mysterious; it can hardly m ean “thus” (though 33:12 provides a partial analogy); but a simple em endation to , “thus,” yields a reasonably satisfactory, though not secure, sense: “even after my skin has been thus flayed from m e” (cf. n j p s “after my skin will have been peeled o ff’; r s v “and after my skin has been thus destroyed”; similarly n i v ; Pope: “flayed”). If he regards his disease as consuming his skin, by the spread of sores over the skin, it is natural enough to call this a “stripping o ff’ or “flaying” of the skin (cf. the language of 7:5; 30:30). He may, however, be referring to the destruction of the skin (standing for the whole body) in the grave; in which case the k j v “worms destroy this body” may not be so far from the mark, though the Heb. has no word for “worms.” However we understand the details of the clause, it fairly clearly indicates that Job expects his case to be resolved only after his death. In sharp contrast to Jo b ’s expectation is his desire: he wants to see his name cleared while he is still alive. “From my flesh” (ΉΐϋΠΏ) is by anyone’s reckoning a rather strange way of saying “while I am still alive”; but the only alternative meaning, “without my flesh” (Rsvmg), i.e., after my death, not only contradicts Jo b ’s frequently expressed desire but raises the problem of how Job can “see” if he has no body. The “im perfect” verb , conventionally translated “I shall see,” should be taken either as a modal imperfect (GKC, § 107m—n) or as a cohortative (GKC, § 48b-e), expressing a will or desire rather than a simple prediction, “my desire is to see God.” Thus n j p s “But I would behold God while still in my flesh”; similarly Zink, JBL 84 (1965) 149; Tur-Sinai: “I want to see [my] God”; Habel: “I would behold Eloah”; Fohrer: “I would see God” (v 27; but v 26: “I will see God”). Job has nowhere previously said in so many words that he wants to “see” God, but at many points his language has implied a yearning for face to face converse: so, for example, his desire

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to come to trial with him (9:32), his regret that there is no arbitrator who could lay his hands on both Job and God (9:33), his wish to speak to the Almighty (13:3), and especially his ambition to defend his behavior “to [God’s] face” (13:15), his promise not to hide himself “from [God’s] face” (13:20), and his complaint that God “hides [his] face” (13:24). Now that he has come out with the unambiguous word “see” (ΠΪΠ), he can say it again more openly and expansively in chap. 23 where he wishes he could find the way to God’s “seat” (23:3) and bemoans the fact that he cannot perceive (] ), see (ΓΠΠ), or behold ( ) God; such, however, is his desire. T he m etaphor o f the lawsuit is entirely sufficient to account for this language of “seeing” God (it is not a question of a theophany, as Fohrer; A. Jepsen, TDOT 4:289); but it is not irrelevant that despite the widespread belief in the danger of seeing God (Exod 33:20; Ju d g 13:22) some O T passages speak of it as a desirable occurrence (e.g., Ps 11:7, where the upright see his face; 17:15; 63:3 [2]; cf. also Exod 24:10). T he next line says in the most emphatic m anner that it is with God that he desires to treat (we note “I” emphatic, “for myself,” “my eyes,” and “no stranger”). Even if the “kinsm an-champion” were a personal being, and not, as argued here, simply the personification of Jo b ’s plea, such a being fades immediately into the background. T he champion has no significance in himself, but functions only to keep Jo b ’s cause alive before God. It has to be God’s vindication if it is to be vindication at all. And of course if Job himself, and not someone else (“a stranger”), is to witness God vindicating him, Job himself has to be alive. So v 27a must belong to Jo b ’s desire of v 26b, not to his “b elief’ of vv 25—26a. A “stranger” ( Ί 1) means simply anyone else other than Job himself (cf. on v 15); all, including his family, have made themselves strangers to him. Finally, v 27c somewhat enigmatically conveys the emotion with which this desire has been expressed. A ndersen’s despairing translation, “my kidneys have ended in my chest,” shows the extent of the difficulty. But if we allow that the kidneys, as a most sensitive part of the anatomy (cf. on 16:13) and as the seat of the emotions and affections, stand for the feelings in general (Ps 73:21; Prov 23:16), that “come to an end” ( ) means particularly to be exhausted by longing (as of the (Ü9J, “soul, vitality” in Ps 84:3 [2]; 119:81), and that “in my chest, bosom” (pil) means simply “within m e” (which is, admittedly, more commonly , J e r 23:9; 1 Sam 25:37), Job means that he is emotionally exhausted, psychically drained, by the intensity of his feelings (cf. n a b “my inmost being is consumed with longing”). This is his prevailing experience, not “the profound dejection that follows the exaltation of the mystic experience” (R. Gordis, The Book of God and Man: A Study of Job [Chicago: University of Chicago, 1965] 207; cf. Janzen). It needs perhaps to be said that the foregoing exegesis has proceeded on the basis of “the story so far,” and has presented a reading “as if for the first tim e.” A second reading, in which the end of the book is allowed to resonate here also, superimposes a new level of au th o r’s m eaning above the m eaning intended by the character Job. It is an irony, though not a bitter one, that Jo b ’s words have a m eaning other than he intends. T he truth is that, though he expects God would be the last person to vindicate him, God does indeed become his vindicator, and that on earth (42:10, 12). Jo b ’s desire to “see” God

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is fulfilled to the letter (42:5), and the knowledge and the desire of these verses, here so opposed to one another, are shown in the end to be identical. Job does not see his hope fulfilled, for he has no hope; but he sees his words, hopeless but desirous, fulfilled with unimaginable precision. Up to this point in the exegesis, opposing interpretations have generally not been m entioned. For a review, see J. Speer, “Zur Exegese von Hiob 19,25— 27,” ZAW 25 (1905) 49-107; and cf. Η. H. Rowley, “T he Book of Job and Its M eaning,” in From Moses to Qumran: Studies in the Old Testament (London: Lutterworth, 1963) 141-83 (180-81). Some of the most favored interpretations may now be outlined. 1. These verses have long been regarded as teaching a doctrine of the resurrection. The influential k j v translation of v 26, “And though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God,” took its cue from Jerom e’s Vulgate: “For I know that my redeem er lives and that on the last day I will be raised from earth; and I will again be surrounded by my skin, and in my flesh I will see my God; whom I myself will see, and my eyes will behold, and not another; this hope is fixed in my breast.” Already 1 Clement 26.3 presents a similar exegesis, and similarly Origen, Commentary on Matthew, 17.29 (on Matt 22:23). For the history of interpretation see J. Speer, “Zur Exegese von Hiob 19,25-27,” ZA vv 25 (1905) 49-107; A. Hudal, “Die Auslegung von Job 19,25-27 in der katholischen Exegese,” Der Katholik 95 (1916) 33145; and earlier, Η. P. C. Henke, Narratio critica de interpretatione loci Jobi c. XIX vers. XXV—XXVII in antiqua ecclesia (Helmstedt: Schnoor, 1783); G. L. Eyrich, Tentamen historicum circa diversas de spe et expectantione quam Jobus 19,25 sibi facit opiniones et sententias (Würzburg, 1791). The idea that Job expresses a belief in a resurrection still finds its defenders (see a list in Lévéque, 480 n.10). E. J. Young, for instance, wrote of “this magnificent statement of a bodily resurrection” (An Introduction to the Old Testament [London; Tyndale, 1949] 317), and G. L. Archer would translate, “And from the vantage point of my flesh, I shall see God” (A Survey of Old Testament Introduction [Chicago: Moody, 1964] 449). Janzen too has recently offered an intelligent defense of the traditional view, arguing that only its perspective does justice to many conceptual and rhetorical details of the speeches. M. Dahood breathed somewhat spurious new life into this ancient interpretation by revocalizing Ή (DUD “from my flesh” as (a pual participle with suffix), which he translated as “refleshed by him [I will gaze upon God],” a doctrine, he says, “of the creation of a new body for the afterlife” (Psalms II, 196). Surprisingly, Pope seems to be cautiously attracted by this philological curiosity. Without referring specifically to Dahood, Andersen notes the “much recent research that shows interest in the after-life as an ancient concern for Israelite faith,” and finds here “the hope of a favorable m eeting with God after death as a genuine hum an being,” a hope, however, that “falls short of a full statem ent of faith in personal bodily resurrection.” A somewhat whimsical modulation of the resurrection view was advanced by Larcher (1957), followed somewhat by Terrien: Larcher thinks of a momentary and tailor-made resurrection at which Job will have his innocence recognized, and then presumably sink back into Sheol. Terrien too thinks that the Hebrew does not depict a disincarnated spirit, but a Job whose “personality, not for eternity but for the specific instant of his encounter with his creator,

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will be truly alive, endued with fleshly vitality . . . the same individual.” Habel apparently has a similar idea: “Job is not proposing the idea of a universal resurrection, but the radical hope that he will see his divine adversary face to face, in person, ‘from his flesh,’ even if that seeing is a postm ortem event . . . not in some visionary, mystical or m etaphorical m anner, but physically.” Perhaps this is not so very different from Gray, who, however, does not use the term “physical”: “T here is still no belief here in a continued life of blessedness after death . . . in a m om ent after death it will be given to Job to know that he was not deluded in m aintaining his integrity.” Against any view of bodily resurrection it need only be noted that it contradicts everything the book has said previously about the finality of death (7:9; 10:21; 14:10, 12) and, in case it should be argued that this is some kind of new revelation of an existence beyond death, it needs to be noted that it is totally ignored in the rem ainder of the book (cf. 21:23-26; 30:23). Among the early fathers, Chrysostom already refuted the resurrectionist interpretation by quoting 14:12 (PG, 57:396). 2. T he currently prevailing view can probably be said to be that Job expects a postm ortem encounter with God, but in a disembodied state (cf. r s v “without my flesh I shall see God,” taking the ]D as min privative). Thus Ewald: “the spirit of the deceased must behold its own justification . . . the idea of the indestructability of the spirit comes clearly out. . . . I shall behold . . . with spiritual eyes, not with my present ones.” And Duhm: “Job will rise from the earth as a spirit, rather like Samuel (1 Sam 28).” So too Dillman, Lam parter, and Weiser, the last of whom writes that for Job the fact of his sight of God after his death is more im portant than its m anner. “It is the faith that does not see and yet believes.” G. Holscher attem pted to answer the question of how an Israelite could be conceived as “seeing” after his death by referring to Jub. 23.19—31 where the bones of the ju st rest in the earth but they nevertheless “see” that God is repelling their enemies (“Hiob 19,25—27 und Jubil 23,30— 31,” ZAW 53 [1935] 277—83; see too G. J. Streeder, “G. Holschers Exegese von Job 19,25-27,” N T T 22 [1939] 98-104). For Holscher, death in Job is represented as a kind of sleep (3:13—18; 14:12) in which the dead have no knowledge of their descendants on earth but nevertheless have a certain capacity to know and to feel. It is easy to see, however, that the text in Jubilees hangs on a m ore developed idea of an afterlife than appears anywhere in Job, and it may be supposed that the idea of encountering God in a postm ortem existence would have seemed less than plausible to Job. 3. A third approach is to see the restoration of Job as something that is to happen before his death. C. J. Lindblom, for example, thought Job was here envisaging simply his healing and return to prosperity (“ ‘Ich weiss, dass mein Erloser lebt’: Zum Verstándnis der Stelle Hi 19,25—27,” Studia Theologica (Riga) [1940] 65—77. Similarly Ball: “the God of righteous Retribution will appear to right his lamentable wrongs in the present life, before his disease has run its fatal course.” Fohrer seems to adhere to this view, regarding “without my flesh” as an indication simply of Jo b ’s emaciation (T. J. Meek: of the putrefaction of his flesh by his disease [“Job xix 25-27,” VT 6 (1956) 100-103]). The difficulty here is that is is entirely inappropriate to suppose that Job “knows” that this will be his lot. And if he “knows” that he will be restored before his death, he has no reason still to contem plate death (as in 23:17). Fohrer indeed refers to a restoration as “Jo b ’s hope and wish” (p. 320), but

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in his translation (p. 307) he has Job “know” it—and that is a far different matter. All the interpretations m entioned above have assumed that the “redeem er” {gd’el) is God. So, e.g., Duhm, Driver-Gray, Dhorme, Rowley, de Wilde. Among the argum ents that have been adduced for this view, which Habel has lucidly analyzed (and convincingly refuted, pp. 305-6) are the following: (a) The go el Job expects to rise on his behalf must be the same figure as the God he expects to see; (b) In the Psalms and Isa 40—66, especially, God is invoked as the gd’el of the afflicted (e.g., Ps 78:35; Isa 49:7, 26; so Dhorme, Lévéque, 479); (c) The “uncomprom ising m onotheism ” of the book prevents the supposition of an intermediary “kinsman” between God and Job (Gordis); (d) “The Last” ( ) is to be understood as a title for God, “the Ultimate,” as in Isa 44:6; 48:12 (Dahood, Bib 52 [1971] 346). Against these points it can be argued: (a) T he God whom Job describes throughout the book has not been acting as his “witness” or “kinsm an”; and the “witness” of 16:19—20 is very clearly winning justice for Job from God; (b) The allusions elsewhere to God as Redeemer are beside the point; “the context here is forensic, not cultic, and the need is for deliverance from God, not by God” (Habel); (c) It may not indeed be necessary to postulate an intermediary between God and Job if the view taken in this commentary is accepted, that it is Jo b ’s own cry that is his spokesman and kinsman; (d) There is no reason to suppose that “the Last” was a standard O T title for God. T he major argum ent against identifying God as the go’el is that “it would m ean a complete reversal in the pattern of Jo b ’s thought. . . · J o b has portrayed God consistently as his attacker not his defender, his enemy not his friend, his adversary at law not his advocate, his hunter not his healer, his spy not his savior, an intimidating terror not an impartial ju d g e” (Habel). At the very end of his speeches he is still calling God “my adversary” (31:35). Habel, for his part, follows the line taken by S. Mowinckel (“Hiobs gó’él und Zeuge im Him mel,” BZAW 41 [1925] 207—12) and W. A. Irwin (“Jo b ’s Redeem er,” JBL 81 [1962] 217-29; cf. also T. J. Meek, “Job xix 25-27,” VT 6 [1956] 100-103; E. G. Kraeling, The Book of the Ways of God [London: SPCK, 1938] 89; Terrien, Pope), that the gd’el is a heavenly being, not perhaps like a personal god in Babylonian religion (Pope) but, more to the point, a defense attorney who is a counterpart of the Satan. Elihu certainly envisages the existence of a m ediator “angel” ( ), a “spokesman” ( , as in 16:20), who can appeal to God for the healing of a person (33:23—25) or, according to Habel, can vouch for his righteousness (cf. also Zech 3:1—5; Gen 48:16). But Elihu’s view is not necessarily Jo b ’s: Eliphaz has denied that there is any angel who will take up Jo b ’s case (5:1), and Job himself has regretted (in a wish contrary to fact) that there is no intermediary between himself and God (9:33). Especially in view of the exegesis of 16:19—20, it is better to see Jo b ’s champion not as some heavenly being but as his own declaration of innocence. Most of the implausible interpretations reviewed here are swept away by the recognition (i) that there is a contrast between what Job believes will happen (his death before vindication, but vindication thereafter) and what he wishes would happen (a face to face encounter with God this side of death); and (ii) that what pleads for Job in the heavenly realm is nothing but his own protestation of innocence. Given such a plethora of interpretations of the words as they stand, more

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or less, conjectural emendations of the text seem de trop; but the evident obscurity and almost certainly corrupt nature of the text invites them, and a selection of the more suggestive—and of the more bizarre—is reviewed in the Notes. W hen the result is obviously in contradiction to the exegesis here presented, the objections to the emendations have not usually been repeated. 28—29 The closing sentences addressed to the friends are, at first blush, exceedingly curious both for their tone and their content (some find them more or less unintelligible; a ‘jum ble of verbiage,” says Pope). After the note of exalted confidence in vv 25—27—as many see it—it is surprising to hear this sharp and supercilious tone here. Terrien, rem inding himself that the Job of the dialogues is never the saint of the prologue and epilogue, nor the humble creature who prostrates himself before Yahweh (42:1—6), finds Jo b ’s attitude “faithful to the psychology of uncom prehended suffering,” but not, admittedly, satisfactory morally or theologically. As for the content, it is at first astonishing to find Job asserting that there is a ju dgm ent that punishes wrongdoing; Pope not unreasonably feels that v 29 “appears to smack of the argum ent of the friends rather than of Jo b .” T here is the further oddity that in every one of his previous speeches Job has concluded on the note of death and Sheol (3:20-26; 7:21b; 9:18-22; 14:20-22; 17:13-16). A close attention to Jo b ’s words and to their context will, however, dispel most of the surprises. First, we recollect that the keynote of vv 25-27 has not been Jo b ’s unconditioned hope in God or his expectation of a beatific vision, but rather a reiterated conviction of the rightness of his cause and the im patient desire to confront God with the wrongs Job believes God has done him. T he note of exasperation here in vv 28—29 is not so very far from the note of self-assured impatience in vv 25—27. Second, the term “persecute, pursue” ( ) carries a lot of freight. As was noted on vv 21—22 above, the word is applied to the friends in this speech as imitators of the savagery of God, while in the background lies the thought that typically those who “pursue” the righteous are themselves the wicked. Those who “pursue” have to be very sure of their ground, for prima facie they declare themselves criminals in so doing, and even if they can claim that they are siding with God and carrying out his vengeance for him, that will hardly earn them a certificate of blamelessness from a man who has been experiencing only the cruelty of God. W hat does “persecution” of Job by the friends mean, concretely? Since they are obviously not offering him physical violence, it can only be their false accusation that he refers to (see again on vv 21—22). They have each in turn made their accusation, and here Job warns them (as he begged them in vv 21—22) to leave off the repetition of this false testimony, and so do themselves, as well as him, a favor. So these verses become intelligible as the peroration of the speech, inviting the friends to desist from further talk, warning them that they are putting themselves into the role of wrongdoers (false witnesses against the innocent) by so doing, and rem inding them that they cannot hope to escape punishm ent if they insist on playing this part. The false accusation is: “T he root of the m atter lies in him ,” i.e., Job is the cause of his own suffering; the persecution of v 28a consists of making the judgm ent of v 28b. The truth is, as Job has said in this very speech, that “it is God who has put [him] in the wrong” (v 6). T hat was the climax of the

