the meaning, "He hath hidden the light in His hands and commanded it
that it should return. He speaks of it to His friend; that it is His
possession, and that he may ascend thereto." The rendering cannot be
received, yet the comment may be cited. "These rain-clouds are the robes
of love of the Angel of the Sea. To these that name is chiefly given,
the 'spreadings of the clouds,' from their extent, their gentleness,
their fulness of rain." And this is "the meaning of those strange golden
lights and purple flushes before the morning rain. The rain is sent to
judge and feed us; but the light is the possession of the friends of
God, that they may ascend thereto,--where the tabernacle veil will cross
and part its rays no more."[9]
The real import does not reach this spiritual height. It is simply
that the tremendous thunder brings to transgressors the terror of
judgment, and the copious showers that follow water the parched earth
for the sake of man. Of the justice and grace of God we are made
aware when His angel spreads his wings over the world. In the darkened
sky there is a crash as if the vast canopy of the firmament were torn
asunder. And now a keen flash lights the gloom for a moment; anon it
is swallowed up as if the inverted sea, poured in cataracts upon the
flame, extinguished it. Men recognise the Divine indignation, and even
the lower animals seem to be aware.
"_He covereth His hands with the lightning,
He giveth it a charge against the adversary.
Its thunder telleth concerning Him,
Even the cattle concerning that which cometh up._"
Continued in the thirty-seventh chapter, the description appears to be
from what is actually going on, a tremendous thunderstorm that shakes
the earth. The sound comes, as it were, out of the mouth of God,
reverberating from sky to earth and from earth to sky, and rolling
away under the whole heaven. Again there are lightnings, and "_He
stayeth them not when His voice is heard._" Swift ministers of
judgment and death they are darted upon the world.
We are asked to consider a fresh wonder, that of the snow which at
certain times replaces the gentle or copious rain. The cold fierce
showers of winter arrest the labour of man, and even the wild beasts
seek their dens and abide in their lurking-places. "The Angel of the
Sea," says Mr. Ruskin, "has also another message,--in the 'great rain of
His strength,' rain of trial, sweeping away ill-set foundations. Then
his robe is not spread softly over the whole heaven as a veil, but
sweeps back from his shoulders, ponderous, oblique, terrible--leaving
his sword-arm free." God is still directly at work. "_Out of His chamber
cometh the storm and cold out of the north._" His breath gives the frost
and straitens the breadth of waters. Towards Armenia, perhaps, the poet
has seen the rivers and lakes frozen from bank to bank. Our science
explains the result of diminished temperature; we know under what
conditions hoar-frost is deposited and how hail is formed. Yet all we
can say is that thus and thus the forces act. Beyond that we remain like
this writer, awed in presence of a heavenly Will which determines the
course and appoints the marvels of nature.
"_By the breath of God ice is given,
And the breadth of the waters is straitened.
Also He ladeth the thick cloud with moisture,
He spreadeth His lightning cloud abroad;
And it is turned about by His guidance,
That it may do whatsoever He commandeth
Upon the face of the whole earth._"
Here, again, moral purpose is found. The poet attributes to others his
own susceptibility. Men see and learn and tremble. It is for
correction, that the careless may be brought to think of God's
greatness, and the evil-doers of His power, that sinners being made
afraid may turn from their rebellion. Or, it is for His earth, that
rain may beautify it and fill the rivers and springs at which the
beasts of the valley drink. Or, yet again, the purpose is mercy. Even
the tremendous thunderstorm may be fraught with mercy to men. From the
burning heat, oppressive, intolerable, the rains that follow bring
deliverance. Men are fainting for thirst, the fields are languishing.
In compassion God sends His great cloud on its mission of life.
More delicate, needing finer observation, are the next objects of study.
"_Dost thou know how God layeth His charge on them,
And causeth the light of His cloud to shine?
