THE BOOK FROM A RELIGIOUS POINT OF VIEW.
Motto: ‘Jedem nämlich wollte ich dienen, der hinlänglich Sinn hat in
die grosse Frage tiefer einzugehen, welche das ernste Leben einmal
gewiss an Jeden heranbringt, nach der Gerechtigkeit der göttlichen
Waltung in den menschlichen Geschicken.’—STICKEL (_Das Buch Hiob_,
Einl. S. vi.)
There was a period, not so long since, when a Biblical writing was
valued according to its supposed services to orthodox theology. From
this point of view, the Book of Job was regarded partly as a typical
description of the sufferings of our Saviour,[122] partly as a
repository of text-proofs of Christian doctrines, which though few in
number acquired special importance from the immense antiquity assigned
to the poem. We must not, in our reaction from the exclusively
theological estimate of the Old Testament, shut our eyes to the
significance of each of its parts in the history of the higher religion.
The Book of Job _is_ theological, though the theology of its writer,
being that of a poet, is less logical than that of an apostle, less
definite even than that of a prophet, in so far as the prophet obtained
(or seemed to obtain) his convictions by a message or revelation from
without. Being a poet, moreover, the writer of _Job_ can even less than
a prophet have had clear conceptions of the historical Messiah and His
period. Moral and spiritual truths—these were his appointed province,
not the secret counsels of God, nor those exceptional facts or truths
which orthodoxy still perhaps regards as among the postulates of the
faith of the Hebrew prophets. Nor can the hero of the poem be considered
a strict and proper type of the Christ, for this reason among others,
that Job is to all intents and purposes a creation of the fancy, whether
of the unconsciously working fancy of the people, or of the rich and
potent imagination of a poet. In what sense, then, may the Book of Job
still claim a theological significance, and be allowed to fill a not
unimportant place in the _Vorgeschichte_ of Christianity?
I. The hero of the poem (I exclude from consideration the speeches of
Elihu[123]) is, not indeed a type, but in some sense prophetic of the
Christ, inasmuch as the very conception of a righteous man enduring vast
calamities, not so much for his own sake as for the world’s, is a bold
hypothesis which could only in the Christ be made good. The poet does
more than merely personify the invisible Church of righteous and
believing sufferers; he idealises this Church in doing so, and this
idealising is a venture of faith. Job is an altogether exceptional
figure: he is imperfect, no doubt, if viewed as a symbol of the Christ,
but this does not diminish the reality and the grandeur of the
presentiment which he embodies. To a religious mind, this remarkable
creation will always appear stamped by the hand of Providence. Job is
not indeed a Saviour, but the imagination of such a figure prepares the
way for a Saviour. In the words of Dr. Mozley, ‘If the Jew was to accept
a Messiah who was to lead a life of sorrow and abasement, and to be
crucified between thieves, it was necessary that it should be somewhere
or other distinctly taught that virtue was not always rewarded here, and
that therefore no argument could be drawn from affliction and ignominy
against the person who suffered it.’[124]
II. This then is the grandest of the elements in the Book of Job which
helped to prepare the noblest minds among the Jews for the reception of
primitive Christianity—viz. the idea of a righteous man suffering simply
because (as was said of One parallel in many respects to Job) ‘it
pleased Jehovah (for a wise purpose) to bruise him.’ The second element
is the idea of a supra-mundane justice, which will one day manifest
itself in favour of the righteous sufferer, not only in this world (xvi.
18, 19, xix. 25, xlii.), so that all men may recognise their innocence,
but also beyond the grave, the sufferers themselves being in some
undefined manner brought back to life in the conscious enjoyment of
God’s favour (xiv. 13-15, xix. 26, 27?) There may be only suggestions of
these ideas, but suggestions were enough when interpreted by sympathetic
readers. Let me add that by ‘sympathetic,’ I mean in sympathy with the
conception of God formed by the author of _Job_. Nothing is more out of
sympathy with this conception than the saying of the Jewish scholar, S.
D. Luzzatto, ‘The God of Job is not the God of Israel, the Gracious One;
He is the Almighty and the Righteous, but not the Kind and Faithful
One.’ No; the God of Job would be less than infinitely righteous if He
were not also kind (comp. Ps. lxii. 12). And of this enlarged conception
of God, faith in the continuance of the human spirit is a consequence.
Justice to those with whom God is in covenant requires that He should
not after a few years hurl them back into non-existence (comp. Job x.
8-13). But I can only skirt the fringe of the great religious problems
opened by this wonderful book.
In conclusion, and in the spirit of my motto, let me invite the reader’s
attention (even if he be no theologian) to the spectacle of a powerful
mind dashing itself against perennial problems too mighty for it to
solve. The author of our poem missed the only adequate and possible
solution, and hence he has been erroneously regarded by several moderns
as the representative of a mental attitude akin to their own. Heine, for
instance, can term this book ‘the Song of Songs of scepticism.’ No doubt
those who are at sea on religious matters can find sayings in _Job_
which may seem as if spoken by themselves; but in truth these only
enhance the significance of the counteracting elements in the poem. It
is the logical incompleteness of _Job_ which at once exposes the book to
misjudgment, and gives it an eternal fascination. As Quinet has said,
‘Ce qui fait la grandeur de ce livre, c’est qu’en dépassant la mesure de
l’Ancien Testament il appelle, il provoque nécessairement des cieux
nouveaux.... Le christianisme vit au fond de ce blasphème.’ We need a
second part of _Job_, or at least a third speech of Jehovah, which could
however only be given by some Hebrew poet who had drunk at the fountains
of the Fourth Gospel. Failing these, the reader must supply what is
necessary for himself,—a better compensation to Job for his agony than
the Epilogue provides, and a more touching and not less divine theophany
(comp. Job ix. 32, 33). This Christianity will enable him to do.
Intellectually, the problem of Job’s life may remain, but to the
Christian heart the cloud is luminous.
The Infinite remains unknown,
Too vast for man to understand:
In Him, the ‘Woman’s Seed,’ alone
We trace God’s footprint in the sand.[125]
Footnote 122:
‘The Church in all ages has regarded the one as a type of the other,’
Turner, _Studies Biblical and Oriental_, p. 150. But Del. has already
dissuaded from insisting too much on the historic character of the
story of Job. ‘The endurance of Job’ (James v. 11) is equally
instructive whether the story be real (_wirklich_) or only ideally
true (_wahr_); and if by the phrase ‘the end of the Lord’ St. James
refers to the Passion of Jesus (to me, however, this appears
doubtful), he can be claimed with as much reason for the view of Job
here adopted as for the older theory advocated by Turner.
Footnote 123:
On the Elihu-section, see Chap. XII.
Footnote 124:
Mozley, _Essays_, ii. 227; comp. Turner, _Studies_, p. 149.
Footnote 125:
Aubrey De Vere. Need I guard myself on the subject of Gen. iii. 15,
referred to in a recent memorable debate in the _Nineteenth Century_?
A strict Messianic interpretation is, since Calvin’s time, impossible
to the exegete, but the application of the words to Jesus Christ is
dear to the Christian heart, and perfectly consistent with a sincere
exegesis. M. Réville would, I think, concede this to Mr. Gladstone.