Comment

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exordium addressed to the friends (vv 2-6), and to that issue the speech now returns at its close. The “anger” ( ) must here be the friends’ own anger (not God’s, as in 21:20) expressed in their hostile “persecution” of Job. We have already heard from Eliphaz how “anger” ( ) can kill (5:2), but here it is rather different: the anger that persecutes an innocent m an is a capital offense (the phrase “crime of the sword” [ ] must be modeled on , “sin worthy “sin deserving judgm ent,” lit. “of of death” [Deut 22:26]; cf. [ ] judges” [Job 31:11, 28]). No doubt this is not literally true about anger, though we recall that bearing false witness against one’s “neighbor” (or “friend,” ) is prohibited by the ten commandments, which perhaps carry the death penalty (A. Phillips, Ancient Israel’s Criminal Law [Oxford: Blackwell, 1970] 23—27), and curses were often laid upon potential witnesses to ensure that the truth was spoken (Prov 29:24; Ju d g 17:2; cf. also Prov 14:25; 19:5,9; 21:28). To pursue their line of argum ent against Job is a risky business; if they knew what they were doing they would fear for their lives. Once we have read to the end of the book we will know from what other quarter “anger” can prove the friends’ undoing; for at 42:7 Yahweh’s “wrath” ( ) is kindled against the friends and needs to be averted. But here, even though Job believes that he will in the end be proved to be the innocent one (v 25), he does not yet go so far as to imagine that the divine wrath under which he has been laboring will come to light upon the friends. T he last clause is the most difficult, lit. “so that you may know that there is a judgm en t” (on the last word see n. 29.f). T he syntax seems strange; how could they “fear” to argue with Job “in order that” ( ) they should know that judgm ent may overtake them? Is it not rather the other way round: they should recognize that there is a judgm ent “in order that” they may be afraid to persecute Job? BDB notes, however, that sometimes (though this passage is not mentioned) “in rhetorical passages, the issue of a line of action, though really undesigned, is represented by it ironically as if it were designed” (cf. Isa 30:1; 44:9; J e r 7:18; 27:10, where r s v finds it necessary to translate as “with the result that”). So too here n e b and n i v have “then you will know,” since the syntax is hard to convey. More troublesome is Jo b ’s appeal to a belief about vengeance or retribution, since we have come to recognize how fundam entally unrealistic he believes the doctrine of retribution to be. He has yet to protest that “times of jud g m en t” and assize days are not kept by the Almighty (24:1), but we have already heard him complain that “blameless and wicked alike [God] brings to an end,” that he “mocks at the calamity of the innocent” and that he “blindfolds [the] judges” (9:23-24). Jo b ’s position on the moral universe is, however, actually quite finely nuanced. In 9:23-24, for example, there is no categorical rejection of the idea of moral order but a protest against a recurrent refusal of God to act in accord with his own norms, and the last line, “If it is not he, then who is it?” contains enough of a trace of self-doubt to make us realize that we are hearing a cry of grief rather than a settled philosophy. In 13:7-11, a passage even closer in theme to the present, Job assumes that partiality on the friends’ side will inevitably lead to their punishm ent—even at the m om ent when he is calling God to account for the way he has treated Job! H ere too, in chap. 19, he has expressed the strongest conviction that right will prevail in the end,

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even if he never lives to see it. So he does not believe that God is fundam entally unjust and that evil will always win; but he has had too bad an experience of God to have more faith in God than he has in himself. This conviction that the friends stand to suffer if they go on “persecuting” him is of the same stuff as his conviction that his “cham pion” lives: it is God who in the end would have to be moved by the appeals of Jo b ’s champion or by the wickedness of the friends, but justice for the future lies m ore in the respective merits of the cases than in the person of God himself. Explanation Still in the waiting room between issuing the summons and having his case called, Job has time for reflection on the significance of what he has done and where he now stands. There is plenty of feeling here, but it is not the raw uncensored cry we have earlier overheard. Now it manifests itself in a m ore ordered exploration of what has happened to him at God’s hand and at his friends’ hands; it is a more structured statem ent too of what he wants and what he expects. Matching this lowered level of intensity is the fact that here for the first time since his opening soliloquy (chap. 3) Job does not address God; nor will he do so again until his closing speech (30:20-23). All that he says is still for God’s ears, of course; but since his formal indictm ent of God in chap. 13 he has no new m atter to lay before God, for it is God’s turn to respond. Even his most vivid depictions of God’s violence against him are cast in the third person (vv 6 b - 12); they are not now cries of protest directed at his assailant, but the accumulation of evidence that confirms the wrongfulness of his suffering. As God becomes less present in the speech, the friends’ presence imposes itself more strongly. It is a distinctive of this speech that the friends are addressed directly at the beginning, middle, and end, and the whole m atter of the speech can be read as supportive and elaborative of what Job requires of the friends. W hat he wants of them, in short, is to cease their speeches against his innocence. Reflection on the point he has reached in his lawsuit has convinced him ever more strongly that he stands or falls before God solely on the question of his innocence; that the friends should go on assuming and arguing his guilt is now not only in bad taste but otiose. “T en times now” they have “tried to hum iliate” him (v 3), but the time has come when they m ust “understand” that it is God who has “put him in the wrong” (v 6a), that the “root of the trouble” lies not in Job but in God (v 28b). Were they to understand that, they would cease their speaking altogether, for every word they utter is built on the premise of Jo b ’s guilt. T heir attem pts to “pursue” Job (vv 22, 28), to “torm ent” and “crush” him (v 2), to “hum iliate” and “abuse” him (v 3), run up against the rock of his inalienable innocence, and by m aintaining their stand they are doing themselves as great an injury as they would do him; for they have made themselves into false witnesses who should themselves stand in fear of judgm ent (v 29) if they knew what was good for them. To cease their accusations against Job would be to do themselves a favor at the same time as sparing Job (vv 21—22). T he m ore powerful parts of Jo b ’s speech function as evidence in Jo b ’s battle

Explanation

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with the friends. While, first, vv 7-20 can be read as depictions of his painful experience or as accusations against its author—and such they no doubt are— their textual placement makes them even more definitively part of the argum ent with the friends. For the stream of images of God’s violence in vv 7—12 exists as an amplification of the general statement, “it is God who has put me in the wrong,” which is directed to the friends as the substance of what they must “understand” (v 6). Vv 7—12 are not a case of Job licking his wounds nor of him yet again reproaching God for them , but of Job defending his innocence to the friends by fastening upon God the blame for what is prima facie evidence of his guilt. This reading is confirmed by the introduction of the “siegework” m etaphor into v 6, which is strictly addressed to the friends; since the “siegework” imagery will occur again at v 12, the poet has created an envelope of vv 6b—12, the whole an elaboration of the headline, “it is God who has put me in the wrong.” Vv 13—20 are in their turn linked back into the preceding strophe by the first verb of v 13, “he has put far from me my kinsfolk”; this shows that the whole of the strophe vv 13—20 is to be understood logically as a pendant to vv 7—12, and, like those verses, an elaboration of the blameworthiness of God. T he last and most potent portion of the speech (vv 23—27) is for its part enclosed within two addresses to the friends (vv 21-22, 28—29; see under Form / Structure I Setting for the plan of these lines), as if to ensure that Jo b ’s wish, conviction, and desire of vv 23—27 will be read in the context of his debate with his friends. For reasons that the poet could not have anticipated, in the history of the transmission of his text and in the history of Christian doctrine, these verses have practically never been read in their designed context, but have been excised from their setting as a testimony to an erratic leap of faith into the unknown. In their context, the prim ary intellectual stress is on Jo b ’s innocence which, first, he is convinced will one day be recognized, second, he wishes for safety’s sake could be engraved on the rock, but, third, he desires above all to be acknowledged here and now. The primary emotional emphasis lies on his desire, so intense that it exhausts him (v 27c), to encounter God face to face, not indeed for the sake of the beatific vision, but so as to confront God with his unanswered claim for justice. But these are not matters strictly between God and Job; sandwiched between the addresses to the friends, Jo b ’s words of vv 23—27—even though not perhaps envisaged as spoken directly to the friends—function for their sake especially. Jo b ’s conviction of his innocence is not a soliloquy uttered for the sake of keeping his spirits up, still less a long-wave broadcast to latter-day readers of his book, inaudible in the land of Uz but coming through loud and clear to believers in a resurrection. It is for the friends’ benefit and to convince them of their wrongheadedness that he says, “I know that my champion lives”; and it is not for his own consolation but because they cannot believe that God could do anything but punish him that he affirms, “To behold Eloah while still in my flesh—that is my desire.” From the dramatic point of view, there are two novelties in this speech that move forward the depiction of this ever-labile man, Job. The first, and perhaps the m ore im portant, certainly the most striking, is the closure of his speech not, as in every previous speech, with the them e of death, but with a vigorous and sarcastic reversal of the friends’aggression back toward themselves: “You should tremble at the sword yourselves” (v 29a). Waiting in the anteroom

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before the divine tribunal, Job has studied his own innocence until it has become not simply his plea and his defense but the redoubt from which he can assail his critics. The second novelty lies in the expression of his conviction that his “champion lives.” Understood not o f God himself nor of some heavenly being but (as here) of Jo b ’s own protestations of innocence, this is not the cry of faith it has commonly been thought to be. Yet it ¿5 a cry of faith—of faith in himself, which is, in the circumstances, when his innocence is being denied by everyone, perhaps more an act of pure faith than the most reverent piety toward God. Jo b ’s conviction, “I know that my champion lives,” is not the core of this speech, but it is among the boldest of his m etaphors, exposing for the first time his complete assurance that even heaven must in the end accept that he is an innocent m an undeservedly suffering.

Zophar9s Second Speech

(20:1—29)

Bibliography Chajes, Η. P. “Note lessicali a proposito della nuova edizione del Gesenius-Buhl.” G io rn a le d e lla Societa A siá tic a Ita lia n a 19 (1906) 175-86. Dahood, M. “Some NorthwestII in Job .“ J B L Semitic Words in Job.” B ib 38 (1957) 3 0 6 -2 0 .---------. “The Root

78 (1959) 306—7 . ---------. “Northwest Semitic Philology and Job.” T he B ib le in C u rre n t ed. J. L. McKenzie. New York: Herder and Herder, 1962. 55-74. Delcor, M. “De l’origine de quelques termes relatifs au vin en hébreu biblique et dans les langues voisines.” A ctes d u p re m ie r congrés in te r n a tio n a l de lin g u istiq u e sém itiqu e et ch am itosém itiq u e: P a ris 1 6 - 1 9 ju i ll e t 1 9 6 9 , ed. A. Caquot and D. Cohen. The Hague: Mouton, 1974. 228-30. Driver, G. R. “Hebrew Notes on the ‘Wisdom of Jesus ben Sirach.’” J B L 53 (1934) 2 7 3 -9 0 .---------. “Hebrew StudiesT J R A S (1948) 16 4 -7 6 .--------- . “Glosses in the Hebrew Text of the Old Testament.” L A n c ie n T esta m en t et V O rient: E tu d e s p résen tées a u x V les J o u rn é es B ibliqu es de L o u v a in (1 1 —1 3 septem bre 1 9 5 4 ) . Orientalia et Bíblica Lovaniensia 1. Louvain: Publications Universitaires, 1957. 123—61. ---------. “Problems in the Hebrew Text of Job.” VTSup 3 (1955) 72-93. Gordis, R. “A Rhetorical Use of Interrogative Sentences in Biblical Hebrew.” A J S L 49 (1933) 212-17. G uillaum e, A. “The Arabic Background of the Book of Job.” P ro m ise a n d F u lfilm en t: E ssays P re se n ted to P rofesso r S. H . H ooke, ed. F. F. Bruce. Edinburgh: T. 8c T. Clark, 1963. 106-27. ---------. “Notes on the Roots , , and in Hebrew.” J T S ns 15 (1964) 29395. Holbert, J. C. “‘The skies will uncover his iniquity’: Satire in the Second Speech of Zophar (Job xx).” V T 31 (1981) 171-79. Joüon, P. “Etudes de morphologie hébraique.” B ib 1 (1920) 353-71. Kelly, B. H. “Truth in Contradiction: A Study of Job 20 and 21.” I n t 15 (1961) 147-56. Loretz, O. “Hebráisch tjrw s und j r s in Mi 6,15 und Hi 20,15.” U F 9 (1977) 353-54. Pardee, D. ilm er o m t- p eta n im ‘Venom’ in Job 20:14.” Z A W 91 (1979) 401—16. Rabin, C. “Eytmological Miscellanea.” S crH iero s 8 (1961) 384—400. R eider,J. “Contributions to the Biblical Text .” H U C A 24 (1952-53) 85-106. W illiam son, H. G. M. “A Reconsideration of 1 II in Biblical Hebrew.” Z A W 97 (1985) 74—85. W inton Thom as, D. “The Root in Hebrew, II.” J T S 36 (1935) 409-12. ---------. “The Text of Jesaia II 6 and the Word .” Z A W 75 (1963) 88-90. C ath o lic T h o u g h t,

Translation 1Then Zophar the Naamathite answered and said: 2a Truly,b my troubled thoughts compel me to give answer,c because d of the feeling^ within me. 3/ have had to heara a word of instruction^ that defamed me; but an impulse cfrom my understandingá prompts my reply.e 4Do you nota know thatbsince ancient times, since man was first setc on earth, 5the triumph cry of the wicked has been of the briefest, the rejoicing of the godless has lasted but a moment? a 6 Though his heighta may reach the heavens, his head touching the clouds, he perishes forever like his fire-fuel,a and those who once saw him say, “Where is he now?

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8Like a dream he takes wing and will never be fo u n d a banishedh like a vision of the night. 9aThe eye that saw him will glimpseh him no more; his dwelling will not again beholdc him. 10a[His children must begh the poor for mercy, when his hands have relinquished their strength.]a 11 Youthful vigor may fill his bones, but ita lies down in the dust with him. 12Though evil tastes sweet in his mouth and he rolls it under his tongue, 13 loath to let it go, making it linger on his palate, 14yet it turns soura in his stomach; it is the venom of asps that is within him. 153 The wealth he swallowed he must vomit up; God makes him disgorge0 it from his belly. 16It was the poison of asps that he sucked; the snake’s tongue will slay him. 17He will enjoya noh streams of oil,c torrents flowing with honey and cream. 18He disgorgesa the gains0 he cannot keep swallowed,c and takes no pleasure dfrom the fruit of his commerce.e 19For he has defrauded and disregardeda the poor, and seized by force houses he did not build.0 20He has known no contentmenta in his belly, he has let nothing that he desired0 escape him, 213 There is nothing left0 after he has eaten; therefore c his prosperity cannot endure. 22When in fu ll abundance ,a he suddenly is thrown into distress0 all the strength c of misfortune d assails him. 23aI f [God] would0fill the wicked’s c belly to the full, he will send his burning wrath against him, rain d it down on him e as his food.f 2^Thougha he flee0from a weapon of iron, an arrow of bronze will pierce him through. 25 When a he pulls0 it out of his back,c the arrowhead dfrom his liver,e terrors come f upon him, 26 the depth of darkness lies in waitafor his treasures.0 A fire unfanned c consumes d him, it feedse on any survivor left in his tent. 27Heaven declares his guilt; earth rises to denounce him. 28A flooda sweeps away0 his house, torrents c on the day of [God’s] wrath. 29 Such is the fate Goda allots to the wicked,0 such the inheritance appointedc him by God.

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Notes 2.a. n a b reverses the position of vv 2a and 3a, to create a more exact parallelism. 2.b. can hardly be “therefore” as it usually is, since it is not referring back to what precedes, nor even “in reference to the preceding” (Hólscher, Fohrer). KB3 allows the meaning “truly,” as at 1 Sam 28:2 (Jer 2:33 is not so convincing), and this seems most suitable here (so Gordis “indeed”; n j p s , Habel “in truth”), j b “T o this my thoughts are eager . . .” is not a veryprobable rendering. Emendation to “not so!” (LXX ούχ ούτως, but they apparently always treated thus in Job and some other books) suits the line very poorly. but,as Peake 2.c. might be expected to mean “make answer to me” (cf. r v , r s v ) , observes, the idea of a conversation between Zophar and his thoughts is rather artificial. The obvious solution is to take the hiph as doubly causative, “ca u se me to m a k e answer” (similarly k j v , n e b , n j p s , n i v ) , though such a usage does not seem to be recognized by the grammars, the lexica, or most commentators (it is explicitly denied by Delitzsch). 2.d. Lit. “and because,” which suggests that a verb should follow. Thus Hólscher read “and because of that they meditate in me.” Duhm, Driver-Gray, Beer (B H K ), Fohrer, de Wilde, n e b insert “this” after ; n a b reads ! “and because of it.” Others find the word so difficult that they feel compelled to emend; Duhm’s proposal, )] “they disturb me,” has been widely applauded (followed by Driver-Gray, de Wilde). Kissane proposed ] “appall me.” 2. e. used to be taken as inf of “hasten,” thus “my hastening” (cf. r v , r s v ) or “my inward excitement” (BDB); n e b somewhat differently, “this is why I hasten to speak”; cf. j b “no wonder if I am possessed by impatience.” More commonly now it is reckoned to II “feel” (especially pain), only elsewhere at Eccl 2:24; thus KB3, reading ] “they (my thoughts) are painful.” Gordis retains MT as “my feeling, pain,” which seems perfectly satisfactory; the w a w of could well be epexegetic (explanatory, says Dhorme). Alternatively, a conjectural emendation is made to “my heart is astir” (as in Ps 45:2 [1]) (Beer, Fohrer, n a b “I am disturbed”; n i v ’ s very similar “because I am greatly disturbed” presumably reads the MT). If means “feel,” it is still an open question whether it means “feel painful.” In Eccl 2:25 an obvious sense is “feel joyful,” and we should perhaps compare Akk. h a s a s u “feel joyful”; but in postbib. Heb. it is “feel painful, be troubled,” and that sense is by no means ruled out for Eccl 2:25 (so A. Lauha, K o h e le t [BKAT 19; Neukirchen: Neukirchener Verlag, 1978] 58, following F. Ellermeier, Z A W 75 [1963] 197-217; but note to the contrary R. Braun, K o h e le t u n d d ie fr ü h h e lle n istisch e P o p u la rp h ilo s o p h ie [BZAW 130; Berlin: de Gruyter, 1973] 110—11). 3. a. A modal use, “I must hear,” noted by Delitzsch. 3.b. Despite the standard translation of as “correction, rebuke, reproach” (here “censure,” r s v , Gordis; “reproach,” n e b ; “reproof,” r v , n j p s ; “rebuke,” n a b , n i v ; “check,” k j v , an obselete word for “rebuke,” deriving from “check” in chess, as do all meanings of “check” ultimately), there is little evidence that the term has this sense of contradicting someone or putting them right. It is rather a term for instruction, teaching, education in general which may of course involve correction or warning, but not necessarily (Sicre Diaz rightly has “una lección,” and Ravisi “una lezione,” “un insegnamento magistrale”). 3.c. Dhorme’s word; lit. “wind, spirit” ( ), but it is hard to understand “a spirit out of my understanding” ( n j p s ; cf. n a b ) . “A spirit beyond my understanding” ( n e b ) can hardly be meant, since Zophar is not given to supernatural revelations. Driver thought it was “a spirit answering] me out of my understanding, i.e., a higher spirit, speaking in, and out of, my understanding”; but this is confusing. 3.d. Dahood’s revocalization to “my frame” (“Northwest Semitic Philology,” 63), followed by Pope, has nothing to recommend it; but it is at least preferable to his previous emendation to “within me” (B ib 38 [1957] 315-16). Duhm, Terrien, de Wilde have “a wind without intelligence,” taking as privative; Terrien calls LXX (πνβϋ α έκ τής σννέσεως “a spirit from the understanding”) in support; but though LXX lacked the pronoun it certainly did not regard the m in as privative. 3. e. should be taken as a hiph “causes me to reply” (cf. in v 2); so n j p s , n i v , Dhorme, Fohrer, Gordis, Habel, rather than r s v “answers me” ( n e b “gives me the answers,” Driver-Gray, Pope). Duhm’s emendation to “you answer me” (with a wind without intelligence; see n. 20:3.d), though followed by de Wilde, is no more than a rewriting of Job. 4. a. Absent from the Heb., but fairly clearly demanded, as the EVV recognize. Gordis explains that “where the speaker’s certitude is overwhelming, he dispenses with the negative,” and parallels