Dost thou know the balancings of the clouds,
The wondrous works of Him who is perfect in knowledge?_"
It is not clear whether the light of the cloud means the lightning again
or the varied hues which make an Oriental sunset glorious in purple and
gold. But the balancings of the clouds must be that singular power which
the atmosphere has of sustaining vast quantities of watery
vapour--either miles above the earth's surface where the filmy cirrhus
floats, dazzling white against the blue sky, or lower down where the
rain-cloud trails along the hill-tops. Marvellous it is that, suspended
thus in the air, immense volumes of water should be carried from the
surface of the ocean to be discharged in fructifying rain.
Then again:--
"_How are thy garments warm
When the earth is still because of the south wind?_"
The sensation of dry hot clothing is said to be very notable in the
season of the siroccos or south winds, also the extraordinary
stillness of nature under the same oppressive influence. "There is no
living thing abroad to make a noise. The air is too weak and languid
to stir the pendant leaves even of the tall poplars."
Finally the vast expanse of the sky, like a looking-glass of burnished
metal stretched far over sea and land, symbolises the immensity of
Divine power.
"_Canst thou with Him spread out the sky
Which is strong as a molten mirror?...
And now men see not the light which is bright in the skies:
Yet the wind passeth and cleanseth them._"
It is always bright beyond. Clouds only hide the splendid sunshine for
a time. A wind rises and sweeps away the vapours from the glorious
dome of heaven. "_Out of the north cometh golden splendour_"--for it
is the north wind that drives on the clouds which, as they fly
southward, are gilded by the rays of the sun. But with God is a
splendour greater far, that of terrible majesty.
So the ode finishes abruptly, and Elihu states his own conclusion:--
"_The Almighty! we cannot find Him out; He is excellent in power,
And in judgment and plenteous justice; He will not afflict.
Men do therefore fear Him;
He regardeth not any that are wise of heart._"
Is Job wise in his own conceit? Does he think he can challenge the
Divine government and show how the affairs of the world might have
been better ordered? Does he think that he is himself treated unjustly
because loss and disease have been appointed to him? Right thoughts of
God will check all such ignorant notions and bring him a penitent back
to the throne of the Eternal. It is a good and wise deduction; but
Elihu has not vindicated God by showing in harmony with the noblest
and finest ideas of righteousness men have, God supremely righteous,
and beyond the best and noblest mercy men love, God transcendently
merciful and gracious. In effect his argument has been--The Almighty
must be all-righteous, and any one is impious who criticises life. The
whole question between Job and the friends remains unsettled still.
Elihu's failure is significant. It is the failure of an attempt made,
as we have seen, centuries after the Book of Job was written, to bring
it into the line of current religious opinion. Our examination of the
whole reveals the narrow foundation on which Hebrew orthodoxy was
reared and explains the developments of a later time. Job may be said
to have left no disciples in Israel. His brave personal hope and
passionate desire for union with God seem to have been lost in the
fervid national bigotry of post-exilic ages; and while they faded, the
Pharisee and Sadducee of after days began to exist. They are both here
in germ. Springing from one seed, they are alike in their ignorance of
Divine justice; and we do not wonder that Christ, coming to fulfil and
more than fulfil the hope of humanity, appeared to both the Pharisee
and Sadducee of His time as an enemy of religion, of the country, and
of God.
FOOTNOTE:
[9] "Modern Painters," vol. v., 141.
THE VOICE FROM THE STORM.
XXVII.
"_MUSIC IN THE BOUNDS OF LAW._"
CHAP. xxxviii.
