Is it pleasant to Thee that Thou should'st oppress,
That Thou should'st despise the work of Thy hands
And shine upon the counsel of the wicked?
Hast Thou eyes of flesh?
Or seest Thou as man seeth?
Thy days--are they as the days of man?
Thy years--are they as man's days,
That Thou inquirest after fault of mine,
And searchest after my sin,
Though Thou knowest that I am not wicked,
And none can deliver from Thy hand?
Thine hands have made and fashioned me
Together round about; and Thou dost destroy me._"
(_Chap. x._ 2-8.)
XI.
_A FRESH ATTEMPT TO CONVICT._
ZOPHAR SPEAKS. CHAP. xi.
The third and presumably youngest of the three friends of Job now
takes up the argument somewhat in the same strain as the others. With
no wish to be unfair to Zophar we are somewhat prepossessed against
him from the outset; and the writer must mean us to be so, since he
makes him attack Job as an empty babbler:--
"_Shall not the multitude of words be answered?
And shall a man of lips be justified?
Shall thy boastings make people silent,
So that thou mayest mock on, none putting thee to shame?_"
True it was, Job had used vehement speech. Yet it is a most insulting
suggestion that he meant little but irreligious bluster. The special
note of Zophar comes out in his rebuke of Job for the mockery, that is,
sceptical talk, in which he had indulged. Persons who merely rehearse
opinions are usually the most dogmatic and take most upon them. Nobody
reckons himself more able to detect error in doctrine, nobody denounces
rationalism and infidelity with greater confidence, than the man whose
creed is formal, who never applied his mind directly to the problems of
faith, and has but a moderate amount of mind to apply. Zophar, indeed,
is a man of considerable intelligence; but he betrays himself. To him
Job's words have been wearisome. He may have tried to understand the
matter, but he has caught only a general impression that, in the face of
what appears to him clearest evidence, Job denies being any way amenable
to justice. He had dared to say to God, "Thou knowest that I am not
wicked." What? God can afflict a man whom He knows to be righteous! It
is a doctrine as profane as it is novel. Eliphaz and Bildad supposed
that they had to deal with a man unwilling to humble himself in the way
of acknowledging sins hitherto concealed. By pressure of one kind or
another they hoped to get Job to realise his secret transgression. But
Zophar has noted the whole tendency of his argument to be heretical.
"Thou sayest, My doctrine is pure." And what is that doctrine? Why, that
thou wast clean in the eyes of God, that God has smitten thee without
cause. Dost thou mean, O Job! to accuse the Most High of acting in that
manner? Oh that God would speak and open His lips against thee! Thou
hast expressed a desire to state thy case to Him. The result would be
very different from thy expectation.
Now, beneath any mistaken view held by sincere persons there is almost
always a sort of foundation of truth; and they have at least as much
logic as satisfies themselves. Job's friends are religious men; they do
not consciously build on lies. One and all they are convinced that God
is invariable in His treatment of men, never afflicting the innocent,
always dealing out judgment in the precise measure of a man's sin. That
belief is the basis of their creed. They could not worship a God less
than absolutely just. Beginning the religious life with this faith they
have clung to it all along. After thirty or forty years' experience they
are still confident that their principle explains the prosperity and
affliction, the circumstances of all human beings. But have they never
seen anything that did not harmonise with this view of providence? Have
they not seen the good die in youth, and those whose hearts are dry as
summer dust burn to their sockets? Have they not seen vile schemes
prosper, and the schemers enjoy their ill-gotten power for years? It is
strange the old faith has not been shaken at least. But no! They come to
the case of Job as firmly convinced as ever that the Ruler of the world
shows His justice by dispensing joy and suffering in proportion to men's
good and evil deeds, that whenever trouble falls on any one some sin
must have been committed which deserved precisely this kind and quantity
of suffering.
