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Job 16
Job opens his reply to Eliphaz by throwing the word "comfort" back at the three friends: they are "miserable comforters," and he notes he could just as easily heap up words and shake his head if their places were swapped. Then the speech turns from them to God, whom Job pictures as a hunter, archer, and wrestler dismantling him. Watch the pivot at verse 18, where Job stops arguing with men and addresses the earth itself, begging it not to cover his blood. The cry leads to a startling claim: a witness in heaven who vouches for him even as God seems to attack.
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Then Job answered,
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“I have heard many such things. You are all miserable comforters!
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Shall vain words have an end? Or what provokes you that you answer?
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I also could speak as you do. If your soul were in my soul’s place, I could join words together against you, and shake my head at you,
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but I would strengthen you with my mouth. The solace of my lips would relieve you.
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“Though I speak, my grief is not subsided. Though I forbear, what am I eased?
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But now, God, you have surely worn me out. You have made all my company desolate.
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You have shriveled me up. This is a witness against me. My leanness rises up against me. It testifies to my face.
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He has torn me in his wrath and persecuted me. He has gnashed on me with his teeth. My adversary sharpens his eyes on me.
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They have gaped on me with their mouth. They have struck me on the cheek reproachfully. They gather themselves together against me.
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God delivers me to the ungodly, and casts me into the hands of the wicked.
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I was at ease, and he broke me apart. Yes, he has taken me by the neck, and dashed me to pieces. He has also set me up for his target.
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His archers surround me. He splits my kidneys apart, and does not spare. He pours out my bile on the ground.
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He breaks me with breach on breach. He runs at me like a giant.
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I have sewed sackcloth on my skin, and have thrust my horn in the dust.
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My face is red with weeping. Deep darkness is on my eyelids,
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although there is no violence in my hands, and my prayer is pure.
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“Earth, don’t cover my blood. Let my cry have no place to rest.
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Even now, behold, my witness is in heaven. He who vouches for me is on high.
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My friends scoff at me. My eyes pour out tears to God,
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that he would maintain the right of a man with God, of a son of man with his neighbor!
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For when a few years have come, I will go the way of no return.
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Então Jó respondeu:
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“Eu já ouvi muitas coisas como essas. Todos vocês são consoladores miseráveis!
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As palavras vãs terão fim? Ou o que os provoca a responder?
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Eu também poderia falar como vocês. Se a alma de vocês estivesse no lugar da minha alma, eu poderia juntar palavras contra vocês, e menear a cabeça para vocês,
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mas eu os fortaleceria com a minha boca. O consolo dos meus lábios traria alívio a vocês.
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“Ainda que eu fale, a minha dor não diminui. E se eu me contiver, que alívio terei?
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Mas agora, ó Deus, tu certamente me esgotaste. Tornaste desolada toda a minha companhia.
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Tu me enrugaste. Isso é uma testemunha contra mim. A minha magreza se levanta contra mim. Ela testifica em meu rosto.
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Ele me despedaçou em sua ira e me perseguiu. Ele rangeu os dentes contra mim. O meu adversário afia os seus olhos contra mim.
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Eles escancararam a boca contra mim. Eles me feriram no rosto com desprezo. Eles se reúnem contra mim.
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Deus me entrega aos ímpios, e me lança nas mãos dos perversos.
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Eu estava tranquilo, e ele me despedaçou. Sim, ele me pegou pelo pescoço e me quebrou em pedaços. Ele também me colocou como seu alvo.
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Os seus flecheiros me cercam. Ele fende os meus rins, e não me poupa. Ele derrama a minha bile na terra.
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Ele me rompe com brecha sobre brecha. Ele corre contra mim como um gigante.
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Eu costurei pano de saco sobre a minha pele, e enterrei o meu chifre no pó.
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O meu rosto está vermelho de tanto chorar. Profundas trevas estão sobre as minhas pálpebras,
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embora não haja violência em minhas mãos, e a minha oração seja pura.
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“Ó terra, não cubra o meu sangue. Que o meu clamor não tenha lugar de descanso.
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Mesmo agora, eis que a minha testemunha está no céu. Aquele que responde por mim está nas alturas.
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Os meus amigos zombam de mim. Os meus olhos derramam lágrimas a Deus,
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para que ele defenda o direito de um homem perante Deus, e o de um filho do homem com o seu próximo!
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Pois quando poucos anos tiverem passado, eu irei pelo caminho sem volta.
An advocate against the attacker
The tension here is that Job names God as both his assailant (verses 9 to 14, all teeth, archers, and breach upon breach) and, almost in the same breath, the one to whom his eyes pour out tears. Verse 19 reaches past the courtroom of his friends to a heavenly witness, planting an idea that flowers fully in chapter 19's Redeemer.
It is an unresolved double vision: the God who wounds is also the only one Job trusts to maintain his right. The chapter ends not with answer but with the shadow of "the way of no return."
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