Over the shadowed life of Job, and the world shadowed for him by his own
intellectual and moral gloom, a storm sweeps, and from the storm issues
a voice. With the symbol of vast Divine energy comes an answer to the
problem of tried and troubled human life. It has seemed, as time went
by, that the appeals of the sufferer were unheard, that the rigid
silence of heaven would never break. But had he not heard? "Their line
is gone out through all the earth, and their words to the end of the
world." Job should have known. What is given will be a fresh
presentation of ideas now to be seen in their strength and bearing
because the mind is prepared and made eager. The man, brought to the
edge of pessimism, will at last look abroad and follow the doings of
the Almighty even through storm and darkness. Does the sublime voice
issue only to overbear and reduce him to silence? Not so. His reason is
addressed, his thought demanded, his power to recognise truth is called
for. A great demonstration is made, requiring at every step the response
of mind and heart. The Creator reveals His care for the creation, for
the race of men, for every kind of being and every need. He declares His
own glory, of transcendent power, of immeasurable wisdom, also of
righteous and holy will. He can afflict men, and yet do them no wrong
but good, for they are His men, for whom He provides as they cannot
provide for themselves. Trial, sorrow, change, death--is anything
"disastrous" that God ordains? Impossible. His care of His creation is
beyond our imagining. There are no disasters in His universe unless
where the will of man divorced from faith would tear a way for itself
through the fastnesses of His eternal law.
Eloah is known through the tempest as well as in the dewdrop and the
tender blossom. What is capable of strength must be made strong. That
is the Divine law throughout all life, for the cedar on Lebanon, the
ox in the yoke, the lion of the Libyan desert. Chiefly the moral
nature of man must find its strength. The glory of God is to have sons
who can endure. The easy piety of a happy race, living among flowers
and offering incense for adoration, cannot satisfy Him of the
eternal will, the eternal power. Men must learn to trust, to endure,
to hold themselves undismayed when the fury of tempest scours their
world and heaps the driven snow above their dwellings and death comes
cold and stark. Struggle man shall, struggle on through strange and
dreadful trials till he learn to live in the thought of Divine Will
and Love, co-ordinate in one Lord true to Himself, worthy to be
trusted through all cloud and clash. Ever is He pursuing an end
conformable to the nature of the beings He has created, and, with man
an end conformable to his nature, the possibilities of endless moral
development, the widening movements of increasing life. Let man know
this and submit, know this and rejoice. A dream-life shall be
impossible to man, use his day as he will.
Is this Divine utterance from the storm required by the progress of the
drama? Some have doubted whether its tenor is consistent with the
previous line of thought; yet the whole movement sets distinctly towards
it, could terminate in no other way. The prologue, affirming God's
satisfaction with His servant, left us assured that if Job remained pure
and kept his faith his name would not be blotted from the book of life.
He has kept his integrity; no falsehood or baseness can be charged
against him. But is he still with God in sincere and humble faith? We
have heard him accuse the Most High of cruel enmity. At the close he
lies under the suspicion of impious daring and revolt, and it appears
that he may have fallen from grace. The author has created this
uncertainty knowing well that the verdict of God Himself is needed to
make clear the spiritual position and fate of His servant.
Besides this, Job's own suspense remains, of more importance from a
dramatic point of view. He is not yet reconciled to providence. Those
earnest cries for light, which have gone forth passionately,
pathetically to heaven, wait for an answer. They must have some reply,
if the poet can frame a fit deliverance for the Almighty. The task is
indeed severe. On one side there is restraint, for the original motive
of the whole action and especially the approval of Job by his Divine
Master are not to be divulged. The tried man must not enjoy
vindication at the risk of losing humility, his victory over his
friends must not be too decisive for his own spiritual good, nor out
of keeping with the ordinary current of experience. On the other side
lies the difficulty of representing Divine wisdom in contrast to that
of man, and of dealing with the hopes and claims of Job, for
vindication, for deliverance from Sheol, for the help of a Redeemer,
either in the way of approving them or setting them definitely aside.
Urged by a necessity of his own creating, the author has to seek a
solution, and he finds one equally convincing and modest, crowning his
poem with a passage of marvellous brilliance, aptness, and power.