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from 1 Sam 2:27 and Jer 31:20 are rather convincing (2 Kgs 6:32 is different); see his “A Rhetorical Use of Interrogative Sentences in Biblical Hebrew,” A J S L 49 (1933) 212-17 (followed by Fohrer). Emendation to (Duhm) is unnecessary, and still more is Merx’s “I know.” 4.b. In the Heb., the “that” ( ) does not come until the beginning of v 5, a literary feature well enough attested to be unsurprising. Gordis calls it “anticipation” and compares Gen 1:4 and, better, Deut 31:29 “I know after my death that you will act corruptly” (cf. also Isa 40:21). Clearly it would be absurd to ask Job whether he knows something from primordial times, n e b , j b , n i v successfully negotiate the difficulty by advancing the position of the “that”; r v , r s v , n a b do not. 4. c. , apparently an uncommon inf form (usually ), with indefinite, though transparent, subj—or else perhaps a pass qal (P. Joiion, “Etudes de morphologie hébraique,” B ib 1 [1920] 362-63; Dahood, “Northwest Semitic Philology,” 64; Blommerde). 5. a. " lit. “until a moment,” i.e., it will last only for a moment; though could be “while” here (cf. J. Barr, “Hebrew , Especially at Job i.18 and Neh. vii.3, J S S 27 [1982] 17788 [184]). 6. a. £ is generally thought to be a h a p a x (but possibly occurs also at 15:31); it is clearly from “lift up,” so is probably “height,” “loftiness” (BDB), not specifically “pride” (Holscher, n a b , n i v ) . Guillaume compared an Arab, s a w a “head, skull” in order to create an exact parallel (“Arabic Background,” 114—15). C. Rabin compared Arab. seda “wish,” and translated “his desire” (“Etymological Miscellanea,” S c r H ie ro s 8 [1961] 399). 7. a. is pretty certainly from , “dung, dung-cake.” Dhorme’s supposition that we have here a cognate of Akk. g a llu “evil demon” (hence presumably j b “like a phantom”) fails because demons do not perish (Dhorme translates, “like a ghost, he vanishes for ever,” but Akk. g a llu is not a ghost, and certainly not a vanishing one, as the entries in C A D witness). Ewald read “according to his greatness”; cf. Arab. ja H a l “greatness” (so too Gordis). E. G. King (“Some Notes on the Text of Job,” J T S 15 [1914] 74-81 [78-79]), alarmed at the vulgarity of the usual rendering, proposed taking as “roll, so trust” (as Ps 22:9 [8]), thus “while he is confiding, i.e., building himself up in self-confidence.” 8. a. Indefinite pi subj. 8. b. Lit. “he is chased away.” De Wilde reads ] “and he flees away,” but the form is dubious, and the proposal unnecessary. 9. a. Duhm deleted the verse on the grounds that v 9a repeats the thought of v 7b, v 9b is a citation o f 3:10, and the verse was omitted by the original LXX. Moffatt presumably followed him. These are insufficient reasons, especially because LXX omitted several verses in the vicinity. 9.b. Lit. “the eye that glimpsed him will not again.” If actually means “glimpse” (BDB “catch sight of, look on”)—it occurs elsewhere only at 28:7; Cant 1:6—the point must be not that those who only glimpsed him will not see him again (as n e b , n j p s ) but that those who s a w him will never so much as glimpse him again. 9. c. Emendation to the mase (Duhm, Driver, Holscher, n a b ) is probably unnecessary, since “place” is fern also at Gen 18:24; 2 Sam 17:12; and perhaps also Job 28:6. n e b and n j p s , with Tur-Sinai, take ] “eye” as the subj o f the fern verb, understanding as “in his place”; but the MT phrasing is conventional (7:10; Ps 103:16; cf. Job 8:18). N. M. Sarna (“The Mythological Background of Job 1 8 J B L 82 [1963] 315-18 [318]) argued that the verb is actually mase with t- preformative (thus a ta q tu l form); but it is doubtful whether such a form existed in Heb. (cf. n. 18:14.c). It is strange that in the very similar phrase “and his place shall not again know him” in 7:10 (cf. Ps 103:16), is mase whereas we can only suppose that here it is, exceptionally, fern. 10. a-a. De Wilde offers a conjecture: ] “his limbs grow lean and languish, and his hands lose their strength.” It fits the context much better than MT, but it is hard to believe it was original. 10. b. See C o m m e n t for the two principal possibilities. There is little likelihood that we should see here “crush” (as the ancient versions, Budde, BDB, reading niph), i.e., “his children are crushed [as] poor ones”; alternatively “the poor crush his children” (Rosenmiiller). 11. a. , an abstract pi, can take a verb in the 3 fern sg (cf. Ps 103:5; GKC, § 145k). Contrast n j p s “his bones . . . lie down in the dust.” 14. a. “The bare perfect, introducing the apodosis, expresses the suddenness of the change” (Driver; cf. Driver, H e b r e w T en ses, 204 § 135γ). As he points out, in English the p r e s e n t is sometimes used for the same purpose: “If thou say so, villain, thou kilT st thy mistress” (A n to n y a n d C le o p a tr a 2.5.26). 15. a. Fohrer and de Wilde remove this verse to follow v 16 so that the two verses on snake poison will lie together. Andersen finds a concentric structure in vv 12—18, with v 15 as the

Notes

475

pivot and vv 14 and 16 balancing one another with similar material; but he does not explain how v 12 is parallel with v 18, or v 13 with v 19. Actually v 15 is most closely parallel to v 18. 15.b. ! hiph, usually “possess” or “dispossess” (BDB), but KB3 recognizes a II “tread, press” in Mic 6:15, following P. Haupt (“Critical Notes on Micah,” A J S L 26 [1909—10] 201—52 [215, 223]) and others. Tur-Sinai and M. Delcor (“De l’origine de quelques termes relatifs au vin en hébreu biblique et dans les langues voisines,” A ctes d u p r e m ie r co n g rés in te r n a tio n a l d e lin g u is tiq u e s ém itiq u e et c h a m ito -sé m itiq u e: P a r is 1 6 —1 9 j u i l l e t 1 9 6 9 , ed. A. Caquot and D. Cohen [Janua Linguarum. Series Practica 159; The Hague: Mouton, 1974] 223—33 [228—30]) see this same root here. O. Loretz has denied the existence of II, probably rightly (“Hebráisch tjr w s und j r s in Mi 6,15 und Hi 20,15,” UF 9 [1977] 353-54). 17.a. has always been recognized to mean sometimes “look at with pleasure” (BDB, KB3), but Blommerde has correctly noted that “enjoy” is a more precise meaning in certain as places (as n j p s , n i v here), n e b “Not for him to swill down rivers o f cream” perhaps takes equivalent to 1 “be satiated.” j b “He will know no more of streams that run with oil” takes in its most elementary meaning. 17.b. Thejuss with the negative, , lit., “let him not enjoy,” is used sometimes to express a strong negation, a “conviction that something cannot or should not happen” (GKC, § 109e); cf. 5:22. 17. c. “streams of rivers of brooks of honey” has seemed to most an implausibly long chain of consts. There is support for having two adjacent consts in apposition (Isa 37:22; 1 Sam 28:7; GKC, § 130e), but the text is usually emended to read ^ “oil” instead of , thus “streams of oil” (so Driver-Gray, Dhorme, Fohrer, Pope, de Wilde, j b , n a b ) . There is something to be said for the suggestion of Η. P. Chajes (“Note lessicali a proposito della nova edizione del Gesenius-Buhl,” G io r n a le d e lla S o c ie td A s iá tic a I ta lia n a 19 [1906] 175-86 [181-82]), followed by Blommerde, Gordis, Sicre Diaz, that we have a noun a “oil” derived from the root “shine” as is from a “shine” (cf. also ). Heb. already has ]DÜ and for “oil,” so the proposal is not overwhelmingly convincing, n e b reads for , ]¡ (Brockington, 107) which it apparently thinks means “milk” (cf. LXX ά ελξις “milking”), but the word is not attested in Heb. 18. a. , lit., “causing to return”; in the context it is still the metaphorical food that is being spoken of (cf. “swallow,” “eat, drink, enjoy”), and the only way he can cause food to “return” is to vomit it up, the same image as in v 15a. Duhm’s emendation to “he increases, extends (his labor)” is poor. De Wilde’s “the profit of his work” is unsupported. j b “Gone that glad face at the sight of his gains” is quite mysterious. 18.b. , only here, but patently “gain” as the product o f labor (root “toil”). Many suggest adding a suffix, “his toil” (.B H K , Fohrer, Sicre Diaz), the suffix perhaps being omitted by haplography, or else reading (Dhorme; Hólscher, de Wilde: ), or (Brockington), with the same meaning. 18.c. Lit. “he disgorges (his) gain and does not swallow it”; but if he does not swallow it, how can he vomit it? Perhaps it means he doesn’t swallow it again, since it is vomited food, or better, that he never manages to swallow successfully in the first place, he cannot keep his food down. Of course, if does not mean “disgorge” there is apparently no difficulty, as n i v “What he toiled for he must give back uneaten”—except that the image of the strophe is consistently on his actually eating and swallowing (Gray acknowledges the inconsistency with v 15). We should say that he doesn’t “swallow” or consume in th e sen se th a t he vomits up his food. 18.d. For , taken by BDB, KB as “rejoice” (elsewhere only 39:13, of the ostrich’s wings flapping, and Prov 7:18 of delighting oneself in love), we should more probably distinguish a I (cognate with Arab. ca la s a “eat, drink”) “taste, enjoy (g e n ie sse n )” from a II (Arab. ca l i z a ) “be restless” for 39:13 (so KB3; Gordis finds the idea of enjoying “both anticlimactic after stich a and completely lacking in parallelism.” He avers that is a “scribal metathesis for “he chews,” not indeed in biblical Heb. but in Mishnaic Heb.; the suggestion is doubly precarious. has a w a w prefixed; many delete it (cf. B H K ) , but it could be an example of the postponed w a w (cf. 23:12, 25:5; Driver, T en ses, § 124). 18.e. Lit. “according to the strength, or, wealth of his trading” ( ). If the k a p h is correct, it must mean that his (non)enjoyment is out of proportion to his wealth. Many mss have II, which B H K and others recommend to read, i.e., he does not enjoy his wealth. is properly “exchange, thing acquired by exchange,” hence “trading” (Dhorme, n i v ) ; but v 19 suggests that it is not regular business activity that brings him to such straits. Gordis, reading , vocalizes it “loathes” and translates “will spew forth his gain” (so too n e b ) , but loathing and vomiting are not quite the same idea, n e b “undigested” is hard to understand, as is its reading . How JB gets “those comfortable looks when business was thriving” is unknown.

476

J o b 20: 1-29

19.a. “neglected” has commonly been thought suspicious, mainly because it seems too general and anticlimactic (Gray) (but see C o m m e n t). Ehrlich proposes a new word “hut,” on the basis of Mishnaic ; but that word means precisely “a concrete of stone chippings, clay See., used for paving floors, pavement covering the ceiling of the lower story and serving as flooring to the upper story” (Levy)—which is hardly the same thing as “hut.” Dahood approved this view (“The Root II in Job,” J B L 78 [1959] 306-7), observing that “crush” is the perfect verb to use of destroying a reed-hut (cf. “a crushed reed,” in Isa 42:3). So too j b “Since he once destroyed the huts of poor men,” Terrien. But the meaning is hazardous, as Rowley says. J. Reider (“Contributions to the Biblical Text,” H U C A 24 [1952-53] 86—106 [1034]) read ( , meaning like postbiblical the “leavings” of the poor, what the rich are supposed to leave for the poor as in Lev 19:10. Kissane suggested a word “hovel” which he presumably derived from BDB’s II “restore, repair”; it is true that LXX has οίκους “houses,” but the existence of this II should now be abandoned (see H. G. M. Williamson, “A Reconsideration of II in Biblical Hebrew,” Z A W 97 [1985] 74—85). G. R. Driver saw in the Arab. a d d a b a “punished, tormented,” and regarded as an explanatory gloss upon it (“Glosses in the Hebrew Text of the Old Testament,” L A n c ie n T e s ta m e n t et Í,O r ie n t: E tu d e s p rése n té es a u x V Ies J o u r n é e s B ib liq u e s d e L o u v a in

(1 1 —1 3

s e p te m b re 1 9 5 4 )

[Orientalia et Bíblica Lovaniensia 1; Louvain: Publications Universitaires, 1957] 123-61 [138]). Tur-Sinai, following Yellin, derived the word from the same root; hence probably n j p s “tortured.” Among emendations may be mentioned: “(crushed) the arm of (the poor)” (Beer; cf. B H K \ Fohrer, de Wilde; cf. 22:9; 38:15; Jer 48:25; Ezek 30:21-22, 24; Ps 10:15; 37:17, though never with ); ^ “pain” (Hoffmann, Duhm, Holscher), but that does not seem to mean “profit gained by pain”; and the ingenious “with strength, violence” (Dhorme). 19. b. Lit. “a house, and he did not build it.” “a house” is no doubt intended collectively here means “land,” not a building for “houses” (so j b , n e b , n i v ) . Andersen maintains that (cf. n a b “patrimony”); but “build” would suggest otherwise. The last clause is taken by some to mean “and goeth not on to build it,” i.e., through being impoverished (if that is how v 18 is to be read) he cannot renovate it or add to it or otherwise fit it for his own use (so Delitzsch, Driver). That is indeed what the impf , apparently “does build,” suggests, coming after the quasi-hypothetical in the pf (cf. Driver, T en ses, § 85). But that is no kind of crime, and even if he did renovate the house he had seized, that would hardly excuse his seizing it. n j p s takes the second half of the line as a threat, “He will not build up the house he took by force,” but this spoils the idea that taking someone else’s house is explicative of the verbs of the first half o f the line. Duhm emended to “he built it” and deleted the w a w before “not,” to make it clear that “he did not build” is a relative clause. 20. a. 10 is properly an adj, “quiet, at ease.” BDB accepts that here it appears to be an abstract noun, but many read the usual noun !¿) “ease” (KB3, Driver-Gray, Fohrer, de Wilde) or else (cf. Ps 30:7 [6]) with the same meaning (B H S [ f r t] ) . The similar phrase in Isa 59:8, “he has not known peace,” suggests strongly that we have a noun here. D. Winton Thomas saw in the root II “be quiet, at ease” (Arab. w a d u ca “was chastened, quiet”) and so deleted as a gloss explanatory of the rare verb (“The Root in Hebrew, II,” J T S 36 [1935] 409—12; followed by G. R. Driver, “Glosses in the Hebrew Text of the Old Testament,” 137). This is quite possible (for a positive evaluation of the proposal of II see J. A. Emerton, “A Consideration of Some Alleged Meanings of in Hebrew,” J S S 15 [1970] 145-80) but ? 3 “[he cares nothing hardly obligatory, since the text is quite intelligible. B H S proposes for] the prosperity of his brother,” lit., “the son of his womb” (cf. 19:17), but the theme seems to be rather the inner state of the wrongdoer (de Wilde), n j p s “he will know no peace with his children” sounds like an emendation to , but is perhaps an attempt at “contentment, tranquillity”; never means “children” though perhaps can (cf. 19:17). Duhm’s onjecture 1 “he has no rest in his hidden treasure” is only doubtfully a back-translation of LXX, and need not be considered. 20.b. , qal pass ptep “desired,” usually denotes the thing desired, as Ps 39:12 “what is dear to him,” and this is possible here: “he will not save anything in which he delights” ( r s v ) . The beth is then partitive (GKC, § 119m; BDB, 88b § I.2.b), “some of what is desired”; cf. “kill some o f” (Ps 78:31), “slay some of.” n i v “he cannot save himself by his treasure” presumably understands ! “his self” (as Kimchi) as the obj; but the clause is a clause and should be one of the reasons why his prosperity will not endure (v 21; note ), not itself a statement of his doom. N. M. Sarna, arguing that beth is often interchangeable with m in , translated “of his most cherished possession he shall save nothing” (“The Interchange of the Prepositions B eth and M in in Biblical Hebrew,” J B L 78 [1959] 310-16 [315-16]), but this is open to the same

