CHAPTER XIV.

JOB AND THE DIVIDER.

Hebrew Polytheism--Problem of Evil--Job's disbelief in a
future life--The Divider's realm--Salted Sacrifices--Theory
of Orthodoxy--Job's reasoning--His humour--Impartiality of
Fortune between the evil and good--Agnosticism of Job--Elihu's
eclecticism--Jehovah of the Whirlwind--Heresies of Job--Rabbinical
legend of Job--Universality of the legend.


Israel is a flourishing vine,
Which bringeth forth fruit to itself;
According to the increase of his fruit
He hath multiplied his altars;
According to the goodness of his land
He hath made goodly images.
Their heart is divided: now shall they be found guilty;
He will break down their altars, he will spoil their images.


These words of the prophet Hosea (x. 1, 2) foreshadow the devil which
the devout Jahvist saw growing steadily to enormous strength through
all the history of Israel. The germ of this enemy may be found in our
chapter on Fate; one of its earliest developments is indicated in the
account already given of the partition between Jacob and Esau, and the
superstition to which that led of a ghostly Antagonist, to whom a share
had been irreversibly pledged. From the principle thus adopted, there
grew a host of demons whom it was believed necessary to propitiate by
offering them their share. A divided universe had for its counterpart
a divided loyalty in the heart of the people. The growth of a belief
in the supremacy of one God was far from being a real monotheism; as
a matter of fact no primitive race has been monotheistic. In 2 Kings
xvii. it is stated as a belief of the Jews that some Assyrians who
had been imported into their territory (Samaria) were slain by lions
because they knew not 'the manner of the God of the land.' Spinoza
noticed the indications given in this and other narratives that
the Jews believed that gods whose worship was intolerable within
their own boundaries were yet adapted to other regions (Tractatus,
ii.). With this state of mind it is not wonderful that when the Jews
found themselves in those alien regions they apprehended that the
gods of those countries might also employ lions on such as knew not
their manner, but adhered to the worship of Jehovah too exclusively.

Among the Jews grew up a more spiritual class of minds, whose feeling
towards the mongrel worship around them was that of abhorrence; but
these had a very difficult cause to maintain. The popular superstitions
were firmly rooted in the fact that terrible evils afflicted mankind,
and in the further fact that these did not spare the most pious. Nay,
it had for a long time been a growing belief that the bounties and
afflictions of nature, instead of following the direction promised by
the patriarchs,--rewarding the pious, punishing the wicked,--were
distributed in a reverse way. Dives and Lazarus seemed to have
their respective lots before any future paradise was devised for
their equalisation--as indeed is natural, since Dives attends to
his business, while Lazarus is investing his powers in Abraham's
bosom. Out of this experience there came at last the demand for a
life beyond the grave, without whose redress the pious began to deem
themselves of all men the most miserable. But before this heavenly
future became a matter of common belief, there were theories which
prepared, the way for it. It was held by the devout that the evils
which afflicted the righteous were Jehovah's tests of their loyalty
to him, and that in the end such trials would be repaid. And when
observation, following the theory, showed that they were not so
repaid, it was said the righteousness had been unreal, the devotee
was punished for hidden wickedness. When continued observation had
proved that this theory too was false, and that piety was not paid in
external bounties, either to the good man or his family, the solution
of a future settlement was arrived at.

This simple process may be traced in various races, and in its
several phases.

The most impressive presentation of the experiences under which the
primitive secular theory of rewards and punishments perished, and
that of an adjustment beyond the grave arose, is found in the Book
of Job. The solution here reached--a future reward in this life--is
an impossible one for anything more than an exceptional case. But
the Book of Job displays how beautiful such an instance would be,
showing afflictions to be temporary and destined to be followed by
compensations largely outweighing them. It was a tremendous statement
of the question--If a man die, shall he live again? Jehovah answered,
'Yes' out of the whirlwind, and raised Job out of the dust. But
for the millions who never rose from the dust that voice was heard
announcing their resurrection from a trial that pressed them even
into the grave. It is remarkable that Job's expression of faith that
his Vindicator would appear on earth, should have become the one text
of the Old Testament which has been adapted by christians to express
faith in immortality. Job strongly disowns that faith.


There is hope for a tree,
If it be cut down, that it will sprout again,
And that its tender branches will not fail;
Though its root may have grown old in the earth,
And though its trunk be dead upon the ground,
At the scent of water it will bud,
And put forth boughs, like a young plant.
But man dieth and is gone for ever!