It has already been remarked that the limitations of genius and
inspiration are distinctly visible here. The bold prophetic hopes put
into Job's mouth were beyond the author's power to verify even to his
own satisfaction. He might himself believe in them, ardently, as
flashes of heavenly foresight, but he would not affirm them to be
Divine in their source because he could not give adequate proof. The
ideas were thrown out to live in human thought, to find verification
when God's time came. Hence, in the speeches of the Almighty, the
ground taken is that of natural religion, the testimony of the
wonderful system of things open to the observation of all. Is there a
Divine Redeemer for the faithful whose lives have been overshadowed?
Shall they be justified in some future state of being when their
bodies have mouldered into dust? The voice from on high does not
affirm that this shall be; the reverence of the poet does not allow so
daring an assumption of the right to speak for God. On the contrary,
the danger of meddling with things too high is emphasised in the very
utterance which a man of less wisdom and humility would have filled
with his own ideas. Nowhere is there a finer instance of self-denying
moderation for the sake of absolute truth. This writer stands among
men as a humble student of the ways of God--is content to stand there
at the last, making no claim beyond the knowledge of what may be
learned from the creation and providence of God.
And Job is allowed no special providence. The voice from the storm is
that which all may hear; it is the universal revelation suited to
every man. At first sight we are disposed to agree with those who
think the appearance of the Almighty upon the scene to be in itself
strange. But there is no Theophany. There is no revelation or message
to suit a particular case, to gratify one who thinks himself more
important than his fellow-creatures, or imagines the problem of his
life abnormally difficult. Again the wisdom of the author goes hand in
hand with his modesty; what is within his compass he sees to be
sufficient for his end.
To some the utterances put into the mouth of the Almighty may seem to
come far short of the occasion. Beginning to read the passage they may
say:--Now we are to have the fruit of the poet's most strenuous
thought, the highest inspiration. The Almighty when He speaks in
person will be made to reveal His gracious purposes with men and the
wisdom of His government in those cases that have baffled the
understanding of Job and of all previous thinkers. Now we shall see a
new light penetrating the thick darkness and confusion of human
affairs. Since this is not done there may be disappointment. But the
author is concerned with religion. His maxim is, "The fear of God
that is wisdom, and to depart from evil is understanding." He has in
his drama done much for human thought and theology. The complications
which had kept faith from resting in true spirituality on God have
been removed. The sufferer is a just man, a good man whom God Himself
has pronounced to be perfect. Job is not afflicted because he has
sinned. The author has set in the clearest possible light all
arguments he could find for the old notion that transgression and
wickedness alone are followed by suffering in this world. He has shown
that this doctrine is not in accordance with fact, and has made the
proof so clear that a thoughtful person could never afterwards
remember the name of Job and hold that false view. But apart from the
prologue, no explanation is given of the sufferings of the righteous
in this life. The author never says in so many words that Job profited
by his afflictions. It might be that the righteous man, tried by loss
and pain, was established in his faith for ever, above all possibility
of doubt. But this is not affirmed. It might be that men were purified
by their sufferings, that they found through the hot furnace a way
into the noblest life. But this is not brought forward as the ultimate
explanation. Or it might be that the good man in affliction was the
burden-bearer of others, so that his travail and blood helped their
spiritual life. But there is no hint of this. Jehovah is to be
vindicated. He appears; He speaks out of the storm, and vindicates
Himself. Not, however, by showing the good His servant has gained in
the discipline of bereavement, loss, and pain. It is by claiming
implicit trust from men, by showing that their wisdom at its highest
is foolishness to His, and that His administration of the affairs of
His world is in glorious faithfulness as well as power.