Trying to get at the source of the belief we must confess ourselves
partly at a loss. One writer suggests that there may have been in the
earlier and simpler conditions of society a closer correspondence
between wrong-doing and suffering than is to be seen nowadays. There
may be something in this. But life is not governed differently at
different epochs, and the theory is hardly proved by what we know of
the ancient world. No doubt in the history of the Hebrews, which lies
behind the faith attributed to the friends of Job, a connection may be
traced between their wrong-doing _as a nation_ and their suffering _as
a nation_. When they fell away from faith in God their obedience
languished, their vigour failed, the end of their existence being lost
sight of, and so they became the prey of enemies. But this did not
apply to individuals. The good suffered along with the careless and
wicked in seasons of national calamity. And the history of the people
of Israel would support such a view of the Divine government so long
only as national transgression and its punishment were alone taken
into account. Now, however, the distinction between the nation and the
individual has clearly emerged. The sin of a community can no longer
explain satisfactorily the sufferings of a member of the community,
faithful among the unbelieving.
But the theory seems to have been made out rather by the following
course of argument. Always in the administration of law and the
exercise of paternal authority, transgression has been visited with
pain and deprivation of privilege. The father whose son has disobeyed
him inflicts pain, and, if he is a judicious father, makes the pain
proportionate to the offence. The ruler, through his judges and
officers, punishes transgression according to some orderly code.
Malefactors are deprived of liberty; they are fined or scourged, or,
in the last resort, executed. Now, having in this way built up a
system of law which inflicts punishment with more or less justice in
proportion to the offence imputed, men take for granted that what they
do imperfectly is done perfectly by God. They take for granted that
the calamities and troubles He appoints are ordained according to the
same principle, with precisely the same design, as penalty is
inflicted by a father, a chief, or a king. The reasoning is
contradicted in many ways, but they disregard the difficulties. If
this is not the truth, what other explanation is to be found? The
desire for happiness is keen; pain seems the worst of evils: and they
fail to see that endurance can be the means of good. Feeling
themselves bound to maintain the perfect righteousness of God they
affirm the only theory of suffering that seems to agree with it.
Now, Zophar, like the others full of this theory, admits that Job may
have failed to see his transgression. But in that case the sufferer is
unable to distinguish right from wrong. Indeed, his whole contention
seems to Zophar to show ignorance. If God were to speak and reveal the
secrets of His holy wisdom, twice as deep, twice as penetrating as Job
supposes, the sins he has denied would be brought home to him. He
would know that God requires less of him than his iniquity deserves.
Zophar hints, what is very true, that our judgment of our own conduct
is imperfect. How can we trace the real nature of our actions, or know
how they look to the sublime wisdom of the Most High? Job appears to
have forgotten all this. He refuses to allow fault in himself. But God
knows better.
Here is a cunning argument to fortify the general position. It could
always be said of a case which presented difficulties that, while the
sufferer seemed innocent, yet the wisdom of God, "twofold in
understanding" (ver. 6) as compared with that of man, perceived guilt
and ordained the punishment. But the argument proved too much, for
Zophar's own health and comfort contradicted his dogma. He took for
granted that the twofold wisdom of the Almighty found nothing wrong in
him. It was a naïve piece of forgetfulness. Could he assert that his
life had no flaw? Hardly. But then, why is he in honour? How had he
been able to come riding on his camel, attended by his servants, to
sit in judgment on Job? Plainly, on an argument like his, no man could
ever be in comfort or pleasure, for human nature is always defective,
always in more or less of sin. Repentance never overtakes the future.
Therefore God who deals with man on a broad basis could never treat
him save as a sinner, to be kept in pain and deprivation. If suffering
is the penalty of sin we ought all, notwithstanding the atonement of
Christ, to be suffering the pain of the hour for the defect of the
hour, since "all have sinned, and fall short of the glory of God." At
this rate man's life--again despite the atonement--would be continued
trial and sentence. From all which it is evident that the world is
governed on another plan than that which satisfied Job's friends.
Zophar rises to eloquence in declaring the unsearchableness of Divine
wisdom.
"_Canst thou find the depths of Eloah?
Canst thou reach to the end of Shaddai?
Heights of heaven! What canst thou do?