Yet I know that my Vindicator liveth,
And will stand up at length on the earth;
And though with my skin this body be wasted away,
Yet in my flesh shall I see God.
Yea, I shall see him my friend;
My eyes shall behold him no longer an adversary;
For this my soul panteth within me. [72]


The scenery and details of this drama are such as must have made
an impression upon the mind of the ancient Jews beyond what is now
possible for any existing people. In the first place, the locality
was the land of Uz, which Jeremiah (Lam. iv. 21) points out as part
of Edom, the territory traditionally ruled over by the great invisible
Accuser of Israel, who had succeeded to the portion of Esau, adversary
of their founder, Jacob. Job was within the perilous bounds. And
yet here, where scape-goats were offered to deprecate Samaël, and
where in ordinary sacrifices some item entered for the devil's share,
Job refused to pay any honour to the Power of the Place. He offered
burnt-offerings alone for himself and his sons, these being exclusively
given to Jehovah. [73] Even after his children and his possessions were
destroyed by this great adversary, Job offered his sacrifice without
even omitting the salt, which was the Oriental seal of an inviolable
compact between two, and which so especially recalled and consecrated
the covenant with Jehovah. [74] Among his twenty thousand animals,
Azazel's animal, the goat, is not even named. Job's distinction was
an absolute and unprecedented singleness of loyalty to Jehovah.

This loyalty of a disciple even in the enemy's country is
made the subject of a sort of boast by Jehovah when the Accuser
enters. Postponing for the moment consideration of the character and
office of this Satan, we may observe here that the trial which he
challenges is merely a test of the sincerity of Job's allegiance
to Jehovah. The Accuser claims that it is all given for value
received. These possessions are taken away.

This is but the framework around the philosophical poem in which all
theories of the world are personified in grand council.

First of all Job (the Troubled) asks--Why? Orthodoxy answers. (Eliphaz
was the son of Esau (Samaël), and his name here means that he was
the Accuser in disguise. He, 'God's strength,' stands for the Law. It
affirms that God's ways are just, and consequently afflictions imply
previous sin.) Eliphaz repeats the question put by the Accuser in
heaven--'Was not thy fear of God thy hope?' And he brings Job to the
test of prayer, in which he has so long trusted. Eliphaz rests on
revelation; he has had a vision; and if his revelation be not true,
he challenges Job to disprove it by calling on God to answer him, or
else securing the advocacy of some one of the heavenly host. Eliphaz
says trouble does not spring out of the dust.

Job's reply is to man and God--Point out the error! Grant my troubles
are divine arrows, what have I done to thee, O watcher of men! Am I
a sea-monster--and we imagine Job looking at his wasted limbs--that
the Almighty must take precautions and send spies against me?

Then follows Bildad the Shuhite,--that is the 'contentious,' one
of the descendants of Keturah (Abraham's concubine), traditionally
supposed to be inimical to the legitimate Abrahamic line, and at a
later period identified as the Turks. Bildad, with invective rather
than argument, charges that Job's children had been slain for their
sins, and otherwise makes a personal application of Eliphaz's theology.

Job declares that since God is so perfect, no man by such standard
could be proved just; that if he could prove himself just, the
argument would be settled by the stronger party in his own favour;
and therefore, liberated from all temptation to justify himself, he
affirms that the innocent and the guilty are dealt with much in the
same way. If it is a trial of strength between God and himself, he
yields. If it is a matter of reasoning, let the terrors be withdrawn,
and he will then be able to answer calmly. For the present, even if
he were righteous, he dare not lift up his head to so assert, while
the rod is upon him.

Zophar 'the impudent' speaks. Here too, probably, is a disguise:
he is (says the LXX.) King of the Minæans, that is the Nomades, and
his designation 'the Naamathite,' of unknown significance, bears a
suspicious resemblance to Naamah, a mythologic wife of Samaël and
mother of several devils. Zophar is cynical. He laughs at Job for
even suggesting the notion of an argument between himself and God,
whose wisdom and ways are unsearchable. He (God) sees man's iniquity
even when it looks as if he did not. He is deeper than hell. What
can a man do but pray and acknowledge his sinfulness?