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syntactic criticism as n i v ’s version, n j ps on the same lines has “he will not preserve one of his “of his goods” (pi). dear ones.” n a b emends to If the verb is revocalized to “he will be delivered” (Budde, Driver-Gray, Holscher) a rendering like j b becomes possible, “now his hoarding (n a b treasures) will not save him,” i.e., literally “he will not be saved by his hoarding.” n e b “he cannot escape his own desires” claims to accept this vocalization (Brockington, 108), but it is hard to see how they construe the Heb. unless they take beth as “from.” A different approach was taken by Dhorme, who argued that means not “thing desired” but “appetite” (followed by Habel), thus “by his appetite he allows nothing to escape”—which gives a good sense. Unfortunately, Dhorme did not explain how the pass ptcp can mean this. De Wilde gains the same meaning by emending to IjL (late Heb. “desire”). 21.a. Duhm omits as a gloss, n a b arbitrarily transposes v 21b to follow v 19, and v 21a to follow v 22a. 21.b. Lit. “survivor,” elsewhere only of persons; hence n j ps “with no survivor to enjoy it,” but that is at the cost of ignoring . 21. c. Gordis thinks this may simply be emphatic, but it is much more evidently the “therefore” that introduces a judgment. Because of his translation “indeed,” Gordis mistakenly views vv 20b-21a as further statements of the wrongdoer’s punishment. 22. a. Lit. “in the fullness of his sufficiency.” “sufficiency” is only here in the OT, and the verb is rare, but occurs several times in Ecclus (cf. D. Winton Thomas, “The Text of Jesaia II 6 and the Word ID,” ZAW 75 [1963] 88-90). 22.b. Lit. “there is straitness for him.” 22.c. to be taken as “strength, power” (BDB, 390a § 2). “Blows” (Dhorme) is a little too specific. 22. d. is “laborer, sufferer,” as in 3:20; hence Gordis “every embittered sufferer will attack him”; but LXX, Vg read an abstract noun here, and so do most commentators and modern versions, for it is hard to believe in a depiction of the wicked man being brought to ruin at the hands of those he has defrauded. The MT pointing is probably due to the presence of , leading the Masoretes to regard as personal (Budde). 23. a. This colon is omitted by LXX, Merx, Bickell, Duhm (as gloss on v 22a), Driver-Gray, Holscher, Fohrer, de Wilde), j b , n e b , n a b (as dittograph of v 20). 23.b. is juss, and some try to preserve this; so Driver-Gray, “His belly must be filled”; n j ps , “Let that fill his belly”; Andersen. Driver rightly insists that strictly “ can only mean may it be . . . , and if original, must indicate that the poet’s feeling leads him to express the wish that such may be the fate of the ungodly.” We note too the juss (see n. 20:23.d), and that too could equally well be juss. But the thought does not allow us to see three independent juss clauses; the second (and the third in some sort o f parallelism with it) must depend on the first for the first is not self-contained; thus “May it be, to fill his belly to the full, that God should send . . . and rain. . . .” Another possibility is that the juss is the sign of the protasis of a conditional sentence (see GKC, § 109h—i); thus “if he [God] should be about to [ with , cf. BDB, 227b § 5.b] fill his [the wicked’s] belly to the full, [what he will do is that] he will send . . .” Perhaps it is the wicked who is about to fill his belly (cf. Dhorme “when he is occupied in filling his belly,” n i v “when he has filled his belly”). However it is taken, the Heb. is awkward (the juss with the negative in v 17 was much easier). Many simply assume that is equivalent to “it will be”; so Gordis, “It will happen, in order to fill his belly to the full.” 23.c. “Of the wicked” added for clarity. 23.d. Ί is juss, which n j ps preserves, “Let Him loose . . . and rain down.” Most, however, read a simple ind ]; the juss has probably been introduced incorrectly to harmonize with . See further n. 20:23.b. 23.e. The suffix of is poetic, and generally pi; it is sometimes attested as sg, however (see GKC, § 103f, n.), and must be so here. Dhorme read “his arrows,” presuming a Heb. cognate with Ass. ulmu (hence j b “a hail of arrows,” Terrien); but ulmu, formerly explained as simply the name of some sharpened weapon (cf. Muss-Arnoldt), is now known to be “ax” (von Soden), and the suggestion must be abandoned. Others emend to (Duhm, n a b ), but this is strictly unnecessary. 23.f. MT should probably be rendered “on, against his flesh,” elsewhere only Zeph 1:17 (cf. Arab, lahm). It seems strange, however, to have “upon him” ( ) as well as “on his flesh,” especially since the “flesh” seems to have no special significance (it can hardly be in parallelism with “his belly,” as Sicre Diaz). “Upon his corpse” is a possibility (so Tg ), but the idea of post-mortem punishment seems strange. Gordis’s view that the word means “his anger,”

478

J o b 2 0 :1 -2 9

parallel to , is unsupported. G. R. Driver supposes a II cognate with Arab. lihamu(n) “buffeting” from lahama I “struck” and suggests LXX understood this with their όδύνας “pains” (VTSup 3 [1955] 72-93 [81]); hence n e b “rains on him cruel blows”; similarly n i v . The simple emendation to “as his food” provides an excellent sense and is adopted by many (Dillmann, Budde, Peake, Driver-Gray, Habel, Rvmg, r s v ). Among other emendations we find , “pains” (cf. LXX όδύνας) (so Merx, Holscher, Fohrer, de Wilde); “terrors” (Bickell, Ball, elsewhere translated όδύναι); “upon him, his anger,” later expanded to “upon him the flood of his anger” (Duhm, Weiser); “upon him the fire of his wrath” (M. Dahood, “Some Northwest-Semitic Words in Job,” Bib 38 [1957] 306—20 [314— 15]; followed by Blommerde, Pope), equivalent to Akk. nablu, Ug. nblat “fire” (so also at 18:15; see n. 18:15.a), and , apparently the inf o f “be hot, angry” with suff (but the form should be as 6:17). Ps 11:6 has the Lord raining on the wicked coals of fire (1^ ) and brimstone, so the idea is reasonable, though not convincing, n a b proposes “missiles of war,” lit., “weapons of war,” which is presumably the rare and doubtful (only ju d g 5:8; cf. BDB, 535b; not acknowledged by BHK); similarly n j ps “His weapons.” 24.a. The formulaic nature o f the sentence (cf. Comment) makes plain that this is a conditional clause (so j b , n a b , n i v , Gordis). A simple parallelism (as r s v ) is very flat. 24. b. G. R. Driver argued that cannot here have its normal meaning of “flee” because that is not parallel to “pierce”; he proposed a II cognate with Arab, baraha “bruised,” barhu{n) “blow of a sword”; he also finds the root at 27:22; 41:20 (VTSup 3 [1955] 81); hence n e b “he is wounded.” This shows an excessively mechanical attitude to parallelism. 25. a. It seems best to construe the first two cola as a single action, followed by (and causing) the coming of the terrors in v 25c and (in parallel) the darkness of v 26a; somewhat similarly n j p s , Gordis. Holscher regards v 25a (to ) as a gloss which, with v 24, breaks the connection of the thought of God’s judgment on the evildoer. 25.b. 1 , though it makes excellent sense, is very generally emended to 1 “missile, weapon,” reversing the order of and ! “a spear comes out of his back” (Duhm, Dhorme “a shaft,” Fohrer, Rowley, Pope, BHK, n a b “the dart,” j b “an arrow”). They claim as support LXX δι^ζέλθοι δέ διά σώ ατος αύτοϋ βέλο? “let an arrow come out through his body.” Quite apart from the satisfactory text of MT, this rendering destroys the connection (“arbitrary,” according to Duhm) between v 24 and v 25; for if the arrow strikes the evildoer as he flees, i.e., in the back, it cannot “come out through” his back (as n e b , n a b , j b ). n j ps thinks it refers to the withdrawal of a blade from a sheath (“Brandished and run through his body, the blade . . .”); but again it is weak to introduce a new weapon here when the arrow of v 24 still fits. Habel’s “Flying forth and penetrating his back; the flashing arrow . . .” keeps the image, but “fired” (i.e., shot) or “flying forth” seems a bit strained for 1. Holscher read 1 “the knife (cf. Syr. seláfá) comes out.” So too G. R. Driver (VTSup 3 [1955] 82), supposing a Heb. 1£ ) (Brockington, 108); hence n e b “the point.” Driver allows that 1 may stand in that order as an example of a postponed waw. 25.c. “from the back” is almost universally revocalized to “from his back” since the form occurs nowhere else. KB3 suggests a second “insides” (Aram, loanword), as in the Qumran Hymn to Zion (llQ P saZion, 7). This makes no difference to the meaning. De Wilde thinks “from his corpse” possible, but the form attested is . 25.d. , lit. “shining, flashing object,” used normally to denote lightning, but several times of the flashing of a metal weapon (Deut 32:41, o f a sword; Nah 3:3; Hab 3:11, o f a spear; Ezek 21:15 [10], 20 [15], 33 [28] of a sword polished so as to flash; cf. Zech 9:14, an arrow goes forth like lightning), n a b omits “the arrowhead from his liver” as a dittogr of v 14b. 25.e. Lit. “gallbladder.” 25.f. “goes” is by some mss attached to the preceding, by others to the following words. It seems preferable to take it as the verb o f (sg verb with pi subj, as GKC, § 1450). Inevitably some emend to pi “they go” ( BHK, Holscher, Fohrer, n a b ). Others complain that “go” is not the right verb for “attack,” which is rather “come” (cf. on v 22), neglecting to observe that in Hab 3:11 God’s arrows “go” ( ), their flight rather than their hostility being in view. Duhm wanted to read “(terrors) are turned (against him)” (so too Driver-Gray), comparing 19:19, where it is Job’s intimate friends who are “turned” against him (!), and 1 Sam 4:19, where the wife of Phinehas finds her pains “turned” against her; Duhm might more profitably have compared Job 30:15 where Job’s “terrors” ( ) are “turned” against him. Others link with what precedes (n e b ), and then perhaps omit “upon him terrors,” as n e b , following G. R. Driver’s fancy that the words are “a sympathetic scribe’s or reader’s exclamation

Notes

479

meaning ‘how awful for him!’” and can be relegated to the margin (VTSup 3 [1955] 82). Dhorme too thought we should render “a sword-flash comes ( ) out of his liver,” but then “terrors upon him” is without a verb; he supplied “fall,” which is idiomatic enough (Gen 15:12; Exod 15:16; Josh 2:9; Ps 55:5 [4]), but none the less arbitrary; he is followed by j b , n a b , de Wilde. 26.a. “is hidden”; the verb is often used o f snares that lie hidden (18:10; Ps 9:16 [15]; 31:5 [4]; 35:7, 8; 64:6 [5]; 140:6 [5]; Jer 18:22) and thus lie in wait for someone to fall into them. It is strange that the next word here, , also comes from a verb “to hide,” so that many suspect the text. But the Heb. is intelligible though not limpid: “darkness lies hidden, i.e., lies in wait (n i v ), for what lie hidden, i.e., his treasures” (cf. j b “all that is dark lies in ambush for him”). 26.b. “hide,” often means “treasure up” (knowledge, Prov 10:14; a father’s commandments, 2:1; God’s goodness, Ps 31:20 [19]; retribution, Job 21:19). In Ps 17:14 the wicked should have their bellies filled with what God has “treasured up” (probably read , qal pass ptcp as here) for them (a text closely parallel to v 23a above). should not be emended into Job 15:22 (see n. 15:22.b). So the meaning would clearly be “his treasures” were it not that Ps 83:4 [3] has God’s as “his treasured ones,” his saints; some think therefore that it may be the evildoer’s children in view here (so Ehrlich). Certainly the ΤΊίϋ “survivor” in v 26c seems to be human, but the translation “treasures” is more natural here. Some delete and emend to “is laid up for him” (Holscher, Dhorme, Rowley, de Wilde), while Duhm, Budde, Fohrer, Sicre Diaz, n a b regard as the variant. These suggestions are needless. 26.c. might be expected (as Duhm, BHK\ cf. BHS \prp], Holscher), 23 “fire” being fern. Equally well, the verb could be taken as impersonal (Fohrer, citing GKC, § 145u; G. R. Driver, “Hebrew Studies,” JRAS [1948] 164—76 [169]), or !¿) could be mase, as apparently at Jer 48:45; Ps 104:4. For the idiom “fire not kindled (by humans),” “unlit by man” (j b ), cf. 34:20 “removed by no (human) hand”; similarly Lam 4:6. It is not exactly a “fire that needs no fanning” (n e b ; similarly n a b ). G. R. Driver once thought to read “quenched” from a Heb. = Ass. pahü “damp down (fire)” (“Hebrew Notes on the ‘Wisdom of Jesus ben Sirach,”’ JBL 53 [1934] 273-90 [288-89]), but this root does not seem to be attested in the Akk. dictionary (von Soden). 26.d. Vocalizing (see Driver); Gordis thinks it a form of the piel. 26.e. most naturally taken as from “graze,” so parallel to “eat.” The form is juss, but modern versions do not attempt to reproduce it. Avoiding the mase verb with fern subj, some have read niph (Dillmann, Budde) or (BHK [prp]), but “the pass, does not read naturally” (Driver). Much less probable is (juss) or (impf) (Fohrer, BHS [prp], Pope) “fares ill” from . Nor is “breaks” (from II) any improvement (suggested by de Wilde). Duhm’s emendation ΊΤίϋ “the Destroyer [15:21] stirs himself (against his tent)” has nothing to recommend it. n e b translates the last clause, “Woe betide [root I] any survivor in his tent!” and puts it in square brackets, n a b omits the whole clause as a dittogr of v 21a (!). D. Winton Thomas read for , , which in fact some mss have, and saw in that his II, “be humiliated”; taking as the subj, he translated “every survivor in his tent is brought to humiliation, disgrace” (“The Root in Hebrew, II,”JTS 36 [1935] 409-12 [411]); this suggestion was made in order to surmount the problem of the change of gender, but it destroys the parallelism. A. Guillaume (“Notes on the Roots , , and in Hebrew,” JTS ns 15 [1964] 293-95) connected the word with “be faint-hearted” (BDB “quiver”), and translated “the survivor in his tent is terrified”; but we expect something more drastic than terror. 28.a. is usually “produce,” of the soil (e.g., Lev 26:4; Judg 6:4); it does not fit well in this context, because a “house” in whatever sense does not elsewhere have “produce,” and transíations like “possessions” (r s v ) cannot easily be justified. Ehrlich, Dhorme, Beer, and most subsequent “stream, flood” (recognized by BDB at commentators (and n e b , n a b , j b , n j p s , n i v ) have read Isa 30:25; 44:4; cf. “stream” at Jer 17:18; “river” at Dan 8:2; KB3 adds Ecclus 50:8, and Ps 18:5 [4] and our text by emendation). We may compare Akk. biblu, bubbulu “flood” from abálu “carry off.” 28.b. is juss of “may it go into exile” (r s v “be carried away”); if it is accepted that means “stream, flood” (n. 20:28.a) we must read here “will roll away” from “roll” (so most recent commentators and translators). 28.c. Formerly was taken as “(things) dragged away” (cf. r s v ), fern pi ptcp niph of , or “poured away” ( r v “shall flow away”), from . It is now almost universally recognized

480

Jo b 2 0 : 1 - 2 9

as the pi o f a noun a $ “torrent” (KB3) or else the ptcp used as a noun (cf. “the flowing ones,” which means “springs”), parallel to “stream, flood” in the first colon. 29.a. “from God” seems to overload the first colon, and is sometimes deleted (Pope; cf. Gordis). 29.b. “human” seems unnecessary, and some delete it, Duhm for example suggesting it was a gloss to show 10 is to be read 1£) “evildoer” and not 1^ “evil,” though it seems improbable that anyone would have imagined the latter. 29.c. “(the inheritance of) his appointment,” lit., “word,” is difficult; (BDB) or (KB3) is “promise” at Ps 77:9 [8], “command” at Ps 68:12 [11], perhaps “plan” at Job 22:28, but these are not quite the same as “appointment.” Pope says firmly that “there is no problem whatever with the expression,” “his” command being the wicked man’s command, i.e., the command he receives from God; and Driver finds no difficulty with “the heritage of his appointment” for “his appointed heritage” (cf. GKC, § 135n), which Gordis, however, thinks far-fetched. nevertheless hardly seems the appropriate word; but no convincing emendation has been offered. Beer (BHK) suggests 1 = FT)fa “rebellious one” (so also Terrien); Graetz, “ruthless one” (cf. 27:13); Ehrlich r!7)fafa “rebellion” or Hfafa “his rebellion,” though the word is not attested; Duhm, “his wickedness” (perhaps is represented by LXX υπαρχόντων αύτοϋ “his possessions,” understanding as “his wealth”); J. Reider, 10 “man of rebellion” (HUCA 24 [1952—53] 104; followed by Fohrer, de Wilde). No more persuasive is Dhorme’s argument that “his word” means “his person” (as Aram. “my word” can mean in Tg of 7:8; 19:18; 27:3), nor Eitan’s proposal to see here the Arab. >amrun “man,” nor Gordis’s to find here the Arab. amir “prince,” in the sense “bad prince, wealthy evildoer” (as means at 21:28); he has to explain the waw of as “the petrified suffix of the original nominative case,” which stretches the credulity.