Deeper than Sheol! What canst thou know?
The measure thereof is longer than the earth,
Broader is it than the sea._"
Here is fine poetry; but with an attempt at theology the speaker goes
astray, for he conceives God as doing what he himself wishes to do,
namely, prove Job a sinner. The Divine greatness is invoked that a
narrow scheme of thought may be justified. If God pass by, if He
arrest, if He hold assize, who can hinder Him? Supreme wisdom and
infinite power admit no questioning, no resistance. God knoweth vain
or wicked men at a glance. One look and all is plain to Him. Empty man
will be wise in these matters "when a wild ass's colt is born a man."
Turning from this, as if in recollection that he has to treat Job with
friendliness, Zophar closes like the other two with a promise. If Job
will put away sin, his life shall be established again, his misery
forgotten or remembered as a torrent of spring when the heat of summer
comes.
"_Thou shalt forget thy misery;
Remember it as waters that have passed by;
And thy life shall rise brighter than noonday;
And if darkness fall, it shall be as the morning.
Thou shalt then have confidence because there is hope;
Yea, look around and take rest in safety,
Also lie down and none shall affray thee,
And many shall make suit unto thee.
But the eyes of the wicked fail;
For them no way of escape.
And their hope is to breathe out the spirit._"
Rhetoric and logic are used in promises given freely by all the
speakers. But not one of them has any comfort for his friend while the
affliction lasts. The author does not allow one of them to say, God is
thy friend, God is thy portion--now; He still cares for thee. In some
of the psalms a higher note is heard: "There be many that say, Who will
shew us any good? LORD, lift Thou up the light of Thy countenance upon
us. Thou hast put gladness in my heart, more than in the time that their
corn and their wine increased." The friends of Job are full of pious
intentions, yet they state a most unspiritual creed, the foundation of
it laid in corn and wine. Peace of conscience and quiet confidence in
God are not what they go by. Hence the sufferer finds no support in them
or their promises. They will not help him to live one day, nor sustain
him in dying. For it is the light of God's countenance he desires to
see. He is only mocked and exasperated by their arguments; and in the
course of his own eager thought the revelation comes like a star of hope
rising on the midnight of his soul.
Though Zophar fails like the other two, he is not to be called a mere
echo. It is incorrect to say that, while Eliphaz is a kind of prophet
and Bildad a sage, Zophar is a commonplace man without ideas. On the
contrary, he is a thinker, something of a philosopher, although, of
course, greatly restricted by his narrow creed. He is stringent,
bitter indeed. But he has the merit of seeing a certain force in Job's
contention which he does not fairly meet. It is a fresh suggestion
that the answer must lie in the depth of that penetrating wisdom of
the Most High, compared to which man's wisdom is vain. Then, his
description of the return of blessedness and prosperity, when one
examines it, is found distinctly in advance of Eliphaz's picture in
moral colouring and gravity of treatment. We must not fail to notice,
moreover, that Zophar speaks of the omniscience of God more than of
His omnipotence; and the closing verse describes the end of the wicked
not as the result of a supernatural stroke or a sudden calamity, but
as a process of natural and spiritual decay.
The closing words of Zophar's speech point to the finality of death, and
bear the meaning that if Job were to die now of his disease the whole
question of his character would be closed. It is important to note this,
because it enters into Job's mind and affects his expressions of desire.
Never again does he cry for release as before. If he names death it is
as a sorrowful fate he must meet or a power he will defy. He advances to
one point after another of reasserted energy, to the resolution that,
whatever death may do, either in the underworld or beyond it he will
wait for vindication or assert his right.
XII.
_BEYOND FACT AND FEAR TO GOD._
JOB SPEAKS. CHAPS. xii.-xiv.
Zophar excites in Job's mind great irritation, which must not be set
down altogether to the fact that he is the third to speak. In some
respects he has made the best attack from the old position, pressing
most upon the conscience of Job. He has also used a curt positive tone
in setting out the method and principle of Divine government and the
judgment he has formed of his friend's state. Job is accordingly the
more impatient, if not disconcerted. Zophar had spoken of the want of
understanding Job had shown, and the penetrating wisdom of God which
at a glance convicts men of iniquity. His tone provoked resentment.