But Job, even in his extremity, is healthy-hearted enough to laugh
too. He tells his three 'comforters' that no doubt Wisdom will die
with them. Nevertheless, he has heard similar remarks before, and he
is not prepared to renounce his conscience and common-sense on such
grounds. And now, indeed, Job rises to a higher strain. He has made
up his mind that after what has come upon him, he cares not if more
be added, and challenges the universe to name his offence. So long as
his transgression is 'sealed up in a bag,' he has a right to consider
it an invention. [75]

Temanite Orthodoxy is shocked at all this. Eliphaz declares that
Job's assertion that innocent and guilty suffer alike makes the fear
of God a vain thing, and discourages prayer. 'With us are the aged
and hoary-headed.' (Job is a neologist.) Eliphaz paints human nature
in Calvinistic colours.


Behold, (God) putteth no trust in his ministering spirits,
And the heavens are not pure in his sight;
Much less abominable and polluted man,
Who drinketh iniquity as water!


The wise have related, and they got it from the fathers to whom
the land was given, and among whom no stranger was allowed to bring
his strange doctrines, that affliction is the sign and punishment
of wickedness.

Job merely says he has heard enough of this, and finds no wise man
among them. He acknowledges that such reproaches add to his sorrows. He
would rather contend with God than with them, if he could. But he
sees a slight indication of divine favour in the remarkable unwisdom
of his revilers, and their failure to prove their point.

Bildad draws a picture of what he considers would be the proper
environment of a wicked man, and it closely resembles the situation
of Job.

But Job reminds him that he, Bildad, is not God. It is God that has
brought him so low, but God has been satisfied with his flesh. He
has not yet uttered any complaint as to his conduct; and so he,
Job, believes that his vindicator will yet appear to confront his
accusers--the men who are so glib when his afflictor is silent. [76]

Zophar harps on the old string. Pretty much as some preachers
go on endlessly with their pictures of the terrors which haunted
the deathbeds of Voltaire and Paine, all the more because none are
present to relate the facts. Zophar recounts how men who seemed good,
but were not, were overtaken by asps and vipers and fires from heaven.

But Job, on the other hand, has a curious catalogue of examples in
which the notoriously wicked have lived in wealth and gaiety. And
if it be said God pays such off in their children, Job denies the
justice of that. It is the offender, and not his child, who ought
to feel it. The prosperous and the bitter in soul alike lie down in
the dust at last, the good and the evil; and Job is quite content to
admit that he does not understand it. One thing he does understand:
'Your explanations are false.'

But Eliphaz insists on Job having a dogma. If the orthodox dogma is
not true, put something in its place! Why are you afflicted? What is,
your theory? Is it because God was afraid of your greatness? It must be
as we say, and you have been defrauding and injuring people in secret.

Job, having repeated his ardent desire to meet God face to face as
to his innocence, says he can only conclude that what befalls him and
others is what is 'appointed' for them. His terror indeed arises from
that: the good and the evil seem to be distributed without reference
to human conduct. How darkness conspires with the assassin! If God
were only a man, things might be different; but as it is, 'what he
desireth that he doeth,' and 'who can turn him?'

Bildad falls back on his dogma of depravity. Man is a 'worm,' a
'reptile.' Job finds that for a worm Bildad is very familiar with the
divine secrets. If man is morally so weak he should be lowly in mind
also. God by his spirit hath garnished the heavens; his hand formed
the 'crooked serpent'--


Lo! these are but the borders of his works;
How faint the whisper we have heard of him!
But the thunder of his power who can understand?


Job takes up the position of the agnostic, and the three 'Comforters'
are silenced. The argument has ended where it had to end. Job then
proceeds with sublime eloquence. A man may lose all outward things, but
no man or god can make him utter a lie, or take from him his integrity,
or his consciousness of it. Friends may reproach him, but he can see
that his own heart does not. That one superiority to the wicked he
can preserve. In reviewing his arguments Job is careful to say that
he does not maintain that good and evil men are on an equality. For
one thing, when the wicked man is in trouble he cannot find resource
in his innocence. 'Can he delight himself in the Almighty?' When such
die, their widows do not bewail them. Men do not befriend oppressors
when they come to want. Men hiss them. And with guilt in their heart
they feel their sorrows to be the arrows of God, sent in anger. In
all the realms of nature, therefore, amid its powers, splendours,
and precious things, man cannot find the wisdom which raises him
above misfortune, but only in his inward loyalty to the highest,
and freedom from moral evil.