Form / Structure / Setting T h e s tr u c tu r e o f Z o p h a r ’s s e c o n d sp e e c h is o f th e sim p lest: a b r ie f e x o r d iu m (vv 2 - 3 ) is fo llo w e d by a d isq u isitio n o r to p o s o n a sin g le th e m e , th e d o o m o f th e w ick ed (vv 4—2 8 ), a n d e n d e d by a su m m a r y a p p ra isa l (v 2 9 ). B e g in n in g , as u su a l, w ith a n e x o r d iu m in w h ic h , u n u su a lly , J o b is n o t d irectly a d d r e ss e d (vv 2—3), Z o p h a r a d d r e sse s J o b in th e s e c o n d p e r so n o n ly in th e o p e n in g lin e o f th e b o d y o f h is s p e e c h (“D o y o u n o t k n o w . . . ?” v 4a). T h e e x o r d iu m is a lie n a tin g , fr o m J o b ’s p o in t o f v iew , a n d it in d ic a te s to th e rea d er, in th e w ay Z o p h a r sp ea k s o n ly o f h is o w n fe e lin g s , h is d ism a y at th e c o u r se th e d ia lo g u e h as ta k en . B u t th e d ir e c t a d d r e ss to J o b in v 4 a le a v e s u s in n o d o u b t th a t th e s p e e c h as a w h o le is a sp e e c h to J o b , e v e n th o u g h , c h a ra cteristica lly o f th e s p e e c h e s o f th e fr ie n d s in th e s e c o n d cy cle , it c o m e s to an e n d w ith o u t an y fu r th e r a d d ress to J o b (co n tra st in th e first cy cle , 5 : 1 9 - 2 7 ; 8 : 2 1 - 2 2 ; 1 1 : 1 3 - 1 9 ). T h e s tr o p h ic s tr u c tu r e also is p la in . A fte r th e e x o r d iu m (vv 2—3), a tw o -lin e “s ig n a tu r e ,” w e fin d th r e e lo n g str o p h e s, vv 4 —11, 1 2 - 2 3 , 2 4 - 2 9 , o f 8 lin e s, 12 lin e s, a n d 7 lin e s, th e lo n g e s t b e in g c o n c lu d e d by a tr ic o lo n (v 2 3 ), a n d th e last c o n ta in in g a p e n d a n t (v 2 9 ). T h e c en tra l str o p h e o f vv 1 2 - 2 3 is m a r k e d o u t by th e u n ity o f th e im a g e o f fo o d , w h ich d o e s n o t o c c u r in th e p r e v io u s str o p h e a n d is o n ly a llu d e d to in th e fo llo w in g s tr o p h e (v 2 6 b -c ); th e tr ic o lo n (v 2 3 ) a lso fu n c tio n s as a d e v ic e o f c lo s u r e (cf. W a tso n , 1 83). W e c o u ld w ell fu r th e r d isc e r n sm a lle r su b s tr o p h e s o f 4 lin e s ea ch ; th u s vv 4 - 7 , 8 - 1 1 , 1 2 - 1 5 , 16—19, 2 0 - 2 3 , 2 4 - 2 6 (th e tw o a p p a r e n t tricola o f v v 2 5 - 2 6 b e in g b e tte r u n d e r s to o d as th r e e b icola), a n d 2 7 - 2 9 (3 lin e s). F o h r e r a n a ly z e s th e str u c tu r e sim ilarly, b u t h e d o e s n o t se e th e la rg er str o p h e s a n d h e r e v e r se s th e p o s itio n o f vv 16 a n d 15. T h e su b s tr o p h e s c o n c lu d in g at vv 15 a n d 19 w o u ld c o n ta in m ark s o f clo su re: v 15b h a s a n o v e l r e fe r e n c e to G od ; v 19 is a “fo r ”-cla u se p e n d a n t to vv 1 6 - 1 8 . H a b e l’s str o p h ic d iv isio n (vv 1 2 - 2 2 , 2 3 - 2 9 ) d iffe r s slig h tly b e c a u se h e w a n ts to h a v e th e te r m “f u ll” in e a c h o f th e th r e e str o p h e s; b u t lin k in g v 2 3 w ith w h a t fo llo w s tr a n sp o r ts th e fo o d im a g e r y in to a str o p h e w h e r e it d o e s n o t o th e r w is e o ccu r. W e b ste r (“S tr o p h ic S tr u c tu r e s,” 4 8 ) fin d s e ig h t s tr o p h e s, vv 2 - 3 , 4 - 7 , 8 - 1 1 , 1 2 - 1 6 , 1 7 - 1 9 , 2 0 - 2 2 , 2 3 - 2 5 , 2 6 -

Form / Structure l Setting

481

2 9 ; b u t d e sp ite th e sim ilar su b ject m a tter o f vv 14 a n d 16 th e r e is n o n e e d to k e e p v 16 w ith in th e sa m e str o p h e , a n d v 23 n e e d n o t b e a ssim ila te d to vv 2 4 - 2 9 as o n e o f th e terro rs th a t aw ait, sin ce v 22 also co n ta in s th a t th e m e . S k e h a n (“S tr o p h ic P a tte r n s,” 11 0 ) h a s vv 2 - 3 , 4 - 9 , 1 1 - 1 6 , 1 7 - 2 2 , 2 3 - 2 8 , 2 9 (o m ittin g v 10 as a d itto g r a p h ), i.e ., str o p h e s o f 6, 6, 6, a n d 7 lin e s p lu s a o n e -lin e p e n d a n t; sim ilar o b je c tio n s a p p ly as to H a b e l a n d W eb ster. T e r r ie n ’s str o p h ic d iv isio n is: vv 2 - 5 , 6 - 1 1 (o m ittin g 10), 1 2 - 1 6 , 1 7 2 0 (in c lu d in g 10 a fte r 19), 2 1 - 2 5 b , 2 5 c - 2 9 , th a t is, e x a ctly five lin e s in e a c h str o p h e e x c e p t fo r th e first, w h ic h h as 4; th e r e m o v a l o f v 10 to fo llo w v 19 is n o t a b su rd , t h o u g h u n s u p p o r te d by a n y e x te r n a l e v id e n c e ; b u t a d iv isio n b e tw e e n vv 2 0 a n d 21 is u n p e r su a s iv e sin ce vv 2 0 —2 1 a s e e m to b e th r e e c o n d itio n a l c la u se s o f w h ic h v 2 1 b is th e a p o d o sis, a n d vv 2 5 c —2 6 a is b e tte r rea d as th e c o n c lu s io n o f th e s e n te n c e th a t b e g a n w ith v 25a. T h e genre o f th e sp e e c h is o f c o u r se th e disputation speech. T h e b u lk o f th e sp e e c h (vv 4 - 2 9 ) h as b e e n d e s ig n a te d th e appeal to ancient tradition (cf. also 8 : 8 - 1 3 ; 1 2 :7 - 1 2 ) , fo llo w in g N . C. H a b e l’s p io n e e r in g an alysis o f th e fo r m (“A p p e a l to A n c ie n t T r a d itio n as a L iterary F o r m ,” Society of Biblical Literature. 1973 Seminar Papers [ed. G. M acR ae; C a m b r id g e , M ass.: S B L , 19 7 3 ] 1:34—54; fo llo w e d by M u r p h y , Wisdom Literature, 3 3 ). It is n o t clear, h o w e v e r , th a t it is d esira b le to r e g a r d all th e m a teria l c o n ta in e d in vv 4 - 2 9 as p r o p e r to th a t a p p e a l fo r m , sin c e th e m ajority o f th e m a teria l c o u ld rea d ily b e r e g a r d e d as wisdom instruction. It m ig h t b e p r e fe r a b le to r e g a r d th e a p p e a l to a n c ie n t tra d itio n as a str u c tu r in g d e v ic e , w ith its o w n in tr o d u c to r y la n g u a g e (“A sk n o w . . . ,” “D o y o u n o t k n ow fr o m o f o ld . . . ?”), r a th er th a n as a g e n r e d e sc r ip tio n fo r th e tra d itio n a l m a teria l th a t it e v o k e s. A n e x e g e s is o f th e sp e e c h also te n d s to m ilita te a g a in st H a b e l’s (n o t u n r e a so n a b le ) v iew th a t th e first w o rd s c ite d a fter th e a p p e a l p r o p e r are a “c ita tio n o f th e tr a d itio n ” a n d c o n stitu te th e th e m e o f th e fo llo w in g m aterial to w h ic h th e tra d itio n is a p p lie d ; fo r in th e ca se o f v 5 h e r e , th e r e se e m s to b e g o o d r e a so n to su g g e s t th a t th e th ru st o f th is v erse, th a t th e r e jo ic in g o f th e g o d le s s is “o f th e b r ie fe st,” is n o t th e p rim ary e m p h a s is o f th e r e m a in d e r o f th e p o e m , w h ic h is first o n th e d isa p p e a r a n c e o f th e w ick ed , th e n u p o n th e fr u itle ssn e ss o f h is life , a n d fin ally u p o n th e in esca p a b ility o f h is d o o m (cf. o n vv 4—11 a n d o n vv 2 - 2 9 ) . H o w e v e r w e d e sig n a te vv 4—2 8 , it is o b v io u s th a t th e sp e e c h c o n c lu d e s w ith a summary appraisal in v 2 9 (cf. 1 8:21; 2 7 :1 3 ). T h e wisdom instruction is m o stly very c o n v e n tio n a l a n d n o t w h o lly in te g r a te d , th o u g h so m e m a in lin e s o f th o u g h t can b e d isc e r n e d . F o h r e r th o u g h t th a t th e d e p ic tio n o f th e fa te o f th e e v ild o e r d o e s n o t fo r m a c o h e r e n t c o m p o s itio n , th e se q u e n c e o f th e str o p h e s b e in g arbitrary a n d g iv in g a str o n g im p r e ssio n o f d isu n ity . O fte n , h e says, d isp a r a te w isd o m sa y in g s se e m to b e ta k en u p w ith o u t b e in g sh a p e d in to a h a r m o n io u s w h o le ; a n d th is c erta in ly se e m s to b e tr u e o f vv 14—16, fo r e x a m p le , w h e r e at first in c o m p a tib le im a g e s o f th e r e g u r g ita tin g o f fo o d s e e m to b e u sed ; a m o r e c lo se r e a d in g , h o w e v e r , p e r h a p s m ay fin d a h a r m o n y o f im a g e s e v e n h e r e (see Comment). T h e m ajority o f th e w o r d in g o f th e s e lin e s m ay b e p a r a lle le d fr o m w isd o m in str u c tio n in P roverb s o r P salm s; e v e n in th e case o f th e n arrative o f in e sc a p a b le d o o m (vv 2 4 - 2 5 ) , w h ic h is p a ra lled o n ly in th e p r o p h e ts , w e m ay su s p e c t an o r ig in in fo lk w isd o m . O n e lin e th a t c o m e s fr o m a q u ite d istin ct g e n r e , h o w e v e r , is v 2 7 , w h ic h recalls th e legal controversy. T h e e x o r d iu m (vv 2—3) b e lo n g s to th e disputation speech p r o p e r , th o u g h w ith th e u n u su a l fe a tu r e th a t th e o p p o n e n t is n o t a d d r e sse d , a n d th e sp e a k e r d w ells en tir e ly o n h is o w n fe e lin g s a b o u t w h a t h e h as h e a r d in th e d is p u ta tio n a n d o n h is o w n d e c isio n to re p ly (cf. 3 2 :6 a n d 3 2 : 1 7 - 2 0 resp e c tiv e ly ). T h e function o f th e s p e e c h is, as is s u g g e s te d in th e Comment o n vv 2 - 2 9 , to e n c o u r a g e J o b in to a c h a n g e o f life th a t w ill p r e v e n t h im su ffe r in g th e fa te o f th e e v ild o e r h e r e d e p ic te d . Its tonality is o n ly a p p a r e n t in th e e x o r d iu m , w h ic h u n ty p ic a lly r e p r e se n ts th e sp e a k e r as d istu r b e d by w h at h e h as h e a r d (th e w o r d in g is str o n g e r th a n J o b ’s in 1 9 :2 - 3 ) ,

482

Jo b 2 0 : 1 - 2 9

w h ich is to say, p e r so n a lly th r e a te n e d by J o b ’s attack o n th e w o rld -v iew h e h im s e lf relies o n fo r secu rity. T h e e x tr a v a g a n c e o f th e d e p ic tio n a n d p e r h a p s a lso its g r o ssn e ss (vv 15, 18), c erta in ly th e c o sm ic d im e n s io n it attain s in v 2 7 , sig n a l th e a g ita tio n o f th e sp ea k er. T h e s p e e c h says m o r e a b o u t th e r u ffle d d o g m a tic ia n th a n it d o e s a b o u t his o ste n sib le su b ject m atter. T h e n o d a l v e r se s are, as is e v id e n t fr o m th e stru ctu re o f th e p o e m , vv 4 - 5 , a lth o u g h (as a r g u e d in th e C o m m e n t o n vv 4—11) it is n o t p re c ise ly th e b r e v ity o f th e e v ild o e r ’s su ccess th a t se e m s to b e th e m ajor e m p h a s is o f th e sp e e c h .

Comment 2—29 Zophar’s second speech is neatly structured. After the conventional exordium (vv 2—3), his traditional material on the fate of the wicked falls into three sections: (a) How thorough is the annihilation of the wicked! (vv 4-11). (b) There is no lasting profit from wrongdoing (vv 12-23). (c) T he inescapable end of the wicked (vv 24—29). Like the other friends, Zophar confines himself in this speech of the second cycle almost exclusively to a depiction of the fate of the wicked, though to a different purpose and effect from the other friends. W hereas for Eliphaz (chap. 15) the fate of the wicked is a picture of what Job is not, for Bildad (chap. 18) it is a picture of what Job may become, and for Zophar it is a picture of what Job will not avoid without a radical change. As usual, we do not find Zophar explicitly responding to what Job has ju st said, though reminiscences of earlier phrases of various speakers are quite plentiful. Habel believes that “ironic barbs adorn Zophar’s portrait,” but the examples cited fail to persuade one that this is so. T hroughout the entire depiction, which is almost wholly metaphorical, only one verse gives any specifics of the wicked m an’s wrongdoing: in v 19 we learn that he has crushed the poor and seized the houses of others (but cf. also v 15a). This is confirmation enough that Zophar is not speaking expressly of Job. It is a signal too, since there are more kinds of wickedness than this, that what we are reading in this speech is a topos, an illustrative portrait of a single but typical individual. 2 Zophar’s opening words of psychological distress may be, for all we know, utterly conventional phrases from the language of the dispute, as when we speak of a “concern” when we m ean only a subject or say that X “feels” when we m ean he thinks, or profess ourselves “worried” when we are simply intellectually puzzled. But even if they are quite conventional, it is interesting that the poet should employ them at this point, for they convey to us the impression— if only by indirection—that Zophar is rattled. His opening word “my troubled thoughts” ( £); n e b “distress of m ind”), the noun before the verb in emphatic position, conspicuously conveys the same sense of disorientation as Bildad had expressed more obliquely in 18:4 (the term also at 4:13, of troubled thoughts in night visions; also Ps 94:19; 139:23). Likewise, to say that his thoughts compel him to return answer ( IK) hiphil) signifies that he is not in perfect control of himself. Which is no more than he freely admits when he gives as his reason “the feeling [perhaps, painful feeling; see n. 20:2.e] within m e.” W hat has disturbed Zophar, as it gave Bildad the sensation of an earthquake (18:4), is that if Job is right everything Zophar stands for is wrong. While

Comment

483

Job was crying out at the disproportionateness of his suffering and the cruelty of God (chaps. 9-10), Zophar could roll his eyes heavenward and ask in mock despair whether owning a never-ending story of woe was any way to win acquittal (11:2). But now that Job, in calmer and more reflective mood, has pronounced himself ready and equal for a one-on-one encounter with God and has unswervingly—or more to the point, quite convincingly—m aintained his innocence over against God, Zophar is flustered. “His violence is the m easure of his fear” (Terrien). He now knows that Job seriously means to overthrow the retributionists’ world-order. 3 Job has seen the friends’ insistence on his guilt as a defam ation ( , 19:3), and now Zophar protests that he for his part feels equally defam ed by an “instruction of my defam ation” ( ), i.e., an instruction that defames, as 1 1 1 1 “chastisement of our health” in Isa 53:5 is a chastisement that heals us, an appositional genitive (Gordis). The term in the wisdom vocabulary means first chastisement (sometimes physical; cf. 5:17; Prov 22:15), but more often “instruction” (parallel to “wisdom” at Prov 1:2,7; etc.). In calling Jo b ’s speech an “instruction,” Zophar intellectualizes Jo b ’s words as he did in 11:4 when he called them “doctrine,” as well as criticizes Job for taking a superior position (it is always a father, a schoolmaster, or God who gives “instruction”; equals do not “instruct” or “educate” one another; cf. 4:3). The defam ation lies in Jo b ’s presum ption to offer his friends “instruction” (cf. his claims to superior wisdom in 12:2-3; 13:1-2), and perhaps also in the particular implication that they are false witnesses who need to be in fear of judgm ent themselves (19:29). Zophar’s response to Jo b ’s new theology is an appeal to reason. T he “impulse from his understanding” that supplies him with the words of this chapter is something he fondly imagines is the product of pure reason. Unfortunately for him, his very next words (v 4a) show the source from which his “reason” has been fed: it is the wisdom of the ancients, undiluted and uncontam inated by any truly original thought of his own. “Unlike the suffering Job, who has had everything shattered to pieces, and who feels himself crushed and exhausted, Zophar remains rooted in the native soil of his rationalist wisdom teaching, and draws strength from it” (Fohrer). 4—11 This is fairly evidently a self-contained unit, partly because it moves to a point of closure with v l i b (“lies down in the dust”) and partly because a new sustained m etaphor of food begins in v 12. But what precisely is the point of this strophe? Rowley labels it “the brevity of the trium ph of the wicked,” Habel “Rapid Fall of the Wicked,” Fohrer “T he early and utter fall of the evildoer” (vv 4—7) and “T he apparent good fortune of the evildoer” (vv 8— 11), T errien “T he disappearance (évanescence) of the wicked” (vv 6-9, 11), Szczygiel “The brief good fortune of the godless, even of the greatest” (vv 1—6) and “Sudden loss of wealth and health” (vv 7-12). Perhaps it is unreasonable to expect that a strophe will develop a single prim ary thought, but we may surely ask what is the dom inant m etaphor here. If we do, we shall not fasten on “brevity” but on the visual image of “absence” or “disappearance,” since that is obviously the most sustained image, through vv 7-9. The wicked man ceases to exist like fuel for the fire (v 7a), like a dream that can never be found (v 8), like a person who disappears from the sight of friends and family forever (vv 7b, 9). This evanescence occurs despite the high visibility of the