Who is this that claims to have solved the enigmas of providence, to
have gone into the depths of wisdom? Does he know any more, he
himself, than the wild ass's colt?
And Job begins with stringent irony--
"_No doubt but ye are the people,
And wisdom shall die with you._"
The secrets of thought, of revelation itself are yours. No doubt the
world waited to be taught till you were born. Do you not think so?
But, after all, I also have a share of understanding, I am not quite
so void of intellect as you seem to fancy. Besides, who knoweth not
such things as ye speak? Are they new? I had supposed them to be
commonplaces. Yea, if you recall what I said, you will find that with
a little more vigour than yours I made the same declarations.
"_A laughing-stock to his neighbours am I,
I who called upon Eloah and He answered me,--
A laughing-stock, the righteous and perfect man._"
Job sees or thinks he sees that his misery makes him an object of
contempt to men who once gave him the credit of far greater wisdom and
goodness than their own. They are bringing out old notions, which are
utterly useless, to explain the ways of God; they assume the place of
teachers; they are far better, far wiser now than he. It is more than
flesh can bear.
As he looks at his own diseased body and feels again his weakness, the
cruelty of the conventional judgment stings him. "In the thought of
him that is at ease there is for misfortune scorn; it awaiteth them
that slip with the foot." Perhaps Job was mistaken, but it is too
often true that the man who fails in a social sense is the man
suspected. Evil things are found in him when he is covered with the
dust of misfortune, things which no one dreamed of before. Flatterers
become critics and judges. They find that he has a bad heart or that
he is a fool.
But if those very good and wise friends of Job are astonished at
anything previously said, they shall be more astonished. The facts
which their account of Divine providence very carefully avoided as
inconvenient Job will blurt out. They have stated and restated, with
utmost complacency, their threadbare theory of the government of God.
Let them look now abroad on the world and see what actually goes on,
blinking no facts.
The tents of robbers prosper. Out in the desert there are troops of
bandits who are never overtaken by justice; and they that provoke God
are secure, who carry a god in their hand, whose sword and the
reckless daring with which they use it make them to all appearance
safe in villainy. These are the things to be accounted for; and,
accounting for them, Job launches into a most emphatic argument to
prove all that is done in the world strangely and inexplicably to be
the doing of God. As to that he will allow no question. His friends
shall know that he is sound on this head. And let them provide the
defence of Divine righteousness after he has spoken.
Here, however, it is necessary to consider in what way the limitations
of Hebrew thought must have been felt by one who, turning from the
popular creed, sought a view more in harmony with fact. Now-a-days the
word _nature_ is often made to stand for a force or combination of
forces conceived of as either entirely or partially independent of
God. Tennyson makes the distinction when he speaks of man
"Who trusted God was love indeed
And love creation's final law,
Though nature, red in tooth and claw
With ravin, shrieked against the creed"
and again when he asks--
"Are God and nature then at strife
That nature lends such evil dreams,
So careful of the type she seems,
So careless of the single life?"
Now to this question, perplexing enough on the face of it when we
consider what suffering there is in the creation, how the waves of
life seem to beat and break themselves age after age on the rocks of
death, the answer in its first stage is that God and nature cannot be
at strife. They are not apart; there is but one universe, therefore
one Cause. One Omnipotent there is whose will is done, whose character
is shown in all we see and all we cannot see, the issues of endless
strife, the long results of perennial evolution. But then comes the
question, What is His character, of what spirit is He who alone rules,
who sends after the calm the fierce storm, after the beauty of life
the corruption of death? And one may say the struggle between Bible
religion and modern science is on this very field.