Then enters a fifth character, Elihu, whose plan is to mediate
between the old dogma and the new agnostic philosophy. He is Orthodoxy
rationalised. Elihu's name is suggestive of his ambiguity; it seems to
mean one whose 'God is He' and he comes from the tribe of Buz, whose
Hebrew meaning might almost be represented in that English word which,
with an added z, would best convey the windiness of his remarks. Buz
was the son of Milkah, the Moon, and his descendant so came fairly
by his theologic 'moonshine' of the kind which Carlyle has so well
described in his account of Coleridgean casuistry. Elihu means to be
fair to both sides! Elihu sees some truth in both sides! Eclectic
Elihu! Job is perfectly right in thinking he had not done anything
to merit his sufferings, but he did not know what snares were
around him, and how he might have done something wicked but for his
affliction. Moreover, God ruins people now and then just to show how
he can lift them up again. Job ought to have taken this for granted,
and then to have expressed it in the old abject phraseology, saying,
'I have received chastisement; I will offend no more! What I see not,
teach thou me!' (A truly Elihuic or 'contemptible' answer to Job's
sensible words, 'Why is light given to a man whose way is hid?' Why
administer the rod which enlightens as to the anger but not its cause,
or as to the way of amend?) In fact the casuistic Elihu casts no light
whatever on the situation. He simply overwhelms him with metaphors and
generalities about the divine justice and mercy, meant to hide this
new and dangerous solution which Job had discovered--namely, that
the old dogmatic theories of evil were proved false by experience,
and that a good man amid sorrow should admit his ignorance, but never
allow terror to wring from him the voice of guilt, nor the attempt
to propitiate divine wrath.

When Jehovah appears on the scene, answering Job out of the whirlwind,
the tone is one of wrath, but the whole utterance is merely an
amplification of what Job had said--what we see and suffer are but
fringes of a Whole we cannot understand. The magnificence and wonder
of the universe celebrated in that voice of the whirlwind had to be
given the lame and impotent conclusion of Job 'abhorring himself,'
and 'repenting in dust and ashes.' The conventional Cerberus must
have his sop. But none the less does the great heart of this poem
reveal the soul that was not shaken or divided in prosperity or
adversity. The burnt-offering of his prosperous days, symbol of a
worship which refused to include the supposed powers of mischief,
was enjoined on Job's Comforters. They must bend to him as nearer God
than they. And in his high philosophy Job found what is symbolised in
the three daughters born to him: Jemima (the Dove, the voice of the
returning Spring); Kezia (Cassia, the sweet incense); Kerenhappuch
(the horn of beautiful colour, or decoration).

From the Jewish point of view this triumph of Job represented a
tremendous heresy. The idea that afflictions could befall a man without
any reference to his conduct, and consequently not to be influenced
by the normal rites and sacrifices, is one fatal to a priesthood. If
evil may be referred in one case to what is going on far away among
gods in obscurities of the universe, and to some purpose beyond the
ken of all sages, it may so be referred in all cases, and though
burnt-offerings may be resorted to formally, they must cease when
their powerlessness is proved. Hence the Rabbins have taken the
side of Job's Comforters. They invented a legend that Job had been
a great magician in Egypt, and was one of those whose sorceries so
long prevented the escape of Israel. He was converted afterwards,
but it is hinted that his early wickedness required the retribution
he suffered. His name was to them the troubler troubled.

Heretical also was the theory that man could get along without any
Angelolatry or Demon-worship. Job in his singleness of service,
fearing God alone, defying the Seraphim and Cherubim from Samaël
down to do their worst, was a perilous figure. The priests got no
part of any burnt-offering. The sin-offering was of almost sumptuary
importance. Hence the rabbinical theory, already noticed, that it
was through neglect of these expiations to the God of Sin that the
morally spotless Job came under the power of his plagues.

But for precisely the same reasons the story of Job became
representative to the more spiritual class of minds of a genuine as
contrasted with a nominal monotheism, and the piety of the pure, the
undivided heart. Its meaning is so human that it is not necessary to
discuss the question of its connection with the story of Harischandra,
or whether its accent was caught from or by the legends of Zoroaster
and of Buddha, who passed unscathed through the ordeals of Ahriman
and Mara. It was repeated in the encounters of the infant Christ with
Herod, and of the adult Christ with Satan. It was repeated in the
unswerving loyalty of the patient Griselda to her husband. It is indeed
the heroic theme of many races and ages, and it everywhere points to
a period when the virtues of endurance and patience rose up to match
the agonies which fear and weakness had tried to propitiate,--when
man first learned to suffer and be strong.