Is it disappointing? Does the writer neglect the great question his
drama has stirred? Or has he not, with art far more subtle than we may
at first suppose, introduced into the experience of Job a certain
spiritual gain--thoughts and hopes that widen and clear the horizon of
his life? In the depth of despondency, just because he has been driven
from every earthly comfort and stay, and can look only for miserable
death, Job sees in prophetic vision a higher hope. He asks, "If a man
die, shall he live again?" The question remains with him and seeks an
answer in the intervals of suffering. Then at length he ventures on
the presage of a future state of existence, "whether in the body or
out of the body he cannot tell, God knoweth,"--"My Redeemer liveth; I
shall see God for me." This prevision, this dawning of the light of
immortality upon his soul is the gain that has entered into Job's
experience. Without the despondency, the bitterness of bereavement,
the sense of decay, and the pressure of cruel charges made against
him, these illuminating thoughts would never have come to the
sufferer; and along this line the author may have intended to justify
the afflictions of the righteous man and quietly vindicate the
dealings of God with him.
If further it be asked why this is not made prominent in the course of
the Almighty's address from the storm, an answer may be found. The hope
did not remain clear, inspiring, in the consciousness of Job. The waves
of sorrow and doubt rolled over his mind again. It was but a flash, and
like lightning at midnight it passed and left the gloom once more. Only
when by long reflection and patient thought Job found himself reassured
in the expectation of a future life, would he know what trouble had done
for him. And it was not in keeping with the gradual development of
religious faith that the Almighty should forestall discovery by reviving
the hope which for a time had faded. We may take it that with rare skill
the writer avoids insistence on the value of a vision which could appear
charged with sustaining hope only after it was again apprehended, first
as a possibility, then as a revelation, finally as a sublime truth
disentangled from doubt and error.
Assuming this to have been in the author's mind, we understand why the
Almighty speaking from the storm makes no reference to the gain of
affliction. There is a return upon the original motive of the
drama,--the power of the Creator to inspire, the right of the Creator
to expect faith in Himself, whatever losses and trials men have to
endure. Neither the integrity of man nor the claim of man upon God is
first in the mind of the author, but the majestic Godhead that gathers
to itself the adoration of the universe. Man is of importance because
he glorifies his Creator. Human righteousness is of narrow range. It
is not by his righteousness man is saved, that is to say, finds his
true place, the development of his nature and the end of his
existence. He is redeemed from vanity and evanescence by his faith,
because in exercising it, clinging to it through profoundest darkness,
amidst thunder and storm, when deep calleth to deep, he enters into
that wise and holy order of the universe which God has appointed,--he
lives and finds more abundant life.
It is not denied that on the way toward perfect trust in his Creator
man is free to seek explanation of all that befalls him. Our
philosophy is no impertinence. Thought must have liberty; religion
must be free. The light of justice has been kindled within us that we
may seek the answering light of the sublime justice of God in all His
dealings with ourselves and with mankind. This is clearly before the
mind of the author, and it is the underlying idea throughout the long
colloquies between Job and his friends. They are allowed a freedom of
thought and speech that sometimes astonishes, for they are engaged in
the great inquiry which is to bring clear and uplifting knowledge of
the Creator and His will. For us it is a varied inquiry, much of it to
be conducted in pain and sorrow, on the bare hillside or on the rough
sea, in the face of peril, change and disappointment. But if always
the _morale_ of life, the fulfilment of life bestowed by God as man's
trust and inestimable possession are kept in view, freedom is ample,
and man, doing his part, need have no fear of incurring the anger of
the Divine Judge: the terrors of low religions have no place here.
But now Job is given to understand that liberty has its limitation;
and the lesson is for many. To one half of mankind, allowing the mind
to lie inert or expending it on vanities, the word has come--Inquire
what life is, what its trials mean, how the righteous government of
God is to be traced. Now, to the other half of mankind, too
adventurous in experiment and judgment, the address of the Almighty
says: Be not too bold; far beyond your range the activities of the
Creator pass: it is not for you to understand the whole, but always to
be reverent, always to trust. The limits of knowledge are shown, and,
beyond them, the Divine King stands in glory inaccessible, proved true
and wise and just, claiming for Himself the dutiful obedience and
adoration of His creatures. Throughout the passage we now consider
this is the strain of argument, and the effect on Job's mind is found
in his final confession.