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wicked in life: he may be as tall as heaven (v 6)—a visual m etaphor. So the evanescence is set up against its opposite, an appearance of solidity, of occupying space. T hat visual contrast is then depicted temporally: now you see him, now you don’t. The prominence of the wicked turns into the invisibility of the wicked. Drastic change is commonly represented as sudden change; and since the second state of the wicked (low profile) is longer lasting than the first (high profile), the first state can be represented as of the briefest (v 5). So then the statem ent of the brevity of the trium ph of the wicked can be set down as the first and arresting affirmation of the strophe, and v 5 could justifiably be regarded the principal point if vv 4—11 were a paragraph of prose. Here, however, we may take it as a dramatic preface to the real m atter of the strophe, the destiny of the wicked as annihilation. T he final line again presents in a different m etaphor the same contrast that is worked out in vv 6—7: there, though he is visible, he disappears; here (v 11), though he is strong, he becomes weak. 4 This rhetorical question stands as a headline not only for the strophe it introduces (vv 4—11), but also for the rem ainder of Zophar’s speech (vv 4—29). All that Zophar has to say is traditional wisdom, which he pretends to be as old as Adam, and he marvels ironically that Job has not yet learned it. Like Bildad (8:8-9) and Eliphaz (15:18-19), he appeals to the past as the source of authority. Is it not ironic that at 15:7 Job was upbraided for imagining himself the First Man, and here reproached for not knowing what has been known ever since hum ankind was set on the earth? It is not perhaps a direct rebuff to Jo b ’s conviction that a champion for his cause yet lives (“I know,” 19:25 , ) that Zophar puts his question, “Do you (not) know?” ( ); there are too few contacts between Z ophar’s speech and the preceding to believe we are dealing with a genuine reply (cf. furth er on 19:2). But the contrast is there all the same, and it points up the difference between the two characters. Job knows what he knows by experience and conviction, even if it is wrong (on the phrase cf. on 19:25—27); Zophar knows what he knows because he has been taught it. T he idiom of the sentence is common Israelite rhetoric, and it is interesting to see that its closest analogue is not from the wisdom literature, but from Deut 4:32, “Ask now [ , as in Job 8:8; 12:7] of the days that are past. . . from the day when God created m an on the earth . . . ,” m eaning from time immemorial; the verb “set” ( ) here probably echoes God’s “setting” Adam in the garden (Gen 2:8). T he knowledge Zophar transmits is “from perpetuity” ( ), curiously being used here of the past when in its 48 occurrences elsewhere it is exclusively of the future (E. Jenni, TW H AT 2:2079; but perhaps Hab 3:6 could be of the past). Perhaps there is a hint here of the perm anent validity as well as the antiquity of the wisdom. 5 First Zophar states thematically what ancient wisdom has to teach; in vv 6-11 he will depict examples of the truth, with greater emphasis on the disappearance of the wicked than on the brevity of his prior existence. He means of course that the good fortune of the wicked or “godless” ( ; cf. on 8:13) is swiftly brought to an end by his death, but he dramatizes that a little by speaking more concretely of the “shout of joy” ( , as at 3:7; Ps 100:2; 63:6 [5]) and the “rejoicing” ( , as in 1 Sam 18:6; 1 Kgs 1:40) lasting but a m oment. Some in fact think that , lit. “from near,” means

Comment

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his rejoicing is “from recent (time),” so that the whole extent of the wrongdoer’s trium ph is so to speak “from ” a second ago “until” ( ) the next “m om ent” (so Fohrer). But even if we should just take the min as comparative, and translate “of the briefest” (BDB), we recognize a familiar thought; cf. 8:13-15 (Bildad, though his point is rather that of “sudden reversal”); 15:31—33 (Eliphaz, though his point is rather that of “untimely end”); Ps 37:2, 9, 10, 35—36; 73:18—20. Zophar concedes that the wicked may indeed prosper, having something to shout or sing about, but the proper perspective on his well-being is to recognize how short-lived it is. This is even more unarguable than Eliphaz’s claim that the wicked “is in torm ent all his days” (15:20) or Bildad’s that he is surrounded by snares (18:8-10). For Zophar’s truth about the wicked corresponds to no psychological reality within the wicked (as Eliphaz’s), nor to any metaphysical reality that surrounds the wicked (as Bildad’s), but solely to the observer’s own estimation of time: if you can be as patient as the wisdom of the ages would have you be, you will see that however long the wicked prospers it is only for a m oment, for this is the kind of time that is weighed, not m easured. Once the chronom eter is left out of the calculation of the duration of the wicked’s prosperity, it is easy to see, as Terrien puts it, that “the dogma of retribution is the object of continual verification.” Andersen most interestingly suggests that Zophar’s concession, that the present experience of the godless may be anything but tragic, moves Zophar “nearer to Jo b ’s position that confidence in God’s justice is not based on observation, but is a m atter of trust and hope.” But this is overgentle with Zophar, for Zophar has knowledge, not trust, and leans for his support upon the wisdom of the ages, not upon hope. Zophar is not a materialist; he does not measure time by the clock. But is a quixotic idealism that ignores concrete and social reality preferable to materialism? 6—7 The wicked in this chapter is represented exclusively as an agent of social wrong who dispossesses the poor (v 19). He is not specifically immoral or irreligious. But his social power is felt by himself—and by others—to be godlike in its control over others; so it is natural for the poet to depict him as making an assault on heaven. The wicked m an would recognize in himself no such ambition, and would no doubt pride himself rather for being merely shrewd or successful. Zophar’s depiction, however, means that being shrewd or successful at the expense of other people’s livelihood is a hybris that will earn an inevitable doom. T he similar account of the wicked in Ps 37:35—36, “towering [?] like a cedar of Lebanon” and then suddenly not to be found, m ight suggest that here too the backgound image is simply of a huge tree. But the words “heaven” and “cloud” are different, and incline us to see a mythological background of the assault on heaven (as attested in Isa 14:12-20; differently in Ezek 28:2-19). For the conventional language of the “height” of the wicked’s pride, cf. Ps 73:8-9; Obad 4. T he wicked perishes , lit. “like his dung,” which most versions think is “his own dung” ( k j v , r v , r s v , n e b , j p s , n i v ) . T he coarseness (by some standards) is no problem, but the image is strange, for hum an excrement is riot notably perishable. The reference could be to its noisomeness, comparable with the stench of a decaying body; but we would have expected rather some picture of total destruction. T hat is readily supplied if we take the dung as the animal

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dung used as fuel (cf. n a b “like the fuel of his fire ). Wetzstein in Delitzsch’s commentary has a fascinating account of the use of gelle (the same word as in our text) by Syrian peasants of the last century: the cow-dung, free from smell even when fresh, is collected from the fields, mixed with chopped straw and form ed into round cakes. Thoroughly dried out during the summ er, the cakes are built into domes as high as 25 feet, and gradually used up as winter fuel. Wetzstein’s own exegesis of our verse is cryptic and probably mistaken; the image is simply of fuel that is totally consumed in a short space of time. For the phrase “those who saw him ,” cf. 7:8 “the eye of him that saw m e,” and for “where is he? cf. 14:10; Isa 33:18. T he sense is of the disappearance into insubstantiality of the all-too-visible (his head reaching the sky) wrongdoer, a them e sustained in vv 8—9. A little conventional wisdom-like narrative is presupposed here: the acquaintances of the wicked pass by his house, look for him but fail to find him; the scenario is more developed at Ps 37:35-36. At 14:10 Job used the same question to depict the hopeless fate of all mortals; in using it ju st of the wicked, Zophar cannot be contradicting him, for he also must believe there is no life after death. The parallel simply points up the irony that the fate of the wicked is in the end no different from anyone’s fate. 8 H ere too the language is conventional, both psalmic and prophetic texts depicting enemies as phantom s of a dream (Ps 73:20; Isa 29:7). Such a designation does not only m ean that wrongdoers are as quickly exterm inated as dream images are at the m om ent of wakening (though this seems to be the connective thread in the present strophe), but also that they have no substantive reality and in the broad light of day are shown up to be m ere appearance. T he wicked m an certainly does not come across to the poor and dispossessed of v 19 as a m ere phantom , for he is the concrete reality that m ore than anything else dominates their lives; but to the wise m an who can afford to acquire the wisdom of the ages (v 4), since he does not have to spend too m uch time keeping the wolf from the door, the wicked are nothing more than figments of his imagination, their prosperity a tem porary blemish on the doctrine of retribution that can be removed by the simple expedient of rubbing one’s eyes awake. T he “night vision” ( ) is here certainly a dream though in 4:13 it seems to be a waking vision. For “fly away” ( ) used of dying, cf. Ps 90:10. Not being “found” implies the narrative lying behind v 7 (and cf. also 7:21). 9 T he thought links back to 7b (it is not that the eye that saw him in dream-vision no longer sees him when m orning comes, as Fohrer, Hesse). For the conventional phraseology of the eye of one’s acquaintances (not, God) no longer seeing one, cf. 7:8a (Job); Ps 37:10; and for one’s place no longer knowing one, cf. 7:10b; 8:18; Ps 103:16b. It is hard to accept Habel’s claim that there are repeated references in these verses to Jo b ’s speech of chap. 7. He argues that the disappearance of the wicked “like a dream ” (v 8) “recalls Jo b ’s complaint that God was terrifying him with nightm ares” (7:14), that the reference to “those who see” (v 7) is a sharp jibe by Zophar with “allusion to the recurring surveillance m o tif’ (the “Seeing Eye” of God in 7:8), and that picturing the wicked as “lying in the dust” (v 11) is a way of branding Job a sinner because in 7:21 Job acknowledges he will soon lie in the dust. None of these parallels in language can carry such a weight.

Comment

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10 No truly satisfactory interpretation of this awkward verse exists. T he very reference to the w rongdoer’s “children” seems out of place in a strophe dealing with his own annihilation, especially since the children, however impoverished they may become, live on and so in a way perpetuate his name. This is not quite the annihilation of the wrongdoer we have been hearing of. Many critics think the verse misplaced, Dhorme and Terrien transferring it to follow v 19 and others ( n e b , Moffatt) placing it after v 11. Problems still rem ain, as Duhm remarked; if the text speaks of the restitution of stolen wealth by the children of the wrongdoer, who, may it be supposed, compels them to make amends, and why should this be regarded as such a bad thing? So both subject m atter and the lack of connection of thought brand the line as doubtful, and no proposed conjectural em endation recommends itself. T he square brackets in the translation indicate that the verse seems unsuitable. Duhm and n a b simply omit it. Two distinct lines of interpretation have been advanced, (a) Taking in the generally postbiblical sense “satisfy (a debt), make up for” (Levy; but also “pay o ff’ in biblical Heb.), we could translate, “his children will compensate the poor” (Dhorme) or “make amends to the poor” ( n i v ; cf. j b ) . In that case the second half of the line should mean that they “return his wealth” to those from whom he has stolen it. But the text says “his hands” return it; hence emendations to I? “their hands” (cf. BHK, NEB) or “his children” ). (Holscher, j b ; em endation of the gender of the verb is also required, to · Gordis thinks that MT “his hands” can actually m ean “his offspring,” but his parallels are unconvincing. It is something of a difficulty with this view that we have hitherto learned nothing of the source of the evildoer’s wealth (and v 19 does not exactly tell us either), and to have his children restoring his ill-gotten gains does not seem to be on the same level of destruction that vv 7-9 portrayed. (b) A no more plausible sense arises if we take as “seek the favor o f” ( r s v ) , and suggest that the children of the wrongdoer, as the poorest of the poor, are reduced to begging their bread from the poor ( n e b “pay court to the poor,” n j p s “ingratiate themselves with the poor”; Driver-Gray, Fohrer). This is presumably because “he” has had to restore the property of the poor to them, so that there is nothing left for his children to inherit (so Fohrer). This view adds to the difficulty of the previous view the improbability that the evildoer is envisaged as restoring the goods of the poor in his own lifetime (“his hands”). A weaker version of this interpretation is to take the two halves of the line as parallel, describing both the children’s act and the father’s (cf. n j p s ) ; but why in that order? If any sense is to be made of the verse, it seems that the father’s act must precede the children’s (Sicre Diaz also sees that we have a case of hysteron proteron here.) I would suggest that the father’s hands “relinquish” (as BDB translates hiphil here) their “strength” (as generally means; MT “his strength” since of course the hands’ strength is the m an’s strength). This at least fits well with v 11. Now although the simple connective waw is used, the loss of the father’s strength in death must be the cause of the children’s needy state. His property is not at all in view here; they are in reduced circumstances ju st because he has prem aturely perished. 11 The thought of the premature death of the wicked is appended to the strophe, which otherwise has concerned simply his disappearance from earth:

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he vanishes, and that before his time. T he first clause should be understood concessively, “though his bones are full of vigor.” Zophar’s theology stresses that the wicked does not live out his days (cf. Ps 55:24 [23], “not half their days”; cf. 102:25 [24]) because retribution overtakes him. T here may be some delay in the execution of justice, as v 6 allows, but his fate is the grave (the wording is reminiscent of 17:13—16 where Jo b ’s hope does not descend to Sheol to the couch he has spread). T errien curiously thinks that Zophar “makes a bizarre personification of the sexual vigor of the wicked and has it go down with him into his tomb like a lover”; but no m ore signifies sexual vigor (cf. 33:25; Ps 89:46 [45]; Isa 54:4) than does HDKJ typically m ean “lie with sexually”; the Arab, cognate of cannot determ ine the m eaning of the Heb. T he strophe has been differently understood as dem onstrating that sin brings its own retribution, God “us[ing] a person’s own wickedness to bring about his downfall” (Andersen; cf. Rowley, “T he self-entailed retribution of sin”). T hat is indeed the significance of the food being “turned about” in his stomach (v 14a), but the dom inant them e of “no lasting profit” is m ore clearly indicated by vv 18, 21. 12—23 This second strophe defines itself by the sustained m etaphor of eating: we have the m outh (v 12), the tongue (v 12), the palate (v 13), the stomach (v 14), the innards (v 14), the belly (vv 15, 20, 23); there is savoring (v 12), swallowing (v 15), vomiting and disgorging (v 15), sucking (v 16), disgorging (v 18), not swallowing (v 18), eating (v 21); there is sweetness (v 12), oil, honey, and cream (v 17), food (v 23); above all, there is fullness of abundance (v 22) and filling to the full (v 23). Not surprisingly, the m etaphor is deployed in a variety o f ways. T he prim ary them e appears to be that the sinner gains no lasting profit from his wrongdoing. This links back into the prim ary image of the previous strophe (vv 4—11), the ultimate disappearance of the evildoer. T he food he eats leads to his death, not his life. In the first place, the image is of food that is pleasant to the taste but sours the stomach and is vomited up (vv 12— 15), so that it does not function as life-supporting food. In a second version of the image, the food that he eats is itself actually deadly poison, which prevents him enjoying real food and compels him to vomit it up (vv 16—19). T he third use of the image has him eating as a glutton and consuming all available food so that he possesses no further stocks of food and thus through his appetite is brought to starvation (vv 20-22). A nother dimension to the image is provided by the notations that God makes him vomit up his food (v 15b) and that the food he believes is sustaining him is actually the anger of God that is bloating him (v 23). T hroughout these varying deployments of the controlling m etaphor is the idea that there is no lasting profit from his eating (v 18b). 1 2 -1 4 In this long sentence, of which vv 12-13 are two conditional clauses and v 14 the principal clause, the w rongdoer’s wickedness is depicted as sweet food that becomes bitter in the stomach. T he tasty morsel is sweet to the m outh, the tongue, and the palate. It is a conventional enough picture of sin as enticing; cf. Prov 9:17, “stolen water is sweet, bread eaten in secret is pleasant”; 20:7 “bread gained by deceit is sweet”; Gen 3:6. But there is the m ore developed thought here of keeping the sweet food in the m outh as long as possible in order to extract the maximum pleasure from it.

Comment

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T he term for “sweet” ( ; here the verb , intransitive hiph) can be applied to water (Exod 15:25) as well as to sugary things (honey, Ju d g 14:14; Ps 19:11), and may here not m ean specifically sweet but simply “pleasant.” T he epicurean evildoer “hides” his sin under his tongue, not of course in this image to conceal it but to savor it (cf. Cant 4:11 “honey and milk under your tongue”). He is loath to let go of his pleasure: the Heb. is literally “he spares it” ( , as at 6:10; 16:13; 27:22), used only here in this transferred sense, perhaps ironically suggesting the evildoer’s protective attitude toward his wrongdoing. To “forsake” ( TP) a morsel of food is also an extravagant idea, implying that it is some object of worth, like wisdom, the law, or God, which is what people generally do or don’t forsake. Letting the food linger on his palate is literally “withholding” it ( ), the palate jealously and selfishly holding the morsel back from being swallowed. But evil deeds, “no m atter how pleasurable the sensation involved when they are committed, have an inherent destructive capacity which discloses itself at a later stage” (Habel). It is not the sweetness in itself that is the problem, though Prov 25:27 warns that it is not good to eat much honey. W hen the food of the evildoer is swallowed it proves its true character; the m an suffers food poisoning as his delicay is “tu rn ed ” ( ni.), as we say of milk that has become sour (the wording is not that it is turned “into” the venom of asps [as Gordis, n j p s ] , for the second half of the line is an independent clause). In his stomach (as is at Ezek 3:3; 7:19; Jonah 2:1, 2 [1:17; 2:1]; not “bowels,” as k j v , r v , Pope) his evil becomes metaphorically the venom of asps (v 15 will say somewhat differently that it was snake’s venom he has been eating all along). D. Pardee has shown how 20:25 ;16:13) ) from the root “be bitter” is in the first place “gall” (bile) as the bitter-tasting secretion of the liver and secondarily as the poison emitted by snakes, their venom, which was thought by the ancients to be their gall (“merdrat-petamm ‘Venom’ in Job 20:14,” ZAW 91 [1979] 401-16). On the snake, see on v 16. This depiction is, next to vv 24—25, the most interesting part of Zophar’s rather tepid speech, but even it is excessively conventional. Cf. Prov 23:31— 32 where wine that goes down smoothly bites in the end like a serpent and stings like an adder; 20:17 where food gained by deceit is sweet in the m outh but is afterwards gravel in the m outh; and Deut 32:32—33 where the grapes of the Lord’s enemies are grapes of poison and clusters of venom ( as here), their wine is the poison ( 1 = , as in v 16) of serpents and the venom ( ) of asps ( , as here). Cf. also Rev 10:10, where the scroll is honey in the m outh but bitter in the stomach. T he snake’s poison is of course seen as fatal (Num 21:6; Deut 32:24; Amos 5:19). 15 The next stage, once the stomach has become full of bile, is vomiting. It is the same image extended; but in continuing the m etaphor the poet says in plain language what the food of the image is: it is “wealth” ( ) that the evildoer has swallowed, and that can only be other people’s wealth, though the poet will not explicitly say so until v 19. There is no such thing as a free lunch, and no one becomes rich except at the expense of other people. T he Egyptian Instruction of Amenemope warns: “Be not greedy for the property of a poor man . . . it is a blocking to the throat, it makes a vomiting to the gullet” (chap. 11; ANET, 423a). It is strange to find here God as the adm ininstrator of an emetic, not because the figure is coarse (“as befits Zophar,” says Peake) for it occurs also in Je r 51:44, but because in wisdom teaching generally God