Cold heartless power, say some; no Father, but an impersonal Will to
which men are nothing, human joy and love nothing, to which the fair
blossom is no more than the clod, and the holy prayer no better than
the vile sneer. On this, faith arises to the struggle. Faith warm and
hopeful takes reason into counsel, searches the springs of existence,
goes forth into the future and forecasts the end, that it may affirm
and reaffirm against all denial that One Omnipotent reigns who is
all-loving, the Father of infinite mercy. Here is the arena; here the
conflict rages and will rage for many a day. And to him will belong
the laurels of the age who, with the Bible in one hand and the
instruments of science in the other, effects the reconciliation of
faith with fact. Tennyson came with the questions of our day. He
passes and has not given a satisfactory answer. Carlyle has gone with
the "Everlasting Yea and No" beating through his oracles. Even
Browning, a later athlete, did not find complete reason for faith.
"From Thy will stream the worlds, life, and nature, Thy dread
sabaoth."
Now return to Job. He considers nature; he believes in God; he stands
firmly on the conviction that all is of God. Hebrew faith held this,
and was not limited in holding it, for it is the fact. But we cannot
wonder that providence disconcerted him, since the reconciliation of
"merciless" nature and the merciful God is not even yet wrought out.
Notwithstanding the revelation of Christ, many still find themselves
in darkness just when light is most urgently craved. Willing to
believe, they yet lean to a dualism which makes God Himself appear in
conflict with the scheme of things, thwarted now and now repentant,
gracious in design but not always in effect. Now the limitation of the
Hebrew was this, that to his idea the infinite power of God was not
balanced by infinite mercy, that is, by regard to the whole work of
His hands. In one stormy dash after another Job is made to attempt
this barrier. At moments he is lifted beyond it, and sees the great
universe filled with Divine care that equals power; for the present,
however, he distinguishes between merciful intent and merciless, and
ascribes both to God.
What does he say? God is in the deceived and in the deceiver; they are
both products of nature, that is, creatures of God. He increaseth the
nations and destroyeth them. Cities arise and become populous. The
great metropolis is filled with its myriads, "among whom are six-score
thousand that cannot discern between their right hand and their left."
The city shall fulfil its cycle and perish. It is God. Searching for
reconciliation Job looks the facts of human existence right in the
face, and he sees a confusion, the whole enigma which lies in the
constitution of the world and of the soul. Observe how his thought
moves. The beasts, the fowls of the air, the fishes of the sea, all
living beings everywhere, not self-created, with no power to shape or
resist their destiny, bear witness to the almightiness of God. In His
hand is the lower creation; in His hand also, rising higher, is the
breath of all mankind. Absolute, universal is that power, dispensing
life and death as it broods over the ages. Men have sought to
understand the ways of the Great Being. The ear trieth words as the
mouth tasteth meat. Is there wisdom with the ancient, those who live
long, as Bildad says? Yes: but with God are wisdom _and strength_; not
penetration only, but power. He discerns and does. He demolishes, and
there is no rebuilding. Man is imprisoned, shut up by misfortune, by
disease. It is God's decree, and there is no opening till He allows.
At His will the waters are dried up; at His will they pour in torrents
over the earth. And so amongst men there are currents of evil and good
flowing through lives, here in the liar and cheat, there in the victim
of knavery; here in the counsellors whose plans come to nothing, there
in the judges whose sagacity is changed to folly; and all these
currents and cross-currents, making life a bewildering maze, have
their beginning in the will of God, who seems to take pleasure in
doing what is strange and baffling. Kings take men captive; the bonds
of the captives are loosed, and the kings themselves are bound. What
are princes and priests, what are the mighty to Him? What is the
speech of the eloquent? Where is the understanding of the aged when He
spreads confusion? Deep as in the very gloom of the grave the
ambitious may hide their schemes; the flux of events brings them out
to judgment, one cannot foresee how. Nations are raised up and
destroyed; the chiefs of the people are made to fear like children.
Trusted leaders wander in a wilderness; they grope in midnight gloom;
they stagger like the drunken. Behold, says Job, all this I have seen.
This is God's doing. And with this great God he would speak; he, a
man, would have things out with the Lord of all (chap. xiii. 3).