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does not so often personally execute vengeance. It could well be that Zophar simply means that God so orders the world that bitter and poisonous food irritates the stomach to the point of vomiting it up; in that case God would be doing nothing at all directly (and talk of a divine emetic would be misleading), but would be simply allowing the natural moral order to take its course. This sounds, it must be said, m ore like the Zophar of 11:13—20. T he LXX, incidentally, found the idea of God causing a man to vomit too distasteful and either had an “angel” do it, or transform ed the vomiting into an “expulsion” from the evildoer’s “house,” or both (see Gard, Exegetical Method of the Greek Translator, 26). Gray and Pope are worried by the idea that the emetic will rid the m an of the poison and so in the end do him a good turn, so they sever this verse from the image of vv 12—14; but of course the poison is the unjustly gained wealth, and to be rid of the poison is to be rid of the wealth. Sin disagrees with the hum an constitution as bad food disagrees with the stomach. 16 It is hard to see what this verse adds to v 14, and some more resolute comm entators delete it (Budde, Driver-Gray, Holscher). It does indeed say that the evildoer dies of the poison—which v 14 left at most implied. But when does he “suck” the poison? Not after the eating and vomiting of vv 12— 15, as most translations seem to imply. It can only be that the sweetmeat in his m outh in vv 12—17 was actually poison, and that while he thought he was savoring a delicacy, he was in fact absorbing more and more poison into his system; hence the translation “it was poison that he sucked” in vv 12—13 (cf. j b ). This image does not square too well with a common understanding of v 14, that his food turns into poison in his stomach, for v 16 seems to be saying that it has been poison all along. But if v 14b describes not what happens in the stomach but what the stomach as distinct from the m outh recognizes to be harm ful food, the two images cohere, and v 16 tells us that the stomach was right to heave. It also tells us that vomiting solves nothing, for the fatal poison is already at work. In plain language, making money is destructive to those who make it, and not only to those they make it from. More theologically, the results of sin develop according to an inexorable but natural logic. On the zoological front, the that appears here and in v 14 is not precisely the asp, the Egyptian cobra not found in Palestine, but any large snake; the is usually taken as the Carpet Viper (F. S. Bodenheim er, IDB 2:24656 [254]), with illustration). No snakes sting or kill with their tongue, but with the poison discharged through the front teeth or fangs; nevertheless, the darting tongue of the viper (actually in constant motion because it is the organ of smell) was not unreasonably regarded as the means by which the poison was delivered. Cf. Ps 140:4 [3] for a tongue as sharp as a viper’s, and 1QH 5.27 for lying tongues like the venom of adders fitfully spurting forth (translation, T. H. Gaster, The Scriptures of the Dead Sea Sect [London: Seeker and W arburg, 1957] 153). 17 Food is still the image, but there is a new twist, for here it is not the poisonous food that the evildoer eats but the wholesome food that he will never eat because he has died of his eating. This is quintessential Palestinian food that he will not “enjoy” ( , see n. 20:17.a): oil, honey, and cream are the regular symbols of plenty in the land of Canaan. Olive oil (see n. 20:l7.c) literally flowed in “streams” from the oil press (cf. 24:11; 29:6 where

Comment

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the rock-hewn press pours out streams [ like here] of oil; Joel 2:24 where the vats overflow with wine and oil). It is strange that there are not more references to the use of oil in cooking, since we may assume a widespread use; but cf. Num 11:8; Jd t 10:5. There never have been “torrents” ( ) of honey and curds, so we must readjust our reading of “streams” of oil to see that also as hyperbolic. Honey is typically in O T times not the honey of domesticated bees but wild honey (Judg 14:8; 1 Sam 14:25-26) or a thick grape or date syrup (Arab, dibs) (J. F. Ross, IDB 2:639). Cream or curds ( ) is not butter ( k j v , r v ) , but a ferm ented milk product, today called leben, and similar to yoghurt, “prepared by churning fresh milk in a goatskin containing left over clots from the previous supply” (J. F. Ross, IDB 1:749); it is fed by Abraham to his visitors (Gen 18:8), by Jael to Sisera (Judg 5:25), and by Barzillai to David’s troops (2 Sam 17:29). In Isa 7:14 curds and honey are perhaps a basic diet, but more often milk and honey are a symbol of plenty, especially if the land is flowing with them (Exod 3:8, 17; 13:5; 33:3; Lev 20:24 and often). In the Baal myth, a celebrated passage has El dream ing that Baal has returned to life and the earth’s fertility is reawakened; he sees that “the heavens rained oil, the ravines (nhl, as here) ran with honey” (CTA 6.3.12—13 [Gibson, 67]). Fohrer strangely maintains that the images in our text belong to an old nomadic form ulation and have nothing to do with the Ugaritic text; but even if these depictions of plenty represent in the first place the longing of the unsettled for the lifestyle of the Palestinian peasant, the images stem from the experience of the peasant, not the nomad. 18 The strophe concludes with this summary verse, to which v 19 forms a pendant. V 18a reiterates the image of v 15, while v 18b picks up the them e of v 17. In brief, because the evildoer must vomit up his gains, he never experiences the enjoyment of them. There is no explicit word yet of the source of his wealth (despite the hint in v 15 and the renderings here of many versions, e.g., n e b “he must give back his gains without swallowing them ,” implying that he has robbed others and must repay them). T he emphasis is solely on how it feels from his point of view to lose possession of what is dear to him. He restores nothing to anyone; and no one benefits from his loss, though, as we shall see, his gain had been loss for others. Even good gifts are contam inated by the poison of his person. 19 Here at last the m etaphors drop away, and we learn some specifics of the actual wrongdoing of the wicked. Granted, these crimes are only exemplary, and in a way even this description functions metaphorically for the whole range of evils that can brand a person one of the wicked. But it is of unmistakable significance that the crime that comes most readily to Zophar’s mind as the quintessence of wickedness is a social and economic crime. Not a sin against God, nor a cultic offense, not the infringem ent of some state law, but the perhaps perfectly legal exploitation of the poor is the crime above crimes. “Attitudes and actions toward the underprivileged is a fundam ental gauge of integrity and righteousness in Jo b ” (Habel); uncaring rejection of their needs will be the unwitting sin Eliphaz will accuse Job of (22:5—9) and will be later the subject of Jo b ’s most passionate self-exculpations (29:12-17; 31:13-23). And what precisely has the wicked done? , though a common word “to crush,” seems to be here no m etaphor but a semitechnical word from the practice of law m eaning “defraud” (contrast n e b “hounded,” n i v “oppressed,”

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r s v , n j ps “crushed”). Cf. 1 Sam 12:3—4 where Samuel denies having taken anyone’s ox or ass (parallel to piZ3P “extort” as also Deut 28:33; Amos 4:1; Hos 5:11); in 2 C hr 16:10 where Asa imprisons the seer H anani he also some of the people, presumably supporters of Hanani—again the word may have a much m ore specific m eaning than “oppressed” ( n a b ) or “inflicted cruelties” ( r s v ) . O f course “defraud” can cover a m ultitude of sins, not all of them objectively illegal acts; what the buyer thinks is a fair price the seller may rightly believe defrauds him because he is forced by economic necessity to sell his goods or his labor cheap. T he wicked person of this depiction is clearly in the position of economic power, ranged over against the “poor” ( ). There can be no “free” markets when those who m eet in the m arket square are not economic equals but rich and poor. Next, the wicked has “forsaken” ( ) the poor. This too seems at first a vague term (as n e b “harassed,” n j p s “tortured”), and Gordis suggests that the figure of hysteron proteron is being used, “the order of two sequential acts [being] reversed because the more im portant [and here the m ore specific] intrudes upon the consciousness of the speaker or writer” (cf. Exod 24:7; Esth 9:27); he translates “He has forsaken, indeed crushed, the poor” (though in his transíation proper he has “oppressed and tortured”). T hat is not unreasonable, but comparison with Deut 12:19; 14:27 where Israel is enjoined not to “forsake” ( ) the Levite suggests that it is “neglect” (as BDB) or disregarding of the legitimate demands of a social group that is at issue. H ere it is probably the ignoring of the cry of the poor for justice, perhaps specifically in the m atter of their property rights spoken of in the next half of the line. More specifically still, perhaps on the principle of the “parallelism of greater precision” (D. J. A. Clines, “T he Parallelism of G reater Precision: Notes from Isaiah 40 for a Theory of Hebrew Poetry,” New Directions in Biblical Poetry, ed. E. R. Follis [JSOTS 40; Sheffield: JSO T, 1987] 77-100), the crime of the wicked is to “seize a house that he has not built” (lit. “and he has not built it”), that is, a house that someone else built. This act of violence ( is “tear away, take violent possession”) is not necessarily seen as such by its perpetrators, for whom it may be simply a paper transaction; the rich, who may for example be “rent capitalists” or money-lenders (see B. Lang, “T he Social Organization of Peasant Poverty in Biblical Israel,” JSO T 24 [1982] 47-63), may simply regard themselves as enforcing agreed contracts and acting entirely aboveboard. Even if they have inherited the property or money that gives them power over others, and have not set out to aggrandize themselves, their use of that power inevitably leads to loss, experienced as violent deprivation ( ), by those they have power over. A person can become one of the wicked by simply complying with the given economic system (contrast Job himself in 29:12— 16; 31:16—21). O n as an antisocial act, see J[. Schüpphaus, TDOT 2:456— 58, and cf. Prov 28:24 and 22:22 where revealingly the poor are in danger of being violently robbed ( ) ju st because they are poor. This does not m ean that the rich are so foolish as to think robbing the poor is m ore profitable than robbing a bank, but that the poor are always the victims of the economic system. From those that have not is taken even that which they have. 20—21 In these lines, the opening “for” ( ) clause looks forward and is picked up by the “therefore” ( ) of v 21 (contrast the of v 19 which looks back to the preceding); the two intervening clauses (vv 20b, 21a) are

Comment

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best understood as further reasons for the “therefore.” T he image of food is continued, but a new aspect is developed here: here it is the greed for eating, where the key terms are “not content,” “belly,” “desired” (v 20), “eat,” “produce” ( ) (v 21), “be full,” “sufficiency” (v 22), “fill,” “belly,” “rain down,” “food” (v 23). Earlier in the strophe the stress had been on the reversal and disappointm ent of expectation when the sweet food turns sour and when what is eaten is vomited up. Here the all-consuming greed of the wicked feeds on itself and so self-destructs. T he behavior of the wicked is the cause of his doom. Food is a finite resource that may be used up completely; so too the desire of the wicked for self-aggrandizement leads ultimately, if it is not checked, to the consumption of all that it fed on till nothing is left. Because he is insatiable he can never feel satisfied (Fohrer). He knows no “quietness” or contentm ent ( ) in his belly. Prov 17:1 “Better is a dry morsel with quiet (or, contentm ent, ), than a house full of feasting with strife,” presents an objective, externalized view of the value of quietness for eating; here the disturbance is wholly internal, not through lack but through surfeit. Wisdom m ore typically features the wicked as starving (Prov 13:25 “the belly of the wicked suffers want”); here the evildoer’s greed is the cause of his want. T he second half of v 20a is often taken as a statement of the punishm ent for his greed; e.g., r s v “he will not save anything in which he delights.” But the structure of these verses is best understood as three clauses (vv 2 0 -2 la) giving reasons for the judgm ent of v 21b (“therefore . . .”) (so also Fohrer, Pope). Seen in this light, the present phrase means that he consumes everything his appetite desires, like a glutton or scavenger; “he has let nothing that he desired escape him ,” as though his food were hunted animals or hum ans that he does not save or deliver (as piel usually means) from the consequences of his greed. T he result is that, when this trencherm an has done eating, no food is left in the cupboard, or, as it runs literally and more anthropom orphically, “there is no survivor of his eating.” is elsewhere always used of hum an survivors of battle or disaster (e.g., 18:19; 27:15; Deut 2:34; and cf. also v 26 below). T he lines sketch a grossly amusing picture of a cannibalistic decimation of comestibles by a gargantuan evildoer. His property ( ), or probably specifically the edible “produce” of the land (cf. Gen 45:18; Ezra 9:12; Neh 9:35) since the food m etaphor is still dom inant, does not continue, lit. “stay firm ” ( elsewhere at Ps 10:5), not because God brings vengeance upon him (though he does), but because the greedy evildoer has consumed everything that came into his hands. In the light of the food m etaphor in vv 12—19, where it transpired in vv 15 and 19 that the crime of the evildoer was not really gluttony but avarice for the possessions of others, we may be sure that the same is the case here also, though nothing says so explicitly. 22 W hat the wicked robs from others makes its possessor not rich but poor (Weiser). T he reversal them e emerges here: at the m om ent when he is most satiated, “at the fullness of his sufficiency” (the language itself is overblown; either word alone would do), he suddenly “becomes straitened” ( ; on the symbolism of “narrowness” and “spaciousness” see on 36:16), or in distress. It is a bald and blunt phrase, lit. “there is narrowness for him ,” the straits being objectified like a package that is delivered to him. It is hard to know whether the term connotes the state of mind of a person in anxiety and distress

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(Dhorme). Certainly, this is a more dramatic image than we have had in vv 20—21, where the wicked gradually consumes all earth ’s resources; here, when he is indeed full he is (suddenly) brought into judgm ent; the “full force” of “come [against:]” in the military misery ( n i v ) assails him like a warrior ( sense, “attack” [BDB, 98b § 2b], as in 3:24; 5:21; 15:21). “Misery” ( ) is the wicked m an’s fate because it is the opposite of his wealth and sufficiency; is not generally, perhaps never, the emotional feeling of misery, but typically the objective situation of being hard at work or being oppressed (see respectively Eccl 2:10; Deut 26:7 with Job 3:10,4:8 [by implication]; 5:6,7; 7:3; 11:16; 16:2) or the objective act of oppressing (4:8; 15:35; Ps 10:7; Isa 59:4 [this emphasis is lacking in S. Schwertner’s entry in TH W AT 2:332—35]). In Prov 31:7 it is directly parallel to “poverty,” and here too it signifies the deprivation of his ample means. 23 T he wicked person thinks that he has been satisfying his greed; but he will not know what satisfaction really is until he is filled by the wrath of God. T here is more of that available, in unlim ited supply, than all the victuals he has ever laid his hands on. There is a grim hum or here, both in the idea of the bloated glutton being further force-fed (God’s wrath is “sent into” him and he has no choice about ingesting it), and in the parody of the m anna story, where God “rained” ( hiph, as here) “food” ( , cf. here or by em endation; see n. 20:23.f) upon the people (Exod 16:4; Ps 78:24; cf. v 27). T he background is not (as against Fohrer) the breaking in of the chaotic waters of heaven as at the flood (Gen 6:11) or of the raining down of fire and brim stone on Sodom and G om orrah (Gen 19:24; cf. Ps 11:6). Fohrer sees here in the picture of the “sending” of God’s wrath an almost personal figure who executes God’s vengeance, “on the way to a hypostasis as a kind of bad angel.” Even if that goes too far, there is unmistakably here the idea that the law of retribution under which the evildoer is rew arded like for like, filled with God’s wrath as recom pense for filling himself with the goods of others, is no mechanical and self-effecting principle but the deliberate act of God (cf. also v 15b). God is so evidently the prom oter of the moral order that he does not need to be m entioned by name: “he” sends his burning anger against the wrongdoer. For a similar thought in which God’s action is equally prom inent, cf. Ps 17:14, a curse upon the wicked: “May their belly ( ) be filled ( ) with what you have in store for them .” 24—29 This third strophe has as its principal them e the inescapability of the end of the wicked. T hat is the significance of the military narrative (vv 24—25b): even if he escapes one weapon, he will fall to another that will prove fatal. T here is then a depiction of the arrival of death itself, which he experiences as terror and as darkness. More objectively, his death is described as being consumed by divine wrath (v 26), and then a cosmic imagery of a legal procedure presses home the point that he has no defense against a death sentence (v 27). Parallel to the consuming fire of v 26 is the overflowing waters that “roll away” him and his house (v 28). Finally, a summary appraisal (v 29) draws together the twin strands of the evildoer’s fate as both his own creation (cf. “inheritance”) and as divine punishm ent (cf. “portion”). The imagery here is almost exclusively violent; apart from the lawcourt images of v 27, there is the battlefield image of v 24, focusing down to the close-up on the wounded man pulling the arrow from his body only to lose

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his vitals in the process (v 25), the fireball (v 26b—c), the flood (v 28). The language is conventional, and, apart from the battle images of vv 24-25— which even so are not so interestingly developed as analogues elsewhere in the O T—the depictions are somewhat jejune. But the cumulative effect is not unimpressive, and it invites speculations on the psychology of a theologian who finds it necessary to invest his belief in retribution with such lurid imaginin § sa

24 It is a familiar thought here of the inescapability of doom, one avenue of escape leading inexorably only to a worse or more certain end. Cf. Isa 24:18 where we have the sequence: flee from the sound of terror, fall in a pit, climb out of a pit, be caught in a snare; and Amos 5:19 where we have: fled from a lion, met by a bear, went into a house, a serpent bites (cf. also 9:1-4). T hough encountered in the prophets, the idea is obviously part of popular wisdom (so too Holscher). The present form ulation is less picturesque than those cited: If he flees from a weapon of iron, an arrow of bronze pierces him through. We recall that Zophar is a traditionalist (cf. v 4) even in the images of his speech. It would be extremely tame if the sense were: if he escapes from an iron weapon, he will be slain by a bronze. T hough pIÚJ is a general word for weapon (as Ezek 39:9—10, where the types are specified), it may well be that a “weapon of iron” is understood as specifically a sword (so Gordis). If that is so, the point is, more interestingly, that if the wicked escapes from destruction at close quarters (by sword), he will be caught up from afar (by arrows). The Heb. actually says “bronze bow” ( ), as at Ps 18:35 [34], but of course only arrows from a bow can “pierce” ( “pass through,” and so pierce, as Ju d g 5:26, of a tent-peg), so “bow” must be used by synecdoche (part for whole) or some such figure (as at Isa 13:18) (surprisingly j b , n a b , n j p s still have “bow”). Moreover, a bow of bronze would be an impossible weapon, lacking flexibility or resilience (G. R. Driver, VTSup 3 [1955] 82; Y. Yadin, The Art of Warfare in Biblical Lands [London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1963] 6—9); the only bronze bows known from antiquity are dedicatory gifts to temples and not for practical use (K. Galling, Biblisches Reallexikon [2nd ed.; Tübingen: Mohr, 1977] 50), and there is no evidence of bows with metal coverings or decoration (as Holscher, R. de Vaux, Ancient Israel: Its Life and Institutions [tr. J. McHugh; London: Darton, Longm an and Todd, 1961] 243). Even arrows would not be primarily of metal but of reed or wood, and we should understand “bronze-tipped” (as n e b , n i v ). Perhaps bronze was used along with horn as a strengthening elem ent in the m anufacture of a “composite” bow; but more probably the bronze in question may simply have been the points on the arrows. B. Couroyer (“L’arc d ’airain,” RB 72 [1965] 508-14) argued that a “bow of bronze” means only a strong bow, but the fact that this bow is parallel to what is clearly a metal weapon (of iron) puts that explanation out of court. T here is no call to follow Habel’s suggestion here that Zophar “intends a satirical allusion to Jo b ’s earlier portrayal of Shaddai as the Archer who fires his poisoned arrows into Jo b ” (6:4; 16:13); see the general comments on allusion at v 9. 2 5 -2 6 These two tricola, as they appear in the MT, are probably to be redivided as three bicola (so also Terrien, n i v ). For despite many uncertainties in translation, it is plain that “from his back” ( ) in v 25a is parallel to

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“from his gall” (1ΓΠ ) in v 25b, and “fire eats” in v 26b is parallel to “it consumes” in v 26c; it seems then that the “terrors” that “come upon him ” in v 25c are parallel to the “darkness” that is “hidden” or “hides” to harm him. T he image in v 25a—b, if we retain the MT, is fairly clearly a developm ent of v 24. T here the wicked m an is fleeing from punishm ent but is overtaken by an arrow, which obviously strikes him in the back. He attem pts to withdraw it from his body ( being the precise term for drawing a weapon from a wound, Ju d g 3:22), or to be m ore exact, from his gallbladder ( ), with the result that the gall spills on the ground (the image of the arrow puncturing the gallbladder or liver is the same as in 16:13), a fatal injury. In a way, he kills himself; in his attem pt to extract the divine arrow, he spills his own vitals. As he sees what has been done to him and what he is doing to himself, the “terrors” ( ) come upon him; these, in the plural (contrast the m ore abstract “dread” in the singular at 9:34; 13:21; 33:7), are the same as the “terrors” of 18:11 ( ), the minions and messengers of Death. T he depth of darkness, “darkness unrelieved” (n e b ), “utter” ( n j p s ) or “total” (n i v ) darkness, lit. “all darkness” ( “ ) like “all force” ( “ in v 22), lies hidden in waiting ( , see n. 20:26.a) for what he has hidden ( ), i.e., accumulated in his greed. This all goes to say that Sheol is the only net gainer for all his activities, and, by way of poetic justice, lies hidden to swallow up what he had hidden. The “terrors” of Death and the “darkness” of Sheol stand in parallel. T he image changes again: after the images of warfare and of Sheol, the fire comes into play as another symbol of annihilation. This is supernatural fire, a fire not fanned or kindled (20] 41:12 , ]) by hum an hands but divine in origin like the fire from Yahweh that destroyed the family of Korah (Num 16:35); God is involved directly or indirectly in the fate of the wicked at several points in Zophar’s speech (vv 15, 23, 28b, 29). In v 26a the darkness o f death takes over his material possessions; here in v 26c the heavenly fire devours ( “eat,” of fire from heaven at 1:16) any descendants he may have ( as usual means hum an “survivors” [so n e b , n j p s ]; contrast v 21 above, and r s v , n i v “what is left”). This fire is not exactly lightning (as 1:16) but a m ore supernatural fire, the fire of God’s wrath (contrast 15:34; 22:20), as the fire kindled by God’s anger (Deut 32:22; J e r 15:14; 17:4). God’s anger has destroyed his property (v 26a), his person (26b), and his household (26c) (Habel). T he belly is the core of the evildoer’s being, his center of gravity, so it is fitting that the arrow of destruction strikes him there. He has sought to fill his belly (v 15) and has never known contentm ent in his belly (v 20); God therefore sends his wrath on him to fill his belly to the full, or, changing the image, to penetrate his gallbladder with his deadly arrow. Gall ( ) proves his undoing in both strophes, in vv 12-19 and 20-29: at v 14 he finds his dainty food soured by the “gall” or poison of serpents within him, here the gall-sac as a vital organ is pierced and destroyed. His life long, he has been turning sweet into bitter; his death ensues when the souring organ that controlled his mode of being is ruptured. T he biter is bit. And the consum er is consumed. It is a nice irony that the m an who lived for eating dies from being eaten. He himself is “devoured” ( ) by fire; his descendants are “grazed on” ( ). 27 As we approach the climax of the speech, the imagery becomes cosmic.

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T he focus is now not upon the inward minutiae of the evildoer’s digestive system nor even upon the external facts of his dramatic but ineffectual flight from retributive justice, but upon the most public realities of all, heaven and earth that have witnessed every misdeed. In those most formal documents of the ancient world, the international treaties, heaven and earth are frequently called as witnesses, among other theogonic gods and gods of cultus (e.g., the Egyptian-Hittite treaty of Rameses II, ANET, 201a; the H ittite-A m urru treaty of Mursilis, ANET, 205a). T hat convention was adopted, so it seems, by the prophets for solemn declarations (Isa 1:2; cf. Mic 6:1, mountains) (cf. D. R. Hillers, Treaty-Curses and the Old Testament Prophets [Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1964] 4; and P. A. Riemann, IDBS, 192—97 [196a] for a well-nuanced statement, with bibliography), but it is also intelligible as a natural rhetorical move, uninfluenced by legal formulas, of invoking the cosmos as witness (cf. Deut 32:1). In the present context there is no specifically covenant or treaty overtone, but there is a generalized legal setting. T he implication is that the crimes of the evildoer are on such a scale that heaven and earth have been compelled to take cognizance of them; they can then be called upon to testify to what they have seen and heard (cf. Ps 19:2-3 [1-2] where the heaven “recounts” God’s glory and one day “shows knowledge” to the next of what it has learned). Heaven and earth also function as enduring witnesses (like a cairn, Gen 31:48; a traditional song, Deut 31:19, 21; a law-scroll, Deut 31:26; an altar, Josh 22:26-28, 34; the moon, Ps 89:38 [37]; the appeal to the moon in the Instruction of Amenemope 4:19 [ANET, 422a] to establish the crime of the wicked against him is somewhat different in that the moon-god T hoth has an official capacity as the barrister of the gods). T he heavens “disclose” before the tribunal of God what they have witnessed of the wrongdoer and what he would wish to keep hidden (the language links back to v 26a and his “hidden treasures”); is to “lay bare” deep mysteries (12:22), secret places (Jer 49:10), secrets (Prov 11:13; 25:9), a city’s foundations (Mic 1:6), and when the object is transgressions it points to the elem ent of hearing (Hos 7:1; Lam 2:14; Prov 26:26; Ezek 21:29 [24]; Isa 26:21), a legal situation always being assumed in which the hidden crime is discussed (H.-J. Zobel, TDOT 2:476— 88 [480]). To the same legal context belongs the idea of a witness “rising u p ” ( hithpo; more commonly in qal); for references to the rising of witnesses or a judge in court, see on 19:25—27. T he two cosmic entities provide the legally required minimum for a verdict, for, as the old law has it, “A single witness shall not prevail against a m an for any crime or for any wrong in connection with any offense that he has comm itted” (Deut 19:15). At least since Budde, commentators have toyed with the speculation that Zophar is satirizing Jo b ’s appeal in 16:18 that the “earth ” should not “cover” his blood, and his conviction in 16:19 that his “witness” is in “heaven” and in 19:25 that his champion will “rise” to speak in court on his behalf. Recently J. C. Holbert (“ ‘T he skies will uncover his iniquity’: Satire in the Second Speech of Zophar [Job xx],” VT 31 [1981] 171-79) has argued that satire against Job is the clue to the whole speech: “The satiric technique is the same throughout. Zophar speaks what sounds like a general Klage on the fate of the wicked. However, the speech is filled with descriptions of the wicked which are clearly borrowed from all Jo b ’s earlier speeches” (p. 178). But it is inevitable, if Job is suffering and if traditional theology believes the wicked suffer, that there

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should be overlap in language; what has to be determinative is the overall purpose of each speaker, and we cannot assume too readily that we know what Zophar’s aim is in depicting the fate of the wicked. And on the detail, there is not such a closeness of language as might be expected if direct allusion were being made to Jo b ’s speeches; for here it is heaven that discloses the wicked’s iniquity whereas in 16:18 it was earth that was sum m oned not to cover Jo b ’s blood, and here it is earth itself that rises against the wicked whereas in 16:19 (and 19:25) it was a witness to Job who would rise in heaven. 28 Traditional versions of this verse m ade it sound rather anticlimactic, r s v for example having the possessions of the evildoer’s house merely carried away and dragged off. Some comm entators therefore thought the positions of vv 27 and 28 should be reversed (Budde, Dhorme, Driver-Gray [possibly], Moffatt). T he prevailing view now, however, is to see here a reference to a devastating flood, which, in conjunction with the fire of v 26, annihilates the evildoer’s “house” (see n. 20:26.e). T he “streams” ( ) that carry it away are in Isa 30:25 and 44:4 and Ecclus 50:8 beneficent streams, but also in Ps 18:5 [4] “tor(em ended text, reading for “cords,” as n a b , parallel to rents”), the streams of the underworld. T he torrential waters, like a swollen river in Palestine, sweep away the evildoer’s physical dwelling ( ), built of earth or clay, but of course symbolically they are also the unm anageable waters of the underw orld that annihilate his “house,” that is, both his own body (“house of clay,” 4:19) and his progeny. T he day of God’s wrath (lit. “his” wrath, but God is implied as in v 23) is sometimes the eschatological day of God’s wrath against a nation (Ezek 7:19; 22:24; Lam 1:12; 2:21, 22) but also a day of retribution against an individual (21:30; Prov 11:4), as here. God’s wrath is depicted as an overflowing stream in Isa 30:28, and it is often the subject of verbs for pouring out (e.g., Hos 5:10, like water). In v 23 God’s wrath had been “sent into” the man as a food substitute, he in his greed gladly taking in anything that will pass through his m outh but surprised at finding himself bloated on the divine anger. Here God’s wrath is an external force that “rolls away” the evildoer and his house. The end of the wicked has been pictured in increasingly supernatural terms. In vv 5—11 there was no hint of how his end comes about; we heard only that when he perishes, he perishes for good. In vv 12—19, we heard something more about the causality: he comes to an end through his own greed, his favorite foods being turned sour in his stomach and being vomited up. But at the same time we hear of a divine causation of this apparently natural sequence: “God” makes him disgorge his food (v 15b). In vv 20—28 there is natural causation also, in that he consumes everything and presumably starves because he has nothing left to eat. At the same time we learn more definitively of the divine part in his annihilation: his end comes about through God sending upon him his wrath, which is first a bogus food that deceptively “fills” him, then a fire unfanned by hum an hands, consuming him and his, and finally a flood that sweeps him and all he possesses away. T he poem has been moving gradually from the externally perceivable reality to the issues of the rationale and the mechanism of the evildoer’s death. 29 Zophar’s speech ends with a summary appraisal, like Bildad’s at 18:21 (cf. for the wording 27:13, which however stands at the beginning not the

Explanation

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end of a depiction; cf. also Ps 109:20). The portion ( ) and the inheritance ( ) that are allotted to the evildoer are of course m etaphors derived from the life of the clan, “portion” referring to the agricultural land assigned to an individual by the community, often by means of the lot (cf. M. Tsevat, TDOT 4:449), “inheritance” to that same land viewed as a possession of the family through its generations (cf. Num 26:53-54; 33:54). T hough the “portion” is by definition only a part of the whole, for the family that earns its livelihood from the land it represents the whole material condition of its existence. From that sense it is a simple metaphorical shift to the idea of the total reality of a life, including its end or destiny, as apportioned by God (so also 27:13; 31:2; Isa 17:14; Eccl 3:22; 5:17 [18], 18 [19]; 9:9). T he term “inheritance,” on the other hand, views a life diachronically, as something that is handed down and in process of becoming; in this m etaphor the destiny of a person does not derive directly from God, but is determ ined by one’s ancestry, which in the m etaphor means one’s prevailing quality of life. O ne’s “inheritance” is ultimately “from God” since he has established the retributive nexus, but it is more directly determ ined by oneself, the self as it ages “inheriting” the younger self (cf. for example “inherit the faults of my youth,” 13:26). As with Bildad’s speech in chap. 18, Zophar’s concludes with the word “God.” Zophar has not so rigorously excluded God from his depiction of the fate of the wicked as did Bildad, for in the middle of the second strophe, that is, at the m idpoint of the poem, God’s role in the retributive process is explicit (v 15b), and at vv 23 and 28, though his name is not used, it is unmistakably God’s anger that spells doom for the wicked. W hen the m etaphors are decoded, we are probably to understand from Zophar that God does nothing to the wicked that the wicked do not already do to themselves; God’s role is to establish the moral order and to ensure that it operates. Terrien makes the intriguing rem ark that the evildoer is here compared with the , the Adam of the primeval rebellion (for an allusion to the myth, cf. 15:7—8). Habel further sees the reference to Adam here as an inclusio linking up with v 4, where Man ( , adam) was first placed on earth. O ther elements of the poem may belong to the Adam image: the hybris of the man whose head reaches to the clouds (v 6), the food that is delightful to the taste but poison in the belly (vv 12—14), like the death-dealing fruit of Gen 3:6 that was delightful to the eyes, and his separation from the rivers that brought fertility (v 17). Explanation Zophar has done nothing in this speech but portray the fate of the wicked; what he means by this portrayal is not easily discerned. He has felt Jo b ’s refusal to accept the advice of his friends a reproach (v 3a), and he has probably been nettled by Jo b ’s last words that have declared the friends liable to judgm ent (19:28-29). But such annoyance would not justify him in pronouncing Job one of those wicked whose doom he delineates here. For Job has not evidently been one of the godless proud (v 6) who have savored wickedness (vv 12-13) and lived off its gains (vv 18—19). To what end would the poet have Zophar inform Job that his wickedness is quintessential, that Job will suffer the inescap

500

Jo b 2 0 : 1 - 2 9

able doom of the most nefarious of his class? W hat can be Zophar’s m eaning then? If we may judge by his stance in his previous speech—and in the absence of any clear position here that seems an entirely reasonable procedure—Zophar believes that Job is guilty and deserves what he suffers, and no doubt m ore than he suffers (11:6c). If he does not adjust his way of life he will find a future unfolding for him identical to that of the wicked: the loss of hope and the absence of security will lead to an inescapable doom (11:20). Job however has the opening for a quite different life, a life of piety that will bring security (11:15, 18-19). This too is how Job relates to the wicked in the present depiction. If Job refuses to eradicate from his life the evil his present suffering bears witness to, his fate will be the inheritance of the wicked (v 29). But it is up to Job to decide where his destiny lies; and Zophar, in a genuine effort to be constructive, paints the grimmest picture he knows how of the wicked’s fate in the hope that Job will remove himself with all due haste from any shadow of identification with it. Zophar’s most distinctive rhetorical move in this speech has been the gradual unfolding of truths, a rhetoric that perhaps coheres closely with his view of life. It was noticeable in vv 14 and 16, for example, where first he told us that the wicked man has the poison of serpents in his belly, and only afterwards revealed how that poison got there: he had been sucking it in. Again, in vv 15 and 19 we learned first that it is characteristic of the wicked to swallow down wealth, but only later that the wealth is the wealth of others. In v 23 we learned that the evildoer’s food, which we had been contem plating since v 12, has in some sense been the wrath of God all along. And in v 15b we found that the apparently natural process of vomiting up food that is sour in the stomach was after all a divine initiative. This is Zophar’s perception of the moral order: deeds and events do not wear their significances on their sleeves, but only gradually, or only by the discernm ent of the wise, can be persuaded to show themselves in their true colors. Wickedness may raise a m an high as heaven (v 6), fill him with youthful vigor (v 11), taste sweet in his m outh (v 12), nourish him to full abundance (v 22), but the truth of it is, not primarily that God will one day bring the wickedness into judgm ent, but that these very benefits are already imbued with the opposite significance. It is not ju st that they carry the seed of their own destruction in them, but that they, rightly perceived, are themselves negativities. So when the wicked m an greedily fills his belly with everything his eye desires, he is not only displaying his prosperity by his conspicuous consum ption but at the same time eating away his prosperity to the point of extinction (vv 20-21). And the sweetness of evil that is savored on the tongue does not somehow suddenly become bitterness once the food has dropped to the stomach; the sweetness itself, rightly understood, is the poison of asps. It is not quite that “there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so” (Hamlet 2.2.259), but that wisdom sees the bad in what is generally accounted good, and, presumably, vice versa. These thoughts are not developed for Jo b ’s sake; for when the speculative philosopher in Zophar begins to speak it is the internal logic of his thought that drives him on, not the pragmatic question of its applicability to Job. Job

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does not need to be warned that wickedness is its own recompense, especially wickedness under the figure of food, for he is in the condition where “sighing” is his food (3:24), and he is plotting nothing. Zophar’s huge metaphysical system stands at some remove from reality, and it is with some surprise that we find him descending in v 19 to the level of the concrete, specifying one typical crime of the godless, a crime in the sphere of economic relations.